She might have known she could trust Hayward.
“Lavinia will do all she can within reason, Miss Tabard,” he was saying, “but you’ll have to bear in mind that she has more important responsibilities.”
Zilpha did not even deign to look at him. “Lavinia, will you please do as I ask this instant? I’m sure Roland will understand—”
“Who the hell cares what Roland understands?” Clinton exploded. “She’s my girl, not his.”
Even Zilpha Tabard could not ignore that infuriated bellow. “Lavinia, perhaps you can enlighten me as to what this—person—is talking about?”
“What Hayward’s trying to tell you is that he and I are going to be married as soon as we can get to a preacher,” said Lavinia bluntly, “so my own family obligations will have to come before yours. I’m sorry, Zilpha, but that’s the way it is.”
For a long moment, Miss Tabard became a marble statue. Then she said in precisely measured tones, “In that case, I suggest that you immediately pack the trunks I paid for with the belongings I provided for you, and allow this … son of a carpenter to conduct you to a place of residence better suited to your new station in life. There will be no occasion for further communication between us.”
“As you wish,” said Lavinia. “I shall pack the valise Father gave me with a few immediate necessities and leave the rest where it belongs. Zilpha, I am truly grateful for all you’ve done for me, but I cannot be your possession.”
Miss Tabard merely turned her back.
“Mrs. Smith, I am going to the front parlor. Perhaps you would be good enough to fetch me a cup of tea.”
“Yes, Ma’am. You go rest yourself on the sofa. I’ll fix you a nice tray, then get the girl down at the exchange to send off your wire for you.”
They were going to make a cozy pair, the born despot and the born victim. Why not? Everybody needed somebody. In spite of her anguish, both physical and mental, Lavinia had to smile across the bed at Hayward.
“I hope Mrs. Grieder has an empty room.”
The look he returned was worth all she’d been through. “Maybe you’d rather go up and stay with my folks till we get squared away.”
“Right now, I just want to be with you.”
“Good. Look, do you have to take any of this stuff? Can’t we just walk out and leave the whole shebang?”
“Hayward, I can’t go to a boardinghouse empty-handed. Your landlady would think I’m not a respectable woman. As it is, I won’t take much but a nightgown and a clean shirtwaist. Nobody can ever accuse you of marrying me for my money.”
“Lavinia, do you have any—I mean, do you want to think it over for a while? Sort of get used to the idea that you’re entering a way of life that’s completely different from anything you’ve been used to? You’ve only known me a week—”
“I know you a lot better than most girls know the men they marry. They meet at a few heavily chaperoned balls and cotillions, the girl’s father checks the boy’s financial prospects and her mother maneuvers him into popping the question, and off they go to Niagara Falls before she even knows whether he likes mustard on his ham.”
He laughed, a bit shyly. “At least you’ve found out that much about me.”
“That and a whole lot more.”
She snapped the catch on the valise. “I’m ready whenever you are. Let me see if I can pin a hat on this banged-up head of mine, and we’ll go. It does seem heartless to walk out of here without even saying goodbye to Zilpha, after all she’s done for me.”
“Then go ahead and say it, whether she wants you to or not.”
“Hayward, I wouldn’t dare! You don’t know what she can be like when she loses her temper. Everybody thinks she’s a little tin saint, but I’ve seen her take a horsewhip to her coachman just because he—oh, my God!”
“What’s the matter? You’re white as a sheet. Are you going to faint? Here, sit down a minute.”
“No.”
Lavinia handed him the valise and rushed into the kitchen. “Mrs. Smith?”
The housekeeper looked up from filling the polished silver teapot. “I don’t believe we have anything more to say to one another, Miss.”
“Yes, we do. Tell me one thing. Peter was still only a youngster when your uncle was killed, wasn’t he?”
“Six.”
“Then if you mistook those hand prints for his, they must have been very small.”
Tetsy Mull had hands like a dock laborer’s. Zilpha’s were so tiny that she generally bought her gloves in the children’s department at Houghton & Dutton’s.
Mrs. Smith picked up the teatray. “I can’t remember. Would you mind standing out of my way?”
“You didn’t expect her to, did you?” said Hayward. “She knows which side her bread’s buttered on.”
Tetsy wasn’t going to recall what actually happened, either, not after that touching speech about friendship and loyalty. She’d languish in the Dalby lockup for the rest of her life, if she had to, while Zilpha sat at ease in her pretty parlor, taking tea from a silver tray.
“This is horrible,” moaned Lavinia. “What shall we do?”
“Doesn’t look to me as if we can do much of anything, at this stage, kiddo. It’s up to the police now.”
“But she’ll get away with murder!”
“I doubt it. Nobody gets away with anything in the long run. They may think they do, but they don’t. Can you climb the hill, or shall I bring the truck here?”
“I’ll climb. I might as well get used to roughing it, hadn’t I?”
“Might as well,” the ginger cat agreed. “I’m afraid you’ve got sort of a rocky road ahead of you.”
“Ah, but I’ll be traveling it with you!”
He squeezed her arm. “Sounds pretty good when you say it like that.”
“Doesn’t it, though?” She squeezed back. “Oh, Hayward, this is going to be such fun!”
About the Author
Charlotte MacLeod (1922–2005) was an international-bestselling author of cozy mysteries. Born in Canada, she moved to Boston as a child and lived in New England most of her life. After graduating from college, she made a career in advertising, writing copy for the Stop & Shop Supermarket Company before moving on to Boston firm N. H. Miller & Co., where she rose to the rank of vice president. In her spare time, MacLeod wrote short stories, and in 1964 she published her first novel, a children’s book called Mystery of the White Knight.
In Rest You Merry (1978), MacLeod introduced Professor Peter Shandy, a horticulturist and amateur sleuth whose adventures she would chronicle for two decades. The Family Vault (1979) marked the first appearance of her other best-known characters: the husband and wife sleuthing team Sarah Kelling and Max Bittersohn, whom she followed until her last novel, The Balloon Man, in 1998.
All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 1978 by Charlotte MacLeod
Cover design by Jason Gabbert
ISBN 978-1-5040-4506-3
This 2017 edition published by MysteriousPress.com/Open Road Integrated Media, Inc.
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CHARLOTTE MACLEOD
FROM MYSTERIOUSPRESS.COM
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