“Sorry, I won’t be here. I’m going out after dinner.”
As Julia spoke, Grams’s bedroom door opened. Grams halted on the threshold and raised a crescent eyebrow. “Indeed, you are not going out, Julia. You are needed here tonight.”
“Oh, Grams, not tonight.” Julia sighed, long and loud. “I promise I’ll take them on a tour of the gardens tomorrow. Or help them with their French. Or whatever you wish me to do.”
“This has nothing to do with the girls.” Grams smiled archly, raising a little frisson of anticipation at Phoebe’s nape. “We’re expecting another guest for dinner tonight. In fact, I’m quite sure he’s already here, having a chat with your grandfather. Having the girls here is a bit of an inconvenience, considering, but it can’t be helped.”
Julia assumed a wary expression. “What other guest?”
“Wallace Bagot has returned from India, and he’s very keen to see you.” Grams stepped closer and added in a whisper, “He’s inherited his estate, you know.”
Julia groaned. “Good heavens, Grams, not Wally Bagot.”
Grams merely smiled and breezed past them. Phoebe started to follow, but stopped when she noticed Julia hadn’t moved. “Well? Aren’t you coming? Wally is keen to see you, after all,” some imp inside her made her add, along with a nonchalant “I suppose this changes your plans for later.”
The disappointment on Julia’s face made Phoebe wish she’d held her tongue, while at the same time piquing her curiosity as to whom Julia had planned to meet. She didn’t dare ask, especially when Julia honed in on her with such disdain, Phoebe nearly flinched.
“I’m sorry,” Phoebe said contritely. “I can see you’re disappointed. If you like, I could try to distract Wally away so you can make your exit.”
Julia sniggered. “As if you could. You really are intolerable. You do realize that, don’t you?” With that, Julia brushed by her, her elbow jostling Phoebe’s as she went.
CHAPTER 8
“My lady, do you know about Lilyanne’s knee?” The next morning, Eva brushed the braid out of Lady Phoebe’s hair and prepared to coil it in a simple twist, as she typically wore it. “It seems she had an accident on the tennis court. Another player swung her racket right into her knee, opening a gash that required stitches.”
“I’d no idea. When was this?”
“About a week before the luncheon. I noticed the wound as I helped her on with her stockings this morning. You’ll never guess who the offending player was.”
Lady Phoebe, who had been gazing at Eva through the dressing table mirror, turned full around to face her. “Not Zara, surely?” Eva nodded, and Phoebe sighed. “We had better keep close watch on those girls. We can’t have one of our charges suffering open wounds during their stay here. How ever would we explain to their parents?”
“Zara claims it was entirely an accident. They were playing doubles. If you ask me, my lady, their tennis instructor should have known better than to pair the two of them.”
“Who is the instructor? Is it one of the teachers?”
“Miss Everett, the household studies teacher. But that’s not all. When I asked Lilyanne about it, she said Nurse Delacy acted strangely that day. ‘Un-nurselike.’ And when I asked her what that meant, she said upon first examining the wound, the nurse suddenly excused herself and hurried away. She left Lilyanne sitting in the infirmary all alone, holding a compress to her bleeding knee.”
“Good heavens. Then what happened?”
“Some ten minutes passed, and then the nurse returned and tended her patient. She offered no explanation, nothing. Just simply returned, cleaned the wound, and stitched it up. Meanwhile Miss Finch had gotten word of the accident from Miss Everett, and arrived at the infirmary a few minutes before Nurse Delacy returned. According to Lilyanne, the headmistress was most displeased. I believe the word she used was livid.”
“Did she tell you how Miss Finch addressed the matter? Was Nurse Delacy reprimanded?”
“Lilyanne didn’t say, but I daresay no official action was taken against the nurse with Lilyanne present.”
“No, of course not.” Lady Phoebe, obviously mulling over this information, turned back around to face the mirror, and Eva continued winding her red-gold hair into a tidy coif and pinned it into place. “This is all very odd indeed. First you report that the woman is as skittish as a grouse in hunting season, and now it seems she balks over the job she was hired to do. Where did she work prior to coming to Haverleigh?”
“She never said, not in my hearing. She only referred to her position at Haverleigh as being less taxing than working in a hospital.”
“I believe it’s time we discovered a bit more about Nurse Delacy. Let’s plan on returning to Haverleigh right after the mathematics lesson this morning.”
“Very good, my lady.”
Phoebe sat silently a few moments longer while Eva retrieved her jewelry cask and set it on the dressing table. Phoebe reached in and selected a coral and gold necklace. “If you ask me, the one person connected to the school who would know most about poisons and their effects would be Nurse Delacy. And her nervous behavior certainly casts suspicion on her.”
“But what motive, my lady? Especially when compared with Miss Sedgewick, who wants the headmistress’s position.”
“Wanting someone’s position is one thing, but being willing to kill for it is quite another.” Still holding her necklace, Lady Phoebe rose and paced the width of her bedroom, coming to stand by the wide windows overlooking the rolling front grounds. Eva gathered up her discarded robe and nightgown from the bed, and then crossed the room to help Lady Phoebe on with her necklace. Outside, a light fog misted the morning sunlight angling through the trees, creating a watercolorlike effect that appeared deceptively tranquil. Violence, as both she and Lady Phoebe had learned, might lurk in the most peaceful of scenes.
Lady Phoebe turned to face her. “If cyanide was used, as Constable Brannock believes, how would someone like Miss Sedgewick come by such a thing?”
“If we knew that, my lady, everything would be much clearer.”
“But what do we know about Olivia Delacy? Where is she from? What did she do before coming to Haverleigh?”
Eva didn’t answer, as she knew the questions were rhetorical. The moment they concluded their lesson with the girls, Lady Phoebe bade Eva to hurry to retrieve her coat and meet Phoebe outside on the drive.
“Do let’s be off.” Lady Phoebe leaned across the passenger seat to open the door for Eva. “Before Grams wants to know where we’re going.”
But before Eva had settled herself and closed the car door, Lady Julia came bustling out of the house. Eva guessed by Lady Phoebe’s tensed hands on the steering wheel that she was considering pretending she hadn’t seen her sister and driving off, but Lady Julia was too quick to open the passenger door.
“Eva, would you squeeze over, please,” the eldest Renshaw said rather than asked.
“Julia, we’re on our way to—”
“I don’t care where you’re going, Phoebe, you can drop me in the village.”
“There isn’t room for three,” Lady Phoebe protested.
That didn’t deter Julia, who ducked in preparation of climbing in. Eva slid over, freeing up little more than a few inches of leather seat. Julia slid in next to her, and Eva attempted to make herself smaller still.
“Julia, is this necessary?” Phoebe tapped her hands impatiently against the steering wheel. “Why not call down to the carriage house and have Fulton collect you in one of the other motorcars? Or better still, learn to drive.”
“Driving is a vulgar thing for a woman to do,” Julia quipped.
“Oh? Then I’d gladly spare you the ignominy of witnessing one of my more vulgar displays.”
Eva didn’t miss the anxious gaze Julia darted at the house. “Just drive,” she said tersely. “Or I’ll complain to Grams that you’re monopolizing Eva again and upsetting the routine of her daily chores.”
More
than anything, Eva wished to ask both sisters to leave her out of their squabble, but she kept silent. Speaking would have required she draw a full breath, and even shallow breathing was difficult enough as it was. But the family’s strict policy of never discussing private matters before the servants had never extended to her as far as the Renshaw girls were concerned. Over these past few years she had been privy to more altercations, accusations, and yes, apologies, than she could count.
Phoebe put the motorcar in gear and pressed the accelerator. The Vauxhall lurched forward. “Just where are you going that you didn’t wish Grams and Grampapa to know? For that is the only reason you would lower yourself to jump in with Eva and me.”
“None of your business. Just drop me near the hat shop.”
Lady Phoebe grinned but kept her gaze on the road. “A clandestine meeting with the milliner. How very intriguing.”
“Meanwhile, you are butting into police business again.” Julia, too, stared straight ahead through the windscreen. “Aren’t we a pair? I’ll keep your secret if you keep mine.”
“Quite frankly, I don’t know what your secret is.” Lady Phoebe shrugged. “But I do remember Grams saying Wally Bagot would be by for luncheon.”
Lady Julia made no reply, but her anger seethed in palpable waves from her person. They drove in silence until they entered the village through the medieval gates and continued down High Street, passing rows of shops constructed of Cotswolds’ distinctive, creamy stone, until they reached the little milliner’s shop on the corner across from the post office.
Lady Julia opened the door and slipped out. Closing the door behind her, she braced her hands on it and leaned in. “Remember, not a word. If anyone asks, you’ve no idea where I’ve gone.”
Lady Phoebe merely smiled and pressed the accelerator. Eva suddenly had reason to wish Julia back in the vehicle with them. Her presence had somehow resulted in Lady Phoebe driving slower than usual, but now she sped up, prompting Eva to grip the door handle and grit her teeth as the village streaked by.
They passed the square and were about to leave the village behind them when a Silver Ghost, with its long bonnet, sleek running boards, and gleaming chrome fittings, whooshed by them. Phoebe braked so suddenly, Eva thrust both hands against the dash to prevent being propelled forward and striking her head against the windscreen. She regained her equilibrium to discover Lady Phoebe clutching the wheel and craning over her shoulder to watch the other vehicle rumble away down High Street. The color had drained from her face.
“My lady, what happened? Are you quite all right?”
She spoke in a raw, breathless rush. “That was Henry Leighton.”
Alarm shot through Eva, until common sense explained what they had seen. “No, my lady, surely that was Lord Theodore Leighton, or more properly, Lord Allerton, as he is called now. He is merely driving his brother’s car.”
Her mistress’s fingers relaxed their grip on the steering wheel, and she slowly straightened in her seat. “Of course, what a goose I am.” Her eyes narrowed. “Yes . . . Theo Leighton. It makes sense now.”
“What does, my lady?”
Lady Phoebe laughed lightly. “Julia came into the village to meet up with the new Lord Allerton, and she doesn’t want my grandparents catching on. Poor Wally Bagot. I wonder how long it’s been going on . . .” She brought the Vauxhall back into gear and resumed their drive, a little smile playing about her lips.
Eva, too, silently considered how long Lady Julia had been clandestinely seeing the new Marquess of Allerton. She thought of two nights ago, when Lady Julia had been out exceedingly late, or perhaps exceedingly early the following morning. Had she been with Lord Allerton? But why the sneaking around? Would not a marquess be considered an ideal husband for the eldest Renshaw granddaughter? But then she remembered. The new marquess inherited the title and the holdings, but little in the way of a fortune. His elder brother had squandered away most of it.
Months ago, when speaking playfully of Lady Julia’s ideal husband, she had said he must be rich, among other attributes. Then why this interest in Theodore Leighton?
* * *
“Oh, hullo there, Miss Sedgewick.” Phoebe poked her head into Miss Finch’s office, where she knew she would find the assistant headmistress. “How are you today?”
The woman looked up from her work with a frown. “Er . . . Lady Phoebe. You’re back.” She hesitated a fraction of a moment before adding, “Again.”
“Yes, I’m back. I wanted you to know how well the girls seem to be doing with us up at Foxwood.”
“Girls?” The woman seemed to draw a blank. Today she wore a smart suit with military-style tailoring and silk moire lapels in a contrasting shade of rose. As Eva had pointed out, costly attire for an assistant headmistress.
“Yes, you know. Zara Worthington, Jane Timmons, and Lilyanne Mucklow. They’re keeping well up on their studies, thanks to my grandmother’s strict scheduling of their time. Although”—she watched the woman carefully as she spoke—“Zara is having a bit of difficulty. Does she typically struggle with her lessons?”
“Zara?” She sat up straighter and set down her pen. “She is one of our best students. Always high marks.”
“Really? Perhaps it’s the upset, and being away from familiar surroundings.”
“Yes, that would be it, Lady Phoebe.”
“I wonder if you might let me have a look at her marks—just to give me an idea of where she excels and where she might need a bit of extra tutoring.” Her gaze drifted to the bank of wooden filing cabinets against one wall.
Miss Sedgewick followed her gaze and drew back almost defensively in her chair. “I’m afraid I cannot. Student records are quite confidential, for parents’ eyes only. I’m sorry.”
“I understand. I simply would hate for Zara to fall behind and have those high marks falter when she returns to school.”
“We won’t let that happen,” Miss Sedgewick said quickly. Too quickly? Too emphatically? Perhaps. She eyed Phoebe expectantly, her impatience evident in the kink forming above one eyebrow. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”
Phoebe treated this as an invitation to sit. That knot in Miss Sedgewick’s brow tightened. Phoebe spoke in a murmur. “I wished to speak with you about Nurse Delacy.”
“Nurse Delacy?” She folded her arms on her desk and leaned forward. “Has she done something?”
“No, it’s not that—not precisely.” She decided to leave Eva’s name, though not her observations, out of the conversation. “It’s just that I’ve noticed she’s a bit of a nervous sort. Would you agree?”
“Why, now that you mention it, yes. I’ve always thought so. I even mentioned it to Miss Finch, but she waved my concerns away. She seemed confident in Olivia Delacy’s nursing skills.”
“Do you know where she worked prior to coming to Haverleigh?”
“I haven’t the faintest idea. I asked Miss Finch, but all she said was she had worked in hospitals for several years before coming to us.” She craned forward like a baby bird straining to pluck a worm from its mother’s beak. “It’s all rather mysterious, if you ask me, my lady. And then there’s Elliot.”
“The handyman.”
“Yes. He, too, came to us from nobody knows where. Except for Miss Finch.”
“Did you ever simply ask Elliot where he is from?”
“My lady, you saw him. He’s worse than a child. He won’t speak to me at all, and says precious little to anyone else. And then there was that fright he gave me the other week.”
“Fright? He seemed completely docile to me.”
“Well, he . . . he tried to give me a flower.”
Phoebe tried unsuccessfully not to smile. “Sounds positively devious.”
“You don’t understand.” Her nostrils flared with wounded dignity. “He tried to force it on me. He wouldn’t take no for an answer. He practically had me up against a tree, and when I told him to leave me alone, he simply wouldn’t.”
“Did you try taking the flower? It sounds to me like an overture of friendship.”
“Lady Phoebe, I don’t mean to be rude, but you obviously lack experience when it comes to dealing with mental deficiency. He may seem docile, but one never knows what will set him off. I fear he is a danger to the students, but Miss Finch simply wouldn’t listen to reason.”
Phoebe’s experience with Elliot shed doubt on Miss Sedgewick’s assessment, yet a tiny doubt niggled. Perhaps she and Eva should pay a visit to Elliot before they left Haverleigh. If anyone could speak with him, it was Eva. While loading the donations onto the truck brought by Owen Seabright, she and Elliot had established a kind of rapport, if one could call it that. It’s true he had barely uttered a word, but he had smiled readily for Eva and had eagerly taken her directions in loading the packages.
But talk of the handyman had opened an opportunity for Phoebe’s true purpose in visiting the assistant headmistress. “So Elliot is one of the school’s more recent hires. Isn’t Nurse Delacy also new to her position?” She assumed what she hoped was merely a curious, offhand expression. “Does she hail from the Cotswolds originally?”
“I believe she has once or twice referred to Aldingham, and that her parents live there still. Not far from here, as the crow flies. But I’m afraid I know as little about her home life as I do about her former position.” She pursed her lips, for a moment resembling nothing so much as an aging spinster. In an instant the illusion vanished, leaving a woman most observers would term a beauty, or nearly so. “Should I permanently take over the headmistress position, there will be no further secrets kept here at Haverleigh.”
“That would certainly be your prerogative, wouldn’t it? Should the position become yours, that is.”
The woman’s mouth tightened again, etching tiny lines that revealed her to be older than she’d perhaps like people to think. “Lady Phoebe, is there some reason you’re inquiring about Nurse Delacy?” She turned her head slightly, angling her gaze. “Do you suspect her of . . . something?”
A Pinch of Poison Page 11
