Dancing at the Savoy: A Samantha Duncan Mystery (Samantha Duncan Mysteries Book 9)

by Daisy Thurbin

  The weekend went by far too fast. Samantha and Caroline spent as much time as they could catching up with each other’s lives and making up for lost time. Samantha wondered if she had been far too quick to insulate herself from the rest of the world both while she was forging out her career and after Robert’s death. She and his twin brother, Rupert had formed a solid friendship after years of estrangement, she had made a wonderful friend in Annie, and now she found that the difference in their ages between her and her sister did not matter one whit.

  “Caroline, this has been the most wonderful weekend; I just don’t know how to thank you,” Samantha said. “I must admit that I quite enjoyed a complete emersion in self-indulgence.”

  “Yes, one could get used to that all right. But it was particularly nice to have time to get to know each other again,” Caroline said as she gave her sister a warm hug.

  ***

  “I’m not sure if I’ll be able to force myself back to my computer after that wonderful relaxing weekend,” Annie said on the drive back to Oxfordshire. “That was so nice of Caroline to include me.”

  “To tell the truth, I think she was afraid that she’d get stuck trying to think of something to talk to me about for an entire weekend of togetherness. She probably thought that if I brought a friend along it’d be less awkward. It just turned out that all four of us got on so well.”

  “But she stayed with you last month and you told me that that it worked out fine,” Annie reminded her.

  “It did. But of course we spent very little time on our own, apart from the one evening I told you about. Most of the time we had Ella as a buffer zone. But I must admit that I really enjoyed her this weekend. I guess I hadn’t really given her that much credit. No doubt I’m exactly like all of those people I’m always accusing of discounting women who stay at home to raise a family instead of opting for a career.”

  “Well, I don’t see you that way at all,” Annie said. “You were just self-contained. I don’t think it ever even occurred to you that you might be missing out on so much.”

  “Perhaps. But I think you’re letting me off the hook too easily,” Samantha said.

  “Not at all. We hardly knew each other before we both retired, even though our offices at Christ Church were practically next door to each other. I’m as guilty as you are of not making the effort to be friends when we were there,” Annie said. “You were just too caught up in your work to think about a social life until after you retired. Don’t forget, you didn’t even own a cocktail dress until Rupert and Penny got together and we started going to a few things in town; not to mention all of those people you’ve met at your conferences. And what about your friend who’s coming over next week? No, I don’t think it had anything to do with Caroline’s choice about her lifestyle. Maybe you just weren’t ready to spread your wings socially before; now you’re finding you actually enjoy being around people more than you thought.”

  “Maybe, but I still feel like I should have made a bit more effort to have a closer relationship with Caroline,” Samantha said.

  “Nonsense. She was every bit as caught up in raising her children and in all the other things she was doing as you were. The important thing is that you’re friends now.”

  _____________________

  Ten

  “Gosh, I’m more tired than I thought,” Samantha said as she dropped Annie off and collected Pushkin. “I must have got used to all of that self-indulgence and pampering. I’ll give you a call tomorrow.” Annie waved her off as she backed out and headed back to Chipping Norton.

  When she retrieved her voicemail, there was only one message. It was from Penny Danvers, her Brother-in-Law Rupert’s fiancé. She said that it was not urgent and she would phone her back.

  Samantha thought about the upcoming holidays. Alex would arrive in less than a week. She made a mental note to stock up on things the next time she went to Marks. She was just as glad that she did not have another conference before Berkeley in February. Annie had mentioned something about meeting her out in California afterwards, but they had not yet really discussed it. At the time, Samantha had been unsure whether it would be such a good idea. Since then they had been on several trips together and seemed to be compatible traveling companions. It might be fun to drive up the Pacific Coast Highway again and see the Redwood Forest. Perhaps they could even stop in at her Cousin Julie’s for a day or two. Anyhow she would wait a bit before she suggested anything.

  Meanwhile, she decided to give her upcoming conference topic some thought. She had spoken about Faberge at Berkeley the previous February. California was a popular venue in the wintertime and several of the same people would likely be in attendance. So that was out.

  She had really enjoyed the research for the artists that she had presented Papers on for the various other conferences that year. Perhaps she should just bite the bullet and make a foray into an entirely new area. Now that she no longer had the pressures of teaching, she could use her time as an opportunity to gain a more in-depth knowledge about many artists’ works that she had thus far only a passing acquaintance with.

  The conference was not until the latter part of February. That meant that the Department had not yet sent out a preliminary list of what any of the other participants’ subjects might be. She was fairly sure that Elaine Matthews and Martin Hennessey would be back. She had no idea yet who else would be on the roster. Barbara Peterson had mentioned something about it when she was at William and Mary, but she had not heard from her since then. She decided to drop Barbara a line and find out.

  She had just pressed ‘send’ when the telephone rang.

  “Oh, Penny, that sounds lovely,” Samantha said when her Brother-in-Law’s fiancé told her why she had phoned.

  Penny had said that she apologised for leaving it so late. She explained that she and Rupert had decided to throw a little Christmas party and wondered if Samantha and Annie were free to join them.

  “I know it’s the eleventh hour,” Penny apologised, “but we only thought of doing it this morning, and you weren’t in when I called earlier.”

  Penny told her that it was a cocktail affair, but that they would start early because of people not wanting to be on the roads late during the holidays.

  “Around five?” She asked.

  “We’d love to,” Samantha said. “I presume that Annie will be free. I know she goes to her daughter on Wednesday, but she didn’t mention any plans before that.”

  “Wonderful,” Penny said. “It’ll be just a small group and we particularly wanted you and Annie to come.” Samantha thanked her and said that they would be there.

  Samantha called Annie as soon as she and Penny hung up. As she had anticipated, Annie was delighted with the invitation.

  “Do you think I can get away with the same dress I wore to Penny’s garden party last spring?” Samantha asked. “I could always wear the black one, but it doesn’t seem very Christmassy. What do you think?”

  “I think the Erdem’s lovely,” Annie said. “Maybe I’ll wear the same thing I wore before as well.”

  Samantha said that she had to make a run to Marks to stock up on things and asked Annie if she wanted to go with her. They agreed to go the next morning. For someone who had been all but a recluse for most of her life, suddenly it seemed that she had a very full social calendar, Samantha mused as she turned her attention back to her computer.

  She sent a brief note to Alex telling him to just bring casual clothes since she was fairly sure they would not be doing anything too grand during his visit. She also reminded him that he would need to bring a riding hat since he may not be as lucky as she had been in Williamsburg and find one that fit.

  She had just started going over some of her old teaching notes to see if anything inspired. Suddenly it occurred to her that she could always talk about equine sporting trophies. She had already done a bit of research when she thought she would do a Paper on it for William and Mary. She pulled up the preliminary notes that she h
ad saved in her documents folder and had just begun to peruse them when she heard the familiar computer generated announcement that told her that she had email.

  Hello Samantha,

  It was so nice to meet you at the Conference in Williamsburg. And wasn’t that fun over at Alex’s? He’s such a dear friend. It was so nice to see him enjoying himself. It was like having the old Alex back. I spoke to him the other day and he mentioned that he’d be going over to see you during the Christmas break. I hope that you’re getting some of this good weather over there. I know the two of you are great outdoors’ fans, but if the reputation for British stoicism is anything to go by, you’ll be out there braving the elements no matter what Mother Nature throws at you. Still, I don’t expect a bit of sunshine would go amiss.

  You asked about the Conference at Berkeley in February. I’m certainly going to try and make it. I’ve downloaded the application form but haven’t submitted it yet. I need to clear a day or two on either end with my Chair first, but she’s pretty good about giving time off for anything that will promote the University. I expect I’ll submit a topic in the same general area as Lautrec, or one of the other post-impressionist artists. If I’m feeling particularly lazy I may even rework the same Paper as before.

  If I do decide to go (about a 70% chance that I will), Howard might try and go with me. Any suggestions for a place to stay near the campus?

  Warm regards,

  Barbara

  It would be nice to see Barbara and Howard again. She had presumed that Barbara would stick with the Post-Impressionists, but she had wanted to make sure before she chose her topic. In any event, she had pretty well settled on doing hers on sporting trophies. She had a wonderful silver replica trophy from the Epsom Derby on her living room mantel that she had been given for helping to unearth the original. When she had looked up John Robinson, the sculptor, she had been surprised to learn that the Derby had no perpetual trophy like those for Wimbledon and other major sporting events. It had peaked her curiosity about some of the other artists responsible for various sporting trophies. It would open up a whole new arena for her. Now that that was settled in her mind, she decided that she would take a break from her computer and make sure that she was all set for Penny’s do on Tuesday.

  She double checked that she had a new pair of tights and that her shoes were in pristine shape. She had resisted at the time, but now she was glad that Ms Grantham had nudged her into buying the low court shoes and the dressy little pouch with the silver shoulder strap. She had to admit that they looked somewhat more appropriate with her silk dress than her sandals and leather pouch. She hung the dress on the back of the door to her office and placed the shoes and other accessories on the leather chair that she used when she did not need to work at her desk.

  That sorted, she decided to give Caroline a call and thank her again for the lovely weekend.

  “Samantha, I can’t tell you how happy I am that we’re finally getting to spend some time together,” Caroline said. “I think we should make the Spa weekend an annual event. Sarah and I couldn’t stop talking about it on the way home.”

  “We were exactly the same,” Samantha said. “Now it’s going to be doubly hard to wrap my head around doing any work. All that pampering’s made my head mushy.”

  “But you’re meant to be retired,” Caroline reminded her.

  “Just from the College. I still need to prepare for the conferences,” Samantha said. “Oh, before I forget. I just ordered tickets for the New Year’s Day concert at the Old Sheldonian. I hope Ella’s going to play.”

  “Yes. She told me that she needs to get back to Oxford the day after Boxing Day for rehearsals. But no solos this time. I guess Vengerov will be back.”

  “I’ll speak to you again over Christmas; and thanks again for the marvelous treat,” Samantha said.

  “Don’t work too hard,” her sister warned as they rang off.

  Samantha had not picked up a newspaper in days. She retrieved The Sunday Times from the living room sofa and took it into the back to peruse over her supper.

  “Don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten about you,” she said to Pushkin as he meowed insistently until she sat his bowl of fresh food down on the mat.

  She popped her meal into the microwave. Much as she’d enjoyed the pamper weekend in Leicestershire, she had to admit that she was glad to be back in her own cosy home. She lit the fire in the kitchen fireplace while she waited for the familiar ping. She was so glad she had opted for a gas fire. She had resisted because so many of the gas logs looked fake, but the coal fire looked completely authentic. In fact, she recalled an occasion when she was still teaching and a colleague had stopped by to pick up some papers. Angela had admired her real coal fire and had been astounded when Samantha told her that it was gas.

  When the bell went off she took her supper into the TV room and tucked her legs up under herself on the little sofa to watch The Antiques Roadshow. Apart from that and Songs of Praise, Sunday night television offered little else.

  She flipped through the paper while she ate. There was not much that was noteworthy on the front page. She pulled out the Arts and Entertainment section. Nothing particularly exciting going on there either, she observed. The usual New Year’s Eve and New Year’s Day concerts at the Royal Albert Hall and the Festival Hall and an outrageously expensive production of The Nutcracker at Covent Garden. But she had already ordered the tickets for The Old Sheldonian in any event, so it really did not matter to her one way or the other.

  She got up to rinse her plate and put it in the dishwasher. When she came back with her cup of tea she flipped through the rest of the paper. She did not usually read the obituaries, but one in particular caught her attention.

  Lady Olivia Carrington, nee Smythe died peacefully at her home in London on Friday. She was 87. Lady Olivia will be well remembered for her unflagging voluntary efforts both during the war and throughout her life. She was a frequent volunteer at many of the Veterans hospitals both in London and in the Home Counties. She will especially be remembered by the veterans at the Star and Garter in Richmond on Thames where she visited many surviving airmen from World War 2. Lady Olivia was predeceased by her husband, Sir James Carrington, himself a distinguished World War 2 pilot and recipient of the Distinguished Flying Cross. Lady Olivia is survived by her brother Lord Thomas Smythe, her Sister-in-Law, Lady Pippa Smythe and numerous nieces, nephews, grand and great nieces and nephews in the Smythe line. She will be greatly missed. A memorial service will be held at Leicester Cathedral after which Lady Olivia’s ashes will be buried beside those of her husband in the Family Mausoleum.

  Samantha was unsure why it mattered to her one way or the other. After all, she had absolutely no connection to Lady Olivia or anyone else mentioned in the article. Still, it felt a bit odd that she and Annie had literally been at the Carrington family home that very day. She thought back over the beautiful girl in the painting. She could not have been more than twenty-one or twenty-two at the time she had sat for it. Now, to think that she had just a few days earlier died at 87 made Samantha feel unaccountably sad. I suppose that anything that brings home our own mortality has that effect, she mused as she stared at the photograph that must have been taken at roughly the same time that the painting had been done.

  Samantha decided that she had had enough of maudlin thoughts and the television was anything but riveting. She decided to call it a day.

  “Come on, Chum,” she said to the supine blob of fur that was stretched out over half of the sofa. “I’m just about ready to have my bath and call it a day.”

  ***

  They decided to go to the Summertown Marks and Spencer. It had only food, but they did not need anything else, and the Oxford shop was too much of a hassle. Neither of them wanted to do another major shopping excursion until after the holidays. Of course Annie would be away much of the time. She would be at her daughters over Christmas and Boxing Day, and then she planned to go back to Hampshire for a few days w
ith Michael after his visit over New Year’s Eve.

  Samantha had warned Alex that she spent as little time as possible cooking, but she still needed to make sure that she had sufficient food in the house for when he was over. He would be staying at The Forge in Churchill, so he would take his breakfast there. That still left several meals she would need to get in, even taking into account the fact that they would be down in Devon for part of the time. She also wanted to get enough Whiskas for Pushkin to last through the holidays. She grabbed a few extra cartons. It seemed that her finicky feline spent almost as much time at Annie’s as he did at home. It was only fair that she top up Lucy’s supply as well.

  She nearly forgot her Christmas pudding. Marks did a tiny one-person size that took only half a minute in the microwave and was surprisingly good. That and a deboned and stuffed duck would make for a festive Christmas lunch.

  Samantha had invited a colleague who was alone to come over for dinner on a previous occasion. The woman had been pleasant enough, but on the whole Samantha preferred to have Christmas on her own if she could not be with someone she really enjoyed.

  Annie was already in the queue for the check-out when Samantha finished her shopping. They had decided to drop Samantha’s groceries in first and then have lunch at Annie’s when Samantha took her home.

  “I feel guilty that we’re always having lunch here,” Samantha said as Annie put the bowls of steaming soup and the basket of bread on the kitchen table.

  “Nonsense. You do all the driving. It’s the least I can do.”

  Samantha told her friend about the obituary she had read in the Sunday paper.

  “I’m afraid I haven’t even opened mine,” Annie confessed. “But do we know her?”

  “She was the young woman in the painting,” Samantha reminded her. “You know, when we were at the Spa. I forgot to tell you. When I booked my treatments I asked the young woman at the desk and she told me that before Ragdale was a spa it was the Carrington family home.”