“I’ll just get your change.”
“You keep it,” he said, and with a wink he put on his hat and stepped outside.
Madeline pushed open the kitchen door and found Mrs. Ruggles sitting at the table peeling potatoes. Seeing Madeline, the cook wiped her hands and got to her feet.
“Is there something you’d like, madam?”
Her tone was cordial enough, but she didn’t look at all pleased to see that Madeline had come uninvited into her kitchen.
“I was just wondering what we’re having for lunch,” Madeline said. “Everything you make is always so delicious.”
“Baked chicken and potatoes and some boiled vegetables. I didn’t think Mrs. Cummins or Mr. Talbot would want anything fussy.”
“No, of course not.”
There were peas and carrots laid out on the counter next to a pan that held two plump chickens.
“I meant to tell you how much we enjoyed the chicken we had during the party. What do you do to them to make them so tender?”
Mrs. Ruggles pursed her lips. “I don’t like to say, madam. It’s been our family secret some while now.”
“I understand.” Madeline put her hands behind her back like a scolded child. “You mustn’t mind me. I’m afraid I’m not much of a cook myself, but now that I’m married I think I ought to remedy that.”
The cook nodded. “Wouldn’t want to poison your young husband the first year out, I’d think.”
“Not if I can help it.”
Mrs. Ruggles nudged Madeline with one reddened elbow. “Wait till the second, eh?” Her lined face crinkled into a grin.
Madeline couldn’t help giggling. “Maybe the third.”
“Well then,” said Mrs. Ruggles, “perhaps I’d better tell you my little secret anyway. I put the chickens in honey brine the night before and then truss them up so they cook nice and even. Easy as winking and you won’t have any husband, young or old, not asking for more.”
“I’ll make sure and try it sometime. Thank you. I was wondering . . .”
“Yes, madam?”
“That label my husband asked you about, the one with the D on it.”
Mrs. Ruggles nodded.
“I was wondering if you had remembered anything like that.”
“No, dear, I’m sorry. I just can’t think of anything that would be what Mr. Farthering was asking after. And Mrs. Brogan couldn’t place it, either.”
“That’s too bad.” Madeline glanced toward the pantry door. “Do you think it would be all right if I looked in there myself? Sometimes people see the same things so often they don’t really see them anymore.”
The cook’s expression grew cool again. “I think I know what’s in my own pantry, begging your pardon, madam.”
“Oh, no,” Madeline said, laying a hand on her arm. “I didn’t mean to say you don’t. I just thought I might look around and—”
A high-pitched little mew came from behind the pantry door, and a white paw shot out from underneath it.
“Eddie!” Madeline pushed open the door. Eddie was crouched down, blinking at her. “What are you doing in here?”
Eddie tilted her head to one side and began grooming her paw, no longer interested in leaving the pantry.
“Well, come on.”
The cook scowled. “That little devil, she’s always sneaking in there when I have my back turned. Go on! Shoo!”
Madeline scooped the cat into her arms. “My husband and I were thinking she ought to have a bell or something. Just to keep her out of mischief. But with everything that’s happened, I guess we forgot about it.” With a sidelong glance at Mrs. Ruggles, Madeline turned to Eddie. “What were you doing in here?”
She strolled into the pantry, glancing at the cans and boxes stacked on the shelves. There seemed to be an enormous variety of things piled into the back section, not just food but clothing and blankets and household items in no particular order.
“That’s Mrs. Cummins’s charity pile.” Mrs. Ruggles sniffed. “Not that it isn’t grand of her to collect it all and send it over to the vicar, but it does make bedlam of my pantry. I’m afraid it’s stacked up a bit since, well, since the master and all, and the police did us no favors rummaging through it. I suppose the missus will put it all to rights when she’s feeling up to it, poor thing.”
Madeline cuddled the cat closer, still studying the shelves. “Maybe my friend Miss Holland and I can help her with it before we have to go.”
The cook huffed. “Just as you say, madam. I don’t know how I’m to keep the house fed with great crowds of people in my pantry, mind you, but that’s not for me to say.”
She stood at the pantry door, looking expectantly at Madeline until she and the cat were safely back in the kitchen, and then she waddled back to the table and her potatoes.
“Will there be anything else, madam? Would you like me to put the cat out?”
Eddie, lying like a baby in Madeline’s arms, looked unconcerned.
“I’ll take her. Maybe we’ll see if we can find a collar for her. Do you think they’d have one in the village?”
Mrs. Ruggles snorted. “There’s not much in Armitage Landing but the post office, the greengrocer, and the pub. You’d best try Lymington for your collar.”
Madeline thanked her and carried the cat out of the kitchen and into the garden. Drew was just coming up the path.
She waved to him. “Any luck?”
He kissed her cheek, looking distracted. “Not much. Mrs. Marsrow at the greengrocer didn’t recognize the label. Yet she did know that Bill Rinnie’s gran died and that’s why he has a new boat, and he most definitely doesn’t hire it out. How about you?”
“I’m afraid I didn’t do much better. Mrs. Ruggles doesn’t care for visitors in her kitchen, she knows what is and isn’t in her pantry thank you very much, and there’s nothing like that label you showed her. Oh, and she thinks I shouldn’t poison you until we’ve been married at least two years.”
He nodded thoughtfully. “Sound advice. And did you manage to have a look in the pantry yourself?”
“It was pretty quick, but yes, I did. The only thing of interest in there was Eddie.”
Drew chuckled. “Somehow I’m not at all surprised. I did ask about a collar for her, by the way, but they hadn’t any.”
“Mrs. Ruggles says Lymington’s the place to go for that.”
“All right. We’ll have a look there when we have time. Do you know where Will was off to just now?”
“What do you mean?” Madeline cradled Eddie against her shoulder. “He’s inside with Carrie and Nick.”
“Actually,” Drew said, “I saw him just a bit ago walking toward the beach.”
“What’s he doing down there? I know Carrie told him not to leave the house.”
“Evidently he didn’t care to comply.”
“Oh, there you are.” Madeline turned to see Mrs. Cummins coming from around the side of the house with Tal beside her.
“Everyone seems out of place at the moment, though I suspect Nick and Miss Holland must have found some trysting place away from her brother.” There was an indulgent twinkle in her eyes as she sat down in the sun. “It’s good to see some sweetness left in this old world.”
Madeline put Eddie down to let her investigate the butterfly that had caught her attention and then sat down next to Mrs. Cummins.
“How are you today?” She glanced up at Tal. “How are you both?”
“All right,” Tal said, but it was clear he was not.
A shadow passed across Mrs. Cummins face, and she sighed. “Poor Josephine is still ill, so Cook went herself to see Mr. Gibbons about the joint for dinner. She simply wouldn’t trust it to anyone else, even your Beryl, if you don’t mind my saying so. I don’t know why one of the other girls couldn’t go, but she insisted. She is very particular, yet you couldn’t ask for anyone more loyal. I think there’s hardly anything she wouldn’t do for us. Then again she’s been with the family for ages. Before I c
ame to Winteroak House as a bride.”
“Our Mrs. Devon is like that,” Drew said. “I don’t know how we’d manage without her.”
“I’d have to do the cooking, then.” Madeline laughed. “And it would be you who had the food poisoning most of the time.”
Drew wagged his finger at her. “Naughty.”
“Isn’t it a nice sunny morning?” Mrs. Cummins asked, looking a bit brighter. “I haven’t seen such a long stretch of good weather in ages.”
“It’s glorious,” Madeline agreed.
Mrs. Cummins shaded her eyes against the sun. “I was afraid we’d have rain and it would spoil the party. Before everyone came, I told Mr. Cummins, I said . . . I mean, that was before I—” She broke off, her cheeks reddening. “Oh, dear. What have I said now?”
Tal was paler than before. “It doesn’t matter, Mother. Why don’t you sit here for a while and enjoy the weather until lunchtime?”
“That’s a lovely idea,” Drew said. He pulled up a chair for himself. “No use letting it all go to waste.”
Mrs. Cummins’s lips trembled into a smile. “It is such a comfort to have you here, Drew. Especially for Tal.” She looked at Madeline, pleading in her eyes. “The boys were always such good friends. It’s a shame their reunion had to be so horribly spoilt, but at least they’re here to help him through.” She took her son’s hand. “Don’t you think so, dear?”
“Of course, Mother.”
His voice was low and grim, and there was a touch of fresh worry in her eyes. Tal must have seen it there, because he drew a deep breath and then forced a smile.
“We’ll have it all sorted before long. I don’t want you to worry.”
Her eyes filled with tears as she turned to Madeline again. “Goodness knows, he tries to shield me from everything unpleasant, even when his own poor heart is breaking.”
“All right, Mother,” Tal said. “No need to bore everyone with sentiment.”
She flinched almost imperceptibly at the coldness in his voice and fished a handkerchief out of the pocket of her dress. “Oh, I’m sorry. Do forgive my silliness, all of you. It’s been rather a difficult few days.”
“Of course it has,” Madeline said, giving Tal a reproving look. “And you’ve been very brave all this time.”
“Mother, I . . .” He covered his eyes with one hand. “I didn’t mean . . . Please excuse me.”
In a few long strides he disappeared around the side of the house.
Mrs. Cummins breathed a nearly inaudible “oh” and started to stand when Drew stopped her.
“Maybe I should see to him,” he said.
Her lower lip trembled. “I never meant to be a bore.”
“And you never were,” he assured her. “He’s just on edge. You mustn’t take that sort of thing to heart. He doesn’t mean it.”
“No, of course not. Losing poor Alice and everything with his father.” She patted his hand. “He doesn’t mean it.”
Madeline met Drew’s eyes out of Mrs. Cummins’s line of sight, and he nodded in return.
“Excuse me a moment, will you, ladies?”
Ten
Drew went into the garden after Tal, who was grieving and so didn’t mean what he’d just said. Still, there was no need to make a bad situation worse. He found Tal pacing the grass, sometimes steering clear of the carefully tended flower beds and sometimes not.
“Look here, Tal—”
“Have you come to tell me what a beast I am?”
Drew shook his head. “We all understand what a rough go you’ve had of it. But she has too, you know.”
“I know.” Tal sank down onto a marble bench beneath the weeping willow and put his head in his hands. “All this is hard enough without seeing what it’s done to her.”
“We’ve all been rather on edge, but perhaps she’s had it the worst, what with finding out about your father and you losing Alice that way. I think most mothers would rather be hurt themselves than have to bear the hurt of their children.” Drew shoved his hands into his pockets. “She’d make it all better for you if she could.”
Tal looked up at the cloudless sky with a groan. “Don’t you think I know that? Don’t you think I feel an absolute swine for snapping at her? She thinks she can fix everything with a jam bun and a cup of tea. I know she means well, but it’s not enough. Some things just can’t be fixed.”
The fierceness in his expression faded as quickly as it had come, and he put his head in his hands once again. “You saw her at dinner last night, nearly falling to pieces over a bent fork and a cracked plate.”
“I’m sorry. It’s always the little things, isn’t it?”
“Doesn’t help that I can’t manage to be civil, either.”
Drew shrugged. “She seems a bit lost these days. Without your father to lean on and all. I expect you feel the same way, but maybe the two of you could lean on each other now.”
“We’re all we have left, aren’t we? And you know how Mum is. Even when the world is coming down around my ears, I know she’s there for me.”
“It’s a good thing to know.”
Tal managed a crooked smile. “It is that.”
Drew clapped him on the back. “Maybe you ought to tell her so.”
Tal said nothing for a moment, and then he nodded. “I suppose I ought. Thanks, old man.”
Drew got to his feet. “Ready to go back?”
Tal made a wry face and stood, too. “You don’t have a healthy portion of humble pie on you by any chance, do you?”
Drew chuckled. “Sorry, no. But you tell her anyway. See if it doesn’t help.”
They walked back toward the terrace, but Tal stopped before they reached it. “No.”
Drew stopped beside him and studied his wan face. “What is it, Tal?”
“I can’t do this, Drew. I can’t keep pretending things are all right, that they’re ever going to be all right.” He caught a quivering breath. “I can’t go tell my mother I’ll help her get through this when I don’t know if I can even get through it myself. I feel as if I’ll go mad caged up here, knowing my father had help doing what he did and not know who’s in it with him or what lengths he’ll go to stay hidden.”
Drew couldn’t say he didn’t have the same fears, especially with Madeline and Carrie staying at Winteroak, but he wasn’t going to let those fears make him turn tail and let a murderer go free. For now, though, he just wanted to help Tal make it through the morning.
“Maybe you ought to get away from the house for a bit. I don’t mean leave the country or anything, but maybe just take a drive or a walk. Clear your head. You should have gone to the cinema with the others last night. Would have done you good. Better than shutting yourself up as you have. I haven’t seen you all morning. Not until now.”
Tal shrugged. “Don’t know where I’d go. Everything seems so . . . useless.”
“We’re going to find out who killed her, Tal.” Drew took hold of his shoulders, looking steadily into his pain-dulled eyes. “We’re going to find out what happened and who was helping your father. It’s going to stop, do you hear me? You just have to hold on. Your mother needs you.”
Tal said nothing, and Drew began to wonder if he’d even heard.
Then Tal took in a deep, strengthening breath of the fresh salt air and nodded. “Yes. Of course she does. Come on.”
Carrie and Nick had joined Madeline and Mrs. Cummins on the terrace by the time Drew and Tal came around to the back of the house once again.
Tal leaned over and kissed his mother’s cheek and murmured a swift apology. Mrs. Cummins’s worried face suddenly bloomed, and she patted his hand. That was all, but it was clearly enough. Tal seemed more at ease afterward.
“We’ve just had a wonderful idea,” Madeline said, pulling Drew down onto the bench beside her. “What do you think, Tal? We were just talking about the Little Abbey. I hear it’s very pretty this time of year.”
“Is it very old?” Carrie asked.
“I, uh,
yes.” Tal cleared his throat. “It was built in 1123 and then dissolved and abandoned in Henry VIII’s time. They took the roof off for the lead, and the locals used the stones for their houses, so there’s not all that much left of it. But it’s a pretty place. There are still three walls, some steps, and nice stone tracery, and the walk through the forest up to it is rather pretty, too.”
“May we go see it?” Carrie asked. “It’s not too far to go, is it?”
“Perhaps a half-hour’s walk is all. A bit more if you take the path round by Claridge Rindle. It’s quite lovely, in fact.”
Madeline glanced at Drew, then turned a warm smile on Tal. “We were thinking, if you’d like, that it might be nice to go see it.”
“There you go, Tal,” Drew said. “It’d make a welcome change, wouldn’t it? You can be our tour guide and point out all the sights, and I daresay we’ll be back just in time for lunch. What do you think?”
“Well, I . . .” Tal hesitated, catching the hopeful look on his mother’s face, and then managed a small smile. “It might not be a bad idea, after all.” He squeezed his mother’s hand. “Provided we all go.”
Mrs. Cummins beamed at him. “Oh, yes! But really, we ought to invite Mr. Laurent to come, too.”
“Mother,” Tal protested.
“Now, yes, we should. The police haven’t found that he’s done anything wrong, and there’s really no reason you shouldn’t be friends with him. He’s our guest, and it’s not right him being left out.”
“Actually, ma’am,” Drew said, “I believe he went down to his yacht earlier this morning. I heard his valet telling the cook he wouldn’t be in for lunch.”
“Oh.” A little pucker formed between Mrs. Cummins’s brows. “I suppose that’s all right, then. Perhaps that’s the way they do it in France. Well, never mind. I’ll just go put on my walking shoes and won’t be a minute.” She hurried away.
Madeline frowned. “He might have let her know himself.” She sighed and looked down at her own shoes. “I suppose these will do for a half-hour walk. How about yours, Carrie?”
“They’re fine,” Carrie said, half distracted as she looked around the garden and out toward the beach. “You two haven’t seen Billy, have you? I told him if he was late coming to lunch again today, he’d just have to do without. I don’t know why everyone should have to wait for him to show up every day.”
Dressed for Death Page 13
