‘Er, yes. Why do you ask?’ Again, the slight stare.
‘A personable man, I thought. And doing a very good job. The garden is quite beautiful.’
She relaxed and smiled the sweet smile. But said nothing.
‘You’re going to have to excuse my sister,’ said Sir Tempest, after she had left the library. ‘Not that strong. Naturally this is a bad business.’
‘She was here when Prudence died?’
‘We all were. It was just after Christmas, you see.’
‘It is helpful she has connections to help Simon and Edie get launched, as it were.’
Sir Tempest, wasn’t listening. He was gazing out the window, watching his sister moving across the lawn on her way back to the glass house.
‘She was in her glass house when Mr Wittering was murdered?’
‘That’s correct. She told Simon she wasn’t coming in for tea. We could see her working away busily from where we sat in the conservatory.’ His voice was one of warm affection. He was obviously very close to his younger sister.
IV
‘It’s not fair. Everyone thinks I’ve done it,’ cried Edie belligerently. ‘Just because I found the body.’
‘Don’t be a fool, Edie. No one thinks anything of the sort. Everyone is being asked to tell Miss Lavender here, what they know. Every little helps. Now sit down.’
Miss Lavender reached for her knitting. Her progress was slow. She had only knitted a few rounds of the first sock.
‘I’ve already told you all I know.’
‘Let Miss Lavender be the best judge of that.’
‘Anyway, I don’t see why she needs to be here. Poking her nose into other people’s affairs.’
‘Rosamunde is here as my friend, and my guest, Edie,’ said her father severely, ‘and I’ll thank you to keep a civil tongue in your head.’
‘Did you know there was to be an assessment of your father’s library, Edie?’ Miss Lavender began.
‘As a matter of fact I did. I keep an eye on what’s going on here at The Court. Don’t want strangers lurking around.’
‘And when did you know that it was Mr Shapley himself who had arrived.’
‘At lunch. Same as everyone else.’
‘Did you go in to say hello to him before lunch?’
‘No.’
‘And what did you think of him?’
‘Bit dull, really. A bit too old.’
‘Old enough to be your father?’
‘Well, yes. I suppose so.’
‘So not the marrying type. Not available.’
The colour in Edie’s cheeks rose. ‘Whatever do you mean?’
‘Isn’t it the case that your father would like to see you married.’
‘Yes.’ Her tone was sullen and she looked away from her father. ‘That’s what’s expected of girls like me, isn’t it. Unlike Aunt Fenella.’
‘Can you explain?’
She only glared, petulantly.
‘I think what Edie means is that my sister, Fenella, is rather too old now for marriage. Isn’t that right, Edie.’
‘If you say so,’ she mumbled.
Miss Lavender raised the sock closer to her face in order to count the stitches.
‘Well, my dear, I am very sure an attractive, bright young girl like yourself would have no trouble finding someone.’
Edie gave her a swift piercing look.
‘Now, let me see. You only saw Mr Wittering at lunch. Did you know he did not wish any tea?’
‘I wasn’t that interested. Simon said Fenella wouldn’t be having any. Which was odd.’
‘How so?’
‘She never misses tea. Loves the stuff. Always asking if there is another cup in the pot.’
‘I see. And Seddon brought the tray?’
‘Two trays. There were four of us. What with the tea things and the scones and cakes, he wouldn’t manage all that on one.’
‘What time was that?’
‘We always have tea at half past. Sort of ritual at The Court. I ‘spect Mildred set that up. Mother didn’t really care for all the routine, you see.’
‘Do you know if Seddon went all the way back to the kitchen to fetch the second tray?’
‘Haven’t a clue. He’s slowing up a bit now he’s older.’ She smiled for the first time.
‘And you didn’t see anything different - odd - about the tea?’
‘Not a bit. Just the same.The only thing odd, of course, is Caro. She was setting about Pops something fierce. About the will. She’s certain she’s going to be cut out. Not that she’s ever been cut out of anything.’
‘There’s quite a difference in age between you and your step sister, isn’t there.’
‘Of course.’
‘She must have left home by the time you were old enough to be aware of her.’
‘One cannot be unaware of Caro. She makes her presence felt. Then when she married the odious Rupert we’ve been stuck with her endlessly hanging around. Pops wishes they’d get posted abroad.’
Sir Tempest shifted uncomfortably in his chair.
‘And Fenella. Your aunt. What about her?’
‘What about her. She went gaga for a while - .’
‘Edie, really!’
‘Well, Pops, it’s true. Then they brought her down here and she has been buried in the garden ever since.’
‘Where had she been?’
‘London. Heatherleys. She did art, you see.’
‘Oh, how surprising.’
‘Why?’
‘Well,’ Miss Lavender laid her knitting in her lap for a moment. ‘I would have thought she would have done some sort of horticulture course. Kew, maybe. She seems so gifted in that direction. But getting back to Tuesday. Would it surprise you if someone made a mistake.’
‘A mistake?’ said Edie, slowly. ‘With the tea, you mean. Accidental death.’
‘Oh, no, my dear. It might be possible that the murderer came by the side door. And had in fact intended your own father as his victim.’
There was something of a silence as Edie took this in. She looked from Miss Lavender to her father, and back again. He remained absolutely still. Then she gave a quick, awkward laugh. ‘You are having me on, aren’t you.’
‘Not necessarily,’ said Miss Lavender quietly. ‘Would you know where the key to the garden door is normally kept.’
Edie bit her lip. ‘At the back door. Why?’
‘And several others would also know. Including Travers, the gardener.’
‘You’re not bringing him into this.’
‘Everyone is a suspect, remember.’
‘If anyone put him up to it, it would be Fenella!’
Miss Lavender gave Edie a hooded look. ‘How so?’
Edie backtracked. ‘Well, what I mean to say is - well Aunt Fenella is in charge of the garden. Like she’s in charge of everything else round here.’
‘True. Did you happen to see her when you were having tea in the conservatory.’
‘She was working in the glasshouse. You can see it quite clearly across the lawn.’
‘All the time?’
‘Yes.’
‘And did you leave the conservatory at any time?’
‘No.’
‘Did you all stay there for tea?’
‘Yes, of course.’
‘No one left at any time?’
‘Not once tea had arrived. Simon went out to see why Seddon was taking so long. Greedy pig as usual.’
‘Before the first tray?’
‘No. He’d served the food. We were waiting on the tea pot. It was on the second tray.’
‘Was he gone for long.’
‘Five minutes. More or less.’
‘And it was you who found Mr Shapley. What time would that have been.’
‘Can’t remember. Some time after four.’
‘That was the first time that day you had gone into the library.’
‘That’s right. Seddon came to clear our things and was a bit
shaky. So Pops asked me to go and fetch the tray from the library. Give him a hand down the stairs to the kitchen. He has got rather doddery recently. He dropped a tray last week.’
‘You’re rather fond of Seddon, aren’t you, Edie.’
She smiled again. ‘I suppose so.’
‘And did everyone come running. When you screamed?’
‘Who said I screamed? I don’t recall screaming. No. I went back to everyone in the conservatory to tell them. I thought the chap had had a heart attack, you see. Seddon called for an ambulance. It was a shock.’
‘Yes, very nasty.’
‘And his tray was still here, in the library?’
‘I don’t know. I mean. I suppose so. Yes. Yes. It was still here.’
‘On the desk?’
‘No. Over on that table behind you.’
‘And where exactly was Mr Shapley?’
‘Just where you are sitting. Slumped over the desk. It was horrible.’
Miss Lavender pushed a mint green piece of Churston Deckle notepaper towards Edie. ‘Would you mind just drawing a little plan of it? Such a help my dear.’
The young girl raised her eyebrows, but did as she was asked.
‘That’s right. And just label the desk, table and so on. Good. So thank you Edie. You have been most helpful.’
She stood up, the belligerence entirely replaced by a cheerful grin. ‘You are most welcome. Any time.’
Sir Tempest let out a deep sigh of relief when she had gone. Miss Lavender wrapped the extra wool round the ball and pushed it and the needles into her knitting bag. She was pleased. She had now completed the cuff and was ready to begin the lace pattern. That would require rather more concentration until she had committed it to memory. She would have to do it in a free moment. She turned to her companion.
‘It cannot be easy for you.’
‘No. No matter.’ He sat with a worried frown.
‘It really is to eliminate family members early. Put that to rest, as it were.’
‘Well. I don’t know about you, but a stiff drink is required, I think.’
They moved through to the conservatory where Seddon served them a drink.
V
Rupert and Caroline came over for lunch. They found Sir Tempest in the conservatory with Miss Lavender. Whatever they had been talking about was a mystery as they stopped abruptly when Caroline came in.
‘It’s looking rather like it might rain in the afternoon,’ said Rupert.
‘We were planning to go to the Mess for the curry lunch,’ said Caroline, who gave her father a quick kiss on the top of his balding head. ‘But we felt we couldn’t miss out on all the excitement here. Don’t mind if I sit next to you, Rosamunde, do you.’
She sat her ample behind down on the rattan settee, rather too close, so that Miss Lavender was forced to move along to the end. She rather primly made a point of picking up her knitting bag, and placed it on her lap. If there was an urge to stick a double pointed knitting needle into her companion’s upper thigh, she resisted it. Caroline sat forward, facing the men, and rather blocking out the older lady. This was a woman who meant to be counted. Miss Lavender wondered if she was like this temperamentally, or whether it was a result of her father’s remarriage and second family. Perhaps if Caroline had had a brother or sister of her own . . . but then, evidently she had been doted on by Mildred.
Fenella joined them for lunch. Evidently both Simon and Edie had gone out for the day. Miss Lavender saw her for the first time without her smock on. She had let her hair down, and it hung in a curtain, partly obscuring her face. The simple grey shift dress, beautifully cut, and of expensive material, was probably from Jaeger. Her pearls were a marvellous foil for her perfect complexion. She wore no rings. But that was to be expected, considering that she worked so much with her hands. Miss Lavender wondered how she had never come across Fenella Harrington until this. Up until now she had been unaware that Sir Tempest had a sister. Let alone that she actually lived with him at The Court. Had he and his second wife, Prudence, been ashamed of her, she wondered. Certainly mental illness was treated as something to shove under the carpet. But then, by all accounts, Prudence herself had evidently been unstable.
Where Fenella Harrington came across as cool and collected, if rather pale and reserved, Caroline could only be described as blousy. Her floral cotton day dress, the scarlet poppies the size of dinner plates, a thick black patent belt tied too tight, and a matching shiny black hairband almost hurt the eyes. There was something truly pathetic in her attempts to engage Fenella in conversation. The louder her talk and laughter, the more Fenella withdrew. Miss Lavender thought there must be only ten years separating their ages: Caroline thirty-five, and Fenella a decade older. It was startling to think that Simon and Edie were so very much younger than Caroline. Had she resented their arrival, she wondered.
Miss Lavender was tempted to bring out her knitting again. But they were called through by the sounds of the clock in the hall striking one, for lunch. As it happened, they all settled down quite happily together to enjoy the meal. Caroline was socially adept, keeping a flow of small talk, though she could not resist taking a jab at her father now and then. Rupert’s bland statements regarding the weather, cricket, the state of the government, filled in any gaps in the conversation. No one actually took him up with a rejoinder. But neither did he expect any. Perhaps he thought the gathered company were like his men. There to be talked at, rather than with. The only time he was properly engaged in conversation was when his remarks turned to the garden. There he and Fenella shared an enthusiasm. And he was not uneducated in the matter. They both listened to Down the Garden Path, or Gardeners’ Question Time as they now called it, on the radio, and discussed the latest programme at length. Evidently he and Fenella had found comfortable common ground. That was it, thought Miss Lavender as she listened to talk of dahlias and leylandii, they were comfortable with one another. Perhaps there was more to Rupert than met the eye.
They were in total agreement about one thing, though, voiced by Sir Tempest as they sat down to eat.
‘I must say, it’s rather a relief to have us old folk alone for once. Without the young people.’
‘Quite,’ said Caroline, taking a sip of wine. ‘At least we don’t have to mind what we say. But count me out of being labelled ‘old’, I would much rather be referred to as ‘adult’.’
‘Hear, hear,’ said her husband. ‘By the way, Fenella, have you managed finally to get young Simon off our hands?’
‘The chateau, you mean, Rupert. Yes, as a matter of fact I had the letter confirming his place yesterday. It had rather slipped my mind. What with all the upheaval. Sorry Tempest, I really should have let you know.’
‘Only hope he agrees to it,’ said her brother gloomily.
‘Oh, I think he’s rather looking forward to it, underneath that facade,’ said Caroline. ‘All that bluff and bluster is simply shyness. Insecurity. The insecurity of the young.’
They all laughed.
‘Well, it should be the making of him,’ Caroline continued. ‘ And he’d better make the most of it. Don’t want him rolling up here again, do we Father.’
‘Unlike yourself,’ said Fenella quietly.
‘I say. I take exception to that. I got on with it, if you remember. After school. . .’
‘Ladies, ladies,’ interrupted her husband. ‘I seem to recall, Caroline, you enjoyed your London scene very much in your early twenties.’
‘Fenella was in London too.’
‘Oh, London,’ put in Miss Lavender, ‘when you are young, must be the best place in the world. Tell me did you ever stay at The Henward? Such a delightful place for afternoon tea. I used to go every afternoon when I was doing research at the British Museum. It was just round the corner. So convenient. It closed down, you know.’
‘Really. How very sad,’ Caroline replied. ‘I certainly remember The Henward, and its afternoon teas. And Fenella, did you ever go to their cocktail evenin
gs? Ah, but of course, you were the arty crowd. Probably kept to your studio.’
‘Art. Now there’s the thing. Do you still paint, Fenella?’
‘No, Rosamunde, Fenella only does the garden,’ said her brother quickly. ‘Much too busy for anything else. Isn’t that right, old girl.’
‘Quite right,’ said Fenella shortly.
‘We knew a painter once,’ said Rupert. ‘Odd sort of Johnny. But asked outrageous prices, and got them. Cubular Braque, I think he called it. Rotten stuff. All black right angles and various shades of brown.’
They all laughed again. The colonel certainly had a way of keeping the tone light.
VI
‘So you want to have a run down from me on what I know,’ said Rupert, in a somewhat ruffled tone of voice. He had been asked, after lunch, to follow Miss Lavender and Sir Tempest to the library. ‘I must say, it’s a bit irregular. Aren’t the police sorting it out for you, Tempest, old boy?’
‘We are simply gathering a few facts. Every little helps.’ Miss Lavender’s voice was firm.
‘Very well, very well, carry on then. You don’t mind if I smoke, do you.’ He brought out a cigarette and lit it with a lighter. ‘You do realise I wasn’t here when - I mean last Tuesday - don’t you.’
‘Ah, yes, where were you, in fact.’
He gave a dry laugh. ‘Some of us have to work you know. I was in my office at the camp. Call ‘em up if you like. Anyone will verify for me.’
‘Were you aware your wife was coming to make a call on her father?’
‘As a matter of fact, yes. Caroline and I had discussed a small problem at breakfast. I suggested she come over. She is very close to her family. Heaven knows it’s something little short of miraculous we are so close at hand. Could have been posted pretty much anywhere in the last year or two. So she’s been making the most of our posting here in Hampshire.’
He had mild blue eyes, that missed nothing. The Sandhurst training had produced a veneer. Hard, shiny, moulded by the army lingo, the slick turns of phrase. But behind it there was a man who was very shrewd, thought Miss Lavender. She wondered if he ever regretted having married the bombastic Caroline Harrington. Nevertheless, it was plain he kept her in hand. Quietly, but firmly. It would be interesting to know rather more of his background, however.
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