by C. G Oster
DI Ridley didn't say anything, but he nodded to her as she rose from her chair and grabbed her handbag. She felt like she wanted to say something else, but couldn't quite think what. "If you need assistance with anything, I would be happy to help."
"Thank you for the offer. I do have men who are paid to do so, as many as I need, actually."
"Of course," she said, feeling foolish. Blushing slightly, she nodded to him before leaving, the bell over the pub door tinkling as she opened it. She wasn't sure what to make of DI Ridley. A guarded man, without a doubt, but perhaps as a policeman, he had to be. It would hardly work well if he went and spilled all his thoughts and theories.
Interestingly, though, Nora Sands was not a local girl, although she had been at the Hall for a while—long enough to form relationships in the village that could turn sour. Still, enough to murder? Well, the insurance office had taught Dory that murder sometimes required very little incentive.
Chapter 7
The village shop contained a little of everything from household goods, to sewing materials, food and even books. There were magazines and Dory bought herself a copy of the latest Cosmopolitan. She liked the fiction serials in them and was happy to know she could continue the story she had already started. She also bought some caramels in a small, brown paper bag.
The shopkeeper was an older man with an apron. He was curious about her, but didn't ask. Obviously, he would know everyone in the village, and she would be a new face.
"Dory Sparks," she said to introduce herself. "Up at the Hall."
He made an understanding noise and nodded. "Replacing that girl, the one they found?"
"That's me."
"Terrible."
"Yes, it is. Did you know her?"
"Liked Jelly Babies. Came in quite often, almost every Sunday on her way back to the Hall."
"Oh," Dory said and thanked him when he returned her change. So Nora had been in the village almost every weekend, which meant she wasn't going off to Aylesbury with the rest. Informing DI Ridley of this came into her mind, but she guessed he already knew this. Of course he would have asked such people as the general merchant.
The door to the shop rang as well as she walked out to the cobbled main street of Quainton. Produce was stacked in boxes outside the shop and she wondered if she should buy an orange while she was here, but decided not to return into the shop.
A blond man was walking toward her and the shop, wearing a tweed suit with a yellow waistcoat—much fancier than any of the men in the pub. Vivian Fellingworth. So he hadn’t left the area, after all, had simply chosen not to attend Sunday service. Or was he returning after a night away? He looked up when noticing she was in the way, his clear blue eyes on her. "You look familiar," he said.
"I serve you supper most nights."
"Ah. The new girl. Sorry, I forgot your name."
"We were never actually introduced. Dory Sparks." She held out her hand, not really knowing what else to do. Was she supposed to curtsy? It seemed terribly awkward doing so here and now, outside of the house where their relationship wasn’t quite the same as it was inside the house. Was shaking hands even appropriate? He took her hand in his. It was warm and not quite as soft as she'd imagined.
"If you're returning to the Hall, I can give you a ride in a minute. Just need some tobacco. Hang on a moment." He disappeared into the shop, the bell over the door tinkling again. Dory saw him chatting amiably with the shopkeeper. This man was a natural charmer, Dory realized. But then she had also seen him be contrary to the point of rudeness.
"So, what brings you to Wallisford Hall?" he asked when he emerged again.
"A sudden vacancy."
"Ah, the girl."
"Did you know her?" Dory asked.
"A little. One does get to know the staff over time. It's only natural. Nice girl. Pretty. It's a shame what happened to her. Too young for such a fate."
"What did happen to her?" Dory said as she followed him to his large, white car. If he was offering her a ride back, she was going to take it over a long, sweaty walk back. It would give her more time to do nothing other than read and maybe even put a treatment in her hair, although she was conscious that DI Ridley may be watching them from inside the pub. The idea made her feel uncomfortable, but she wasn't entirely sure why.
"Not sure. I only saw the aftermath. Quite a shock. Not what I had expected waking up that morning."
"So, you were there?"
"You're sounding a little like that policeman who has been skulking around."
Dory blushed. "I'm sorry. I am just interested, I suppose. Someone being murdered isn't the most typical thing, is it? Not what you wish to learn taking on a new position of employment. Surprise, the girl before you was murdered."
"Did no one tell you?"
"No, I learned about it the day I arrived."
"Perhaps they thought you'd run screaming for the woods."
"Maybe someone in their right mind would."
Turning the key, the engine started to rumble. This was a much finer car than the one she had arrived in. The canvas top was down, the insides in red leather. In fact, it was the finest car she had ever seen. "Been out driving?"
For some reason, she didn't seem to be able to treat him with the deference she perhaps should, not out here on a village street. If delivering water to his room, or serving his supper, then yes, but not here. It seemed wrong, and so far, he hadn't kicked her out of his fancy car.
"Drove some of our guests down to London last night."
His not-as-soft-as-expected hand shifted the gear as he pulled out. In fact, he was a little more substantial in form in general, as if he enjoyed sports. That might explain the sun-kissed skin. In fact, all of him appeared to be golden. Looking over as he pulled out, he smiled. Nice, straight teeth. Vivian Fellingworth had been given gifts in the looks department.
"Have you been traveling of late?" she asked.
"What makes you ask?"
"You appear to have seen a bit of sun lately." Or else, he lived in some microcosm where the spring hadn't been a cold, wet affair.
"You really are interrogating me, aren't you? Are you always this curious? You sound just like that detective. Maybe you have missed your calling in life."
Dory blushed again and looked away. "One of my traits, I'm afraid." One her mother had barraged her for endlessly. Perhaps she should try to remain quiet during the rest of this journey.
Vivian pursed his lips. "It's a strange thing being questioned by that man. He seeks to know everything there is to know about you while at the same time not having any real interest at all. Disconcerting, if you're not used to it."
"I only got a passing sense of it as I arrived after the fact; hence, immediately of no interest to him."
Golden man remained silent for a moment. "I hope this business wraps up quickly. It certainly isn't nice having accusations thrown at you."
"Have there been?"
"Well, no, not directly, but the insinuation is there. I suppose it would be with everyone he questions."
The car traveled fast down tight country lanes, at times a little too fast for Dory's comfort. Vivian Fellingworth was very assured with his driving, as if he was an old hand at it. But he couldn't be that old. There wasn’t a single line on his face, his skin smooth and tanned.
The wind whipped her hair as they drove. It felt strange sitting next to a person and not saying anything. She'd promised herself she wouldn't ask any more questions. "Do you live at Wallisford Hall permanently?" So much for that intention.
A deep sigh escaped him. "I've just returned from Cambridge. I spend most of my time there. We have a townhouse in London, of course, but I find I get much too distracted in London. Or rather, Father fears I get too distracted."
"Do you?"
A smile spread across his lips and he looked over. "Of course. These last few months, though, Mother insisted I stay in Cambridge every weekend to prepare for my exams so I don’t distract myself too
much. Didn't like it, because Cambridge can be a bore on the weekends, but it had the desired effect. All exams passed."
"So what do you do now that your studies are finished?" What did the sons of the manor do? Vivian was a second son, so he wasn't set to inherit Wallisford Hall.
"Haven't exactly worked that out yet. What about you, have you had your heart set on domestic service?"
"God, no. I only came because Gladys, my aunt, asked me to. More like demanded. Not sure I'm cut out for it. For one, I tend to ask too many questions. I'm sure you've noticed."
"You'd make a good lackey for that policeman."
"Do you really think so?" she said, probably with more enthusiasm than she should. "That would be awfully exciting, wouldn't it? Although, I suspect one becomes quite jaded with humanity doing such work."
"You think DI Ridley is jaded?"
"I think he's hard to impress."
"Didn't realize you were trying to impress him. Now that is interesting."
How had they gotten on this topic? Things had twisted out of all proportion. "I'm not. I'm just good at asking questions, is all I'm trying to say."
The look on his face showed he wasn't convinced. Wonderful, now Vivian Fellingworth thought she had sweet thoughts about their visiting detective. Nothing could be further from the truth. Well, not nothing. Ridley was a fascinating man. There was intelligence in his eyes, and he wasn't a man to suffer fools gladly.
Vivian pulled into the main gate of the Wallisford Hall property and they drove down a long straight road leading up to the house itself. Dory was more than glad she hadn't had to walk all this way. It would have taken her a couple of hours. Well, maybe an hour and a half. It wouldn't be so bad if she had a bicycle, but she didn't.
The car pulled up along the gravel until it came to a stop. Vivian got out and walked around the car, but Dory sorted herself before he actually came to help her. Instead, he leaned on the bonnet of the car, looking relaxed and utterly assured of himself. Dory supposed he was a man, and had been a child, who had always gotten what he wanted, and expected the same. "Well, Miss Sparks, you may ride in my car anytime you wish to."
A playful look lingered in his eyes and a slow smile turned up the corners of his mouth. That look automatically made Dory blush again. He was flirting with her, perhaps even waiting for her to make a suggestion for the next time he should take her out, which would be a deliberate outing. It was hard to tell if he was serious, or simply trying his luck for effect? Was this what he did with girls, tested how much they wanted to spend time with him? Obviously, he had no qualms about making assignations with the staff.
"If I find myself stranded somewhere in a horrible storm, I might take you up on the offer."
His smile widened and she didn't know if it was what she'd said, or the fact that she was effectively turning him down. She could well imagine it wasn't something that happened often. Then again, she didn't step out with any young man who asked her, and that included the young lords of the manor.
Chapter 8
Vivian Fellingworth's easy manner and winning smile lingered in her thoughts as she returned to her room. It surprised her how easily he overlooked the difference in their status—she a servant, and he a member of the family. There was something very uncomfortable about it. Not for a moment did she think it was her force of personality that moved him to make such an offer; rather, he was looking to spend time with any girl impressed with him.
Quite a few would fall for his charm, Dory assumed. Likely, he was the type to charm until he got what he wanted. The type wasn't entirely the purview of the upper classes—they existed everywhere. His fancy car and respectable name probably made him very successful at it. And the ease in which he slipped into flirting showed that it was an ingrained habit.
Dory busied herself in her room doing things she'd been hoping to do all week, including glancing through the magazine she'd just bought, eating her lollies and generally keeping off her feet.
Noise invaded the hall outside, signifying the other girls had arrived back. Getting up, Dory answered the door, seeing both Clara and Mavis in their smart Sunday clothes. "How was Aylesbury?"
"Marvelous," Clara said.
"Saw a movie with Clark Gable. Isn't he a dream. I will certainly dream about him tonight, I'm sure." Mavis giggled. Most likely, there had been a drink or two before coming home.
"It really was good. You should have come."
"I think I will next time."
"One day in Quainton is all you need, really. Although Nora did like to spend her time there. The shopkeeper said he saw her often."
"She was actually very secretive about what she got up to on her days off, always running off. She had a beau, you know, or at least she said she did," Clara said.
"Did you tell DI Ridley this?"
"Of course I did. Why would I hide something like that? But I don't know who it was. She never let on. Nora did like to keep her secrets. It was almost as if she prided herself on knowing things and not letting others know what. She was very annoying that way."
"That's ungenerous," Mavis said. "She was just a private person. Not all of us want everyone to know our business."
"What business have you to know about?"
"You mean besides the steamy romance between me and Clark Gable?"
"That would be the day. Enjoy those dreams of yours." Mavis walked off to her room.
"Larry thought it was a right shame you didn't come along," Clara continued, leaning against the wall with her ankle crossed over the other.
"Larry thinking that's a shame makes me less willing to come along."
"He's a nice boy."
"Aren't they all," Dory said sarcastically.
"They are all incorrigible flirts, aren't they?"
"Speaking of flirts, Vivian Fellingworth gave me a ride back from the village," Dory said, mainly to see how Clara reacted.
"Oh?" Clara said questioningly. "Might be the biggest flirt of all. Don't take it seriously. I suspect he's trying to make it a profession to flirt with girls. Charms them right out of their knickers, that one."
"I suspected as much."
"If you tip your hat in that direction, be aware of it."
"I have no intention to."
"I've heard that before as well."
"Like with Nora? Did she have interests in that direction?" Dory asked.
"Not that I saw. Then again, she did keep things close to her chest. They could have had a torrid affair for all I know. She was definitely stepping out with someone. What other reason could she have for spending every day off in Quainton?"
Massaging the nape of her neck, Dory considered the question, wondering if something very ugly lay underneath all this. A liaison gone wrong wasn't out of the realm of possibility, particularly if Nora started making demands of a reticent beau. Surely, she hadn’t been pregnant? DI Ridley had said nothing of the kind, but then she knew from detective stories that they often kept things back, things only the people involved would know.
Was the charming golden boy secretly a murderer? Dory shuddered at the thought. Actually, she found it hard to imagine. He'd been easy to talk to, and not as stuck on propriety and tradition as some of the other people were in this house. No doubt, Mrs. Parsons would likely tan her backside if she knew the candid conversation they'd had during the ride back from Quainton. According to Mrs. Parsons, Dory should probably not have accepted the ride home at all, it being unseemly for someone in her position to accept favors with one of the family.
*
Come the evening, her day off had officially ended and she went to help Lady Pettifer prepare for supper.
"How was your day, Lady Pettifer?" Dory asked as she arrived at the older woman's room.
"A lovely day, wasn't it? Not too hot, but clear and cool. Days like this I don't miss France quite as much. Unfortunately, it is not every day we have such stunning weather, is it? If only we did, I would move back permanently."
"I take
it you are staying over the summer?"
"Yes. I do prefer the summers here. It gets much too hot near the Mediterranean. Unbearably so."
Dory had a hard time imagining. The hot days she had ever known here in England were the loveliest days of her life. It was hard to imagine it being too hot. "There you are," Dory said, setting the last pin in Lady Pettifer's hair. "I'm sorry I'm not better at this."
"Never mind. I am too old to be vain. Why don't you walk down with me? See that I don't fall."
"Of course." They were not supposed to use the family staircase unless they were cleaning it, but it was a direct request from a family member. Mr. Holmes might not see that though. Lady Pettifer took Dory's offered arm.
"At my age, you become less stable on your feet."
They wandered leisurely down the hall and then downstairs. Dory helped Lady Pettifer to her seat, then rushed through the servants' door under the sternly watchful eye of Mr. Holmes.
Roast pork was on the menu tonight and Dory's stomach roared its delight as soon as the wafting smell hit her. "I really should learn some of your skill while I am here," she said to her aunt as she reached the kitchen.
"Learning how to cook a good meal is a gift you should give yourself." Gladys had finished with the main meal and was already working on dessert—some kind of meringue with cream and fruit.
Carrying the tray up with Clara, Dory returned to the dining room. Cedric was talking about some cricket match he'd played at Milton Common, catching up with some of his friends.
"You certainly will miss your Cambridge days," Lord Wallisford said to Vivian. "You don't quite appreciate them as much when you're there as you do after—when settled into your everyday life."
"I'm not planning on settling for anything," Vivian said, sitting casually with a drink in his hand.
Mr. Holmes carved the roast and Clara prepared the vegetables and gravy. Dory served, starting with Lord and Lady Wallisford, then Lady Pettifer who thanked Dory with a pat on her arm. Then the sons and the two visitors who were still at the house—one Cedric had brought with him from his cricket match, and another, who Dory couldn't tell exactly why they were here. Then again, it wasn't her place to question such things.
