by C. G Oster
That was him, though, wasn't it? Charming when he wanted to make an impression, boorish any other time. Dory had the urge to tell him exactly where he could stick his stellar personality—and his road skills. Unfortunately, once at the hall, it was not her place to tell him what she thought about anything. That was probably the part that grated the most about being in domestic service—the understanding that the family could behave any way they damned well pleased.
In burning fury, Dory rode home, still upset at nearly being run off the road. The offending vehicle stood haphazardly on the gravel in front of the house, just about blocking one of the other cars, the driver nowhere to be seen. Dory was of mind to actually hit him, which would probably get her fired. What were the chances that someone like him would take his just desserts with circumspection? Zero, she would guess.
Still grumbling, she walked down the external servants' stairs to the kitchen where Gladys was preparing pastry for the evening meal. "Vivian Fellingworth almost ran me off the road in that horrible car of his."
"He must not have seen you," Gladys said, fervently rolling her pastry.
"I was the only thing on the road," Dory complained. "How could he not see me?"
How could he not see her? How could one miss a bicyclist like that? Or did he? Either he didn't care, or maybe he was even trying to run her off the road. The thought was chilling. No, it couldn't be, she thought, dismissing the idea.
Hanging her coat up, she returned to the kitchen, but Mrs. Parsons was now there. "Isn't there something you should be doing?" she said sharply. "And why are you dressed without your uniform?"
"Lady Pettifer had me run an errand, but that task is completed now, so I just came to see if there is something particular you wish for me to do," Dory lied.
"Well, if you have run out of things to do. I think the library could use a dusting and some straightening."
"I'll get right on it," Dory said with a smile that she could see hadn't entirely alleviated Mrs. Parsons' suspicion.
After changing into her uniform, she returned downstairs to the family floor to carry out her work in the library.
"Well, if you won't do something about it, I will," she heard Cedric's curt voice.
Dory paused as she passed the door of the study.
"They can't just do what they want; there are consequences for such actions."
"Calm down, Cedric," the deep, slow voice of Lord Wallisford said. "I will make sure nothing comes of it."
Hearing footsteps, Dory hurried down the hall toward the library. The fire grate was clean, so no one had asked for the fire to be lit in the last day. There was perhaps a little dust, but not much. Bringing out her ostrich feather duster, Dory pulled the railed ladder over and climbed up to the top of the shelf, where a thin coating of dust had accumulated. No one would ever see the dust up here, but she had learned that the fact no one could see it didn’t matter to Mrs. Parsons. If there was dust, it had to be removed, even if no one would ever be the wiser. It was as if dust, by simply being there, spoilt the atmosphere.
Marching footsteps sounded down the hall and then the front door slammed. Cedric's car roared to life and soon gravel was spraying across the driveway. Something had clearly upset Cedric. Dory went through the words she'd overheard. Someone was trying to get away with something and it was upsetting Cedric. Lord Wallisford obviously had the power to stop or influence them.
He had clearly said 'they,' and Dory didn't think it was family members ganging up on him—although she wouldn't necessarily put it past them, but she suspected this was referring to something else. Probably related to the steps Cedric was taking into parliamentary circles. As the oldest son, he would one day inherit the title, and hence, a place at the House of Lords.
Could any of this have anything to do with Nora's death? It was hard to see how. No one had suspected that Nora and Cedric had ever been anything more than respectful of their proper roles. It wasn't as if Nora had been pregnant and in some way able to blackmail him. Even if she were, no one would listen to some maid decrying her loose virtue. Besides, Cedric seemed to have no interest in the maids. That was Vivian's territory.
*
Cedric was sullen as the family dined that night, maybe even a little more relaxed than usual. Dory guessed he'd spent some time at the pub, or somewhere else where people drank. Who knew where he did such things. Hardly with the riff raff in Quainton’s pub. From what she'd seen, Cedric liked sticking with his ilk.
As per usual, Vivian was decidedly relaxed as well, his eyes glazed in the candle light on the table. "Why don't we have some champagne, Holmes," he suggested.
"I'm sure you've had enough, Vivian," Lady Wallisford said tartly.
"Enough? But the night has barely started, and we do have things to celebrate, don’t we?"
"Such as?" Cedric said in his driest voice.
"Well, you have made quite an impression at Parliament, I hear. That's something to celebrate."
Cedric turned beet red and his chin rose even higher than normal.
Dory ladled soup into the fine bone china bowls. It was a creamy bisque and it smelled heavenly. Hopefully they would have some downstairs later. Clara carried a steaming roast beef on a wooden platter to rest before carving. The smell of it made Dory's mouth water even more and her stomach growled.
Bringing the bowl of soup to Lord Wallisford, Dory put it down, while Clara followed with a basket of bread rolls, placing one on a small plate with a pair of silver tongs.
"Although some would argue not quite the impression you wanted to make. Was it, Cedric, the impression you wanted to make?" Vivian said, a sly smile twisting his lips in wry amusement. With raised eyebrows, he was devilishly handsome when he did that, but it was also pure arrogance, as if nothing could ever concern or touch him.
"Vivian," Lady Wallisford chided. "It is a step in the right direction."
Cedric's mouth was drawn so tight, it disappeared.
"What was it," Vivian said, apparently not content with roasting his brother, "special envoy to the Society of… Acoustics?"
"Audiology," Cedric said grudgingly, unhappily taking part in Vivian's goading.
"How riveting. They must have real belief in your capabilities, Brother. And not envoy, is it? They’re actually trusted outside the country. No, you are… a coordinator?"
"Liaison," Cedric finally confirmed.
"It's an initial assignment; somewhere he can show what he's made of," Lord Wallisford said brusquely, steeling himself away from the soup.
"And what did Stephen Hedgestow get? Seconded to the League of Nations, wasn't he? And he's an idiot," Vivian continued with a snort.
"Audiology is of prime importance. We're heading into a war, but you wouldn't notice that, would you, Vivian, being but a schoolboy."
Cedric bit back, it seemed. Vivian's grin wasn't quite as wide, but he wasn't giving up.
"What are you going to make of your life?" Cedric continued, being on a roll. "Being a lush isn't an actual profession, and from what I hear, most of your tutors still don't know what you look like."
"Can't help being brilliant."
"At what?"
"Boys," Lady Wallisford cut in.
"Cedric is right," Lord Wallisford announced. "Your marks do leave quite a bit to be desired."
"Oh no, am I missing the opportunity to be a liaison to the Society of Orthodontics?"
Cedric’s eyes narrowed. "I doubt the Society of Ornithologists would have you. Not interested in the dull and dim-witted birds you avail yourself to. Not all of us are interested in filling the English countryside with bastards."
"Cedric!" Lady Wallisford chided. "That will be enough."
Dory felt like rolling her eyes, but she had to carry herself with serenity—as if she was floating on a cloud, completely oblivious to the vicious snipes going on around her. Although, in a sense, she should be offended because she was one of the ‘dull and dim-witted birds’ Vivian had had an attempt at, when not
trying to run her off the road. Oh, how she wanted to spill a whole bowl of bisque over his head. Mr. Holmes would probably suffer an apoplectic fit and die, and Dory didn't want that on her conscience.
Chapter 14
It felt like a blessing by the time Sunday rolled around. Dory went to church with the others, but she felt more lost and confused than ever. It couldn't be said that she liked her employers. Technically, Mrs. Parsons was her employer, but the Fellingworth family paid her wages and it was them she served. Could people really be so disagreeable? It made her wonder if it was wealth that spoiled people. It was hard to say it was some environmental quality. They had moral guidance the same as everyone else. In fact, they were sitting in the front pew. One would figure they would hear better than anyone else. It certainly wasn't lack of education.
Hopefully, it was some superficial quality that made them so disagreeable. Maybe it was just that they didn't have to be agreeable that caused it. Was that a natural disposition if one didn't have to get on with the people? Dory didn't know. But it was certainly not a done thing complaining about the family. Some degree of loyalty was expected, irrespective of how they behaved. At least enough not to talk about their foibles and shortcomings.
Dory had decided she didn't much like Vivian either. She had seen his charming side, but she had seen him without it, too, and it was definitely a mask he wore when he chose to.
As she had come to expect by now, DI Ridley was not in church today either. What she didn't know was if he had a day off like everyone else or if he simply kept going until the case was solved. Timeliness was supposedly important in a murder investigation, so perhaps he didn't have days off.
The reverend was talking about charity and the need to be merciful and generous with those who had little. From what she had seen of Quainton, there was no one here in real need, not like the stories one heard from London. Like in Swanley, everyone had a job and got on with it. Work was found for idle hands.
The service ended and they all streamed out to a lovely day. The last vestiges of winter were gone and it was downright summery. The breeze was a little cool, but flowers bloomed and the bees buzzed. It was a lovely picture; a lovely day.
"Are you coming to the pictures in the afternoon?" Mavis asked, wearing her navy jacket and pencil skirt. She looked very smart and Dory wished she had something similar. Perhaps she should buy some material in Aylesbury to make herself a new skirt.
"Why not?"
"Well, we're having lunch at the pub before we go. Larry wants a pint."
"Oh, alright," Dory said, feeling nervous tension rise up her with the mention, which was curious all on its own. The thought of seeing DI Ridley made her feel a little skittish. It was something that had come on just lately and she couldn't account for it—uncertain if it had to do with his temperate opinion of her and her curiosity, or more that she threatened to blush when he looked her in the eye.
So, they were off to the pub. It was a squeeze in the back seat of the car Larry drove and it soon grew warm. She would have to take her jacket and hat off before they set off for Aylesbury, or she would be a roasted mess by the time they got there.
The pub was as busy as Dory had seen it, but there was no DI Ridley in sight. Perhaps he had gone home for the day, maybe even to see his family. There was no ring on his finger, but not all men wore rings. It wasn't as if she had been blatant enough to ask.
A tiny, round table had to serve them while they had their pint of beer or glass of cider. Dory preferred a cider. The taste always reminded her of autumn.
"Stephen," Larry said, nodding to the large, young man sitting at the next table. "Michael home yet?"
"Not yet," the man said brusquely, sitting with his big, meaty arms crossed. His hair was light brown, the same color as his round eyes.
Larry blew a disapproving noise through his teeth. The Michael Larry was referring to had to be Michael Jones, which probably made this his brother. Dory smiled at him.
"It's shocking that they've arrested him," Mavis said. "Downright shocking."
"Yep," Stephen said and rose, walking over to the bar to get himself another pint.
"I might get some nuts," Dory said, feeling like something salty. Rising, she made her way over to the bar. "Dory Sparks," she said, holding out her hand to Stephen, who stared at her for a moment before shaking her hand.
"I heard a rumor there was a new girl up at the house."
"Well, they were one short, it seems," she said uncomfortably. "I didn't find out about the nature of the vacancy before I arrived. I met the man who is investigating, though."
"Useless sack of shit," Stephen grumbled. "Couldn't find a piss up in a brewery, that one."
Dory wasn't sure that was true, but it wasn't her place to disclose anything DI Ridley had told her in confidence. "I am sorry about suspicion being placed with your brother. I'm sure that's not true."
"Damn right it's not true. My brother would never hurt Nora. He thought the world of that girl."
"She seemed to like him, too, considering she spent every weekend here in the village. But they seemed to keep their romance quite secret. Nora refused to tell anyone about it."
Stephen shrugged. "Some people don't like others in their business."
"Where did they meet? I'm assuming they didn't come here."
"At the workshop," Stephen said. "Well, I saw them at the workshop quite a bit. Sometimes they went out—went for drives."
"It's so sad what has happened. I feel so sorry for your brother. It would be hard to think that at any moment, it could be the last time you see someone. Makes you think."
"Mhh," he said, looking down on the bar.
"I never met her, of course, but I'm sorry I never knew her. She seemed like a nice girl."
"I suppose she would have been my sister-in-law in time." Stephen sounded really sad. There certainly didn't appear to be any contention in the Jones family regarding who their son was seeing.
"When was the last time you saw her?"
"In the workshop. She was there with Michael."
"Were they going for a drive?"
He seemed lost in thought for a moment. "No, they were staying there."
"Did she like cars, then?"
"No, not really. Although," he continued after a moment, "she was interested in some of Mike's work."
"Oh?"
"Something a while back. I can't remember, but she was asking questions about something Mike did to a car. I wasn't staying, so I don't really know what it was about."
This was odd, Dory thought. Why would Nora be interested in something like that? "Was there anything unusual Mike had worked on?"
"Nothing out of the ordinary. There was that blown gearbox in a tractor which was a hell of a job, but nothing unusual beyond that."
Picking up his pint, Stephen walked away to another part of the pub and Dory decided not to order another glass of cider.
"Well, I think we're just about ready to go," Larry said as Dory returned empty-handed to the table. Grabbing her bag and her jacket, she followed the others out to the car parked just down the road. Cars were parked on every available space outside the pub and people were still coming. Their table would have been claimed by a new group already, Dory suspected.
The drive to Aylesbury was long and winding, and the car was cramped in the back. Dory's shins were tight and her back ached by the time she stepped out again, not far from the market located in a large square. It was busy with people, and children ran around. An ice cream shop was off to the side and suddenly, Dory loved the idea of an ice cream.
"Picture theater is over there," Clara said, pointing in the other direction. A white board with black letters clearly showed where the theater was.
Dory sighed. "I thought I might actually go look for some cloth." She had changed her mind about spending the day inside the dark theater. Clara looked torn between going with her, or going to the pictures, which she really wanted. "You go to the pictures. I'll wait outs
ide when you're done."
"If you're sure."
"Of course, I'm sure. Gives me a chance to familiarize myself with that ice cream parlor."
"The main street is down there," Clara said, indicating one of the streets running off the main square. "You should be able to find what you need there. If you're sure you don't mind?" Clara was eager to go.
"Go," Dory said, urging her away and Clara was off, catching up with Mavis, who was buying raspberries at one of the market stalls with Larry. They all spoke for a moment and Dory could see Clara telling the other two that she wasn't coming. Larry looked disappointed. He clearly still wanted to spend time with her, even though she had given him no encouragement.
Left to her own devices, Dory's thoughts returned to Nora and what Stephen had earlier said in the pub. Nora had been interested in something Michael Jones was doing in his workshop, which was enough out of character that Stephen commented on it. Did it mean something? She had no idea. Perhaps it was something she should tell DI Ridley about. But then, she might have annoyed him enough already.
Chapter 15
"How was Aylesbury?" Lady Pettifer asked. "I wish I was still young enough to run around a whole day."
"I think you could run circles around me if you wanted to," Dory said, hanging up Lady Pettifer's morning dress.
"Did you go to the pictures?"
"No, I wasn't in the mood to sit in a dark theater. It was too lovely a day. Besides, my mind was too distracted to pay attention to a movie."
"And what is it that distracts you?"
"Well, I met the brother of Michael Jones, the one DI Ridley arrested. He thought there was no chance that his brother would ever harm Nora, that he was crazy about her, intent on marrying her. And judging by how willing she was to spend time with him, it seems a stretch. Men with brutal natures tend to show it, don't they?" In Swanley, everyone knew about poor Patty with her bruiser of a husband. Everyone knew, everyone saw the evidence—no one was surprised by the state of their relationship. "And frankly… " She was just about to reveal what DI Ridley had said about him not thinking him guilty, either, but caught herself in time. He'd made her promise not to disclose what he'd said. Also, she now felt guilty for not telling Lady Pettifer such an important detail.
