Murder at the Tea Party Read online

  Evie sat between Mrs. Howard-Smith, married to an Earl’s youngest son, and Mrs. Penn, married to a solicitor.

  She smiled at the two ladies sitting opposite her; Mrs. Browning, married to the village doctor, and Mrs. Hallesberry, married to a local landowner.

  “We’ve been discussing the upcoming Hunt Ball,” Mrs. Ellington said. “It seems ages since you last attended.”

  Evie didn’t know if she needed to apologize to the Vicar’s wife for her absence or offer detailed explanations. Seeing everyone leaning forward slightly, she decided they were interested in what she had been up to.

  Half way through recounting some of her adventures in New York and Newport, most of which had already faded with nothing much of significance to remember, they all turned their attention to a newcomer. Evie could not have been more relieved by the interruption as the questions had invariably focused on how she had managed to survive without her husband.

  “She looks like a flapper,” Mrs. Penn remarked, her tone holding a mixture of disapproval and admiration.

  “Or one of the bright young things I’ve been hearing so much about,” Mrs. Ellington whispered with a degree of excitement in her voice.

  Having held many laborious conversations with the Vicar, Evie understood his wife’s possible yearning for some fun.

  The young woman in question sat down at the table Evie had vacated only moments before. She cast her eyes around the tea room, the edge of her lip lifted either in appreciation, disdain or amusement for what the small village had to offer. Meanwhile, her presence held everyone at the table enthralled, and with good reason. She wore a man’s suit and the most outrageous trousers Evie had ever seen with pink and gray stripes.

  “She must be new or passing through,” the Vicar’s wife said. “I certainly don’t recognize her.” Turning back to Evie, she asked, “Will you be here long enough to attend the Hunt Ball? It’s in a month’s time.”

  As Evie answered in the affirmative, she noticed their attention shifting again. One by one, they looked out toward the window and the street beyond.

  “Now there’s a sight for sore eyes,” the doctor’s wife said.

  Recognizing the man who stopped briefly by the tea room window, Evie smiled with interest as, clearly, the ladies were all agog over the sight of the local tenant farmer she had labeled a stud. She watched their eyes glazing over, their lips parting slightly. To her amusement, none of them appeared to be blinking.

  When Charlie Timms tipped his hat at someone and strode away, it took several minutes for everyone to recover. Evie didn’t want to jump to conclusions but his departure appeared to have left the ladies feeling bereft. Two of them sighed. One fanned herself. While the Vicar’s wife shifted in her seat, her cheeks coloring with a tinge of pink.

  Mrs. Howard-Smith excused herself saying she remembered she had people coming around in a short while and needed to hurry back home but it had been a great pleasure meeting the Countess and she looked forward to seeing her at the Hunt Ball.

  Evie expected everyone to resume their conversation. Instead, they all fell silent. A sense of awkwardness gripped her. If her lunch hadn’t arrived, she might have made an excuse to leave. Even with the enticing pie sitting in front of her, she considered finding any excuse to bid the ladies goodbye and head on home, but the pie looked too good to miss out on.

  As she took the first bite, she noticed something else. She had become the object of the new arrival’s interest. It worked both ways. Evie didn’t fail to notice the young woman producing a small flask and tipping some of its contents into her teacup. The woman’s raised eyebrow either challenged Evie to say something or mocked her for noticing. As Evie held no opinions on the matter, she didn’t care either way.

  At least, Evie thought, she would have something to talk about when she met the dowagers for afternoon tea…

  Chapter Two

  Two dowagers and a Countess walked into a room

  Halton House

  The Japanese drawing room

  Sara, Lady Woodridge lifted the dainty teacup only to set it down again. “You have been gone for so long, we thought you would never return.”

  “And yet, here I am, mama.” Nicholas’ mother had always encouraged Evie to address her as mama. It had taken some getting used to, especially as Evie’s own mother had always preferred to be addressed by her first name or, if need be, as mother.

  During her walk back from the village, she had made a firm decision to avoid bringing up the subject of the dowagers’ unexpected departure from Halton House. If the dowagers wished to make a point, they would have to do so on their own and without any encouragement whatsoever from Evie.

  Evie smiled. It would drive them batty. Of course, being a cut to the chase type of person, she knew she would find it difficult to refrain from asking leading questions but she held onto her resolve.

  Evie gave Sara her undivided attention, smiling and nodding as she spoke of the events that had taken place during the last couple of years. Sara mentioned the Hunt Ball several times. When she mentioned it again, Evie wondered if it could be a key element to the reason why the dowagers had moved out of the main house. Although, she couldn’t see how it would be.

  Playing the game of avoidance took so much effort, Evie kept forgetting to mention she had met the Hunt Ball Committee ladies…

  After half an hour, and not without a twinge of regret for weakening so soon, she decided to make a slight alteration to her plans. Avoiding the subject Sara clearly wished to tackle by not once referring to it would only drag it out and perhaps even create a rift between them. Something she wished to avoid at all cost.

  “I couldn’t help noticing you are no longer residing at Halton House.”

  Sara’s breezy manner came as a surprise. “Yes, we thought it might be about time. We felt we had been delaying it for far too long. And now here you are and as we were not sure of your intentions…” Sara gave a small shrug.

  Evie leaned forward, held her position for a second and then she settled back. The remark had been meant to lure her into asking for explanations, but she wouldn’t. Oh, no… She would not ask.

  Edgar strode in, cleared his throat and announced, “The Dowager Countess of Woodridge.”

  Not for the first time, Evie wondered if butlers were taught to clear their throats before making their announcements.

  “Henrietta,” Evie exclaimed. “How lovely it is to see you.” She set her teacup down and hurried across the room to greet her grandmama. To think she had three of those and each one with their own peculiar and stubborn ways.

  Henrietta smiled. “If not for your regular letters, we would have thought you’d gone forever from our lives.”

  And yet, since her return to England, they had met for luncheon and dinner in London. Several times…

  “So, is he here?” Henrietta asked.

  Evie did her best to look confused. She didn’t have to try very hard because, even after delving deep, she couldn’t come up with any other person to whom the dowager might have been referring to.

  “Seth? Well, no. He already left for boarding school.” Evie gestured toward the sofa and returned to her own chair. She considered telling them about Caro’s unique way of expressing her displeasure over the young master’s exile to boarding school but decided they might not see the humor in it and would insist she dismiss her maid for insubordination. “Have some tea.”

  Accepting a cup of tea, Henrietta exchanged a look with Sara that spoke of secret understandings and possible collusion.

  “We have been informed of a new presence in your life, dear Evangeline.”

  The dowagers gazed at her without blinking. Almost as if they didn’t dare risk missing out on her reaction.

  Evie gave a small shake of her head. “I’m sorry, I’m not sure I understand…”

  “News has reached us about a certain Mr. Winchester accompanying you about town.”

  How exactly had word reached them? She had onl
y been out and about with Tom… or rather, with Mr. Winchester the one time when they had both trekked out from the Duke’s Yorkshire house to London in pursuit of some information.

  Giving a self-satisfied nod, Henrietta stated, “You were both seen lunching together at the Criterion in Piccadilly Circus.”

  Evie tried to recall the story they had made up for the benefit of the Duke’s guests. Giving them a small smile, she said, “He’s a friend from way back. We grew up together and then, we grew apart, as people do. Fortunately, a casual encounter renewed our friendship. After hearing me talk so much about England, he decided to visit.”

  She thought she heard Sara say something about Evie never once mentioning him.

  “I see,” Henrietta said. “And should we expect a visit from him here at Halton House?”

  Would the dowagers object? And how would she pull it off? At some point, they were bound to encounter Tom, her chauffeur. “I’m not sure what his plans are.”

  “So, he is still in England.” The dowagers exchanged another glance, its meaning understood by them alone.

  “Yes, as far as I know. But that might change at any moment. He’s quite a free spirit. Comes and goes on a whim.” Evie took a sip of her tea and smiling, asked, “How exactly did news about him reach you?”

  “Word gets around, my dear.”

  Evie tried to determine if Henrietta had meant it as a warning or as a simple statement of fact. Her gaze strayed toward Edgar.

  “Oh, no. Don’t look at him,” Henrietta warned. “Edgar would never betray your confidence.”

  “How do you know?” Evie asked and wondered if Henrietta knew because she had already tried to extricate information from Edgar.

  The dowager pursed her lips and shifted in her seat. “Never fear, we have your best interests at heart.”

  If not her butler, then who could have passed on the information? Someone else who’d seen them at the restaurant?

  “You shouldn’t take offence, Edgar,” the dowager said to the butler who gave a nod of acknowledgment. “Her ladyship is very guarded about her private life and is bound to want to find out who revealed her secret.”

  “But it’s not exactly a secret,” Evie said.

  “Then why haven’t we heard about Mr. Winchester before? I hope you were not trying to spare our feelings. You are quite young and both Sara and I expect you to find someone with whom to share your life with. It’s expected. We wouldn’t want you to live a life of seclusion. Speaking of which…” Looking toward the door, Henrietta said, “I have invited someone else to join us for tea.”

  Sara didn’t look surprised so Evie had to assume she had known of this all along.

  A footman entered and murmured something to Edgar. Standing at attention, he announced, “Mrs. Penn.”

  Henrietta welcomed Mrs. Penn and gestured to the chair beside her. “Oh, I beg your pardon, Evangeline. Old habits and all that… Of course, you might not have met Mrs. Penn as she is relatively new to our little village. She is married to a local solicitor.”

  The solicitor’s wife settled opposite Evie.

  Evie smiled at her. “Lovely to see you again, Mrs. Penn.”

  “Oh, please call me Clarissa,” Mrs. Penn offered.

  “You’ve met?” Henrietta could not have sounded more surprised.

  Evie nodded. “I had lunch at Mrs. Baker’s Delights today and was invited to join some ladies. The group included the Vicar’s wife.”

  Henrietta exchanged another look with Sara. This time, they shared a lengthy, wordless conversation.

  Evie called on all her patience and decided all would be revealed in time.

  “How interesting. Did they happen to mention the Hunt Ball?” Henrietta asked.

  “As a matter of fact, yes. It’s coming up soon and I am quite looking forward to attending. It’s one of my favorite events.”

  Henrietta set her teacup down. “And did it not strike you as odd that a group of local women would be discussing the Hunt Ball without either Sara or myself present?”

  “Oh, now that you mention it, yes.” She had wondered about the existence of a committee but her curiosity had not progressed from there. “I must admit I didn’t give it much thought.”

  “Well, here’s something for you to think about. Those women have absconded with our ball,” the dowager huffed out her indignation. “They pulled the rug from right under us. Sara and I have been doing our outmost to remain civil but it is extremely hard to do so when there are mutineers among us.”

  Evie risked a glance at Clarissa Penn who appeared to be unaffected by the dowager’s remarks.

  “Oh, you needn’t worry about Clarissa. She’s actually one of us.”

  The plot thickens, Evie thought.

  Henrietta leaned forward and lowered her voice, “She is our spy.”

  Evie’s eyebrows curved upward as she mouthed the word. “Spy?”

  Henrietta nodded. “She offered.”

  “To what end?” Evie asked, her tone sounding as naïve as she felt.

  “Well, we can’t just leave it at that. They have no right to even presume to think they can organize such an event. It has always been headed by a Woodridge. In fact, we pay for it all and even hold it here at Halton House. I cannot begin to tell you how deeply disappointed I am with Mrs. Ellington. You would think the Vicar’s wife would remain neutral. No, indeed. In fact, it was all her idea, I’m sure of it. She single-handedly organized the munity and now you tell us she invited you to join her group for lunch.” Henrietta looked at Sara. They both nodded and then Henrietta said to Evie, “She’s going to try to get you on side because she realizes she needs a Woodridge to legitimize her project.”

  “More tea?” Evie offered and wished she could have something stronger.

  “Do I hear you ask how it happened?” Henrietta asked.

  “Sara, would you like more tea,” Evie offered.

  “No, I’m fine, dear.”

  “And you, Clarissa?” Evie didn’t wait for her to reply. “Edgar, please refresh Mrs. Penn’s tea.” Turning back to Clarissa, she said, “It’s my own special blend. I never thought I’d acquire a taste for tea but, here I am, quite addicted.” Noticing Henrietta giving her a pointed look, Evie apologized. “Do go on.”

  “Well,” Henrietta continued. “There we were, getting on like a house on fire when Mrs. Ellington suggested we had been doing things our way for far too long.”

  Evie took a moment to get her thoughts into some sort of order. Setting her cup down, Evie asked, “How did Mrs. Ellington and the others become involved?” After all, as Henrietta had pointed out, the Hunt Ball was a Woodridge tradition.

  Henrietta gave an unladylike snort. “By nefarious means but more on that later. As I was saying… Had she made suggestions, we might have reached some sort of compromise. Instead, she proposed a vote for a change of leadership saying we would do better if we allowed a more democratic selection of the committee. Can you believe we would ever experience such dissent among the ranks?”

  Evie tried to come up with a noncommittal answer. It wouldn’t do to take sides even though she knew she would be required to do so. “Had the Vicar’s wife expressed dissatisfaction with the way you organized the event?” she asked.

  “No. Never. Certainly not within my hearing,” Henrietta said. “That made it that much more surprising when she finally launched her rebellion. I strongly believe she has been influenced by Mrs. Howard-Smith. She is quite an upstart and behaves as such.”

  Deciding she needed to hear all the details, Evie said, “I think you really need to explain why the Vicar’s wife and the others became involved.”

  Sara placed a staying hand on the dowager and smiled as she said, “Do you remember how we had to postpone the event during the war?”

  Oh, yes. Halton House had been turned into a convalescent home for soldiers recovering from their injuries.

  “Well,” Sara continued, “if you recall, at the end of the war, we conti
nued to serve as a convalescent home for a lot longer than other houses. And then we also incorporated rehabilitation for the most unfortunate souls who’d lost limbs.”

  Evie nodded. In reality, she had switched off. Nicholas had died a few months before the war had ended. Every day had been a reminder of what she’d lost. Yet, she’d had to soldier on. Until she could no longer fake it. Devastated by her loss and utterly ashamed at not being able to carry on, she had fled back home to America…

  Sara continued, “A few months after the war ended, someone mentioned the Hunt Ball and how it would be a wonderful opportunity to raise some much-needed funds for the local hospital. Henrietta and I were both delighted by the idea but we couldn’t bring ourselves to turn out all those soldiers in need. So, the Vicar’s wife suggested holding the event at Witford Hall. We celebrated its huge success. That was last year.” Sara concluded her tale by saying, “Now, we are back to normal and so we assumed the ball would be back where it belongs.”

  Henrietta gave a stiff nod. “The Vicar’s wife chose her moment well. When the ball had been held at Witford Hall, Mrs. Ellington gathered together a few women and offered to assist with the planning. We welcomed and encouraged her involvement because Sara and I had been so busy we didn’t think we would find the time to trek out to Witford Hall. It’s about ten odd miles from here and it would have been too time consuming to oversee the preparations ourselves. Anyhow, that was then, this is now. Once we decided to resume all the annual activities at Halton House, Mrs. Ellington somehow talked her way in by saying we had done so much for the war effort, it would be unfair to leave us to our own devices. We didn’t want to seem ungrateful…”

  Sara nodded. “Also, the Vicar’s wife made a valid point. If something were to happen to either Henrietta or myself… If either one of us fell ill, it would make sense to have someone step in. After all, we had decided to continue on with the idea of raising funds which makes the event that much more significant.”

  Henrietta cut in, saying, “Little did we know the Vicar’s wife had a plan in place. She had been most cunning in getting others, including Mrs. Howard-Smith, on side and inviting them to join our little group. To this day, I suspect Mrs. Howard-Smith may well be behind all this. They began by finding fault with everything we proposed. Finally, they suggested the ball would be better served at Witford Hall. At least, for the time being.”