Murder at the Car Rally Page 3

  Evie relaxed back into her chair to enjoy her hard-earned tea.

  “I see Mr. Winchester is still around.”

  Ah yes, Evie thought, remembering the purpose of her visit. “Henrietta, I need to ask a favor of you.”

  ***

  Evie had never known manipulating people could be so exhausting.

  “Milady! Is something the matter?” Caro asked as she entered Evie’s boudoir and found her stretched out on the chaise lounge where she had collapsed after her walk from the dower house in the village nearby.

  Evie managed to sit up. She plumped up the cushions and nodded. “Yes, I’m perfectly fine. I suppose it’s too early to change for dinner.”

  Agreeing with a small nod, Caro said, “I came up thinking I would get an early start sorting out your evening clothes. I would have thought your guests would keep you quite busy.”

  Busy to the point of making her feel old. Being only in her mid-thirties, she simply couldn’t allow that to happen.

  “When I returned from my visit to the dowager, I strode into the library and found them playing golf using umbrellas as golf clubs, while the rest were busy organizing a human pyramid.”

  Caro laughed. “It must be wonderfully thrilling to be able to provide your own entertainment.”

  “I’m not so sure about that. One of them proposed we play a murder mystery game. He’s a writer and quite keen to pen his first book. Apparently, we are all to appear in it. I only hope I don’t turn up dead. Once in a week is enough for me.”

  When Caro gasped, she told her about Isabel Fitzpatrick only to realize she had already mentioned her to Caro. “Heaven help me. She is becoming quite the topic of conversation with me and to think I had promised never to utter her name again.”

  “Is she really that disagreeable?”

  Evie gave a weary nod. “In an underhanded sort of way. I hope I’ve seen the last of her. She’s staying in London for a few days and then heading back to Brooklands. That is far too close for comfort.”

  Evie closed her eyes and tried to work out the distance between the village of Halton and Brooklands. Then she entertained a worst-case scenario and pictured herself fleeing in the opposite direction.

  “By the way, Lady Sara is moving back to Halton House.” And now, Evie thought, Mr. Winchester could move out of the pub and establish himself at Halton House.

  “Not Lady Henrietta?” Caro asked.

  “No and I get the feeling she planned this all along. Don’t ask why but she seemed overly excited by the prospect of having the dower house all to herself. It never occurred to wonder how the two dowagers were getting on in the one house. They have both been mistress of Halton House at different times. I imagine they now share the responsibilities at the dower house.” One house, two mistresses. Evie shook her head. She would have to tread with care and make some inquiries…

  “If there had been friction, I’m sure one or the other would have mentioned it,” Caro suggested.

  “True.” Although, half the time, they expected Evie to work their cryptic messages out for herself. Leaning back, she threw her arm over her face. “I think this is the most excitement I can take.”

  Hearing a knock at the door, Evie sat up.

  Edgar strode in, handed Caro an envelope, and then left.

  “There’s a telegram for you, milady.”

  “Did Edgar just leave? He usually likes to handle everything properly and wait for a response.”

  “I believe he is somewhat flustered by your guests, milady. He doesn’t appear to know if he’s coming or going.”

  “How odd. He’s usually so well composed.” She hoped his odd behavior didn’t have anything to do with Mr. Crawford’s prolonged absence.

  Reading the telegram, Evie surged to her feet. “Caro. Pack my bags, please.”

  Chapter Four

  The coward’s way out

  “What do you mean we’re leaving?” Tom asked.

  Evie accepted a drink from Edgar. Her eyebrows lifted slightly. “Edgar? What is this?”

  “A Bee’s Knees, my lady.” He glanced over his shoulder and murmured, “One of your guests commandeered the drinks’ cabinet and took it upon himself to prepare some cocktails.”

  “I see, and what is in a Bee’s Knees?”

  “It contains gin, honey and lemon juice. If that is not satisfactory, I can organize something else, my lady.”

  “Thank you, Edgar. This will be fine.” Glancing around the drawing room, she made sure everyone had a drink.

  “You were about to explain why we’re leaving,” Tom prompted.

  “Oh, yes. It seems we have no choice. We must leave. We’ll drive out early tomorrow. I have already instructed Caro to pack a bag for me, although, knowing Caro, she’ll organize several trunks.”

  “And what about your guests?”

  “Sara will be here.” Evie glanced over at her mother-in-law. “She looks quite comfortable chatting with everyone.”

  Tom accepted a glass of whisky from Edgar. He held Evie’s gaze for a long moment before asking, “What brought this about? Has something happened? I want to say you are not known for your erratic decisions but you know I can’t, certainly not after your recent escapade in town. Regardless, this seems rather hasty.”

  “I’d like to know how she found out where I live,” Evie mused. “She’s only just arrived in London. Why would she want to leave so soon?”

  “Are you talking about someone I know?” Tom asked.

  “Yes, of course. I mean… No. Must I say her name?”

  “I see. You’re referring to your friend, Isabel Fitzpatrick.”

  “You know Isabel?” someone sitting nearby asked.

  Turning, Evie tried to remember the young man’s name.

  “Lord Braithwaite,” he offered. “Charlie to my friends.”

  Charlie wore the most outrageous vest with too many colors to name. Evie couldn’t detect a particular pattern. It looked as if someone had fired a revolver at him loaded with paint.

  “Yes,” Tom answered. “Lady Woodridge is referring to Isabel.”

  Charlie looked impressed. “You know she’s married to Lorenzo Bianchi. He recently placed in the Indianapolis 500.”

  “He did what and where?” Evie asked.

  “It’s a race,” Tom explained. “It’s held at Speedway in Indiana.”

  “If Lorenzo Bianchi is here then that means he won’t be racing this year,” Charlie said, his tone excited. “I know some car racers who’ll be happy to hear the news.”

  Reading Evie’s blank expression, Tom said, “The race is scheduled for May 31, Decoration Day.”

  Charlie’s eyes brimmed with enthusiasm. “I hear there’s a car with an eight-cylinder engine this year. What I’d give to be there…”

  Evie switched off and when the conversation continued to focus on too many numbers, cylinders, speed and such, she slipped away and left Tom to enjoy his conversation with his new bosom friend.

  Accepting another drink from Edgar, she turned her thoughts to her decision.

  Would a hasty retreat or, rather, an exodus be perceived as cowardly? While she didn’t particularly like the idea of being run out of her own home, she couldn’t see any other way to avoid Isabel Fitzpatrick. She needed to do this. For her own peace of mind and… and sanity.

  Then again, she couldn’t leave Sara to deal with her unexpected guests. They were her responsibility.

  Her mess, her clean-up, Evie thought. Although… “A problem shared is a problem halved.”

  She glanced over at Sara but before she could work up the courage to ask if she wouldn’t mind looking after the car rally group, Edgar gave her the signal and announced dinner.

  As they all made their way to the dining room, Evie’s focus remained on her dilemma. Duty demanded she face up to her responsibility. However, self-preservation nudged her in the opposite direction…

  She anticipated a long night ahead with much tossing and turning.

&
nbsp; Batty, the guest sitting next to her, said, “Lady Woodridge, we hear you were recently involved in a murder case.”

  “Deep in the thick of it,” Evie heard Sara murmur.

  “Hardly that,” Evie said, “I like to think of myself as an accidental bystander.”

  “But you assisted the police with their investigation,” Batty continued.

  “On several occasions, we happened to be in the same room and exchanged views.” In fact, she had been interrogated twice… “How did you ever hear about it?” The crime had been reported in the local papers, but her name had been kept out. As far as she knew, no one had officially linked her to the murders. Of course, rumors had abounded…

  One of the women in the group joined in the conversation, saying, “A friend of ours collects stories about crimes. He’s intrigued by everything that remains in the background.”

  Evie remembered Batty introducing her as Lark Wainscot.

  Batty added, “What you might call, the underbelly. In his opinion, we read reports about a crime committed in a small village but no one goes into any real depth.”

  “What more information could you possibly want?” Sara asked.

  Batty explained, “Something to make the story more vibrant and, dare I say, relatable.”

  Intrigued, Sara asked, “How do you expect to relate to a murder?”

  “The victims were real people with lives and families,” Batty explained. “Their names were not released. We assume the families wished to keep detailed information private, but that only raises questions.”

  “Heavens, and how does your friend get information?” Sara asked.

  “He has his ways.”

  Evie wondered if the village of Halton had informers eager to share gossip, possibly as a way of putting the little village on the map or perhaps even for personal gain. She knew Lady Henrietta relied on her butler’s popularity with the local maids to get her tidbits but she went looking for it. Did someone make it their business to broadcast behind the scene news?

  “Does your friend visit places where crimes have been committed?” she asked.

  Batty smiled. “That would be telling.”

  A good reporter never revealed his sources. Where had she heard that before?

  Lark Wainscot made eye contact with Evie and gave her a brisk smile. “From what we understand, you were quite helpful, providing the police with some leads. How did you come by them?”

  Hadn’t she already answered that question?

  “You must excel at deductive thinking,” Lark continued. “Or, you must have quite a nose for criminal activities.”

  “Neither, I’m sure.” Evie smiled. “Perhaps I am a little observant. It does go a long way.”

  Deciding it would be best to change the subject, Evie asked, “How often do you hold these car rallies?” Glancing around the table she noticed Tom smiling at her. Yes, she thought, she had asked for a reason. She had changed the subject but she also wished to find out if Batty could be the go-between. Traveling around the country to attend car rallies could be his cover, hiding his true identity as a roving reporter.

  “As often as we can. In fact, we have been at it for nearly six months now. Once we reach our destination, we decide to set off somewhere else.”

  “That’s quite an exciting life you lead.” Never quite knowing where one might end up, she thought. Always waking up to a new view outside their window.

  “And yet, we have never found ourselves in the midst of a murder investigation,” Unique piped in. “We must be doing something wrong. I would give anything to be involved in a mystery.”

  Evie took a sip of her wine. “I wouldn’t recommend going in search of a murder case. They can be gruesome and… disconcerting.”

  “Yes, but think of the experience,” Unique insisted. “I need to feed my writer’s curiosity.”

  “Find something else to write about,” Evie suggested.

  Charlie, Lord Braithwaite, shook his head. “Readers enjoy murder mysteries. I’m not sure what that says about them.”

  “Perhaps,” Evie said, “they wish to keep crime at bay by delegating it to the realms of fiction.”

  “I read because I wish to be transported,” Unique offered. “And I want to experience something new, something outside of my scope of experience.”

  “How anyone can find joy from a dreary murder is beyond me,” Sara murmured.

  Evie noticed she had been doing a great deal of murmuring and wondered if it had something to do with expressing her disapproval over the new breed of people. Or…

  Had something happened at the dower house to put her in a mood and lower her tolerance?

  Had she drawn the short straw? Evie had asked Henrietta if she would like to move back to Halton House. Instead, Sara had moved in. She hoped it hadn’t been against her wishes.

  “How do you pass your time, Lady Sara?” Charlie asked.

  Smiling, Sara offered, “I have much to occupy myself with.”

  “Tea parties, genteel soirees, dinners, with some sport thrown in to fill in the gaps,” Unique said. “There has to be more to life.”

  Sara raised her glass and defended her choices, “As I have nothing to prove, I am perfectly content to enjoy my country pursuits.”

  “No one is faulting you for it, Lady Sara. You lead a ritualistic lifestyle.” Unique shrugged. “It serves your purpose. But if you wish to experience something new, you have to break away from everything you know and sometimes go where angels fear to tread.”

  Sara smiled. “Since my purpose is to live a life of peace and relative quiet, I would much rather dwell within my safe cocoon.”

  Fearing the conversation might turn into an argument, Evie said, “I should very much like to participate in a car rally. I think it sounds like a lot of fun, but how is it all organized? Where do you spend your evenings? Where do you sleep?”

  Unique laughed. “What if it rains? You get wet.”

  Alexander, Lord Saunders, said, “We play it by ear.”

  Evie looked up from her meal. Lord Saunders had changed into a formal dinner suit. Instead of black, it had been completely fashioned in red and black tartan…

  Alexander continued, “If we can’t find a pub then, at any given time, one of us will usually know someone in the vicinity who might be willing to put us up for the night. One of our hosts referred to us as traveling troubadours happy to sing for our supper.”

  Evie rather liked the sound of that, but she didn’t think she had the ability to barge in on someone unannounced.

  Despite the one exception, namely Isabel, Evie thought she would enjoy having a group of people dropping in every now and then. It could certainly break up the rhythm that could sometimes feel tedious and repetitive.

  Glancing up, she saw a footman enter. He strode up to Edgar and delivered a message. Edgar in turn, approached Evie, one eyebrow slightly raised.

  With her attention engaged, Evie leaned back.

  “Begging your pardon, my lady. There is someone at the door.”

  Evie’s heart jumped to her throat. She snatched her wine glass and gulped down the contents.

  Surely not. Surely not. It couldn’t be Isabel Fitzpatrick.

  “W-who is it, Edgar?” If he uttered Isabel’s name, she would… she would be perfectly entitled to say she was not at home. But it couldn’t be Isabel. She had only just sent a telegram saying she would be arriving early the next day.

  Edgar whispered, “Miss Phillipa Brady.”

  At the sound of the name, Evie surged to her feet nearly sending her chair toppling back. “Would you excuse me, please.” She rushed out of the dining room. Once she reached the entrance hall, she spread her arms out. “Phillipa. You have no idea how glad I am to see you.” Evie threw her arms around her.

  “Oh, happy to oblige.” Phillipa laughed. “I’ve never had such a welcome before.”

  “We’re having dinner. Come in and join us and tell us how you managed to drive down so quickly. Wh
ere have you been? I mean, I know you were staying at some pub or other and that’s how the others were able to contact you… Oh, heavens. It’s so good to see you. Everyone’s been looking for you. Oh, I can’t wait to hear all about your adventures as I’m sure you have had many.” Realizing her words were tripping over each other, Evie stopped and scooped in a big breath. She hoped she hadn’t caught the Isabel bug…

  Turning, she saw Edgar standing by the dining room door. “Edgar, please set a place at the table for Miss Brady. Oh…” She turned to Phillipa again. “You’ve been traveling. I suppose you want to freshen up.”

  “Yes, I wouldn’t mind. I’m rather dusty and weary.”

  “I’m just so glad to see you.” Evie sighed with relief. “Edgar will show you to your room.”

  Evie returned to the dining room and made the happy announcement, which everyone celebrated with raised glasses.

  After that, Evie could barely eat a bite. She couldn’t explain her excitement. As they moved to the drawing room for after dinner drinks and coffee, Evie asked Edgar to bring some champagne. “We must celebrate Phillipa’s arrival properly.”

  “You’d think the Prince of Wales had descended upon us,” Sara murmured as she sat beside Evie.

  Smiling, Evie said, “Really, I would have expected you to be more impressed by a visit from the King himself.”

  “Yes, well… that’s what I meant but when you reach my age, you tend to make an effort to connect to the younger generation. It doesn’t always work…”

  “Your age doesn’t happen to be very old, mama. Fifty is a glamorous age. You’ve lived a little and you have much to live for.”

  “I think that’s the first time you’ve called me mama without hesitating. You’re as giddy as a child on Christmas morning. What’s come over you?”

  Her world had tilted back into balance. She wouldn’t have to face Isabel again. “At the risk of coming across as being somewhat churlish, now Phillipa is here, I can go ahead with my exodus. As Henrietta would say, tally-ho.”

  Sara gasped. “And what exactly am I to do with your unwanted guest? What do I say to her?”