The Problem at Two Tithes (An Angela Marchmont Mystery Book 7) (2 page)

‘Oh, yes,’ said Kathie. ‘He did say something of the sort, although he didn’t say when. I must say it’s very kind of him.’

‘I only wish he would get to the point at last,’ said the forthright Elisabeth.

Kathie did not reply to this, but instead said:

‘And so Angela is coming today. I shall be very glad to see her again. I thought she was rather good fun when we met her in London.’

‘I do hope she’s going to behave herself, at any rate,’ said Elisabeth, who had only a passing acquaintance with the notion of fun. ‘Mother is coming and I don’t want her upset. You know how easily shocked old people are. Perhaps I had better have a quiet word with Angela to let her know what sort of thing will be acceptable in conversation. We don’t want her mentioning that husband of hers—wherever he may be—or all that horrid business with dead bodies.’

‘I have already written to her with full instructions,’ said Humphrey, ‘although I’m not sure whether the letter will have reached her in Italy, especially since she seems to have moved about rather a lot. I wrote to her in Florence but her telegram came from Venice.’

‘I shall speak to her anyway, to remind her,’ said Elisabeth.

‘That is probably best, my dear,’ said Humphrey. ‘Then we shall have nothing to worry about. It will just be a pleasant family party, with no unwelcome surprises.’

‘Unwelcome surprises?’ said Kathie. ‘Why, what do you mean?’

‘Nothing in particular,’ replied Humphrey. ‘It’s just that my sister is rather modern in her ideas.’

‘Positively
outré
, in fact,’ said Elisabeth. ‘She’s not quite the thing at all, and if you’ll take my advice, Kathie, you won’t let her influence you.’

‘Influence me?’ said Kathie with a laugh. ‘Why should she try to influence me? Don’t be silly, Elisabeth. She’s jolly nice, and I’m quite sure she’ll behave perfectly well.’

She then went out and left the Cardews to finish their breakfast.

Mrs. Angela Marchmont rested her chin in her hand and gazed out of the window of the Bentley as it ate up the miles along the Surrey road. Her maid, Marthe, was sitting in the front with her driver, William, and all three of them were uncharacteristically silent. At last, William cleared his throat and said:

‘I guess it must feel a little funny to come back home after all these years, ma’am. Do you suppose much will have changed?’

Angela made no reply but continued to gaze out of the window. William and Marthe exchanged glances. After a minute or so, Marthe took out a pocket-mirror and held it up. She appeared to be examining her own rather pretty face, but in reality she was observing her mistress in the back seat. She was most disconcerted. Angela had returned from Italy on Tuesday evening, almost a week late, with only a terse telegram regarding the collection of her luggage to explain herself beforehand. When she finally did arrive, she said very little but wore an abstracted, almost dazed air, stared into space, and was inclined to put butter in her tea and sugar on her toast if not duly forestalled. On polite questioning she claimed to have been ill, but that was clearly nonsense, since she was bright-eyed and rosy-cheeked and had in fact never looked better. Marthe was offended. Something had happened and she had been left out of it. She wanted to know what it was, although she already had the strongest suspicion, since in her view only one thing could explain her mistress’s general demeanour. She replaced the little glass in her pocket and narrowed her eyes. She was determined to get the secret out of Angela by hook or by crook, and she began idly pondering the best approach.

They passed the sign for Godalming and William said:

‘Not far now, I think, ma’am.’

At his words Angela turned her head, then visibly pulled herself together.

‘Yes, we’re nearly there,’ she said. ‘Keep a careful lookout for the turning as it’s rather difficult to see. There, that’s it.’

William successfully navigated the sharp bend. The new road headed downhill into a valley, and from the top commanded splendid views. Below them was a pleasant landscape of rolling fields and hedgerows, and ahead they could see that the road led directly to an agglomeration of white, red and brown houses, from the centre of which a church spire stood out proudly. The sky had been overcast all day so far, but now the clouds parted and the sun cast a ray or two onto the village, showing it to its best advantage.

‘It is very pretty,’ said Marthe. ‘Then this is where you grew up,
madame
.’

‘Yes,’ said Angela. ‘If you look slightly to the left you can just see Two Tithes. It’s that house standing a little apart from the rest. I wonder if any of the old servants are still there. If they are, no doubt they will tell you all kinds of hair-raising tales about the things I got up to as a girl. I should advise you not to believe any of them. Or not more than half, at any rate,’ she added fairly.

Very soon they drew up before the great house and Angela alighted. In some obscure way she felt that this visit to her brother constituted a sort of penance for her sins, and so she marshalled her forces and determined that
this
week at least nobody should be able to say she had not behaved impeccably.

Humphrey and Elisabeth came out to greet her, stiff and formal.

‘Hallo, Angela,’ said Humphrey and shook hands with her, since the idea of kissing her would never have occurred to him. This had always irritated Angela, but she smiled and instead kissed Elisabeth before that lady could step back.

‘How lovely to see you both,’ said Angela. ‘I do hope you’ll pardon my dreadful unpunctuality, but I’m afraid it simply couldn’t be helped. I was laid up all last week, you see, and couldn’t make it back in time.’

‘How unfortunate,’ said Elisabeth politely, noting Angela’s sun-tan and general air of well-being. ‘You seem much better now, though.’

‘Yes, I am, thank you,’ said Angela. ‘You look very well yourself, Elisabeth. Goodness,’ she went on, as they stepped through the door and into the hall, ‘It must be more than fifteen years since I was here, and it still looks exactly the same. I always loved this rose pattern on the wallpaper, and you’ve kept it just as it was when I left. How delightful.’

‘Oh, that. Yes, I’ve always hated it,’ said Elisabeth, ‘but we have somehow never found the time to change it. Perhaps we’ll do it next year.’

‘Oh,’ said Angela, momentarily disconcerted. ‘Well, I’m sure that whenever you do change it, it will be quite splendid. You have such good taste, Elisabeth.’

Here she stopped for she felt she was beginning to gush.

There was an awkward pause, then Humphrey said:

‘Shall we go in to tea?’

They all seized upon this thankfully and went into the drawing-room. This had evidently been redone since Angela left, for she barely recognized it. She looked about her and was mildly interested to note that she felt no sadness or feelings of nostalgia, but merely a polite interest in what had been done to the room. She stepped over to the window and saw that the garden looked much the same as ever, which pleased her, for she had been fond of running around outside as a girl. A man she did not recognize was trundling a wheelbarrow along the path, and she wondered again how many of the old servants remained. Many of them had undoubtedly gone to war and most likely some of them had not returned, while it was not unreasonable to assume that others had merely found work that paid better and left.

Tea, of course, was very stiff and proper. Angela sat, straight-backed, on the edge of her seat, and nodded politely while Humphrey recounted some interminable story about the sale of half an acre of land to a neighbouring farmer. She was just about to ask a pertinent question to show that she had been listening when her attention was caught by the butler, who happened to be passing.

‘Why, it’s Joseph, isn’t it?’ she said without thinking. ‘How nice to see you again.’

‘It’s Doggett now, if you please, madam,’ he said, with an embarrassed glance at Humphrey.

‘Oh, of course,’ said Angela. ‘I can see you’re terribly important now. Well, I must say you hardly look a day older than you did the last time I saw you. Is the swing you put up for me still there? I must look for it tomorrow.’

‘Doggett, do stop bothering Mrs. Marchmont and go and see to the silver,’ said Elisabeth coldly.

‘I beg your pardon, your ladyship,’ said Doggett, and went out. Angela smiled apologetically at him as he passed, and reminded herself that chatting with the servants was not considered the done thing now that she was a grown woman. It was rather a pity, she thought. Joseph Doggett had been one of her friends in the old days, when he was a young under-footman, and she determined to speak to him later, when Humphrey and Elisabeth were not about.

‘You won’t mind visiting Mrs. Hunter, of course,’ said Humphrey then. ‘She knows you are coming and is very keen to find out what you have been doing for the past few years. I have told her you will visit tomorrow.’

Angela’s heart sank, for she remembered the vicar’s wife of old. Mrs. Hunter was a big-boned woman with a booming voice, who had the tendency to bombard one with impertinent questions and then pass on the answers—real or imagined—to the entire neighbourhood. She would much rather not have visited, but saw that she had been presented with a
fait accompli
and could not get out of it.

‘By the way, I’ve given you your old room,’ said Elisabeth. ‘I thought you’d like it. Peter sleeps there sometimes, but otherwise it’s quite unoccupied. The weather is pleasant enough at the moment so it oughtn’t to be too cold.’

‘Oh, no, I’m sure it will be quite warm,’ agreed Angela, who was starting to feel that her penance was a little more than she deserved. Her old room was at the side of the house, overlooking the kitchen-yard, and had little to recommend it, being dark, damp and poky. Angela was quite certain that it would never have been given to any other guest, and could only assume that Elisabeth had chosen it out of some misplaced desire to make her visitor feel at home, since it was not to be supposed that any deliberate humiliation had been intended.

The conversation was beginning to flag when Humphrey suddenly remembered that Angela had been travelling in Italy, and began to question her closely about what she had done there. Since Angela had spent much of her holiday investigating a murder and consorting on the friendliest terms with a known criminal—neither of which pursuit was likely to impress her brother with the idea of her respectability—she was forced to tread very carefully when replying so as not to give herself away. Fortunately she was rescued by the arrival of Kathie Montgomery and her son Peter, and shortly afterwards, of Mrs. Randall, the mother of Kathie and Elisabeth. Kathie greeted her cheerfully, and for the first time in the past hour Angela felt as though
someone
at least was genuinely pleased to see her.

The teapot was replenished and the newcomers all sat down, and Angela was happy to be spared the necessity of talking for a while, since the others all appeared to have plenty to say to one another. She sat, lost in her own thoughts, until she suddenly became aware that young Peter was staring at her fixedly. He blushed and looked at the floor when he saw that she had spotted him, and Angela took the opportunity to rub hurriedly at her face, just in case he had seen a smudge of something there. After a moment he raised his eyes cautiously to her again, and she pulled a face at him. He looked away and seemed to be trying not to laugh. After that, tea became much more fun as the two of them engaged in a game to see which of them could make the other giggle first. Angela thought she was winning until Peter pulled a face of such startling and appalling monstrosity that she let out a laugh before she could stop herself. She covered it immediately with a cough, and said:

‘I forgot to ask about the boys, Elisabeth. How are they getting on at school?’

As she spoke, she saw Peter wrinkle his nose in disgust, and guessed rightly that he did not think much of Horace and Clarence, the Cardews’ sons, who must be about sixteen and fourteen now, if she remembered correctly. She had thought them rather beastly herself when she had met them, although Humphrey and Elisabeth evidently believed them to be the finest boys who had ever lived. Angela listened as Elisabeth enumerated all the certificates and prizes her sons had won that term alone, and offered her congratulations. Her entrance into the conversation had evidently brought her to the attention of Mrs. Randall, for the latter now observed her closely through a lorgnette, and then entirely without preamble or tact said:

‘And where is Mr. Marchmont?’

Angela opened her mouth to reply, then looked at Elisabeth and closed it again.

‘In America at present,’ she said at last. It seemed the safest answer.

‘Of course, you lived in America for many years, didn’t you, Angela?’ said Elisabeth in an attempt to divert the subject away from personal matters. ‘And how did you like New York?’

But Mrs. Randall, undaunted, was still eyeing Angela through the lorgnette. Suddenly her brow cleared.

‘Ah, of course,’ she said in triumph. ‘I remember your name now. You were mentioned in the newspapers in connection with that dreadful murder down on the Romney Marsh. You were the one to find the body, I believe.’

‘Er—’ said Angela, glancing once again at Elisabeth, who had pursed her lips.

‘And they
said
you solved the murder, too,’ continued Mrs. Randall. ‘Of course, one can never believe a word one reads in the newspapers, but there must be something about you if it’s true. One doesn’t see many women detectives. It must be tremendously exciting.’

There was no sense in denying it at this point, so Angela said:

‘To be perfectly honest, it’s been mostly accidental up to now, but I confess it has been very interesting.’

‘I don’t quite think—’ began Elisabeth.

‘I dare say you have lots of friends in the police and in the—what do they call it?—ah, yes, the
criminal underworld
,’ went on Mrs. Randall happily.

‘Let me show you your room, Angela,’ said Elisabeth, who felt the need to act.