Polly gazed mournfully around the crowded, noisy pub and wondered why the heck she’d bothered to go down there. Sadie, her round cheeks flushed and her light brown hair stuck out the sides of her head like two ears of corn, was at the dartboard surrounded by a bunch of rowdy GIs. The rest of the guests from the wedding were at the piano making a horrible noise with their singing.
Polly reached for her gin and orange and took a sip. Nothing was going right lately. Nothing had gone right since Marlene had left to drive ambulances in Italy. She missed her older sister more than she ever thought she would.
She missed Sam even more. Sam Cutter, the man she thought she was going to marry, had gone back to America. Without her. She still couldn’t believe it. All because he thought she was too young for him. Almost sixteen years old, she’d been then, and he thought she was too young. Well, that was the last time she’d ever look at another Yank.
With a flick of her wrist, she drained her glass. She was fed up. Even Sadie, her best mate, had deserted her tonight. She might as well go home.
She slapped the glass down on the table, but before she could push her chair back a young woman plopped down on the chair opposite her and demanded, “You’re Polly, aren’t you? Lady Elizabeth’s assistant?”
It took Polly a moment to recognize the bridesmaid Sadie had brought down to the pub with her. Tess Winterhalter looked quite different wearing a skirt and blouse instead of the beautiful blue frock she’d worn at the wedding. Her face looked different, too. Her lipstick had worn off and her eyes looked puffy, as if she’d been crying.
“Yeah, I’m Polly Barnett.”
“I’m Tess. My family came down from Cambridge for the wedding.”
Polly eyed the newcomer warily. She’d been shocked when Sadie had told her she’d befriended Priscilla’s niece. Everyone knew that Priscilla’s sister had married above her. People with money who spoke all proper like that usually didn’t mix with the poorer class. Especially a housemaid like Sadie. “Yeah, I know,” she said. “Sadie told me all about you.”
“Sadie makes me laugh,” Tess said, though she didn’t look like she wanted to laugh right then.
Polly gazed with envy at the bridesmaid’s black curls. Her own hair was black, too, but it hung as straight as a blackout curtain. She’d give anything to have curls like that. No wonder the Yanks were looking at her. She looked like a flipping film star.
Tess seemed not to notice the flirty looks coming her way. Something had upset her, that much Polly could tell. The girl sat twisting her glass around in her hands as if it were someone’s neck she were wringing. “Sadie’s playing darts over there,” she said, her voice low enough that Polly had to strain to hear her above the racket the dart players were making.
“She’s always playing darts.” Polly shot a look at the dartboard as a cheer went up from that corner. “She comes down here a lot. She likes playing ’cos she nearly always wins. She says it makes her feel good to beat the boys at something.”
“There’s not much else to do for excitement in this place, is there.”
Polly shrugged. “Depends who you’re with, I suppose.”
“I know. There’s someone I…” Tess’s face crumpled, and she covered her mouth with her hand as if to smother a sob.
Polly felt a stirring of sympathy. She knew what it felt like to miss someone. “I’m sorry,” she murmured awkwardly.
After a moment or two, the other girl seemed to get herself under control. “Well, my father will be happy. He hated Brian. He kept telling me he was too old for me and that he was only after me for the money.” She looked up, her face clouded with misery. “Brian was only thirty-three. Daddy made him sound positively ancient.”
Polly’s attention sparked, in spite of herself. After all, this was a subject dear to her heart. “So how old are you then?”
“Twenty.” Tess hunted in her pocket and found a handkerchief. She blew her nose with it, then crumpled it in a ball in her hands. “It’s only thirteen years’ difference.”
Thirteen years! There’d been only seven years difference between her and Sam. Deciding she had something in common with this hoity-toity miss, after all, Polly found herself telling her all about her and Sam. “Everything was going fine,” she finished, “until he had an accident in the Jeep and messed up his face. I know it was because he couldn’t stand me looking at his scars.”
Tess shuddered. “How awful. Where is he now?”
“Gone back to America, hasn’t he.” Just thinking about him made her own eyes prickle with tears. “I’ll never see him again.”
Tess leaned forward. “You’re still young. You’ll find someone else.”
“I don’t think so. I tried it once, but I picked the wrong bloke. He turned out to be a criminal.”
Tess’s eyes widened in shock. “How absolutely rotten for you!”
“It was,” Polly agreed gloomily. “I don’t seem to have any luck with men. Really I don’t.”
“Well, I’m sure you’ll meet someone nice soon.” Tess shook her head. “I thought Brian was going to be the man of my dreams, but I was wrong.” Her face turned suddenly ugly, startling Polly. “I hate to say it, but Daddy was right about him after all.”
“So what happened?” Polly asked, now glued to her chair.
“Well, we’d been seeing each other on and off for quite a while. Behind Daddy’s back, of course. I told Brian I was going to be in Sitting Marsh for the wedding, so I wouldn’t be able to see him this weekend. But then I missed him so much, and I was pretty bored that first night at the manor, so when Sadie offered to bring me down here I thought it would be fun.”
Polly nodded. “Sadie told me you’d come down here with her on Thursday night.”
Tess sighed and passed a hand across her forehead. “Yes, well, the first thing we saw when we walked in was Brian sitting at the bar. I never dreamed he would follow me down here. He said he was staying at the pub, and that he planned to go to the wedding reception so we could be there together.”
Impressed by this bold move, Polly said breathlessly, “You must have been so thrilled!”
Tess shrugged. “Not really. To tell you the truth, I wished he hadn’t come. I knew Daddy would be livid, and I didn’t want to spoil the wedding for Aunt Prissy. I told Brian he couldn’t come to the reception. He said he hadn’t come all that way to sit around the pub by himself all weekend. We had a nasty row and he stalked off. I thought he’d gone home, but then he turned up at the reception this afternoon.”
Polly sucked in her breath. “So what did your dad say when he found out?”
“Well, he was livid, of course. Just as I thought. He called Brian a swindler, said he was using me and that he was only after the money. He told Brian if he came near me again he’d have him arrested for harassment.”
“So did he leave?”
“No, he wanted to dance with me.” Tess’s lower lip trembled. “I was really angry with Daddy. I loved Brian and I told Daddy if he didn’t let me see him I’d run away with him. I knew Daddy wouldn’t make a scene at the wedding, so I danced with Brian anyway.”
Polly frowned. “I don’t remember seeing you with anyone. Which one was he?”
“The tall fellow, in the dark gray suit and blue tie.”
“Oh, him.” Polly nodded. “Nice-looking bloke.”
“Yes, I suppose he is.” Tess drummed on the table with her fingers. “It’s just a shame he turned out to be such a rotter.”
“So what’d he do then?” Polly demanded. But before Tess could answer, another voice broke into the conversation.
“Come on, Pol, let’s go and join the sing-along at the piano.” Sadie’s grin took in both of them. “You, too, Tess. We need some girls over there to drown out the Yanks.”
Polly looked at Tess, who shook her head. “I’m tired. I think I’ll go back to the Manor House. Where can I call for a taxi?”
Sadie burst out laughing. “You’re joking. There’s no taxi in Sitting Marsh.”
Tess stared up at her in dismay. “Then how am I going to get home?”
“Well, I could give you a ride on me bicycle,” Sadie said doubtfully, then shook her head. “Nah. We’d never get up the hill. Wait here.” She bolted back to the crowd at the dartboard, where she grabbed the arm of an American serviceman.
“Looks like you’ll be going home in a Jeep,” Polly said, as Sadie gestured at them.
“Oh, help.” Tess sighed. “Well, I suppose it’s better than walking all that way. These shoes have such high heels I’d have blisters all over my feet by the time I got there.”
Sadie came back to the table, dragging a shy-looking soldier with close-cropped red hair and worried eyes. “Here,” Sadie announced, “this is Joe. He’s a good friend of mine. He’ll give us a lift to the Manor House.”
Joe stared anxiously at Tess. “It’s not a very comfortable ride, ma’am, I-”
“Oh, stop worrying, Joe!” Sadie gave his arm a little shake. “It’ll be a lark. I can throw me bicycle in the back. You can give Polly a lift, too.” She winked at Polly. “That’s if you’re ready to go home?”
“More than ready.” Polly got to her feet. “I’ve got me bicycle with me, though.”
“There won’t be room for all of you as well as two bikes,” Joe protested.
“It’s all right.” Polly picked up her handbag and shoved it under her arm. “I’d rather ride, anyway.” She left before Sadie could talk her out of it. The truth was, it hurt to see Sadie so happy with her boyfriend. Polly tried not to let it bother her, but seeing them together only reminded her of when she was happy too, with Sam. She would never be happy like that again.
To Elizabeth’s dismay, it was Violet who answered her summons on the bell rope. As the huge front door swung open, she bounced inside, asking breathlessly, “Is Martin all right? He’s not ill, is he?”
Violet clicked her tongue. “Calm down, Lizzie. You’ll give yourself a heart attack with all your worrying. Martin is in bed, sleeping off the glass of scrumpy he managed to gulp down when I wasn’t looking. Went straight to his head, it did, silly old goat. I warned him not to touch it. The Winterhalters were nice enough to bring us home in their motorcar. Really posh it is. The sort of motorcar you should have, Lizzie, instead of that noisy, smelly old motorbike. Your father would turn in his grave if he saw you riding that around the village, I’m sure. Not at all what a lady should be riding, that’s for certain.”
Elizabeth followed her down to the kitchen, paying scant attention to her housekeeper’s prattling. Settling herself at the kitchen table, she watched Violet fill the kettle with cold water. “What about the Winterhalters? Are they here? I didn’t see the motorcar when I came in.”
“Desmond put it in the stables for them. Can’t leave a nice motorcar like that out all night. They’re in the library. I took up a bottle of that good Scotch your major brought over. I thought that nice Mr. Winterhalter was going to kiss me, he was so pleased. Can’t get good Scotch for love nor money nowadays, he told me.”
Deciding she couldn’t put it off any longer, Elizabeth said carefully, “Well, you all missed a good deal of excitement at the wedding.”
Violet set the kettle on the stove and lit the gas under it. “Don’t tell me. Rita Crumm drank too much scrumpy and did a striptease on the tables.”
Surprised her housekeeper even knew about such things, Elizabeth almost laughed. “No,” she said. “I’m afraid it’s a lot more serious than that. Bessie found a dead body in the cellar.”
Violet spun around, one hand over her mouth. “Go on! Who was it?”
“Well, no one seems to know. Apparently he wasn’t invited to the wedding, though one of the guests thought Tess might be acquainted with him.” She glanced up at the clock. “In fact, I think I’ll pop upstairs and have a word with the Winterhalters before George gets here. I want to warn them. It’s quite possible they might know the gentleman.”
“What happened to him?” Violet asked, as Elizabeth headed for the door.
“Someone stabbed him in the chest with the missing knife that was supposed to cut the wedding cake.”
“Oh, my. I imagine Rita was put out about that.”
“She wasn’t too pleased, to say the least.” Elizabeth paused at the door. “When George arrives, see if you can keep him busy down here until I get back.”
Without waiting for her housekeeper to answer, she let the door close behind her and headed for the stairs.
She found Rodney and Daphne seated in the library, each immersed in a book. They had both changed out of their wedding finery-Rodney now in a dark red velvet smoking jacket and Daphne wearing a fetching housecoat covered in pink and white embroidery.
They looked up as she entered, and Rodney immediately sprang to his feet.
“Oh, there you are, Lady Elizabeth!” he exclaimed, his voice overly loud and jovial. “Our apologies for leaving the festivities so abruptly. The little woman had a headache, didn’t you, precious.”
Daphne gave him a nervous smile. “Did I? Yes, of course. I did.”
The infuriated look he gave her made Elizabeth uncomfortable. Obviously, the Winterhalters were having some kind of disagreement. “I’m afraid I have some bad news for you,” she said, coming straight to the point. “It concerns a gentleman guest at the wedding. A rather tall chap wearing a dark gray suit and light blue silk tie. Was he a friend of yours?”
Daphne stared blankly at her, while Rodney’s eyes narrowed. “If you are referring to Brian Sutcliffe, he’s nothing but a two-timing fortune hunter. He barged into the wedding uninvited and made a general nuisance of himself. The man is a rake of the worst kind.”
“Rodney is absolutely right,” Daphne agreed fervently. “The man is a cheat and a liar. I can’t imagine what my daughter sees in that charlatan.”
“In that case,” Elizabeth said quietly, “I imagine neither of you will be too upset to hear that someone killed him this afternoon.”
Rodney Winterhalter met her gaze without so much as a blink. “Is that so.”
Somewhat taken aback by his indifference, Elizabeth was lost for words.
Then, in the silence that followed, Daphne gasped, then whispered fearfully, “My God, Rodney. What have you done?”
Elizabeth watched Rodney’s face as he stared at his wife, his eyes burning with fury. “What the devil are you talking about, Daphne? I didn’t stick a knife in the blasted chap, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
Daphne looked as if she didn’t believe him, and Elizabeth said hastily, “I think I should warn you that police constable Dalrymple is on his way up here to question Tess. By all accounts, she was one of the last people to see the gentleman alive.”
A worried expression clouded Daphne’s face. “Oh, dear. I do hope-” She broke off, and stared helplessly at her husband.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Rodney snapped. He turned to Elizabeth. “I’m quite sure my daughter has nothing to do with this. Unfortunately she was quite infatuated with the rotter.”
“I don’t-” Daphne was interrupted by the sound of a sharp tap on the door.
At Elizabeth’s command to enter, the door opened and Sadie poked her head into the space. “Pardon me, your ladyship,” she said, flicking a glance at the Winterhalters, “but Violet said to tell you P. C. Dalrymple is in the kitchen.”
“Thank you, Sadie.”
The girl nodded and started to withdraw her head when Rodney asked sharply, “Did Tess come home with you?”
Sadie opened the door wider. “Yes, sir. My friend gave her a ride home in his Jeep a while ago.”
Daphne rolled her eyes in horror, but Rodney merely nodded. “Be so kind as to tell her I wish to speak to her. Now.”
“Yes, sir, but I think she’s gone to bed.”
“Then get her out of bed,” Rodney ordered harshly. “I want to speak to her before the constable gets to her.”
Sadie’s eyebrows rose and her eyes widened as she looked at Elizabeth.
“It’s all right, Sadie,” Elizabeth said quietly. “Do as Mr. Winterhalter asks at once.”
“Yes, m’m.” Sadie’s face disappeared and the door closed with a quiet snap.
Daphne folded her arms across her chest and started rocking back and forth, while Rodney paced across the soft carpet to the bookshelves and back again.
“You don’t mind if I stay?” Elizabeth murmured, as she took a seat across from Daphne.
Daphne shook her head, while Rodney muttered, “Of course not, your ladyship. We have nothing to hide.”
Elizabeth attempted to make light conversation, but her efforts were largely ignored, and she was quite relieved when the door opened and Tess, wearing a yellow silk robe tied with a black silk sash, wandered into the room.
“You got me out of bed,” she said, as her parents turned to face her. “Couldn’t it wait until tomorrow?”
“We have something to tell you,” Rodney began, but Daphne sprang to her feet.
“Let me tell her,” she said, the words more a command than a request.
Rodney turned away with an impatient flick of his head. “Very well. But be quick about it. That police chap will be here any second.”
Tess sent a startled look his way. “Police?”
“Tess…” Daphne approached her daughter and seized both her hands. “You must be brave, darling. It’s about Brian.”
Tess’s face froze. “Brian? What about him?”
“I’m afraid-” Daphne’s voice broke and she dipped her head.
Rodney grunted in exasperation, then said bluntly, “He’s dead.”
Daphne’s cry of protest was drowned out by Tess’s shocked howl. “No! I don’t believe you. He can’t be dead. I just saw him this afternoon. How can he be dead?”
“Someone stabbed him with a knife.” Rodney strode over to the young girl, who had begun to sob, and pushed his wife aside. Grasping Tess’s shoulders, he said more quietly, “I know this must be a shock to you, child, but you must pull yourself together. The constable wants to have a word with you, and you need your wits about you.”
“I don’t want to talk to anyone,” Tess sobbed. “I just want to go home.”
“I’m sure-” Elizabeth began, but once more she was interrupted by a tap on the door.
This time it was Violet who stood in the doorway. “I’m sorry, madam, but the constable insisted on coming right up.”
Elizabeth nodded at her housekeeper. “It’s all right, Violet. You may show the constable in.”
“Yes, madam.” Violet opened the door to allow the portly figure of George to pass through, then closed it behind him.
“Good evening, your ladyship,” George said, removing his helmet and tucking it under his arm.
Elizabeth got her feet and made the introductions. None of the Winterhalters were particularly gracious. Dahpne seemed bewildered, frightened, and out of her depth. Rodney’s face was carved in stone, while Tess continued to hiccup softly as sobs escaped her lips.
“Now, then, young lady,” George said, after licking the end of his pencil, “when was the last time you saw the deceased?”
Tears rolled down Tess’s face as she struggled to answer him. “This afternoon.”
“I understand,” George said pompously, “that you were arguing with the deceased shortly before his death.”
Tess cried louder and hunted in her pocket for a handkerchief. Daphne pulled one from her sleeve and handed it to her. “Here you are, darling. Just tell the policeman what he wants to know.”
“I told him I never wanted to see him again!” Tess howled. “I didn’t mean it!”
George scribbled on his notepad. “I see. And what prompted you to say that to him, might I ask?”
Tess appeared to make a valiant effort to control her weeping. “I found out he… he was with another woman at the Tudor Arms. She was in his room.” The last word rose on a wail of anguish.
“Always knew the miserable cad was no good,” Rodney muttered.
“Why didn’t you tell us, darling?” Daphne cried, obviously distressed.
“I didn’t want anyone else to know what a fool I’d been,” Tess managed, between sobs.
George went on scribbling some more. “So what happened when you told him you didn’t want to see him no more?”
“He was angry. I… ran away.”
“And he was alive when you left him?”
“I… I just wanted to get away from him.”
“Of course you did, dear,” Daphne said. She threw a protective arm about her daughter’s shoulders. “You can see the child has had a terrible shock,” she said, glaring at George. “Can’t this wait until tomorrow?”
“Just a couple more questions, madam, if you don’t mind.” George turned to Rodney. “When did you last see the deceased alive?”
“At the reception. I told him to leave. He was hanging around my daughter and making a blasted nuisance of himself.”
“I take it you had no liking for the deceased.”
Rodney uttered a bark of contempt. “I had no time for the rotter, no. He was harassing my daughter.”
“And you wanted to stop him doing that,” George said, busily writing.
Rodney’s face grew redder. “Yes, I did. That doesn’t mean I killed him.”
“No, sir, but it does mean you had a reason to want him out of the way, so to speak.” George lifted his head. “As did the young lady, apparently.” He snapped his notebook shut with an air of authority. “I must ask you all to stay in Sitting Marsh until the inspector can have a word with you. I’m putting you under house arrest on suspicion of being involved in a murder.”