It would be something to fall back on if she returned with her tail between her legs after a failed reunion with Melody. “I had a friend help me with the details,” Betty continued. “Well, not a friend exactly, more of an acquaintance living at the Dower House. Val gave up her job at a travel agency in London to come and look after her great-aunt, Miss Pierce, who was once Mr. Gallagher’s nanny.”
“What a good niece. She’s obviously enormously talented.”
“Never took a decorating class in her life.” Although she was perched on the very edge of her chair, Betty’s feet didn’t touch the floor. “It’s just something Val’s interested in. We were talking one day and she made a couple of suggestions that sounded all right. Tom didn’t offer any opinions. That’s how he is, but I knew he liked yellow.” She looked to where he was sitting with Ben on one of the gold damask sofas. “We tried to get Val to let us pay her, but she wouldn’t hear of it. I’ll have to come up with an idea for a present. I thought of flowers, but it doesn’t seem enough. She’s certainly been a big help.”
That was apparent. I looked around the room that had been brought to life and beauty by an amateur and felt more than a twinge of envy. I was not a nice person. Hadn’t I all too readily bought into Ariel’s negative opinion of Betty? Looking at her now, I saw that the pale blue of her designer suit might be to blame for her plastic appearance. She needed warmer colors, softer lines and subtler makeup than the dark eyeliner and cherry lipstick that clashed with her red hair. What a pity the otherwise helpful Val hadn’t offered these suggestions-and allowed Betty and Tom to infuse something of their own personalities into the house. There I went again! My nasty side creeping in.
“Lucky for us Val came to look after her great-aunt,” said Betty.
“She could be hoping to inherit the old lady’s money,” Ariel responded direly.
“Who’s Val?” Ben inquired sleepily from his chair.
“You’ll meet her. She’s always here.”
“I don’t think she’s out for what she can get from Miss Pierce,” protested Tom mildly.
“She’s not always here!” Betty shot back at Ariel. “Sometimes we don’t see her for days on end.”
Hardly surprising if Val was poring over decorating books, along with taking care of Auntie, whom I was picturing as partially bedridden and in need of nourishing little meals on trays and lengthy talks about what Mr. Gallagher was like as a small boy. Such a one for objecting to wearing his neddy when taken for a walk in the grounds! And, oh, the naughty fuss he made about eating his tapioca pudding! All highly entertaining, no doubt, but time consuming.
“Life do get so busy,” Mrs. Malloy remarked, in the plummy tones befitting a woman who had twice been chairwoman of the Chitterton Fells Charwomen’s Association. “I can state without a word of a lie that I work me fingers to the bone at Merlin’s Court. I’d expect me head to land on the chopping block if the kitchen wasn’t shipshape when Mr. H gets to trying out one of his fancy recipes.” She patted her two-tone hair and inflated her bosom, I hoped without a poke from a dislodged underwire.
Betty eyed her narrowly before looking at Ben. “I’d forgotten you’re a professional chef.”
“It’s work I enjoy.” He smiled at her, and she turned her attention back to Mrs. Malloy.
“Mavis, our daily woman, is pretty much useless.”
“I wouldn’t go that far, Betty.” Tom bestirred himself to remonstrate. “Lady Fiona seemed to think she was okay.”
“That doesn’t mean anything, coming from someone as vague as she is.”
“I thought you’d decided that was just an act, to cover up the fact that she’s a ruthless killer.” Ariel kicked the legs of her chair.
Betty flared back at her. “Don’t stick your nose into the conversation. You should be locked in your room, hoping we’ll let you eat again.”
“I’m already starving.”
“Don’t talk back, dear.” Tom got to his feet. “I’ll go down to the kitchen and ask Mrs. Cake to rustle up some lunch.”
This sounded good to me. It seemed an age since Betty had made the welcome offer of a cup of tea.
“And how’s she going to manage that, stuck in a chair as she is with her sprained ankle propped up on a stool?” Betty inquired sarcastically.
“I’d forgotten.”
“The best she can do is sit with a bowl in her lap shelling peas.”
“Perhaps she could whisk up some eggs instead.”
“And sit with the toaster on her lap, popping up slices of bread?”
Ariel looked from me to Ben and Mrs. Malloy. “Mrs. Cake’s a wonderful cook when she can be on her feet.” Sentimental sigh. “She makes the loveliest scones and things. Although not as good as that chocolate cake of yours, Ben.”
Life has its lively twists and turns. Heroes have a way of popping up when least expected. From the expression on Betty’s face, it was clear our visit was no longer entirely unwelcome. Ben was offering to accompany his cousin into the kitchen and prepare a meal, if that would be helpful.
“We don’t like to impose, do we, Tom?”
“No, dear.”
“If you’re sure, Ben?”
“It will be my pleasure.” His smile was directed at Betty, but I knew with secret wifely knowledge that it was meant for me.
Betty practically sparkled. “Thank you, and take Ariel with you. Put her to use with the washing up.”
This produced the requisite scowl in return.
“Now, then, no need to bother the child. Surely that’s what I’m here for.” Beaming fatuously at one and all, Mrs. Malloy converted instantly into trusted family servitor. “Got me pinny right here. Never without it in case it’s needed.” She opened her handbag and withdrew a scrap of white nylon trimmed with lace. To my knowledge it had never put in an appearance at Merlin’s Court, but the washing up there is not very grand on a daily basis. Our humble soup bowls, earthenware casserole dishes, and stainless steel cutlery deserve no more than a tea towel tucked in at the waist. Here, if Val’s revamping included the kitchen, it would be a different matter.
“Ariel!” Betty pointed a finger.
“Don’t you want me to stay and tell you about the lovely surprise?”
“I told you I’m not interested.” The green eyes flashed. “Something has to be done about your escapade, but I can’t concentrate on that now, or even Mr. Gallagher’s murder. I’ve a huge calamity on my hands.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, as Ariel pirouetted out the door. “And here you are with three extra people on your hands.”
“I’ve been frantic.” Betty gripped her tiny hands. “My first social engagement as lady of the manor is coming up, and I was sure it was doomed! But perhaps there is a way to salvage the situation if Ben and Mrs. Malloy would agree to help me out.” She eyed me with the desperate appeal of a woman trapped on a cliff ledge in a storm equal to the one we’d had yesterday. “It seems a lot to ask, Ellie, because it would mean your all staying on here for a few days.”
5
I told Ellie about the awful fix we’re in regarding our upcoming social engagement,” Betty informed Tom a half hour later.
Our merry bunch was in the dining room, grouped around a large, beautifully polished oval table set with Royal Derbyshire china, sterling silver, and sparkling crystal, all a delight to the eye. The wallpaper was a watered raspberry silk, the carpet centered on the parquet floor a prize from the Orient, the chandelier dazzling, the William and Mary display cabinets a repository of treasures. Val of the Dower House had again performed her magic. I could only wonder if the Hopkinses had stretched their multimillions too thin, forcing them to cut down on milk and eggs in the coming weeks.
So far there seemed to be no shortage of provisions. Ben, with some assistance one presumed from Tom, Ariel,
