Which wasn't precisely an answer to my question.
'You'll hear about it soon enough if you stay in Little Sefton for very long,' he went on after a moment, as if he'd made up his mind. 'Marjorie Evanson was murdered in London. She was a friend of mine. Her sister is not.'
'I didn't know Mrs. Evanson, but I was in charge of the wounded when her husband, Lieutenant Evanson, was brought home with burns.'
Those marvelous eyes opened and seemed to spear me. 'Were you indeed? A small world. I liked Merry, you know. The first time I met him, I knew he'd be right for Marjorie.'
'Alicia told me you were a nephew of the Harts.'
'I often stayed with my aunt and uncle on school holidays. My father was in the Army and my parents were half a world away most of the time. That's how I came to know Marjorie. She lived close by. A sweet girl. I liked her immensely. I wasn't in love with her,' he added hastily, 'but I liked her. We played together as children and sometimes she'd confide in me, and I in her. I think our two families are related somehow-a distant this or that. So we called each other cousin, Marjorie and I. She had no brother, and I had no sister. It was a good relationship.'
I believed him. There was the ring of truth in his voice now.
'I read something about her death. Did the police ever discover who had killed her?'
'I don't know that they've made any progress at all. Although I'd had my suspicions that something was wrong.'
'Had you?'
'About five or six months ago-you won't say anything to Alicia about this, will you?' I promised and he went on. 'About five or six months ago, late winter anyway, her letters changed. They were shorter and not as full of news. Distracted. Unlike her. I put it down to worry about Merry-his squadron had been posted to France. And then the letters were fewer, as if she'd written out of duty when she remembered she owed me one.'
'Did you see her after that?'
He sat up as a clock somewhere in the house struck the hour. 'I must return to the booth. I don't know what possessed me to agree to man it.'
I considered him. Friend or not, cousin or not, Michael Hart was very attractive. But he wasn't the man I'd seen with Marjorie Evanson in London.
I was tempted to ask him if he knew Lieutenant Fordham, but they were in the same regiment, and Simon had told me that the lieutenant's death had been kept out of the newspapers. Instead I asked, 'There might have been another man. Had you thought of that?'
His eyes sharpened, and an ugly twist reshaped his mouth. 'What do you mean? What have you heard?'
I shrugged. 'You suggested there was a change in her. There's usually a reason for it. Perhaps there was something she didn't want to tell you or was afraid you'd read between the lines in her letters.'
He got up and swung around the room, as if he were trying to find a way out of it, like an animal pacing his cage at a zoo. 'That's nonsense. Besides, it doesn't explain her murder, does it?'
When I said nothing, he went on as much to himself as to me. 'I can't drive, and I'm forbidden to take the train. I need to go to London. To talk to her friends. There was a women's group she belonged to, they met every week. I asked my uncle to drive me there, but he has his hands full with the farm just now-everyone is shorthanded, I know that's true, but still-' He took a deep breath. 'It's been weeks already.'
'What does Victoria have to say? Surely Marjorie confided in her.'
'She wouldn't tell me even if she knew the name of Marjorie's killer. She was an insufferable little beast, always prying, always tattling. Neither of us could abide her. Marjorie tried to make peace with her, but confide in her? Never.' He considered me. 'Have a motorcar here, do you?'
'Yes, I-'
'Excellent. You can drive me to London, if you please. I'll start with the servants. They'll talk to me. I helped her choose most of them when she opened the house.'
It was tempting. But I said, 'My family lives in Somerset. I'll be going back there, not to London.'
'How long have you known Alicia?' he asked shrewdly. 'You don't strike me as old friends. I've known Alicia for years, and I've never seen you in Little Sefton before. You said you knew Meriwether. Did his sister send you here? I wouldn't put it past her.'
'I told you the truth. I brought Lieutenant Evanson back to England, to Laurel House. He had a photograph of his wife, and it was pinned to his tunic where I could see it every day. He wouldn't let it out of his sight. I couldn't help but see it.'
I didn't tell him that it was even now in my valise at Alicia's house. But I found myself adding, 'I was told by Matron that Lieutenant Evanson's family didn't want it buried with him.'
Under his breath he swore with some feeling. 'Serena's doing, very likely. I think she felt as elder sister she ought to have a say in the woman Evanson married. She'd introduced him to several friends of hers, but nothing came of that.'
I could hear people talking in the passage. 'We should go out to the garden. They'll be looking for you.'
'I've lost interest in the blasted white elephant booth.'
'It is for a good cause,' I reminded him.
'I'd rather give them the money and be done with it.'
'That's charity.'
Suddenly he chuckled, that same deep rumble that began in his chest before erupting into deep laughter.
'You're an extraordinary woman, Sister Crawford. I think Marjorie would have approved of you.' Cradling his shoulder, he added with resignation, 'Come along then. But think about it, won't you? Driving to London, I mean.'
We walked together out of the rector's study, down the passage, and back to the fete.
As we stepped out into the gardens, Alicia raised her eyebrows at the sight of us together, and on the other side of the palm reader's booth, Victoria was staring.
I could almost read their minds as they wondered how I had so successfully cornered the Prince of Wales.
Behind me, Michael Hart said just loud enough for me to hear him, 'Is this where you slap my face and walk away?'
Unable to stop myself, I smiled broadly.
But Michael had already slipped away and left me standing there alone.
The rector stepped into the breach and introduced himself, welcoming me to Little Sefton and asking where I was from. 'Somerset,' I told him, and then we played the social game of do you know…
We did indeed have a connection in common. It seems that the chaplain of my father's old regiment-now long since retired to grow roses and tomatoes in Derbyshire-had been a friend of the rector's father, and with those bona fides, I was accepted into the bosom of Little Sefton.
The afternoon turned out to be lovely in every sense. I found I was enjoying myself as the rector and Alicia between them presented me to everyone. I took my turn in the white elephant booth, and even sold tickets for the little raffle. Michael was least in sight, and I heard someone, a woman, say, 'He's probably gone to have a lie down. He told me that Sister Crawford had advised him to rest and take a little something for his pain.'
My back was to the speakers, and so I couldn't see who answered that remark.
'I wonder if she knows that he's altogether too fond of that little something for the pain.' Another woman's voice.
Just as I turned to see who it was, I found myself almost face-to-face with Victoria.
I had wondered if-when-she might speak to me. She had no way of knowing who I was, but seeing me with Michael had for some reason ruffled her feathers.
As if to prove it, her first words were, 'Have you known Michael very long?'
'Approximately two hours,' I answered with a smile, refusing to be drawn.
'Alicia told me she hadn't realized you were acquainted with him, or she wouldn't have invited you to Little Sefton. She doesn't care to be used in this way.'
Alicia had said nothing of the sort. She knew why I was here.
