out who was in England around that time, but I never even thought about Michael.'
'But he was here to have his eye treated-and he's recovering from other wounds now. It's hard to believe he could have managed either attack. Physically, I mean.'
'You don't know what men are capable of when they put their minds to it,' she informed me darkly. 'You aren't married, you don't know how determined they can be.'
'No, you don't understand, he ran a terrible risk, medically. If his eye had hemorrhaged, he could have lost his sight. And now he was likely to do serious damage to his shoulder. After all the surgeries and the pain he's had to endure, I don't see him taking that chance. It could mean losing his arm. And he realizes that. It would be foolish.'
'It might seem foolish to you,' she told me, 'but we can't know what was in his mind.'
'If he was her lover-and I'm not convinced of that-why should he then wish to kill her?' And I asked myself, why was she weeping copiously on Raymond Melton's shoulder, if it was Michael who had got her pregnant? Unless Michael, not knowing he would be in London, had asked a friend to act for him.
'She might have told him it was over, that Meriwether was coming home and she wanted to go back to him. Jealousy is a powerful emotion. Sometimes people who are as handsome as Michael can't accept rejection. They're used to being adored.'
She had worked it all out in her mind. Just as Inspector Herbert had done.
'Yes, of course that's possible,' I argued. 'But then why should he want to harm Mrs. Calder?'
'Perhaps she just found out he was in London then, and Marjorie had already told her about a man she was seeing. Helen Calder realized what that must mean, and she could have told Michael what she intended to do, giving him the opportunity to do the right thing and turn himself in. I don't know Helen Calder well, but she is very conventional, isn't she? Or maybe she herself really didn't want to get involved with the police.'
Mrs. Calder was rather conventional. It would explain why Michael urgently wanted to go up to London. Could Serena be right? But why had he told his uncle he was intending to see Mrs. Calder? Why not claim he needed to visit a doctor? Why did he take a knife with him?
When I hesitated, Serena said, 'He couldn't be sure, could he? That she wouldn't go to the police herself? It's possible he only wanted to persuade her she was wrong.'
'Serena, you've made a very strong case. But it's mostly conjecture. There's no way of knowing how true it really is.'
Her face hardened. 'Victoria told me you'd argued with the police inspector. And you're standing up for Michael now.' She set her teacup aside. 'She told me too that you were in love with Michael Hart. All I wanted to know is, was Victoria right? Can I believe her, that the police actually took him into custody, that he's not just helping them with their inquiries? Marjorie didn't trust her sister. Can I?'
I let out my breath in a sign of frustration. 'In the first place, I'm not in love with Lieutenant Hart. I've told you, I hardly know him. In the second, it's true he was taken into custody, and that I was present. And yes, I did argue with the inspector. I thought his case a very poor one. Medically I didn't see how Michael Hart could have attacked those two women. But Inspector Herbert is convinced that it was possible. And finally, Victoria Garrison is a troublemaker. The only reason I can think of for her to telephone you and tell you about Michael is to stir up your grief all over again. She settled her score with you. Don't you see?'
Standing, she said, 'I shouldn't have come. I just want to see the end of this business, so that my brother can finally rest in peace.'
I felt like telling her that her brother might have found that peace if she herself hadn't told him the whole truth about his wife. It had been unnecessarily hurtful. The only reason I could think of for her not to shield him was her own jealousy. That she was both shocked and gloating that Marjorie had fallen so far from grace. And now it was Serena who needed to find some peace.
I said, 'Serena. I can understand that you want to see Marjorie's murderer caught-'
'He got around you just as he got around Marjorie, didn't he? You can't see beyond that, but I can. I can see him clearly.'
She marched to the door, self-righteous indignation in every stride.
I waited until she had reached it, then asked, 'Serena. Someone shot at Lieutenant Hart earlier this week. Whoever it was missed him both times. Was it you?' That stopped her cold.
I added, 'There was a weapon missing from your husband's gun cabinet. A revolver, at a guess.'
'You are grasping at straws, aren't you? Jack carries a weapon when he's in London. For self-protection, because of the work he does. I'd hardly call that 'missing.''
And she was gone.
I could hear the outer door of The Four Doves shutting with what might be called some force.
Setting the cups back on the tea tray, I went to thank Mrs. Cox and settle the account for our tea.
She said, 'Your visitor was crying when she left. Is everything all right?'
Surprised, I answered, 'She hoped for good news.'
Mrs. Cox nodded. 'We could all use a little of that.'
I just wished Helen Calder would regain consciousness and tell us what she remembered. Good news-or bad-but better than this limbo.
The dinner party went exceedingly well, our cook outdoing herself with the chickens and even with a lovely French tart for the sweet. I couldn't help but wonder where she had found the sugar for the glaze.
Most of all I enjoyed the guests, many of them friends of my parents, a few of them friends of mine. Diana was in London and arrived in high spirits, flirting with Simon, although Mary had told me it was likely she would be engaged by the autumn. Another of my flatmates, Elayne, was a surprise. I hadn't seen her in weeks and we had much to catch up on. She too was expecting a proposal, she said, and I was happy for her.
Even Melinda Crawford had traveled all the way from Kent. She and my father were distantly related, and both her husband and her father had served in India in their time. As she leaned on Simon's arm as we went in to dinner, she said, 'When this wicked war is finished, I want to go back to India. I've unfinished business there. Will you take me?' Overhearing that, I made a promise to myself that I would go with them.
Throughout that dinner, I enjoyed watching my mother's face. She loved entertaining, did it well, and was a clever hostess. I smiled at her down the table, and won a smile in return.
My leave was nearly up. I felt a twinge of regret, knowing how much this time meant to my parents.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
I had wanted to see Alicia Dalton before I left for France, to apologize again for hurting her feelings. But there was much to do the morning after the party, and I couldn't leave all of that to my mother and Nell. And I was waiting for news of Helen Calder. Diana had promised to find out what she could.
Simon had driven Melinda Crawford to the train and my mother had taken the last of the chicken, made up as a fricassee, to two elderly women in the village. My father had been summoned to Sandhurst for a ceremony of some sort, and I was rather at loose ends.
Remembering that Victoria had telephoned Serena, I decided I would return the favor.
As the call was being put through, I realized too late that I should have left well enough alone. This was borne in upon me by the coldness in Victoria Garrison's voice when I told her who I was.
'I should have thought I would be the last person you wished to speak with,' she said. 'After what happened the other day.'
Refusing to be drawn, I asked, 'Miss Garrison, did Lieutenant Hart tell you why he wanted to go to London?'
'Why don't you ask Inspector Herbert? I've told him what I know.'
'It was you who took Michael there. And so I'm asking you.'
'Someone had told him I had tickets for that play. I didn't twist his arm, he came to me. He said he would very much like to see it. I was surprised, but I was glad of the company, driving back after the performance. And then later, when we reached London, he hurt his shoulder getting out of the motorcar, and he was in pain. He couldn't sit still, and even before the curtain went up, he walked out, saying that he needed air. I offered to go with
