someone would mention him. Remember Fred? Serving with the Wiltshires? We had a letter from him last week…
Of course he could be a complete stranger. Someone Marjorie met in London and never introduced to anyone she knew. That was surely the safest way to conduct an affair. But people don't fall in love with safety in mind. Sometimes risk must be half the excitement of a secret affair.
Neither Mary nor I wore our uniforms to dinner. Nurses at a dinner table tend to cast a pall over conversation. Men in uniform on the other hand tend to look dashing, whether they are or not.
The roast was indeed heavenly. There was even horseradish sauce, and Yorkshire pudding. For an hour the war faded into the background and it was 1914 again, when food was plentiful and parties like this frequent and fun.
That evening we played croquet on the lawn in the long summer twilight, a ruthless game with no holds barred. The next morning, Saturday, we played tennis and were silly over the litter of pups that one of the English setters had produced in the stable-cum-garage instead of the box carefully prepared in the house for her accouchement.
As we admired the little family, under cover of the ohs and ahs someone behind me commented quietly, 'That was Evanson's bitch, you know. He'd arranged to breed her to FitzGerald's dog, the one the King admired. He'd hoped to give HM the pick of the litter.'
'Pity about all that,' the other voice said. 'His wife. I mean to say, murder.'
But before I could turn and see the speakers, we were being handed pups and I couldn't be sure who had been just behind me.
The warm, furry little bodies, wriggling and squirming in our arms, licking our faces, kept us occupied for another half an hour, and then it was time for our luncheon.
We trooped out of the stables in good spirits, and I listened for the same voices as people laughed and congratulated Serena on the litter. Still, the two men had been nearly whispering, so it was harder to identify them with a normal voice.
Serena said nothing about the mother of the pups being her brother's dog.
Not an hour later, I overheard her speaking to Jack as I passed the study.
She was saying, 'I don't believe any of them could have been Marjorie's lover. It was sheer foolishness to think we could find out this way.'
Her husband answered quietly, 'You were desperate. It was the best I could do on short notice. So many of the people we know are in France, or God knows where. The man may even be dead, as far as that goes.'
'By his own hand, I hope,' she retorted viciously. 'After all he's done to us.'
Jack said nothing.
'It's not your family,' she went on into the silence, answering it as if her husband had spoken aloud. 'I'm the one who has to live with the whispers and the shame. I can read pity in my friends' eyes. That is, when they can't avoid me. And wherever I go I can feel the stares behind my back. 'Did you know? Her sister-in-law was murdered, and then her brother killed himself.' As if I've done something wrong. No one asks how I'm coping, for fear I might embarrass them by telling them and expecting a little comfort in return. What if they knew the rest of it? I'd never dare show my face in public again.' Her voice broke, but not with tears. 'I should have had that damned bitch put down!'
'I understand,' her husband answered her. 'But you're tormenting yourself as well, you know. As for the poor dog, find her another home if you feel that way. Don't blame her.'
'I'm not blaming her. I see her looking up at the door sometimes, as if she's waiting for Merry to come through it any minute. She loved him. Probably more than Marjorie did, if you ask me. And how do you tell a dumb brute that her master is dead?'
'I think she knows Meriwether is dead. I think she also hopes it isn't true.'
'This is the third time we've had one of these parties. I don't know if I can face another one, Jack. But I can't think of a better way to question someone about Marjorie's friends than inviting them here under false pretenses. And the women come out of curiosity, hoping I'll drop some crumb of gossip that they can take home with them. The men come because they like you, but I watch their faces when I mention Marjorie, to see if she meant more to them than she should have. Surely whoever that man is, he still feels something. He's bound to give himself away. A shift in the way he looks at me, a tightness in the mouth. I want to know who it is. I won't have any peace until I do and can put the blame where it belongs.'
'You may be right, my dear, but the truth is, I don't hold out much hope.'
I walked on down the carpeted passage for fear one of them might come out and find me there, eavesdropping.
But I carried with me food for thought.
For one thing, Inspector Herbert hadn't told Serena about the man at the railway station. And probably wouldn't until he knew whether or not it was pertinent to his investigation.
For another, it appeared I wasn't the only one searching for Marjorie Evanson's lover. Even here. And I had the very strong feeling that if Serena found the man before I did, she would take savage pleasure in exposing him to the world.
Before she killed him…
The thought occurred to me out of the blue. I didn't know whether she was capable of such a thing or not, but her brother's death had affected her deeply, and sometimes people who turned to anger as they grieved acted rashly, in the heat of the moment, wanting to hurt the person who had hurt them.
Still, now I knew the purpose of this wartime birthday party and why it hadn't mattered if Mary had brought a friend. Serena Melton saw me as a smoke screen, added to make up the party's numbers and conceal her true purpose in inviting certain guests. Well, I needn't feel quite so guilty now about coming here under false pretenses, out of curiosity.
Last evening during croquet and again during the tennis match this morning, I'd seen Serena casually drawing aside first one guest and then another. She and Captain Truscott had had a long conversation, and soon after that, Lieutenant Gilbert. I'd thought she was making them feel at home, just as she'd chatted to me about my father and my duties.
And that reminded me of the naval commander she and Mary had discussed. Had Marjorie known him as well? I'd tried, politely, not to listen at the time. Now I made an effort to bring the exchange back. I didn't want to mention it to Mary.
'When was his last leave, do you remember?' she'd asked. 'Was he in London then?' And when Mary told her he'd taken the train directly to Scotland, to see his parents, she'd replied, 'No wonder Marjorie had missed seeing him. I must say, Jack was wondering about him too.'
Serena must not have been very close to her sister-in-law or she wouldn't be fishing among Marjorie's friends for answers.
And that brought to mind another question.
Was there jealousy between Marjorie and Serena? Had Meriwether Evanson's marriage caused a rift with his sister?
CHAPTER FOUR
I'd taken refuge in the Meltons' dining room from a storm that had suddenly blown up, sending us all dashing for the house. As I stood there looking out at the rain sweeping across the lawns, I heard someone come in the door behind me, and turned.
It was Lieutenant Bellis, one of the late arrivals last night. He'd missed the tennis match, pleading fatigue, and I hadn't seen much of him at lunch. He was drenched, his hair plastered to his skull, and he said lightly, 'Is there nowhere in this house that a man can find a drink?'
I laughed. 'I suspect Jack keeps what's left of his precious stock under lock and key.'
'I'm beginning to think you're right. Known him long, have you?'
'Actually, not very.' I took a chance. 'I met his brother-in-law once, I think.'
