Mrs. Jeffries Wins the Prize by Emily Brightwell

the other two were widowed as well. It’s quite sad; both Thea and Isabelle lost their husbands when they were relatively young. I had no idea, of course, until I remembered a bit of gossip I heard in San Francisco years ago. We had a mutual acquaintance who had come from Madras to the United States, and she told me that there were some very nasty rumors about the Mrs. Martell’s late spouse.” She paused for breath and Witherspoon opened his mouth to ask another question, but she was too quick for him. “Naturally, I’m not one to believe gossip, but some say where there’s smoke, there’s fire.”
    â€œDid you use a carriage to take you to the luncheon?” The constable helped himself to a delicate thin biscuit and took a bite.
    â€œI took a hansom cab. It’s simply too difficult to keep a carriage in the city though I am considering purchasing one of those lovely horseless carriages I saw displayed at the Imperial Institute.”
    â€œYou saw the Horseless Carriage Exhibition?” Witherspoon asked. He’d gone and had a look himself. “What did you think of it?”
    â€œI thought it was wonderful, but I suspect it might be a few years before they are sufficiently practical to drive about London.” She gave him a rueful smile.
    â€œI agree, but it is exciting, isn’t it. Just imagine if in the future, we’re all moving from one place to the next in horseless carriages.”
    â€œIndeed, they were most impressive, and impractical or not, I was tempted to buy one. I quite like new things, you see, and even better, if I had bought one, it would have made both Isabelle and Helena green with envy, and that would have made the entire enterprise worth it.”
    Slightly bemused by the frankness of her statements, Witherspoon was caught off guard and couldn’t think what to ask next.
    â€œDid you see anyone hanging about the Rayburn home when you got out of the hansom yesterday?” Barnes looked up from his notebook.
    â€œNot that I recall. But I wasn’t particularly observant.”
    â€œHad you ever met Mr. Hiram Filmore?” Barnes shoved another biscuit in his mouth. They were delicious.
    â€œYes, I met him in India. He worked in the infirmary.I remember because he was in charge of sending the personal effects of the dead soldiers home. He used to ask me to help him write the letters to the families. Thea Stanway used to help him as well—his handwriting wasn’t very good.”
    â€œIsn’t that the sort of thing a commanding officer does?” Witherpsoon helped himself to a small pink frosted cake.
    â€œThe commanding officer writes the initial letter to the family, but this was the one that accompanied their personal effects.” She smiled sadly. “Often, it took time to gather things up and get them posted. It was an infirmary, Inspector, and not a very well run one, I might add. The officers that were nominally in charge were sometimes simply not very good administrators. All of the ladies, the wives, the sisters, even those like myself that had come to India to work helped out as best we could. But things often got lost. Actually, right before I left, I remember there was a bit of commotion over things going missing. Several letters arrived from the families claiming some of their loved ones’ possessions weren’t in the boxes of personal effects. But you know the British army; they got that hushed up as soon as possible and so nothing ever came of it.”
    â€œHad you seen Mr. Filmore since you came back to London?” Barnes waited till she glanced away before he licked the crumbs off his fingers.
    â€œTwice. Both times he was with Mrs. Rayburn. The first time was last year at the Mayfair Orchid and Exotic Plant Society annual show, and the second time was when he was going into Mrs. Rayburn’s garden. That was several months ago. It looked as if he was bringing her a box of