opened in astonishment. ‘You suspect murder?’
‘Harriet strikes me as a sensible child. I’m inclined to believe her, though others don’t.’
‘Why wasn’t I told?’ He rang a bell.
The butler reappeared.
‘Ask Sergeant Sharp to call and see me. And send a message to the quarry foreman to get himself here in double-quick time.’
‘Yes, colonel.’ The butler nodded his way out.
I stood to leave. ‘Thank you for your time, Colonel.’
He jumped to his feet. ‘Wait! I’m going to fetch my wife. She’ll want to know about Harriet finding her father. She’s fond of Mary Jane. Do please sit down. Would you care for anything? A glass of sherry?’
‘No, thank you.’
He turned at the door. ‘I’ve seen you before somewhere, Mrs Shackleton.’
‘I was thinking that, too,’ I said. ‘But I can’t think where.’
I did not trust him but had no choice other than to wait. Ethan Armstrong must have been a thorn in the colonel’s side – a thorn to be rid of. The colonel needed time to think, having learned that Harriet saw her father’s body before there was time for the killer – Ledger’s minion? – to remove it. Ledger had gone for his wife not out of consideration for Mary Jane, but to keep me waiting. While he did what? Talked to the sergeant, and made sure the investigation was closed down before it began.
After six or seven minutes that seemed like hours, Mrs Ledger floated into the room wearing a navy and sky-blue morning dress with wide sleeves and a square neck. The sapphire at her throat matched the colour of her eyes. The severe style of her golden hair gave her the appearance of a carved Dresden doll. She smiled a pearly smile that nevertheless betrayed concern.
In my country costume, I suddenly felt like a poor governess. Mary Jane was right, she was exquisite. But she was wrong when she said I would never have met anyone like her. I had met many women like Mrs Ledger, delicate, feminine, and with a steely determination to never exert themselves in any direction. Perhaps that was harsh, but it was how she struck me. In the face of such superficial perfection, I could understand why Mary Jane had been so reluctant to set foot inside the gates of Applewick Hall.
Mrs Ledger sat beside me on the sofa. ‘I am so very sorry to hear about Mr Armstrong, and distressed for Mary Jane. I wish she had come to me. Her husband is apolitical firebrand but a supremely good workman, the colonel tells me.’
‘I believe he narrowly missed engendering a strike in your quarry.’
She looked at me shrewdly. ‘Yes, that’s true. But my husband tells me we must move with the times, and try to understand people like Ethan Armstrong.’
Or eliminate them.
‘How is Mary Jane?’
‘She’s bearing up.’
‘And the children?’
Her interest seemed genuine. Briefly, I told her about Harriet finding the body on Saturday, and this morning taking the farm dog out to search. She listened carefully, then said, ‘And the boy? Six years old is is too young to understand about death. Let’s hope that Harriet was mistaken.’
After a few more moments, I made my excuses, and left.
As I stepped from the house, I did a quick calculation. It occurred to me that the money in Mary Jane’s bank book was deposited while she worked for the Ledgers. Perhaps Mary Jane herself had a radical streak and had seen some opportunity for profit here. In spite of Mrs Ledger’s wealth and a certain sympathy, I would not suspect her of generosity. In my experience, the wealthy hold on to what they have.
The gardener still meddled in the flower bed. I spoke to the back of his head. ‘Excuse me.’
He looked up from his work and gave me a suspicious glare.
‘Where is the rose garden?’
He straightened up and pointed. ‘Over yon.’
‘Thank you.’
As I walked across the lawn in the direction of the rose garden, I felt disappointed that this visit had not taken my investigation much further forward. All I had
‘Harriet strikes me as a sensible child. I’m inclined to believe her, though others don’t.’
‘Why wasn’t I told?’ He rang a bell.
The butler reappeared.
‘Ask Sergeant Sharp to call and see me. And send a message to the quarry foreman to get himself here in double-quick time.’
‘Yes, colonel.’ The butler nodded his way out.
I stood to leave. ‘Thank you for your time, Colonel.’
He jumped to his feet. ‘Wait! I’m going to fetch my wife. She’ll want to know about Harriet finding her father. She’s fond of Mary Jane. Do please sit down. Would you care for anything? A glass of sherry?’
‘No, thank you.’
He turned at the door. ‘I’ve seen you before somewhere, Mrs Shackleton.’
‘I was thinking that, too,’ I said. ‘But I can’t think where.’
I did not trust him but had no choice other than to wait. Ethan Armstrong must have been a thorn in the colonel’s side – a thorn to be rid of. The colonel needed time to think, having learned that Harriet saw her father’s body before there was time for the killer – Ledger’s minion? – to remove it. Ledger had gone for his wife not out of consideration for Mary Jane, but to keep me waiting. While he did what? Talked to the sergeant, and made sure the investigation was closed down before it began.
After six or seven minutes that seemed like hours, Mrs Ledger floated into the room wearing a navy and sky-blue morning dress with wide sleeves and a square neck. The sapphire at her throat matched the colour of her eyes. The severe style of her golden hair gave her the appearance of a carved Dresden doll. She smiled a pearly smile that nevertheless betrayed concern.
In my country costume, I suddenly felt like a poor governess. Mary Jane was right, she was exquisite. But she was wrong when she said I would never have met anyone like her. I had met many women like Mrs Ledger, delicate, feminine, and with a steely determination to never exert themselves in any direction. Perhaps that was harsh, but it was how she struck me. In the face of such superficial perfection, I could understand why Mary Jane had been so reluctant to set foot inside the gates of Applewick Hall.
Mrs Ledger sat beside me on the sofa. ‘I am so very sorry to hear about Mr Armstrong, and distressed for Mary Jane. I wish she had come to me. Her husband is apolitical firebrand but a supremely good workman, the colonel tells me.’
‘I believe he narrowly missed engendering a strike in your quarry.’
She looked at me shrewdly. ‘Yes, that’s true. But my husband tells me we must move with the times, and try to understand people like Ethan Armstrong.’
Or eliminate them.
‘How is Mary Jane?’
‘She’s bearing up.’
‘And the children?’
Her interest seemed genuine. Briefly, I told her about Harriet finding the body on Saturday, and this morning taking the farm dog out to search. She listened carefully, then said, ‘And the boy? Six years old is is too young to understand about death. Let’s hope that Harriet was mistaken.’
After a few more moments, I made my excuses, and left.
As I stepped from the house, I did a quick calculation. It occurred to me that the money in Mary Jane’s bank book was deposited while she worked for the Ledgers. Perhaps Mary Jane herself had a radical streak and had seen some opportunity for profit here. In spite of Mrs Ledger’s wealth and a certain sympathy, I would not suspect her of generosity. In my experience, the wealthy hold on to what they have.
The gardener still meddled in the flower bed. I spoke to the back of his head. ‘Excuse me.’
He looked up from his work and gave me a suspicious glare.
‘Where is the rose garden?’
He straightened up and pointed. ‘Over yon.’
‘Thank you.’
As I walked across the lawn in the direction of the rose garden, I felt disappointed that this visit had not taken my investigation much further forward. All I had
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