‘Surely it would never come to that,’ I said. ‘Surely the truth will come out during the trial, at least. And if we mess things up, we might make it worse for him. Or for constable Hancock. We don’t really want our first act in Gloucestershire to be to upset the Bristol Police Force.’
‘Oh, we shall be most circumspect, pet, don’t worry. I’m sure that Inspector Sunderland will come to the truth in the end, but just in case, let’s have a dig around and see what we can come up with. What can it hurt? And poor Constable Hancock is so sweet, how can we refuse him?’
‘Hmmm. Very well. Let’s imagine, then, that we really are detectives and that we have even the first idea how to conduct a murder investigation. Where shall we start?’
‘We need to be methodical. We must start at the beginning, we must start with our victim. We need to find out all that we can about him–’
She was interrupted by the ringing of the doorbell.
‘Excuse me, my lady,’ I said, and went to answer it.
It was the boy from the local Post Office with a telegram.
‘Telegram for her ladyship,’ he mumbled quickly, holding it out for me to take.
‘My lady doesn’t sail,’ I said.
He looked blankly at me.
‘She doesn’t have a “ship”,’ I tried to explain. ‘She’s a knight’s widow so she’s “Lady Hardcastle” or “my lady”.’
‘Eh?’ he said, bewildered.
‘Never mind,’ I said. ‘Thank you for bringing it.’ I made to close the door.
He stopped me. ‘I’m to wait for a reply,’ he said.
‘Very well. Wait here and I’ll see if there is one,’ I said and took the telegram through to Lady Hardcastle who was sitting at the dining table, sketching.
‘What is it, Flo?’ she asked. ‘News?’
‘Telegram for you, my lady,’ I said, handing it over.
She opened it and read it. ‘Aha,’ she said excitedly, ‘and here is our chance to take that first step. You remember my dinner with Sir Hector on Saturday? Two members of the local social set were unable to attend, but it seems they’re as keen to be in on the gossip as everyone else. They’ve invited me to lunch with them at their home in Chipping Bevington tomorrow. Their names... are James and Ida Seddon.’
‘Of Seddon, Seddon and Seddon, the shipping agents?’
‘I rather expect so, yes. Our Mr Pickering’s employer.’
‘Which Seddon is he, do you think?’ I asked.
‘The second one, I should imagine.’
‘How can one tell, I wonder?’
‘I believe they have it stamped on the bottom. But anyway,’ she said. ‘Tomorrow I am to pay a call on the Seddons where I might learn more about our victim, and you shall accompany me.’
‘I shall?’
‘Of course you shall. I need to win them over and impress them if I’m going to get anything useful from them, and nothing impresses the commercial classes more than a title and turning up to lunch with a personal servant in attendance. It’ll give you a chance to snoop around and talk to his own staff, too.’ She scrawled a reply on the form and gave it to me with some change for the boy.
He was kicking stones on the path and looked up guiltily when I opened the door. I handed him the reply and the money.
‘The ha’penny’s for you’ I said. ‘Don’t spend it all at once.’
He grinned and scampered off towards the village. ‘Tell her ladyship I says thanks,’ he called over his shoulder as he disappeared from view.
I could put off the laundry no longer and so Tuesday morning was spent soaking, washing, wringing, mangling and hanging. It was perfect drying weather – sunny and with a good breeze – and the work went well, even pleasantly. By eleven o’clock everything was done, there was tea in the pot and I still had an hour to make myself presentable for Lady Hardcastle’s lunch at the Seddons’.
Lady Hardcastle appeared at the kitchen door. ‘There is a trichological crisis of disastrous proportions,’ she said.
‘I beg your pardon, my lady?’
‘My hair, Flo, my hair. Look at it.’
I looked at the wispy mess of long dark hair, inexpertly piled on top of her head. ‘It does look a little... untidy,’ I suggested.
‘It looks as if squirrels are nesting in it. Squirrels, Flo!’
‘If you’ll forgive me for pointing it out, my lady, it’s your own fault for being so impatient. I did say I’d help as soon as the laundry was done.’
‘Hang the laundry. Can’t we get someone to do that for us? There must be a laundry nearby.’
‘We’re not in London any more. But I’ve finished now and we have plenty of time to make you beautiful for your appointment.’
‘I’ll settle for “presentable”, but thank you. But where are my new stockings? And have you seen my small handbag? And are my patterned boots clean? And–’
‘I’ll take care of it all, my lady. Sit down, drink this tea, and I’ll be with you as soon as I’ve changed into something less... domestic.’
She sat at the kitchen table, heaved a great, frustrated sigh, and drank her tea.
By five minutes to twelve we were both dressed for lunch and ready to go. That’s to say, Lady Hardcastle was dressed for lunch and I was dressed in my smart “going out” uniform – I’d get lunch with the servants if I was lucky. I was helping her with her hatpins.
‘It strikes me, Flo, that this fashion for huge hats might have its advantages. What do you think of hiding a Derringer in there?’
‘A pistol, my lady? In your hat?’
‘Quite so.’
‘Wouldn’t that open you to the danger of shooting yourself accidentally in the head?’
‘I had a sort of holster in mind,’ she said, ‘concealing the gun inside, perhaps covered by a flap.’
‘I see. And wouldn’t that open me to the danger of you shooting me accidentally in the head as I walked beside you?’
‘You could walk a pace or two behind like a proper servant and then you’d be well clear.’
‘I could indeed. Do you think you need a Derringer?’
‘A lady should always be prepared for any eventuality.’
‘Like the Boy Scouts, my lady?’
‘Similar, but with skirts on.’
‘I don't think the Boy Scouts are allowed to wear skirts, my lady. Perhaps some female equivalent of the organization should be formed.’
‘Most definitely it should,’ she said. ‘As long as they would always be prepared.’
‘One would certainly hope they would. I doubt they would allow them to carry small calibre pistols, though.’
‘It would seem rather reckless,’ she said, thoughtfully.
The doorbell rang.
‘A timely interruption, my lady. I believe you’re ready, and I’ll wager that’s the car.’
I answered the door and there on the step was a handsome young man in a chauffeur’s uniform of fine grey wool. Behind him, on the road, was a similarly grey, similarly handsome Rolls-Royce Silver Ghost.
‘I’m Daniel, miss,’ said the chauffeur, ‘come to take Lady Hardcastle to Mr Seddon’s house.’
‘Thank you, Daniel,’ I said. ‘I’m Armstrong and my mistress will be with you presently.’
‘Shall I wait in the car, Miss Armstrong?’
‘Thank you, that will be fine. She’ll be a minute or two longer, no more.’
‘Yes, miss.’ And with that he turned smartly and returned to the beautiful car.
I made to return to the kitchen but Lady Hardcastle was already on her way into the hall. ‘Ready, my lady?’ I said as she inspected herself in the mirror.