I started moving while I endeavored to parse the answer.“Not much.You and I have an alibi, and we may be the only two people at Sutherland Hall who do.Mabel can’t have been in Geoffrey’s room for all that long.The Marsdens were in separate rooms, according to Hugh.Uncle Harold was in the study, and your parents and Francis and Constance came and went, it seemed.”
He slanted a look my way.“Surely you don’t suspect my parents or my brother of killing Doctor Meadows?”
“Of course not,” I said irritably.“I’m just pointing out that it’s a good few hours between breakfast and luncheon.You and I had time to walk to the village, talk to Doctor Meadows, walk back, and then pack our bags before going downstairs.Any one of the others could have made it to the village and back, too, with no one seeing them.”
“Geoffrey, his parents, and Uncle Harold, do you mean?”
“Or Laetitia, in the event that she and Crispin didn’t spend hours in the hedge maze, which I’m sure they didn’t.The weather is neither warm nor particularly pleasant, and staring at the spot where Grimsby breathed his last would lose its appeal rather quickly, I would think.”
“And if Uncle Harold was doing business in his study,” Christopher offered, “he might have called Crispin in to talk business.”
“Thus leaving Laetitia at loose ends.”I nodded.“She’s someone I could very well imagine framing me for murder.”
Christopher agreed.“We might just go out to the carriage house and the stables, and see whether anyone took one of the motorcars or horses out this morning.”
“As long as we go by the boot room.I don’t fancy getting my shoes dirty.”
He glanced down.“Of course, Pippa.Although I can go by myself, you know.”
“I don’t mind,” I said, as we headed for the boot room.“Just give me a chance to change my footwear and it’ll be fine.It won’t take but a moment.”
There were several pairs of Wellies lined up by the boot room door, and I unbuckled my strap shoes and looked around for a likely pair.
“These must be Uncle Harold’s,” Christopher said, nudging an oversized pair with the toe of his shoe.“Too big for you.”
I nodded.I’m not particularly dainty—a couple of inches taller than Constance, albeit shorter than Laetitia and her mother—but this particular pair would drag after me if I tried to walk in them.
“Aunt Charlotte’s,” Christopher added, and nodded to the pair on the other side.“Or perhaps one of the maids’.Certainly not Laetitia’s, and I doubt Constance brought Wellies to the party.”
“If she had done, they’d be in the Crossley by now.”But yes, this pair was dainty—as Crispin’s mother had been—and would likely pinch my toes.They were also neat and clean, quite unlike the other two pairs.
“I suppose you’ll have to wear Crispin’s boots,” Christopher said and kicked the pair in the middle.“They’ll be big on you, but not so big that you won’t manage.”
“Yes, thank you, Christopher.I’m sure I can do.”
He and Crispin were both of a size, and their clothes and shoes were, too.I knew exactly how big Christopher’s feet were, as it wouldn’t be the first time I had stuffed my own into a pair of his slippers for warmth.
The Wellies were all over dried mud, as they would be, had Crispin worn them to walk in the garden maze with Laetitia.They fit well enough, however.Not so well that I didn’t have to concentrate on lifting my feet as we made our way across the courtyard, but also not so poorly that my feet slipped out of them.They rubbed up and down on my heels with every step, but they stayed on.
“Are you certain you don’t want to stay in the house?”Christopher asked again as we made our way around the corner of the conservatory towards the stable and the old carriage house.He gave me a concerned look.
I shook my head.“It’ll take a minute longer to get there, but we have time.Supper won’t be for hours yet.”
“I just don’t want you to be uncomfortable.You’re not wearing much.”
I was wearing considerably less than he was, for certain.Men get undershirts, then regular shirts, then waistcoats, and jackets.All I had was my chemise and my rayon frock.And while I could have asked him to take his jacket off and give it to me, I could also have picked up a macintosh from the boot room.That was if I had thought about it, of course.I hadn’t done, so now I was shivering, and stalking stiff-legged towards the stable.
“I’m fine, Christopher.It’s only a few more yards.”
We reached the carriage house first, and ducked inside.
It wasn’t warm, of course, although it was a bit warmer than outside.The wind was less chilling for one thing, and there was no stinging moisture in the air.
“All the motorcars are here,” Christopher commented, looking from Crispin’s blue Hispano-Suiza to Constance’s burgundy Crossley, to her aunt and uncle’s green Daimler and Uncle Harold’s newly acquired Rolls Royce Phantom.The only thing missing was Aunt Roz and Uncle Herbert’s Bentley, and that would be back at Beckwith Place by now.
Christopher raised his voice.“Alfred?”
Alfie was the second footman, who had also, since Wilkins’s demise, obliged as chauffeur for Uncle Harold when the latter desired to go somewhere.His Grace apparently didn’t think it appropriate for a peer of the realm to be behind the wheel of his own motorcar.
