Thirty-One
‘It’s not the same as marrying a man who will inherit a title, but at least Jack’s a well-off landowner.’ Camilla Barnicoat gazed down over her aquiline nose at the surroundings of her future son-in-law’s drawing room. ‘He’s a good catch for you, Verity – considering the circumstances. That cheap coffee is still bitter on my tongue. Could I have a sweet sherry?’
Please . . . Why do people like you, Mother, think it’s fine not to use the manners you insist from everyone else? Verity rose in her long, sleeveless aquamarine evening dress and went to the drinks cabinet. Before lifting the sherry decanter, she made a cross face behind her mother’s back. ‘Sherry for you too, Aunt Dor? Randall Newton sent for this vintage from one of Spain’s best vineyards so this, Mother, should be pleasing even to your palate. I’m glad you approve of Jack – well, more or less.’
While her father, who was very much like Greg in looks but shorter, minus a moustache and a pale complexion, had on arriving at Sunny Corner swept Verity off her feet, kissed her effusively and once again begged her to forgive him for cutting her off after she had ended her engagement, Camilla had air-kissed Verity and murmured, ‘Nice to see you, dear, you do look well.’
Perkin had cleared his throat. ‘You’ve got more to say to Verity than that, Camilla.’
‘Yes, well,’ Camilla bristled in the disapproving manner in which she had treated Verity for much of her childhood. ‘I’m sure we’re both very sorry we didn’t realize the true nature of a certain man, but I do think you could have ended with him, Verity, in a way that would have humiliated him and not us. Well, can we go inside? I’m dusty and dishevelled and feeling not a little travel sick.’
‘Sorry not to have taken account of your feelings, Mother,’ Verity had said, stiff with resentment.
‘Well, it’s in the past now and best left there.’
Verity’s joy at finding the true love of her life and the wonderful future she was sure she would have with Jack, and her father seeking such a heart-wrenching reconciliation, were enough for her to want to leave things as they were with her snobbish, uncaring mother, otherwise she would have told Camilla to push off straight back home.
‘An excellent sherry,’ Camilla twittered in surprise, taking another sip and washing it round inside her mouth.
‘You haven’t looked round the house yet, Mother. Would you like to?’ Verity asked.
‘Indeed not, I’d rather wait until you and Mr Newton have made all your changes. This house gives me the shivers. Don’t you think it’s morbid taking over from a disturbed woman who killed herself here? I’m sure I would insist on living somewhere else entirely.’
‘You’re not Verity,’ Dorrie interjected. ‘And she knows very well what she is doing. She and Jack will have a very successful life together.’
Camilla shrugged dismissively. ‘That is all that matters, isn’t it? Verity, with clothes still requiring ration coupons I’ve brought my wedding dress down with me, if you’d care to wear it, but don’t feel obliged to. Feel free to have it altered in any way you choose. Or make your arrangements and send your father and me the bill.’
Verity’s eyes grew wide in astonishment. ‘That’s very thoughtful of you, Mother.’
‘Well.’ Camilla waved her sherry glass about. ‘I don’t feel I have the right to interfere with your new plans. You’re very close to Dorrie. As the wedding will be in the local church here, you have my blessing to arrange everything together. Just let me know your colour scheme so I don’t wear something that clashes, and what I can do towards the catering.’
‘Golly, Mother.’ Verity’s mouth sagged down. ‘I never thought you’d say all that. I’d be delighted to wear your wedding dress, with the odd alteration. I’ve always loved it; so much pearl and crystal detail.’
‘Oh, I’m not entirely a battleaxe, you know.’ Camilla smiled humorously and looked a bit less like an overdressed matron. ‘Hope you don’t mind if your father and I shoot off the day after tomorrow. We’re off to take the liner to New York for a month or two to stay with my cousin, Margery. It was our immediate plan once Perkin announced his retirement. He needs a holiday so.’
‘Of course I don’t mind, Mummy.’ Verity slipped back into her more usual way of calling her mother.
‘I’ll tell Margery about your gorgeous diamond engagement ring.’
‘Would you mind if I went off to spend time with Daddy? Jack’s taken him and Uncle Greg to the billiards room but I don’t think they’d mind if I joined them.’
‘I’ll have another sherry, dear, then you may go.’
When Verity had flitted from the room, Dorrie nodded at the sister-in-law with whom she had little in common. ‘You’ve made her seem like a little girl again. I’m so glad you’re on the best of terms once more.’
‘It wasn’t all mine and Perkin’s fault, the estrangement,’ Camilla said, sipping her drink as if she really needed it. ‘She should have come to us and explained how Urquart had treated her. Instead she stormed in on us when we were entertaining old Lord and Lady Mycliffe and raged about how she had told Urquart he could go to hell and that she hoped he’d dropped dead in the street. She frightened poor Lady Mycliffe and she is easily confused these days. Naturally, Perkin and I were furious with her behaviour, and after the poor old couple asked for their car to be brought round, there was the most dreadful quarrel. Things were said . . . well, as I said it’s all in the past now. Thanks for looking after her for us.’
‘I thought there must be some things Verity hadn’t told Greg and me. I overheard her on the telephone to Perkin saying how sorry she was too,’ Dorrie said in a satisfied voice. ‘Now we can all look forward to the future.’
‘I didn’t mention it before – well, it was hardly important . . .’ Camilla dipped her head and Dorrie knew a gossipy titbit was forthcoming.
‘Oh? Do go on.’
‘That Sanders woman, the fast one who lives close by here, Sawle House, I’m talking about, we passed it on the way here. I came across her three or four years ago. We were at adjoining tables at the Dorchester, taking tea. She was with a major in the Guards. Well, the friends I was with told me that she was very good about entertaining officers – the previous week she had been there with an admiral. She’s much married, you know. How does she behave here? All fur coat and no knickers, I dare say. Has she given Greg the come on? Or Jack? He’s a very attractive man.’
‘Actually, she conducts herself in an exemplary manner,’ Dorrie answered swiftly, hoping this conversation would soon end. Jack had been one of Honoria’s casual lovers. Verity knew and understood that his philandering had been his way of easing his loneliness, but it would be horribly embarrassing if they came in now from the billiards room. ‘She’s been a brick to Nanviscoe. She put up the money to start the building of the new village hall.’
‘How disappointing.’ Camilla finished her sherry and went to the piano. She loved to play and sing the big band tunes. ‘I was hoping to learn a tasty morsel to take back with me and pass on after New York. Oh well, I dare say I’ll meet her properly at the wedding. It was a shock to learn a member of her family owns Petherton. Chester something, isn’t it?’
Dorrie did not reply but piped up, ‘Do play “In The Mood”, Camilla. I so enjoy the swing music.’
Dorrie didn’t listen to Camilla’s accomplished playing. She was trying not to shiver with the shock at what seemed confirmation to her outrageous assumption after she had burnt the sepia photo Finn had showed her of Honoria and an officer called Chester. It hadn’t taken much imagination to dismiss the C in Chester and rearrange the remaining letters into Esther. Could she possibly have been right? Surely it was preposterous, laughable. Was Esther Mitchelmore, for some reason, really a man, posing as Honoria’s sister while she was in fact Honoria’s brother Chester? There was no doubt she was a strong woman. She had nursed old Sedgewick with the strength of two nurses, and only recently she had carried Finn, a strapping youth, almost single-handedly up from the cellar. She did things in a planned regimental way, naturally dealing out orders. She was very quiet about her private life. Words of Honoria’s came to Dorrie from a wartime WVS meeting: ‘But be careful, Esther, dear.’ Everyone present there, including Dorrie, had taken the words to be sarcasm as the sisters bickered, but had it been an affectionate warning of some kind, perhaps not to give herself away? No, it was too ludicrous. The very thought that Esther Mitchelmore was actually a man called Chester was farcical . . . Or was it?
If it was true there could be deeper connotations. Mary Rawling’s scrap of blackmail note had stated that Ch— was known about. Ch— must surely have been the Chester in the photo. A man living as a woman would want his secret kept at all costs. Dorrie could imagine Esther Mitchelmore being the sort of person unafraid to take a gun to a pair of cold-hearted blackmailers, but the killer had been a paid thug. That didn’t seem Esther’s way somehow. Could it be Honoria’s? Seeing things as she now did, Dorrie saw that Honoria was staunchly protective of her sister. Honoria was known to have mixed in unsavoury circles. She could be a very dangerous woman.
If all these terrible conjectures were right then it would be a terrible thing to allow Camilla – always on the outlook for society tittle-tattle – to meet Esther Mitchelmore and Honoria Sanders.