The Family Way (Molly Murphy, #12)

I had been sipping the iced tea, which was deliciously refreshing.

“I’m sorry I can be of no further help to you, Mrs. Sullivan,” she said, putting down her own glass and making it perfectly clear that this interview was at an end. “The girl could be anywhere by now.”

I got to my feet. “Thank you for your time, Mrs. Mainwaring. You have my card. If she does contact you again, would you please let me know?”

“She would not be getting a reference from me, Mrs. Sullivan. I made a more than generous offer and it was rejected. My generosity cannot be relied upon twice.”

As we came out into the foyer a butler was passing. “Soames, is Mr. Mainwaring back yet?” she asked.

“I believe not, madam,” he said.

“If he does show up in the next hour or so, please remind him that we are expected for dinner with the Rothenburgers,” she said. “And that he promised to say good-night to his son.”

“Certainly, madam. I will tell him—” a significant pause “—if he comes home in the next hour or so.”

This was clearly a household of tension, I thought, and I wondered if all the tension was caused by the brittle Mrs. Mainwaring. Perhaps Maureen had good reason not to wish to return here after her confinement and had managed to find something better.

“You have a little boy then,” I said because I felt uncomfortable standing in the foyer. “My congratulations.”

She smiled then. “My husband comes from an old and distinguished family. An heir is important to him.” Her eyes went to my own shape. “I’m sorry I could not be of assistance to you.”

I stepped out into the heat of the afternoon and had just been assisted back into the pony trap when I heard the scrunch of wheels on the driveway and an automobile came toward us, driving fast. It screeched to a halt only a few yards from us. The pony danced and snorted nervously and a young man jumped out, vaulting neatly over the closed door. He was handsome in a way that would go down well on the Broadway stage—hair parted in the middle, jaunty little mustache, wearing a striped blazer and white flannels. He came up to me.

“Sorry about that. Didn’t see you until the last second. Hope I didn’t scare the little mare too much.”

“She seems to have calmed down, thank you,” I said.

“Been visiting my wife have you? That’s splendid. She needs more visitors. Needs to get out more.” He gave me a once over with his eyes then added, with a rakish smile, “And I wouldn’t object to seeing a pretty face around here once in a while. Do you live in the neighborhood?”

I adopted a polite tone, not wanting to be accused by Mrs. Mainwaring of encouraging her flirtatious husband. “No, I’m staying with my mother-in-law in Elmsford and I just paid your wife a courtesy call, because the family is acquainted with your mother-in-law.” I saw no reason to tell him the truth. He was the sort of man who’d have no interest in the hiring and firing of servants.

“Well, do call around again. Bring your husband with you,” he said.

“My husband is unfortunately hard at work in the city.”

“Nose to the grindstone type, is he?”

“A police captain,” I said.

Did I detect a flicker of alarm in his eyes?

“Well, bless my soul. It takes all types, I suppose. I’d better let you on your way then.”

And he ran up the steps into the house.





Twelve

Bridie sat beside the driver, sticky but content as the pony walked slowly home. Mrs. Sullivan fanned herself. “So what was she like, this Mrs. Mainwaring?” she asked as we left Irvington behind us and plunged once again into the shade of the trees. “Are you glad you made all that effort to visit?”

“Not really,” I said. “She didn’t exactly welcome me with open arms. I rather got the feeling that I was a little beneath her and thus not worth the effort.”

“I told you it wasn’t a good idea to make social calls unexpectedly in this heat,” Mrs. Sullivan gave me a triumphant look. “People are not at their best when they are perspiring and she was probably in no mood to be sociable.”

“Well, I’ve done my duty to my friends and don’t need to go back,” I said. “But I’m glad we came to Irvington. It was delightful by the river, wasn’t it?”

“The ice cream was certainly delightful,” Bridie said, echoing the words in such a grown-up way that it made us smile.