‘Dear old Toby,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘Of course. Well done, Flo. Did I ever tell you he was the first person we met on our first morning walk after we moved in, Gertie? Lovely chap. Why isn’t his name on my list? He must be a regular at the market.’
‘Oh, he is, m’dear, but not this past month. His sister’s ill. He’s been staying with her up in North Nibley.’
‘Oh, how sad,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘But why didn’t Mrs Carmichael mention him? He’s one of her neighbours, surely?’
‘No, m’dear. I’d have to get the map out to show you, but his farm’s the other side of Noah Lock’s. Not strictly her neighbour.’
‘Aha,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘That would account for it.’
‘And what are your thoughts, m’dear?’ said Lady Farley-Stroud. ‘Who did it?’
‘Oh Gertie, you are funny. We’ve only spoken to two people, the police haven’t found any evidence that they’ve told us about, and the police surgeon hasn’t even confirmed he was poisoned yet. Mrs Carmichael said he’d been ill.’
Lady Farley-Stroud looked dismayed. ‘Getting overexcited, eh?’
‘Just a tad, darling,’ said Lady Hardcastle, kindly.
There was a knock on the door and Jenkins came in with the coffee tray.
‘I say, Jenkins, what took you so long?’ said Lady Farley-Stroud. ‘Been to Brazil for the coffee?’ She chuckled.
‘I believe this particular blend comes from Costa Rica, my lady.’ Jenkins was a straightforward fellow, almost entirely unencumbered by a sense of humour.
‘Does it, by crikey,’ she said. ‘I say, ever been to the West Indies, Emily?’
‘No, dear. But my aunt used to go out there quite a bit.’
‘Jamaica?’ said Lady Farley-Stroud.
‘No… Antigua,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘My uncle worked in the sugar business.’
‘Cook sends her apologies, my lady,’ said Jenkins. ‘But the egg delivery was late and she’s only just now finishing off the cake she had intended to make. She asks if you might like some of this shortbread instead.’
‘I should bally well say so, Jenkins,’ said Lady Hardcastle enthusiastically. ‘We’ve had Mrs Brown’s shortbread before. Thank her very much.’
‘Yes, Jenkins, do,’ said Lady Farley-Stroud.
‘Will that be all, my lady?’ he said.
‘Yes thank you,’ said Lady Farley-Stroud. ‘Oh, have you seen Sir Hector?’
‘He’s in his study, I believe, my lady. Would you like me to convey a message?’
‘No, don’t wake him up. Will you stay for dinner, Emily?’
‘Thank you, dear, but no. We ought to be getting back. I still have one or two things to do back at the house. Another evening, perhaps?’
‘That would be splendid,’ said Lady Farley-Stroud. ‘We shall be just two for dinner as usual, then, Jenkins. Would you like the car, Emily?’
‘If you wouldn’t mind, darling, that would be lovely.’
‘Tell Bert, would you, please, Jenkins,’ said Lady Farley-Stroud.
‘Thank you, my lady,’ he said with a bow. He left quietly.
Back at the house I prepared a light meal which we ate together while Lady Hardcastle speculated wildly on the subject of poisons and poisoning.
‘You see,’ she said, gesticulating with her fork, ‘there are poisons which act almost instantly, and some which take hours. It would be so much easier if we knew what it was that killed Carmichael. Then we could work backwards and establish when the poison was administered. And then, of course, we’d have a better idea who our suspects might be.’
‘What are the most likely poisons, then?’ I asked.
‘Well there’s our old friend arsenic,’ she said, tapping the medical book on the dining table that was the source of her newfound expertise. ‘That can take as little as half an hour and it’s not frightfully hard to acquire. We don’t know how Carmichael was feeling just before he died so we can’t know if the symptoms match, but it’s possible that someone could have slipped him some while he was in the pub.’
‘Isn’t there something in the report about him looking a bit peaky all morning, though, even before Lady Farley-Stroud saw him?’ I said.
‘There is, but Mrs Carmichael said he’d been ill, so that might not mean anything. Unless of course she’d been giving it to him for a while. You can slowly poison someone with a small, steady dose.’
‘So we can’t rule out arsenic,’ I said.
‘No. And then there’s cyanide, of course. That can be very quick. Someone wandering past the table could have dropped some in his cider… and then…’
‘Lady Farley-Stroud did say that he just keeled over.’
‘She did, pet, she did.’
‘What about strychnine?’ I said.
‘Slower acting, but it does lead to convulsions. Gertie said he spasmed before he collapsed.’
‘And they’re all fairly easy to get hold of,’ I said.
‘That’s the problem. I do wish the police surgeon would get on with it.’
‘Perhaps we could contact Inspector Sunderland in the morning,’ I suggested.
‘I think we might have to, pet,’ she said. She munched contemplatively on her dinner for a few moments. ‘I say,’ she said, ‘this trout is delicious.’
‘Thank you, my lady. It’s the cyanide that makes the difference. Some people use flaked almonds, but I find that a touch of prussic acid adds a piquancy that can’t be matched.’
‘You’d never get away with it, pet. Sunderland would be onto you like a shot.’
‘We’re in it together, my lady. He’s tired of being shown up by your brilliance.’
She laughed. ‘If only I were brilliant. I feel like an absolute duffer at the moment. I don’t have the faintest idea how we’re going to solve this one.’
‘We’ve only just begun, my lady. Wait until we’ve spoken to a few more of the farmers, then you’ll feel better.’
‘I suppose so,’ she said. ‘When did Bert say he’d be here tomorrow?’
‘I suggested ten o’clock, my lady. I thought it would give us time to do a few things about the house and for the farmers to be back at home after their early start.’
‘Good thinking, pet. What do you think: Alford or Lock first?’
‘Alford was a bad loser, but would that be enough to want to kill a man? Lock had more to gain if he could free the Fair Audrey from her loveless marriage and take her for his own.’
‘He’d be doing them both a favour,’ agreed Lady Hardcastle. ‘Shall we toss a coin?’
‘Only if you have one, my lady, for I am but a poor servant girl with no money of her own.’
She laughed again, the smile transforming her face, making her seem sunnier and more alive than I’d seen her for a long while. ‘You’re lively today, Flo,’ she said. ‘What’s got into you.’
‘Honestly? I have no idea. Perhaps it’s the relief of finding that you’re properly on the mend.’
‘I’m sorry I worried you, dear. One gets wrapped up in oneself and forgets that it’s hard on everyone else, too. I ought to write to Harry and let him know how things are going.’
‘You ought, my lady.’
‘But how shall we choose whom to visit?’ she said. ‘We need something governed entirely by chance.’ She looked around. ‘Oh, I know: the book. You riffle through the pages and I’ll shove my finger in at random. A page number ending one or three will be Lock first, five or seven will be Alford.’