Patricia Wentworth - Poison In The Pen

“Because he wears out his clothes?” she enquired.

Joyce Rodney laughed.

“Because he is so much stronger, and that makes him wear them out.”

“Oh, I see-” But she still looked puzzled. “Yes, I do see. And he is stronger, but there are so many things that can happen to a child, and one can’t help feeling anxious, can one? Now there was poor Mrs. Pavey-she lost six. You can see all their names on the stone in the churchyard, and a place left for her own, poor thing.”

The slight tightening of a muscle at the corner of Joyce Rodney’s mouth did not escape Miss Silver. She hastened to remark that little David had a very brown and wholesome look. When they were alone together later on Joyce said,

“There is really no need to worry about David now, I am thankful to say. Aunt Renie is so kind, but she is inclined to be over anxious and to take a gloomy view. She has never had any responsibilities, because Aunt Esther did everything, so she gets nervous. Only I wish she wouldn’t tell stories about people who had dozens of children and didn’t know how to look after them properly. It’s stupid to mind, but I can’t help it.”

Miss Silver rested her knitting in her lap.

“Mrs. Rodney-”

“Oh, please call me Joyce-everyone does.”

Miss Silver coughed.

“In a little while perhaps, if my visit is prolonged. At this juncture I think it would be imprudent to strike too intimate a note.”

“Oh-”

“It would be better if we are a little formal. What I was about to say was that Miss Wayne has talked very freely about a number of things that have happened in Tilling Green over a considerable period of time, yet she has not mentioned the death of Doris Pell or the fact that an inquest attributed that death to suicide.”

“It upset her terribly.”

“And you think she cannot bear to speak of it?”

“She was very much upset. Unfortunately Miss Eccles came in with the news and wouldn’t stop talking about it. I really thought Aunt Renie was going to faint. You haven’t met Miss Eccles yet, but she is one of those people who must know everything and then hurry on to tell somebody else. I suppose it is leading rather a dull life and not having any private affairs of her own. Anything in the least out of the way is something to talk about. But Aunt Renie and I were really fond of Doris. She was quite a clever dressmaker. She made the dress Aunt Renie is wearing, and she copied a coat and skirt for me. We were both too much shocked by her death to think of it as news.”

Miss Wayne returning to the room at this moment, the subject would have been dropped if she herself had not said in a small shaky voice,

“Oh, my dear, were you talking about poor Doris?” She turned to Miss Silver. “Such a painful subject-but you must have read about it in the papers. We went to the funeral of course. Poor Miss Pell was terribly overcome-she is the aunt, you know, and she had brought Doris up. The whole village was there, and the flowers were lovely.” She dabbed her eyes and the tip of a reddened nose. “You can understand how we feel about it. But I did not intend to sadden you with our troubles. Joyce should not have spoken of it. We must talk about something more cheerful. Valentine Grey’s wedding-now that would be the thing!” She addressed her niece. “I was telling Miss Silver about the rehearsal tomorrow afternoon. I thought we could just slip in at the back and see how it went without being in anybody’s way. Mettie Eccles rang up-rather waste of a telephone call, as she is our next-door neighbour, but she is a little extravagant about things like that, and they do mount up. But on the other hand, when you are busy it does save time if you can just have a call instead of going out of one house and into another and perhaps getting caught up in quite a long conversation… Dear me, where was I?”

Joyce looked up smiling.

“Mettie Eccles had rung you up-”

“Oh, yes-of course-how stupid of me! Esther always said I let my thoughts wander too much. Yes, Mettie rang up, and she said that Lexie Merridew isn’t very well. She is one of Valentine Grey’s bridesmaids, and it will be quite terribly disappointing if she cannot be at the wedding. Mettie said her dress is here, because Valentine was giving the bridesmaids their dresses. They are from Elise in Ledlington. And if Lexie really can’t come, Valentine was wondering about having Connie instead.” She directed a flurry of explanation at Miss Silver. “That is Connie Brooke. She and a friend keep the little kindergarten school that David goes to. So many business men who work in Ledlington have bought or built houses in this direction that there is quite an opening. Penelope Marsh comes over from Lower Tilling, but Connie has the last house on the Green. She used to live there with her mother, who was related to the Reptons, and now it comes in very nicely for the school and so convenient for David. Connie won’t look so well in the dress as Lexie would have done-such a pretty girl! And poor Connie-but there, we must not be unkind, must we? And she is just about the same size, so the dress will fit.”

The rehearsal was at half past three. Walking across the Green, Miss Silver was regaled with information about the Vicar, the Rev. Thomas Martin-“A widower-his wife died thirty years ago, and he has never married again. Such a pity! It must be so lonely for him.” The parsonage-“Much, much too big of course. Everyone is very fond of him, but I do not think it is suitable for the young people to call him Tommy. It shocked my sister very much. She quite took him to task about it-she was so strong-minded. He only laughed, but she did not consider it a laughing matter. And he is so untidy in his dress-it is really a great pity.”

They were not so very far back in the church after all, Miss Wayne moving forward three times until they could have a really good view of the chancel, already decorated with greenery and pots of lilies. The scent was strong upon the chilly air. There were hours of daylight left, but even in high summer it would be dark under these grey arches. For the wedding tomorrow all the lights would be on, but now the body of the church was in shadow.

Miss Silver was glad of her winter coat. She never went down into the country without providing herself against the exigencies of the English weather. She wore her second-best hat, black felt with a ruching of violet ribbon. For the wedding itself she would assume her best headgear, quite newly purchased and of a shape considered by her niece Ethel Burkett to make a most becoming change. It was of black velvet trimmed with three pompons, one black, one grey, and one purple. At the moment it reposed in the bottom drawer of the bow-fronted chest in Miss Wayne’s spare room, very carefully covered with tissue paper, together with a new pair of grey kid gloves and a woven scarf of grey and lavender silk.

On her way up the church Miss Mettie Eccles had paused beside them. She imparted the news that Valentine’s friend, Lexie Merridew, who was to have been chief bridesmaid, really had failed at the last minute. “Some childish complaint-so very inconvenient. Really these things should be got over before a girl is grown up. They have had to ask Connie to take her place. Not really suitable, but the dress will fit, and of course she is thrilled.” She went on her way with her usual air of being in a hurry. Miss Silver received the impression that it would be impossible for the rehearsal to proceed without her, and that if it had been handed over to her to run, Lexie Merridew would have been wearing her own dress and there would have been no question of the bridegroom not having arrived in plenty of time. Disgraceful, really disgraceful, that he should be late, and that they should have had to begin without him.