Chapter Five #2
“Had he presented good or even reasonable ideas,” Fiona continued, “I might have taken him more seriously, but he wanted to take a celebration of spring and turn it into some sort of botany lesson. Would you believe he actually wanted to grow a poison garden? Well, considering we had only six weeks to prepare any of the exhibits, we all voted against that idea. But can you imagine? What has poison to do with spring and dancing around a Maypole?”
“Did he know a great deal about poisonous plants?” I asked.
Fiona gave me a curious look. “Now you mention it, I don’t believe he did. The rest of the committee, including myself, seemed to know more than he. In particular, we all knew that a full garden could not be grown in six weeks’ time.”
“Other than your personal experience of the man, what else can you tell me? Did he inherit some money along with the house? Did he cease being a doctor? Did he involve himself with the villagers beyond the spring fete? Other than being the coroner, that is.”
“Robert and I are here for only the autumn months and a few weeks in the winter and spring, you know, so some of my intelligence has come from my servants or the villagers.”
“Of course, Fi,” I said. “But I can always count on you to get to the bottom of any and all stories, so what is the Penhollows’?”
“If I remember correctly, they arrived in Badenworth in February or March of ninety-six, when Robert and I were preparing to return to Mayfair. Since we’d been friends with Oscar Penhollow, we introduced ourselves and had them over to dine.
Both the doctor and his wife spoke as if they would live out the rest of their years in quiet retirement.
The doctor had already given up his practice in Suffolk, so at the time it seemed that he intended to abandon his profession and instead live the life of a gentleman. ”
We had cleared the trees and came upon a gravel lane. “This road will take us to Penhollow Manor,” Fiona said. “Then it curves around the far side of the field we just left and on to the church and the village.”
She directed me toward the left and continued her story.
“Now, imagine our surprise when we returned the following September to find the village physician had left his practice and Dr. Penhollow had insinuated himself into the position—rather by default. There was no one else at hand to take over, and before the village counselors could decide whether to advertise for a new doctor, Penhollow had opened an office in his home and hung his shingle, so to speak.”
“That is the part you heard from the villagers,” I said.
“Indeed. Having lived in the area for less than a year at that time, the Penhollows were still considered outsiders, and no one was comfortable with him taking over the position. But on the other hand, a new doctor would also be an outsider. And if they pursued another doctor, they would have to provide housing at the very least. Allowing Dr. Penhollow to take up the job was the economical decision. People still had the option of going to Aylsham or Norwich if they didn’t want him as their doctor, and many of them still do. ”
“Is that simply because he was an outsider, or was he also a poor doctor?”
Fiona came to a sudden stop and gave me a look of incredulity.
“Have you not been listening to me? The man was insufferable.” She brought her fingers to her lips.
“Not that I wish to speak ill of the dead,” she inserted quickly.
“And I am not the only one in these parts to hold that opinion. Anyone who knew him would tell you he gave himself airs, and he was rude and terribly bossy. I couldn’t imagine asking him for help if I were ill. ”
“I see.” I gestured to the lane, and we continued our walk. “If the villagers disliked him even half as much as you do, how did he manage to get himself appointed coroner?”
Fiona narrowed her eyes and raised a finger.
“You may have to ask at the constabulary about that. His appointment happened last spring, when we were back in London. My understanding is that he simply showed up and started doing the job. We don’t have a great many murders in these parts, you know.
But Dorothy Digby—she runs the mercantile in the village—told me another man was up for the position, and she was quite surprised when Dr. Penhollow was officially awarded the office. ”
“So the village counselors passed over this other man …”
“Owen Timms,” Fiona supplied.
“For Dr. Penhollow?”
“Exactly. Many thought that Mr. Timms would have made a much better coroner.”
“Because …?”
Fiona made a vague gesture. “He would have been easier to get on with, I suppose.”
“But as you said, you don’t have much use for a coroner in these parts.”
Fiona nodded. “True enough, but in the spirit of fair play, both men ought to have had a chance to put forth their credentials. At least that’s what the villagers say. Many of them feel Penhollow maneuvered himself into that position—or bribed his way in.”
Fiona gave the impression that those were her feelings, as well. “Why would he go to such lengths?”
She frowned, gazing at the manor house up ahead, then glanced at me.
“Coroner is a position of importance, and I believe he wanted desperately to be recognized as someone of importance. I doubt he gave a fig whether anyone liked him or not, but he very much wanted them to look up to him, to see him as their superior.”
Not an attitude that would win him many friends. “What about Mrs. Penhollow?” I asked. “Is she on better terms with the villagers than her husband?”
“Ada is quite well regarded. Her manners are the very opposite of her husband’s, but I would think they’d almost have to be in order for them to live together.
Ada helps organize local charity events, tends the garden at the church—her son-in-law is the vicar, by the way.
She makes sure to hire local people for her household, though I believe her needs are small.
She has only a maid of all work on a regular basis. ”
“She sounds like the perfect country squire’s wife,” I said.