Chapter Nine
By the following morning, the footman still had not returned with the doctor.
The weather was dreary, chilly, and snowless.
Christine and Lissette had begun decorating the house but had left off once they’d finished the staircase.
The pine boughs and holly they’d collected remained piled in the small antechamber to the drawing room, the woodsy scent reminding us of work still to be done.
Fiona would send the footmen out to cut a tree tomorrow, but it would not be brought to the drawing room and decorated until Christmas Eve, still two days away.
The children sequestered themselves in the schoolroom, busy with their story and unwilling to be coaxed away by festive decorations.
Hetty, Fiona, and I sat at the breakfast table with Christine and Lissette, the five of us all rather listless.
The younger two spoke quietly with each other as they pushed food around their plates.
Hetty read yesterday’s newspaper. Fiona nibbled on her meal of tea and dry toast, as usual.
I merely stared into my teacup while I wondered what we ought to do with ourselves.
I had never felt the absence of Inspector Delaney more.
Or George. With any luck, he’d be home soon.
Not only because I missed him, but also because I wasn’t used to people relying on my expertise in investigating murder.
An expertise, by the way, I was beginning to see was sadly lacking.
Though I might have a good eye for a clue, I’d always relied on George or the police to confirm my suspicions and keep me within the law.
Which brought me to the matter of Constable Ellis.
Fiona didn’t have much confidence in the man, but he was a member of the police force, albeit temporarily, and ought to be informed that we’d found the body of a prominent citizen of this fair village.
The rub was that he might insist we return the body to the family, and I really wanted the doctor to examine it first.
Still, considering his advanced years, the temporary constable was unlikely to attempt to remove the body himself. If the doctor ever arrived and determined that Dr. Penhollow did not die of natural causes, then I’m sure the constable would agree we’d done right by keeping him here.
I’d been giving Hetty’s concern of last night some thought, too.
Why had Isaac Penhollow failed to question our authority or our suspicions, or even our sanity, for that matter?
Men questioned women’s judgment all the time, but Mr. Penhollow had accepted ours with nary a word.
Hetty was right. That was decidedly odd.
I’d like to know more about Mr. Penhollow and his relationship with his older brother.
And the older brother’s relationship with the villagers.
I glanced around the table once more. Perhaps for all our sakes, it was time to go into the village.
It had been nearly a day since we gave Mrs. Penhollow and her daughter the sad news.
Surely the villagers would have heard by now.
Even without a doctor’s assessment, it was time to start asking questions.
I blurted out the suggestion to the room at large and, glancing around the table, saw that I had at least caught everyone’s attention, if not their enthusiasm.
“The weather is miserable,” Lissette said. “Why would you want to venture out?”
“Fiona and I learned yesterday that some of the homes in the village suffered damage from the storm. Giving the people our custom might help them pay for needed repairs. We can warm up with a hot cup of cocoa or a hot lunch at the pub, since I see none of us appears much in the mood for breakfast.”
“I am happy to go,” Fiona said. “I feel rather badly that I’ve waited so long to offer my assistance.”
I had some guilt pangs of my own. It had been mostly my decision to stay away from the villagers for fear of making a slip and telling them about Dr. Penhollow’s fate.
Fiona, guessing my thoughts, patted my arm. “This morning will be fine. There may be some who need more than just our custom.”
“The children might enjoy the outing, too,” Hetty said.
“By all means, let us get them out of this house and away from their fictional murderous rampage,” Fiona said. “Have you heard any more of it?” she asked me. “Have they killed off anyone else? Mr. Fezziwig perhaps?”
“I believe in the original story Mr. Fezziwig was already deceased,” I said. “He was simply part of Mr. Scrooge’s past. But to answer your question, I have no idea how far they’ve progressed.”
“They hope to have it completed by Christmas,” Christine said.
“Well, a few hours in the village shouldn’t muddle their schedule.” Fiona placed her napkin on the table and stood. “I’ll go up and let them know to get ready.”
I looked around the table. “I suggest we make ourselves ready, as well.”
Fiona’s coachman stopped first at the police station on the edge of the village to set Fiona and me down before heading a little farther up the high street to the mercantile, where everyone else would shop while waiting for us.
He had no sooner pulled away than Fiona turned to me with a sour expression. “Don’t expect Ellis to be particularly helpful,” she warned. “He rather resents being called out from retirement.”
I drew a deep breath and pushed open the door, expecting to face a gruff old man.
The one seated behind the battered wooden desk looked more like Father Christmas than a constable.
Tufts of white hair framed the bare crown of his head as the long white mustache framed his mouth.
He even had round pink cheeks and small spectacles perched on the end of his nose.
When he came to his feet, I saw that he still fit in his uniform, with nary a gap between each of the brass buttons down the front. He closed the book he’d been reading, placed it on the desk, and pushed the spectacles closer to his eyes, squinting in our direction.
“Hallo, moy lady. Good to see you. Everything all roight at Hadley Grange?”
“Everything is fine, Constable,” Fiona replied. “I understand you visited your sister in Cromer yesterday. I trust she is well?”
“Yes, indeed. Thank ’ee fer asking. She lives close to the coast, and the storm made me a little frazzled, but it sounds like the towns south and east were hit the worst.”
Fiona expressed her relief and introduced me to the constable.
“We are here to ask your assistance,” I told him. “Have you heard that Dr. Penhollow has died?”
“Yes, yes. Set you down.” He gestured to the guest chairs and returned to his own seat.
“One of yer footmen left me a note yesterday. Then, early this morning, the vicar stopped by with the news. Then came Dotty Digby, who was none too pleased that Oi already knew the story.” He tipped his head to the side and looked at us in question. “What was the assistance you needed?”
I explained the circumstances under which we had found Dr. Penhollow’s body, described the scene, and mentioned our suspicion that he might not have been alone when he died.
His fingers stroked the long whiskers. “You think it was murder, do you?”
Fiona and I shared a look. “We think it’s possible,” I said. “That’s why we made some notes, and Lady Fiona made a drawing of the scene.”
“And why we had the body moved to my conservatory,” Fiona added.
“Penhollow being the coroner, Oi don’t know who you might get to examine him.” The constable shook his head regretfully.
“The footman who left you the note will be bringing a doctor from Aylsham,” I said. “In the meantime, we wondered if you might want to investigate.”
Constable Ellis folded his hands in his lap.
“Oi think it’s best to wait and see what this doctor has to say.
There’s no point in stirring myself if he should find that Penhollow died of something natural, now is there?
Besides, it sounds like you’ve done well to provide the sergeant with any information he could need when he returns.
No, Oi think we’ll just leave things as they are. ”
Fiona gave the constable a long look. “The doctor’s corpse is in my conservatory.”
“A very good place for it,” Constable Ellis replied, coming back to his feet. Apparently, this interview was over. “Have someone let me know when the doctor has made a determination about the cause of death so Oi can leave a note for the sergeant.”
Fiona and I stood and made our way to the door. I couldn’t help making one last attempt. “Do you not at least want to see the body?”
“In my conservatory,” Fiona added.
He smiled and opened the door for us. “Oi’m no doctor, ma’am. Don’t see how that would do any good.” With a gentlemanly bow, he essentially shooed us out the door and quickly closed it behind us.
“I knew he wouldn’t be much help,” Fiona muttered.
I stared at the closed door to the police station. “I don’t believe I’ve ever met a constable with so little interest in solving a potential crime.”
“I told you not to expect much from him.” Fiona drew my arm through hers and led me up the high street toward the mercantile. “He lives with a daughter, who takes great care of him. I’m sure he’d rather be at home right now. At least he didn’t discount the possibility of murder.”
“He simply didn’t wish to do anything about it.”
She gave me a sly glance. “That doesn’t mean you can’t.”