A Test of Wills - Charles Todd [105]
Beyond the balustrade, the flower beds looked rather bedraggled from the storm, but the scent of stock and peonies and lavender drifted softly on the morning air. Someone had swept the rain from the terrace and a set of white chairs cushioned in a pattern of gray, rose, and white encircled a wrought-iron table. The breakfast things had already been taken away, but a coffee tray gleamed brightly in the center.
Wilton got to his feet as they came out into the sunlight and stood by the table, not speaking, his eyes on Rutledge.
“Another cup for the Inspector, please, Grace,” Sally was saying over her shoulder. Then, “Do sit down, Inspector. Mark.” They sat, and when the cup came, Sally poured Rutledge’s coffee, passing it to him with a practiced smile.
“Well, I don’t suppose that half of Upper Streetham will dare to show their faces at market this morning!” she began, hiding her own feelings quite well under a pose of wry humor. “I told you before, that man Bert Mavers is a danger to himself and everyone else! How Charles—” She stopped, then said, “How anyone put up with him for this many years is a mystery to me!”
“I don’t think the Inspector came to discuss Mavers,” Wilton said. “You wanted to see me last night, Rutledge?”
He tasted his coffee and then answered, “Yes, as a matter of fact. But it will keep. For the moment. Have you and Royston and Carfield completed the arrangements for tomorrow’s services?”
Wilton stared out over the lawns. “Yes, everything’s in hand. I—was planning to see Lettice this morning, to show her what we’d done, what was expected of her, who would be here. There has been a great deal of mail, telephone calls, wires. Royston and Johnston have kept up with it between them, but I know most of these people personally. Who they are, what they represent. Sally can help Lettice with the proper acknowledgments afterward. As for the reception, we’ve kept Carfield out of it as much as possible.” Disgust tightened his mouth as he turned to Rutledge. “The man’s a threat to sanity! He told Johnston he’d be there most of today to oversee the preparations, the flowers, and so on. Royston had to tell him to his face that he wasn’t needed, that the church was his responsibility and nothing else. And he’ll do that well enough! Writing the funeral oration probably kept him awake most of the night.”
Sally said generously, “He means well, Mark. He’s been a great comfort to Agnes, worried about poor little Lizzie. And when Mary Thornton’s mother died he took care of everything. But I understand how you feel; he’s had his eye on Lettice since she came here in 1917.”
Wilton glanced at Rutledge but said nothing. Rutledge finished his coffee and pushed back his chair. “I’d like to speak to you, privately, Wilton. If you don’t mind.”
Sally rose. “No, no, stay here, I’ve things to see to.”
But there were too many windows overlooking the gardens and the terrace, voices carried. Wilton put his hand on her arm. “Enjoy the sun, my dear; I won’t be long.”
He couldn’t see the look she gave him as he got to his feet and courteously waited for Rutledge to follow. It was a mixture of emotions. Dread. Love. And indecision.
Wilton took Rutledge to the small parlor where they’d talked on his first visit and closed the door, standing there, his back to it, as he said, “I expected you to come with the Sergeant. And a warrant for my arrest.”
“I had planned to. But it occurred to me that marching you to jail in front of all those people coming in to market would cause Miss Wood and your cousin unnecessary embarrassment. If you go with me now, of your own accord, we’ll see to this business as quietly as possible.”
“So it’s finished, is it?” He moved away from the door and crossed to a chair, gesturing impatiently for Rutledge to be seated.
“I know what you