Page 25 of And Then There Was the One
“What about Dorothy Sayers?” Miss de Vere asked. “I think I actually prefer hers—Harriet Vane is my type of woman. I do hope she’s not going to let that idiot Wimsey convince her to marry him eventually.”
“But Stella,” Miss Singh said, turning to her friend and looking distressed, “think howromanticit would be.”
“It’s not romantic when an intelligent woman settles for a man who isn’t as smart as her,” Miss de Vere said definitively. “Though I will grant you that Wimsey does have a certain charm about him.”
“And yet, Miss de Vere, do I not detect an engagement ring on your own hand?” Sebastian asked. He adopted an air of mournful disappointment. “Much as it pains me to even contemplate such a thing.”
Miss de Vere smiled at him. “You’re rather over-the-top with your flattery, Fletcher-Ford, but I won’t deny you lookveryhandsome when you pout.”
“Would you believe that three separate women have told me the same thing?” he asked winningly.
“I wouldn’t,” Georgie said, and the rest of her table companions glanced at her, startled. “I would not believe that itwas only three,” she clarified, and Miss de Vere let out a hoot of laughter.
“I do like you, Miss Radcliffe.”
“Well, Mr. Fletcher-Ford?” Miss Singh added, looking between Georgie and Sebastian with some interest. “Is Miss Radcliffe correct?”
“She is,” he conceded, after a theatrical pause. “It was actually five.”
Miss Singh laughed, delighted, while Miss de Vere gave Georgie a thoughtful look. “How is it that you have come to be here with Miss Radcliffe?” she asked, looking back at Sebastian.
“I’m an old family friend,” he said easily. “Couldn’t resist the opportunity to rusticate in the countryside for a bit.”
Georgie ground her teeth together at the word “rusticate,” but managed to avoid interrupting.
“And since I’ve been here,” he continued, “Georgie here has been getting me up to date on all the violent happenings. Never realized the countryside was so dangerous,” he added, with a regretful shake of his head. “I thought it was all cheese and lambs and village fetes, but now I’m a bit worried a murderer is going to pop out around every corner.”
“Surely no one would try to harmyou,” Miss Singh said, gazing at him with something perilously close to adoration. “You’re so…strong.”
Sebastian beamed at her. “I’ve been known to carry the odd rowing team to victory with the strength of my arms, I’ll grant you. Georgie, are you all right? That snort sounded quite unhealthy.”
“Simple hay fever,” she said blandly, and buried her face in her teacup.
“Itiscurious, don’t you think?” Miss de Vere said, reaching for the teapot to refresh her own cup. “It’s been an awfully long trail of bloody corpses for a village this size.”
“They weren’t really bloody though, were they?” asked Miss Singh thoughtfully. “An awful lot of poisonings.” She reached into her handbag and produced a leatherbound notebook; when she opened it to the first page, Georgie caught sight of the words “DETECTIVE DEVOTEES: OFFICIAL NOTES” in block capitals, and suddenly wished it were a socially acceptable time of day to drink. Miss Singh nodded as she perused her notes. “Yes, three poisonings, and just the one stabbing at”—she darted a quick, starstruck glance at Georgie—“Radcliffe Hall at Christmas. Awfully odd, really. Agatha Christie wouldneverlet that many crimes in a row take place with the same method of killing. It really would seem like lazy writing, wouldn’t it?”
“Perhaps,” Georgie said, extremely dryly, “reality doesn’t have as strong a concern for a satisfying narrative arc?”
“Too right, Miss Radcliffe,” Miss Singh said, snapping her notebook shut.
“And more’s the pity,” Miss de Vere said. “If this were a proper novel, there would be a romance developing alongside all the mysteries. Miss Radcliffe, you haven’t got a secret paramour, have you?”
“What an intriguing question,” Sebastian murmured, taking a sip of his tea.
Georgie busied herself stirring her already-stirred tea. “I don’t think we need romance in a mystery, Miss de Vere.”
Miss de Vere frowned. “That’s very dull of you, Miss Radcliffe.” She sounded, briefly, as though she were disappointed that her heroine was not living up to her expectations, but quickly rallied. “I suppose you’ve too much else to do, though! Crime never ceases!”
“Well,” Georgie said, once again feeling peculiarly protective on behalf of her village, “itdoes, actually. Most of the time there’s no crime at all in Buncombe-upon-Woolly.”
“That hasn’t been our experience,” Miss de Vere said.
“Truly,” Miss Singh agreed. “Corpses everywhere! We met a group yesterday who had read the mostgruesomedetails inThe Deathly Dispatchof the state of Lady Tunbridge’s corpse after she was stabbed.” She shook her head, looking faintly horrified. “This is why I don’t likeThe Deathly Dispatch—it provides a bit too much detail. I like my murders nice and cozy, don’t you?”
“Absolutely,” Sebastian agreed, dropping another lump of sugar into his tea. “What else do you ladies plan to do on your visit?”
Miss de Vere shrugged, reaching for the pot of strawberry jam on the table before her. “We might visit the murder exhibition at the village hall again—we’ve been three times already, but I do enjoy the poison garden—and the display featuring the Mistletoe Murder weapon. The bloody knife isverygruesome.”
