Page 69 of Marriage and Murder
Madeline introduced Penelope, who smiled and nodded to the older woman. “I like the color of your wool.” It was a bright, vibrant blue. “My sons are small, and they’d love that color.”
Iris chuckled. “My grandchildren love colorful socks—the rascals say the colors help warm up their feet. All nonsense, but the socks are practical, and knitting them gives me something to do to pass the time.” Iris waved them to wicker chairs. “Do sit down, ladies.” Her gaze shrewd, she observed, “I’m sure you didn’t come here to admire my wool.”
“No, indeed.” Penelope sank onto a chair and fixed her gaze on Iris. “We’re seeking information about Viola Huntingdon’s movements in the hours before she was murdered.”
Madeline said, “We’ve just learned from Mrs. Foswell that Viola came down from the church, past the rectory, at what must have been almost twelve-thirty. We’re not sure where she went after that and wondered if you might have seen her.”
Penelope’s heart leapt when Iris started nodding.
“I did see her that morning,” Iris said. “I was sitting right here.” She tipped her head toward the green, and Penelope andMadeline looked in that direction and realized that from her vantage point on the veranda, Iris had an excellent view of the triangular junction where the three lanes that defined Ashmore met, as well as a slice of the pond and green beyond.
Iris went on, “I saw Viola walk up from…well, I assumed she came from her cottage, but as you can tell, I can’t see that far around the corner. But I supposed that’s where she’d come from, and I saw her walk through the junction and on down High Street, toward the church.”
Penelope tipped her head. “Do you remember what time that was?”
“Well,” Iris said, “it must have been a little before quarter past twelve. I’d seen Pat Gilroy walk around and down toward her cottage at least five minutes before, and she leaves Lavender Cottage on the dot of twelve, so when Viola walked past, it must have been about ten minutes past the hour.” Iris nodded. “She was heading south, I assumed to the church or the rectory.”
Penelope bit back a smile. She was always amused by how people remembered things by linking this event to that. “Thank you. That’s very clear. Viola did go to the church. She was there for a little while, then she spoke with Mrs. Foswell for a few minutes, no more, then headed back in this direction.”
To Penelope’s delight, Iris nodded. “That fits, because I saw her coming back this way. She turned toward Green Lane, but then she stopped, right in the middle of the junction where I could see her, and opened her bag. That tapestry bag she always carried. She rummaged in there and pulled out what looked like a letter, but thinking back, it was longer and folded and had some sort of seal on it, more like something official.”
Penelope shot a warning look at Madeline. That had to have been one of Farnham’s letters. Returning her gaze to Iris, Penelope asked, “What did Viola do next?”
“Well, she grasped that letter in one hand,” Iris said, “and she looked ahead down Green Lane and, really determined-like, marched on and out of my sight.”
Penelope lectured herself not to try to fill in what might have happened next. Carefully, she confirmed, “So you didn’t see where she went with the letter.”
Iris grimaced. “I did think to go down to the pond, just to see what was going on. Viola looked so set on doing something with that letter, but Gladys Hooper was coming for a bite, just a small one to tide us over until afternoon tea with Ida. She’s one as bakes such mouthwatering things, one doesn’t want to go for tea with a full stomach.”
Penelope tried not to look disappointed. “I see.”
Iris smiled understandingly. “However, if you want to know what Viola did next, you should go and ask Gladys. She’d been to visit her old aunt as lives farther out along Green Lane and was heading back to have lunch with me. So she was walking along Green Lane at that time, coming this way.”
Iris paused and studied Penelope and Madeline with shrewd eyes. “I could tell you what Gladys said Viola did next, and what we thought it might mean, but for your purposes, it’s probably best you hear that from Gladys herself.”
Despite her impatience, Penelope had to agree. She glanced between Madeline and Iris. “Where does Gladys live?”
Madeline pointed up the same lane. “The Hoopers’ house is just up Noade Street.”
“Aye.” Iris nodded. “And at this hour, you should find Gladys there, getting lunch ready for her husband and sons.” Iris paused, her gaze on Penelope and Madeline, then said, “You tell Gladys I said she needs to tell you all she saw—and heard, too—that morning. She’s one as sometimes thinks to hold back a bit for later, if you know what I mean.”
“Thank you.” Penelope’s gratitude was entirely genuine.
“Indeed.” Madeline smiled and nodded at Iris as she and Penelope rose. “I’m truly grateful for your sharp eyes.”
Iris smiled widely, the action deepening the creases in her soft face. “Aye, and those same eyes have seen you and his lordship driving about. Take my advice—you won’t do better than to snare that one. No matter any misguided rumors, he’s a good man.”
Penelope met Iris’s eyes and smiled broadly back.
Madeline, slightly flustered and blushing, nodded, turned, and escaped from the porch.
After exchanging a last nod with Iris, still smiling broadly, Penelope followed.
Barnaby and Stokes paced along beside the stone wall that marked the disputed boundary between Lavender Cottage land and the acres attached to Penrose Cottage.
They’d cut across to the wall from the front gate of Lavender Cottage, making their way across clipped lawn and dodging around trees. On reaching the wall, they’d turned north and trudged along.
Looking over the chest-high wall, Barnaby watched the side of Penrose Cottage fall behind them, then the plot that housed the Penrose kitchen garden ran along the other side of the wall.
