Page 78 of Marriage and Murder
The Superintending Constable proceeded to entertain them with tales of several outlandish cases that had occurred in the small villages of Wiltshire and Dorset.
Stokes joined in and described a string of peculiar cases that had occurred in the Home Counties, including one involving headless scarecrows. “Being Scotland Yard, we’re the ones the local forces turn to for help, although often, we’re as much at sea as they are.”
“Sometimes more so,” O’Donnell put in. “Remember that time in Weybridge?”
Morgan shuddered. “The jewelry from some merchant’s house found hidden in a nearby farm’s pigsty.” He glanced around at the others. “You have no idea how aggressive and attached to their home pigs can be.”
O’Donnell was nodding. “Big beggars they were, too.”
From there, the conversations and stories meandered into an ever more light-hearted vein.
Penelope finally found an opportunity to question—interrogate—Madeline on her association with Thomas Glendower. Stokes buttonholed Henry about how Henry’s parents, whom Stokes had met five years before, were faring.
The police and Phelps and Connor, meanwhile, were talking business, with Mallard questioning Morgan on life at Scotland Yard, while Constable Price eagerly asked O’Donnell, Phelps, and Connor about previous cases on which they’d assisted.
Barnaby sipped his ale and, with a gentle smile curving his lips, watched as everyone—each in their own way yet all very much a company still—put the recent case to rest and turned toward tomorrow.
Eventually, the company broke up, with Phelps and Connor retiring in order to have the carriage ready to depart after breakfast the next day.
O’Donnell and Morgan followed, being the ones who would have to drive the police coach back to London, and Mallard hired a horse from the innkeeper and, with final good wishes all around, left to ride back to Salisbury. Meanwhile, Constable Price bade them all goodnight and headed off across the moonlit fields. Penelope had learned that Price lived with his parents on a farm not far away.
That left her, Barnaby, and Stokes to wave Henry and Madeline off. The five of them walked out of the inn and halted just outside as the inn’s ostler brought the horse and light carriage around.
The ostler halted the horse, and as he climbed down, Penelope walked beside Madeline to the curricle, while Barnaby and Stokes chatted with Henry as he took the reins and climbed up to the box seat.
“Sadly,” Penelope said, having already discussed the matter with Barnaby, “we won’t be able to attend Viola’s funeral.”
Despite all the discoveries and consequent excitement, Madeline had managed to finalize the arrangements, and Viola’s funeral and interment would be held on Monday, two days away.
Madeline climbed up and sat beside Henry, and Penelope smiled up at her. “We’ve been away for nearly a week, and the boys will start to wonder.”
Madeline smiled back. “I quite understand.” She leaned down, caught Penelope’s hand, and lightly squeezed her fingers. “I’m most sincerely grateful to you and Barnaby for coming to Ashmore and helping.” She glanced at the three men. “You two and Stokes, as well. I seriously doubt Viola’s murderer would have been caught without your help.” Madeline turned back to Penelope and more seriously said, “Very likely Monty would have been hanged for the murder, and no matter how much of a blight on the community he is, that wouldn’t have been right.”
With that, Penelope had to agree. “You will call when you’re back in town?”
“Definitely.” Madeline grinned as she straightened. “Aside from all else, I do think we should pursue your idea of setting up a small private society for ladies who like to invest. I’m sure Thomas and Rose, too, would be in favor.”
Penelope laughed. “We’ll do that, then, when you return to town.”
With promises on that score, and one from Henry that he, too, would call on them when he was next in town, the three Londoners stepped back from the carriage, and Henry flourished his whip in a farewell wave and steered the curricle out of the yard and off along the lane.
For several seconds, the three stood silently, savoring the peace of the country night, then Stokes sighed. “I’m for bed.” He turned for the inn, and Penelope and Barnaby followed.
After leading the way inside and up the stairs, Stokes halted at the head of the stairs and nodded to Penelope and Barnaby. “I’ll see you at breakfast.”
They murmured agreement and turned for their room as Stokes strode down the opposite wing.
As they ambled slowly along the corridor, Penelope mused, “I rather suspect that we’ll be traveling down to Ashmore again soon enough.” She glanced at Barnaby, a smugly satisfied smile on her face. “This time, to stay at Glossup Hall for a wedding.”
He arched his brows but saw no reason to disagree.
Looking ahead, Penelope observed, “A wedding will be an excellent way to turn the negativity generated by the murder to positive hope for the future.”
“Hmm.” Barnaby thought about that. “That’s what marriage should signify, isn’t it? Hope for the future, not just for the couple involved but for their community.”
A slight frown tangling her dark brows, Penelope inclined her head. “That should be the way of things, yet as this case illustrates, there are instances where a marriage doesn’t work that way. First, there was Henry’s marriage to Kitty. That ended in infidelity that, ultimately, led to murder. Then Pincer waved marriage like a flag before Viola’s face, and she nearly succumbed. Only luck saved her from what would have been a dreadful mistake. But the worst travesty, surely, was Ida’s twist on what marriage should mean. She saw her role as doing anything and everything to make Arthur happy. In her eyes, marriage excused and, indeed, gave her license to do whatever she deemed necessary to achieve what she saw as required by her role. She never discussed her decisions with Arthur. She simply acted as she believed she needed to, and in her eyes, she had the right to do so.”
They paused in a splash of moonlight before the door to their room, and Penelope looked at Barnaby and sighed. Then she softly smiled. “But seeing the times marriages lead people astray, even into murder, only serves to make me appreciate the benefits of a marriage that works properly all the more.”
