Harriett (30 page)

“
Please be safe today, Harriett, and don’t leave the tea shop
unless you have one of the constabulary with you. My men will bring
their identity badges with them to confirm they are part of my team
if I am unable to get back to you in time.” He couldn’t help it,
and dipped his head down for one final kiss before he slowly eased
his arms from around her. Stepping back from her tempting warmth
was far harder than he had realised it would be and he sighed with
reluctance as he took several steps away from her. “Now go inside
before you get cold.”

Harriett
nodded absently. She wished she could be as unaffected by the
kisses as he was. She gently touched her lips as she entered the
kitchen and glanced out of the window in time to see the gate close
behind Mark.

“
Get a hold of yourself,” Harriett muttered as she tugged off
her jacket and hung it on the hook beside the door.

“
What was that?” Charles called as he bent to put another tray
of tea cakes in the oven.

“
Nothing. I am going to check we are ready for opening,” she
replied with a glance at the clock. She hurried into the tea shop
but her mind was stubbornly locked on the tall, wonderfully gentle
Detective who had so easily stolen her heart.

Later
that afternoon, Harriett stifled a yawn and hurried across the room
to deposit the tray of afternoon tea before Miss Haversham. Despite
the coolness of the autumn afternoon, the sun was out and cast the
room in cosy warmth that left Harriett’s cheeks rosy.

“
Take a seat, Harriett, dear, I wanted to have a quiet word
with you,” Miss Haversham ordered when Harriett turned to
leave.

Glad for
the brief respite, Harriett glanced around the busy room and was
satisfied that everyone was accommodated for now and didn’t require
anything urgent. With a sigh, she dropped into the seat opposite
Miss Haversham and she shook her head at the tea the woman held out
to her.

“
Firstly I want to congratulate you on your
engagement.”

Harriett
paused and looked the older woman in the eye. The forthrightness in
the direct gaze left Harriett in no doubt that Miss Haversham had
seen through the ruse, but was fully supportive of it.

“
Thank you,” she replied quietly and leaned forward to brace
her elbows on the table. “Now what did you want to talk to me
about?”

Silence
settled between them and Harriett watched as Miss Haversham slowly
poured her tea and dropped two spoons of sugar into her cup. When
she continued to slowly stir her tea in a mesmerising circle,
Harriett took a deep breath and lifted her gaze. Miss Haversham was
staring at her in a rather too probing way that was more than a
little unnerving.

“
What have you noticed about Miss Smethwick?”

“
Miss Smethwick?” Harriett frowned and glanced down at the
spoon as she thought carefully. “Nothing, she is just as
parsimonious as ever,” she replied and closed her mouth with a
snap. Miss Haversham’s laugh drew several interested
gazes.

“
Don’t worry dear, my sentiments exactly.” Miss Haversham
leaned forward conspiratorially. “I mean that there is something
deuced odd about that woman and I don’t mind admitting
it.”

“
Odd in what way?” Harriett asked, intrigued as well as
suspicious. If Miss Haversham was going to start to gossip,
Harriett would prefer to get some work done. As much as she wanted
to walk away, she was stuck to her seat and leaned forward when
Miss Haversham glanced furtively around the room and lowered her
voice.

“
Unless I am mistaken, our Miss Smethwick has grown by several
inches and put on a bit of weight.” She pointed to a spot on her
chin. “The mole that used to be there has gone.”

Harriett
studied her with a frown. She hadn’t thought about it before but
she knew that Miss Haversham was right. Miss Smethwick; the Miss
Smethwick whose gate she had always run past as a child because the
sight of the house, and the old woman, scared her so, had indeed
had a mole on her chin the size of a small pea. The Miss Smethwick
who had been at the séance last night had had no facial blemishes
whatsoever.

“
Unless the woman is drinking some sort of water that the rest
of us don’t have access to, she has also got to answer to why
someone in her seventies has hardly any lines on her face
whatsoever.” Miss Haversham tipped her head forward knowingly and
gave Harriett a pious look as she took a sip of her tea.

Harriett
was stunned. Now that she came to think of it, last night Miss
Smethwick certainly hadn’t had many lines on her face. She hadn’t
seen Miss Smethwick out and about much at all during the daytime of
late. On the odd occasion when the supposedly old woman had stopped
to pass the time of day, she had been snippety and rude, to the
point that Harriett had felt decidedly uncomfortable and almost
compelled to be on her way.

“
Who do you think it is then?” Harriett gasped. “Where do you
think the real Miss Smethwick is?”

Miss
Haversham gave her a look that warned her to keep her voice down.
She took longer than was necessary to put her tea cup down and
eventually looked up at Harriett with a sigh. “I don’t know, but
the next time you meet the Miss Smethwick who is moving around and
about this village, take a closer look and ask yourself if she
looks the same as the woman you grew up being afraid of. I know for
certain that the woman who is in Miss Smethwick’s house is not over
seventy years old. When I have spoken to the person who lives in
Miss Smethwick’s house, I have reminisced about several incidents
that I have shared with the old Miss Smethwick, but have been met
with blank evasiveness that just isn’t right, I tell
you.”

Now that
Miss Haversham had raised the issue, there were a few odd things
about Miss Smethwick’s behaviour. At the first meeting of the
Psychic Circle, the devout church goer, who eschewed all vices
known to man, including the demon drink, had imbibed several
liberal doses of sherry rather than water. When she had interrupted
the messages, her voice had rung loudly with a firmness that was at
odds with a woman in her seventies. Harriett felt her skin crawl at
the thought that she had been in the company of someone who had
fooled them in such a way. She had not only sat with the fraudster,
but had sat in the dark with her and hadn’t suspected a
thing.

Her
thoughts immediately turned to the mysterious black carriage last
night and she couldn’t help but wonder if the two were linked.
After all, if someone had moved into the village to live in Miss
Smethwick’s house, what on earth had happened to the old Miss
Smethwick?

Harriett
opened her mouth to ask Miss Haversham what she thought only for
her horrified gaze to be drawn to a large black carriage that
rolled steadily down the street toward them. She sat frozen in
place, her eyes locked on the sight of the coachman atop the huge
monstrosity as it lumbered steadily past. He – or she – was dressed
from head to foot in black, with a large black scarf wrapped around
the face that was cast in shadow by a huge hat. The sight of him –
or her - filled her with horror. It was the coach that had almost
run her over last night.

“
Now who on earth would want to go anywhere in that?” Miss
Haversham snorted as she turned to see what Harriett was staring
at.

Harriett
visibly trembled and she sat still until the carriage had rolled
out of view. As soon as it disappeared, she quickly made her
apologies to Miss Haversham and hurried across the room. Fear
pulled her in several different directions and she ignored at least
two calls for assistance as she hurried into the back room of the
tea shop. Once there, she leaned against the counter and took
several deeply breaths as she willed her nerves to
settle.

“
Harriett, dear, whatever is the matter?” Babette’s beloved
face swam into vision.

“
I saw the carriage from last night,” Harriett whispered and
lifted her gaze to Babette.

“
Oh good Lord, let me send Bobby for the
Constable.”

Harriett
nodded jerkily. She wasn’t sure what Fred would be able to do, but
she would feel a bit better with the visible presence of the
village bobby nearby. If the coachman had any intention of
returning for a second perusal, they would at least see the long
arm of the law in the vicinity. It might just be enough to put them
off doing anything rash; although what they could do with her
tucked away into the relative safety of the tea shop, she wasn’t
sure.

She
stayed in the back room while Babette went to see to the customers
and try to find Bobby. Completely oblivious to Harriett’s distress,
Charles removed a hot pan of buns from the oven. It was all
Harriett could do not to be sick.

Mark
scowled down at the young boy and cursed. They had returned to Mr
Montague’s haberdashery to inspect the contents of the kitchen a
bit more closely when the young boy had slammed to a stop in the
shop doorway, and began to babble away about a constable being
needed at the tea shop quickly.

Mark’s
long legs ate up the short distance in record time. He burst
through the front door of the shop, quickly followed by Fred, the
young lad and Isaac. They mumbled apologies to the customers as
they wove around them on their way to the back room. The sight of
her alive and well although scared swamped him with relief and,
without uttering a word he stalked across the room and swept her
into his arms.

“
Thank God you are alright,” he whispered as he dropped random
kisses into her hair.

“
Lordy, that was quick,” Babette murmured wryly and shared a
rueful glance with Isaac.

It took
several moments for Mark to be able to loosen his hold.

“
What happened? Are you hurt?”

Harriett
shook her head and glanced around the room as though she wasn’t
sure what to do. Charles was in the process of putting his jacket
on. The baking had been finished for the day and he was off to the
pub before tea, but even he paused hesitantly beside the back door,
his face etched in concerned lines.

“
I have been chatting to Miss Haversham and she has come up
with something that I think you must know.” She glanced from Mark
to Isaac and back to Mark again. She could have wept at the speed
of his arrival and was very grateful that he had been so close. “I
have also seen that black carriage again,” she
whispered.

“
When?” Mark demanded. His face was masked in a dark
scowl.

“
Just a few minutes ago. As soon as it disappeared from view I
came in here and we sent Bobby to fetch a constable.”

“
Which way did it go?”

Harriett
explained what she had seen.

“
Wait here,” Mark snapped and disappeared out of the back door
with Isaac hot on his heels while Fred headed out of the front
door.

“
Well, I have heard of efficient policing, but those two
certainly do take their job seriously, don’t they?” Babette
murmured wryly.

A cough
from behind them drew their attention and they both looked at
Charles, who was clearly impatient to be on his way now that his
work was done.

“
Of course you can go,” Babette dismissed with an impatient
sniff. The fact that there was no love lost between the couple was
evident in everything they did. Harriett had wondered many times
why they had ever married at all, but had never questioned Babette
as to the nature of their relationship. She wasn’t sure whether she
would have liked the answer. Charles and Babette rubbed along
reasonably well. Each lived their separate lives and, although
their arrangement may suit them well enough, it was a far cry from
what Harriett would consider a serious or normal
relationship.

“
I really don’t know why I bother with him sometimes,” Babette
sighed quietly.

“
Because divorce is a scandal that you cannot afford,”
Harriett replied obliquely and lifted her brows at Babette’s
snort.

Mark met
with up with Isaac several minutes later. They were both breathing
heavily as they met up with Fred, who shook his head in disgust.
Together they all walked slowly back to the tea shop.

“
I am going to take a look around the village and see if I can
catch sight of it,” Fred muttered, and headed off with determined
strides.

“
I wonder what Miss Haversham has come up with,” Isaac gasped.
Disappointment weighed heavily on him and he scoured every inch of
the busy road they walked down for any sign of anyone even wearing
black.

“
I don’t know, but it has to be severe to shake Harriett in
such a way. She isn’t usually unnerved like that.” Mark couldn’t
remember her being so shaken before, not even when she had found Mr
Montague’s body.

“
Good afternoon, Miss Smethwick,” Mark called as they passed
the older woman who was carrying a basket of coal in the opposite
direction. Her purposeful strides were matched with the dark glare
she gave him as she rather curtly nodded as she scurried
past.

They
turned to watch her go. Mark was faintly impressed with the
spritely way the woman, who was in her seventies, hurried through
her day. He could only wish that he was so agile when he reached
his old age.