High Marks for Murder (A Bellehaven House Mystery Book 1) (10 page)

She hurried back along the corridor, intent on reaching her room. This detective business was a lot harder than she'd imagined. The more questions she asked, the more confusing everything became. It just didn't seem feasible that no one saw Kathleen that evening.

There was always the possibility that Penelope had witnessed the murder and was too afraid to tell anyone. If that were so, Meredith reflected, she'd have to be very careful how she questioned her.

Thinking of Penelope weeping reminded her of Davie, who had also cried. Might he have seen something and was keeping quiet about it?

Deep in thought, she failed to see Stuart Hamilton until she'd almost bumped into him. He stood at the base of the
staircase, one foot planted on the first of the steps as if he were about to climb them.

"There you are, Mrs. Llewellyn." His deep voice echoed down the corridor behind her, and a shiver touched her spine. "I was just on my way to talk to you."

She'd seen him moving among the mourners in the ballroom, but had managed to avoid meeting up with him. Now, it seemed, she had no choice. "Mr. Hamilton. I trust you are well?"

He ignored her question. "I wanted a word with you. Miss Montrose has some concerns about Miss Cross. Apparently she tends to incite the pupils, and this morning they disrupted the class."

Meredith mentally cursed Sylvia's tattling. "An unfortunate misunderstanding, that's all." She made herself meet Hamilton's piercing gaze. "I can assure you, Mr. Hamilton, it won't happen again."

In spite of her best efforts to remain indifferent, she found herself fascinated by the way he pursed his lips before answering her. "I understand Miss Cross is a staunch supporter of the women's movement. I trust her views have no bearing on the policies and procedures of Bellehaven?"

Meredith hastily adjusted her gaze. "None at all, I can assure you. We are here to ensure our pupils meet their future obligations with proficiency, integrity, and wisdom. That is the mission of Bellehaven, and we strive to uphold it. Nothing more."

"So, you do not encourage these young ladies to rebel against the very hand that feeds them? You do not condone the view that women should destroy property and languish in prisons in their efforts to gain the right to vote?"

Meredith noticed one dark eyebrow twitch. Could the dratted man possibly be poking fun at her? "What I personally
believe is my own business," she said, her voice clipped. "It has nothing to do with the way our business at Bellehaven is conducted."

"Very glad to hear it." Hamilton bowed his head, though not before Meredith had caught the gleam of amusement in his eyes. "I bid you an exceptional good night, Mrs. Lewellyn."

"Likewise, Mr. Hamilton."

She allowed him to pass, then stomped up the stairs. Infuriating man! Why was it she felt at such a disadvantage whenever faced with his impudence?

Despite her irritation, she managed to accomplish much of the work that awaited her in her room. Now that Kathleen was no longer there to help her, the paperwork seemed to be piling up at an alarming rate.

After entering the marks in the ledger, she studied the results of the tests she had set her pupils the day before. It seemed that her charges had paid attention to her lectures on van Gogh and Gauguin.

The favorable outcome of her endeavors mellowed her mood, and she walked down to the dining hall for supper with a lighter tread. The pupils seemed disheartened, speaking in undertones, with none of the giggling and laughter that usually accompanied mealtime. No doubt the funeral still weighed heavily on their minds.

Meredith barely touched her pork pie and pickles, even though it was one of her favorite meals. She kept feeling she should do more for Kathleen, though nothing specific came to mind.

Deciding to discuss it with the other teachers, she made her way to the lounge, where Felicity and Essie had already claimed their seats by the window.

"We were wondering if you were going to join us," Felicity said, as Meredith sank onto a chair nearby. "I thought you might not feel up to it tonight."

Meredith smiled. "I would not miss our nightly discussions. As it happens, I have something to discuss with you." She looked up as the door opened.

Sylvia poked her head around the door. "May I join you?"

"Of course!" Essie cried, while Felicity scarcely lifted her head.

"Do come in." Meredith waved a hand at the empty chairs. "I was just about to have a discussion on what to do about commemorating Kathleen's work here."

Sylvia moved into the room and took a vacant chair. "I think that's a wonderful idea."

"Yes, it is." Felicity scowled at Sylvia as if she'd said something offensive.

Essie clasped her hands together. "Oh, what a lovely idea. What shall we do?"

"I was hoping you'd have some suggestions." Meredith looked from one to the other. "Anybody?"

"A plaque," Felicity said. "Brass plate on the outside wall where everyone can see it. Or in the hallway."

"I considered that." Meredith pondered for a moment or two. "I suppose it's the best thing."

"How about a memorial garden?" Sylvia suggested. "Just a small one, of course." She looked at Meredith. "You mentioned this afternoon that Miss Duncan was fond of flowers. We could have the pupils plant flowers in it each year, with some sort of ceremony. It would keep her memory alive for all the years to come."

Essie clapped her hands. "Yes, yes!"

"That's an outstanding idea!" Excited at the thought,
Meredith turned to Felicity. "What do you think of that, Felicity?"

She shrugged. "All right, I suppose. How would we get the plants to put in it?"

"Well, Tom would have to get them for us, of course." Meredith smiled at Sylvia. "Thank you, Miss Montrose. I'm sure Kathleen would like to know her work will be remembered in such a charming way."

Sylvia inclined her head. "My pleasure. And please, do call me Sylvia."

Felicity still look disgruntled, and her conversation lagged after that. Although she said nothing controversial, there was no mistaking the tension in the air. Even Essie failed to amuse her associates with her artless comments, and Meredith was quite relieved when Sylvia rose to leave.

"I am retiring for the night," she announced. "I will see you all in the morning."

The door had barely closed behind her when Felicity uttered a snort of disgust. "Such a hypocrite," she muttered. "Pretending to be so solicitous about someone she's never met." She screwed up her face and in a high lilting tone declared, " 'It would keep her memory alive for all the years to come.' "

"It is a good idea, though," Essie said timidly.

"Indeed it is." Meredith frowned at Felicity. "Much as Sylvia seems to annoy you, I'm afraid you will have to put up with her. She's here to take Kathleen's place, and we must do our best to make her welcome."

"She will never take Kathleen's place," Felicity muttered. "No one could."

"Maybe not, but she should at least have the opportunity to try." Meredith rose to her feet. "I suggest we all try
to overlook her shortcomings and accept her into the fold. After all, let's not forget we are not exactly paragons of virtue ourselves."

"At least we are not afraid of progress and women's rights," Felicity said stoutly. "I can't abide a woman who refuses to recognize the blatant injustices committed against women—all women—since time began, and that it is well past time for change."

"All in good time." Meredith moved to the door. "Eventually all women will recognize the facts and take up the fight. Until then, we have a mission here to undertake, and that is to see our young women leave this establishment with the skills to live a full life."

"In their husband's shadow," Felicity muttered.

"Never fear, Felicity. I'm quite sure that any young woman who has attended your class will have had the seeds of rebellion planted firmly in her mind. It will be up to each one of them what to make of it." With that, Meredith quietly closed the door.

On the way out of the hall she spied Amelia's room partner, Loretta, and managed to corner her in the quiet end of the corridor.

"Amelia tells me that you were with her when Miss Duncan brought her a book," Meredith said, as the girl stood fidgeting in front of her.

Loretta blinked, as if trying to remember. "Yes, miss, I was with her all night. We were studying together." She frowned. "Why? Is something wrong?"

"Ah, not at all, no. I was simply wondering if Miss Duncan happened to mention if she planned to meet someone on Saturday evening."

"No, miss. Not to us, she didn't."

Meredith glanced down the corridor to where a group of
girls stood quietly talking. "Do you happen to know if Penelope Fisher has returned to her room?"

Loretta shook her head. "I haven't seen her, miss."

"Well, that's all right. I'll find her later." Nodding and smiling, Meredith backed away, then turned and hurried down the hallway. The group of girls had broken up and most of them had wandered away by the time she reached them.

Her talk with Penelope would have to take place tomorrow, she decided. She'd had enough of questioning people for one day. In fact, she was sorely tempted to accept P.C. Shipham's verdict and let it rest at that.

She might even have done so had she not seen Kathleen's ghost again.

Feeling not in the least sleepy, she'd decided to take a walk around the school building for a breath of fresh air. Often the jaunt would relax her, and allow her to fall asleep.

She had just turned the corner and was proceeding along the back of the building when the familiar chill crept over her shoulders. She spun around and caught her breath. The cloud of mist hovered a few feet away, bathed in the pink glow of the late summer sunset.

Meredith darted a quick glance around her. The girls should all be in their rooms by now, preparing to retire for the night. She peered at the cloud, but could see nothing but the swirling mist. "Kathleen? Is that you?"

How ridiculous she sounded. Talking to a dead woman. Yet even as she began to back away, the face of Kathleen appeared in the center of the cloud.

Apprehension made Meredith's voice sharp. "Tell me what you want. Show me."

An arm appeared, and a hand. A finger pointed at
Meredith, then at the building behind her. She was about to speak when another arm appeared. For an instant she could see Kathleen quite clearly, arms raised above her head. Then the arms came down together, hard and fast, hands clasped.

Cold with shock, Meredith understood. Before she could speak, however, the apparition vanished, leaving her alone and shivering, in spite of the warm evening.

Meredith's restless sleep left her listless the next
morning. When she joined the rest of the staff at breakfast, Felicity gave her an intense look that made her most uncomfortable.

"You don't seem well," she said, waving the piece of pork sausage on the end of her fork in Meredith's face. "This whole business of Kathleen is getting you down. Perhaps you should take a short respite. A day or two, perhaps. Essie and I can manage, now that Miss Montrose has joined us."

Her words were civil enough, but the irony in her tone was not lost on Sylvia, who sent her a disparaging glance from under her long lashes.

"I don't need a rest. I'm perfectly well." Meredith lifted her dainty cup from its saucer and sipped her tea.

"Well, you don't look it. Not still seeing ghosts, are you?"

Conscious of Sylvia's curious stare, Meredith put down her cup. "Have you tried these scones, Miss Montrose?" She reached for the plate and offered it to her. "Quite delicious. Our Mrs. Wilkins is an exceptional baker."

"I do believe I will try one." Sylvia took one of the scones and dropped it on her plate. "And again, please call me
Sylvia." She smiled at Meredith and Essie, while managing to avoid looking at Felicity. "It is so comforting to be on a first-name basis with everyone."

Felicity snorted, then turned it into a sneeze. Fishing a large man's handkerchief out of her sleeve, she loudly blew her nose. "Dratted hay fever," she muttered.

Fortunately, Sylvia chose to ignore the slight. She turned the conversation to the weather, and the rest of the meal passed in relative tranquillity.

Not that Meredith was feeling all that tranquil. The message Kathleen's ghost had given her was all too clear. Someone connected to the school was responsible for Kathleen's death. Of that she was quite sure.

Now she was all the more determined to find out the truth, without the help of anyone in authority. The reputation of the school depended on it. Somehow, she would have to convince Felicity and Essie of her convictions. She would need their help if she was to put this matter to rest.

Chapter 9

Meredith waited until the morning sessions were
over before asking her friends to join her outside.

Felicity, as usual, rebelled against moving from the comfort of the teacher's lounge. "It has turned cool and cloudy out there," she said, leaning back in the comfortable chair. "I'm quite sure it's about to rain."

"I don't think so," Essie said timidly. "The clouds are much too high."

"I have something important I need to discuss with you both." Meredith glanced at the door as it opened. "Preferably alone."

Sylvia entered the room, looking flustered and out of sorts. "These young women are most unruly. I can't imagine any one of them successfully managing a houseful of servants. They are much too concerned with frivolities. They discuss the sort of gowns they will wear to their coming-out parties, or how they will wear their hair. They will be of
no use to their future husbands if they don't start paying attention to the important aspects of a marriage."

Felicity's face was deceptively innocent as she inquired, "Such as?"

Sylvia rashly snatched at the bait. "Such as selecting the right furniture, suitable silverware, or hiring responsible servants, of course."

"I should think a more important aspect of a marriage is to procreate." Felicity rose from her chair. "I suggest we have a class to explain how that's done."