High Marks for Murder (A Bellehaven House Mystery Book 1) (9 page)

"Now look here—" Felicity began, but Meredith forestalled her.

"Miss Montrose," she said, clamping down hard on Felicity's arm as a warning. "Here at Bellehaven we are open to all points of view, though we are careful not to advocate any one of them. The more the students are exposed to this changing world, the more aware they will be of their choices. We encourage them to analyze and consider all possibilities in the belief that they will then be capable of making wise decisions when faced with life's complications."

Sylvia's eyes were like twin icebergs glowing in a winter sea. "May I suggest that such a policy could encourage the girls to open rebellion against their teachers?"

Felicity snorted, but mercifully held her tongue.

"A good teacher will know how to balance her presentations." Meredith tempered her words with a smile. "While we certainly do not sanction rebellion, we do encourage the students to value their own opinions and beliefs. That policy has always worked well for us, and I trust it will continue to do so."

For several seconds the new teacher continued to stare into Meredith's eyes, while it seemed everyone in the room held their breath. Then Sylvia spoke.

"Very well. I will keep your observations in mind. I shall, however, continue to hold to my own beliefs, and maintain my right to present them. Within the boundaries of your policies, of course."

Meredith nodded. "That seems satisfactory. I appreciate your understanding. Thank you." Keeping her grip on
Felicity's arm, she pulled her toward the door. "Class, you will conduct yourselves in the manner befitting your station." With that she made as dignified an exit as possible, considering she had Felicity in tow.

Once outside, she faced her friend. "What in heaven's name were you thinking?"

Felicity shrugged. "Someone mentioned the suffragette movement and things escalated from there." She shook her head. "That frumpish new teacher is going to undo all the good work I've done with those girls." She waved a hand at the classroom door. "Look at her. She's probably insisting right now that they disregard everything I've ever taught them."

Meredith studied Sylvia through the glass window. "As a matter of fact, she's instructing them on the latest designs in tableware."

Felicity grunted. "Your ability to read lips so efficiently never fails to astonish me. How did you come by such a dubious trait, anyway?"

"I learned the habit as a child, as I've already told you. It came in very useful when I wanted to know what the grown-ups were saying when they thought I was out of earshot." Meredith shook her head. "Don't change the subject. You came close to instigating a riot in there. In front of our new instructress, as well. I just know she'll go to Stuart Hamilton with this. He'll be most displeased."

Felicity sniffed. "Is that what you're concerned about? That Hamilton will think poorly of us? Well, let him! He might own this school, but he has no say in the way we conduct our classes."

"He does have a say in who remains here as an instructress, however." Meredith frowned at her. "I should hate to give him cause to question the integrity of any one of us."

Felicity smiled. "You worry far too much, Meredith. Like this business over Kathleen's death. I know how much you miss her, but she's gone, and there's nothing you can do to help her now. Once the funeral is over tomorrow and she is finally buried, you will feel better, I promise you."

Meredith seriously doubted that. In fact, she felt a sense of urgency, as if she had to find out who was responsible for Kathleen's death before her friend's coffin was lowered into the ground.

Maybe that's what Kathleen wanted, too. She should have realized that earlier. Could it be that Kathleen was trying to tell her who had killed her? The idea was so unsettling, she gasped out loud.

Felicity paused, and looked back at her. "What is it? Tummy ache? Always happens to me when I get upset. I have some milk of magnesia in my room. That usually helps calm the collywobbles."

For a moment Meredith was tempted to share her revelation, then thought better of it. Convincing her friend that Kathleen's ghost existed was as feasible as flying to the moon. "Just a momentary twinge in my stomach," she assured her. "It's gone now."

"You need to eat." Felicity took hold of her arm. "Come, let us see what Mrs. Wilkins is cooking up for us. It's almost mealtime anyway."

Meredith allowed herself to be pulled toward the kitchen, though her appetite seemed to have deserted her. She needed time to think. Somewhere in her brief encounters with Kathleen's ghost, she felt certain there lay a clue that would guide her to whoever had attacked her friend and left her to die all alone. Now she had to determine what that clue was, and where it would lead.

Mrs. Wilkins greeted them both when they entered the
warm, fragrant kitchen. After offering them a hot cup of a tea and a buttered scone, she turned to Meredith. "I've been meaning to have a word with you, Mrs. Llewellyn. It has to do with my maids."

"Oh, dear." Seated at the table, Meredith sipped a mouthful of tea and replaced the cup in its saucer. "What trouble are they in now?"

Mrs. Wilkins shook her head in mock despair. "Playing truant, that's what. Miss Fingle punished them by taking away their days off this week and next, but that's not what I wanted to tell you." She glanced at Felicity, as if wary of continuing in front of her.

"Fire ahead." Felicity waved her half-eaten scone at her. "I won't interfere."

Seemingly reassured by Meredith's nod of agreement, Mrs. Wilkins dug in the pocket of her apron and pulled out a handkerchief. After blowing her nose, she tucked it back out of sight. "Well, it's like this. Olivia says they saw one of our pupils having a nasty argument with Mr. Silkwood out on the street. Going at it hammer and tongs, they was, according to Olivia."

Meredith stared at her. "Victor Silkwood? Who was the girl?"

"Olivia didn't know her name. Just that she recognized her as coming from Bellehaven. I wouldn't have thought twice about it, except I wouldn't want there to be any trouble with Mr. Silkwood and the school, seeing as how he's on the council, and all."

"Quite," Meredith murmured. Victor Silkwood was a major influence, both on the school board and in the county council office. If he complained about the school or its residents, that would bring Stuart Hamilton's wrath down on her head. It was the last thing she needed right now. "I'll
have a word with Olivia when she's finished with her chores. She may be able to describe the girl."

"Well, I wouldn't hold out too much hope of that." Mrs. Wilkins turned back to the table and started kneading a mound of pastry on the floured board. "Empty-headed the two of them. I don't know which one's worse. Olivia, the ring leader, or Grace, the faithful follower."

Meredith finished her tea and put down the cup. "Well, it won't hurt to try."

Felicity got up and had reached the door when Mrs. Wilkins answered, "Nearly got arrested, they did. Joined in that suffragette protest in Witcheston. Grace knocked down a bobby and they had to run for their lives."

Felicity's face lit up. "Well, there's more gumption to those girls than I'd thought."

"Well, lucky for them no one caught them. Spent most of the day stuck in a coal cellar and had to walk half the way home, they did."

Meredith frowned. "I sincerely hope the experience taught them a lesson."

"I doubt it. Couple of daredevils, them two are. Don't know what they'll be up to next, that I don't."

"I'm sure you'll be able to manage them." Meredith rose from her chair. "Thank you, Mrs. Wilkins. The scones were delicious, as always."

She followed Felicity, who sailed out the door and didn't stop smiling until after they parted company at the top of the stairs.

The tiny church was filled to capacity the following
afternoon. Meredith sat between Felicity and Essie as usual, and couldn't seem to tear her gaze away from Kathleen's
empty spot in the front pew. It was difficult to imagine the body of her dear friend lying lifeless inside the flower-draped coffin at the altar.

She kept hoping the ghost would appear, though she had no idea how she would communicate with her in full view of the congregation. It seemed the whole town had attended the service to commemorate Kathleen's passing.

The overcast sky cast a gloom over the graveyard as the coffin was lowered into its final resting place. It seemed to Meredith as if even the sun mourned the death of the beloved woman.

The pupils, all fifty of them, stood with bowed heads in respectful silence. Kathleen would have been most gratified to see that.

Mrs. Wilkins had set up a lavish array of refreshments in the assembly hall, and people milled about, mingling with the pupils and talking in hushed voices.

Meredith was in no mood to socialize and after a decent interval, excused herself and left to retire to her room. On the way there she caught up with Sylvia Montrose, who also appeared to be retiring.

"So sad," Sylvia said, when Meredith greeted her. "I didn't know the lady, but I can see how much she was admired and respected."

"Kathleen Duncan was loved by a good many people." Meredith fell in step beside Sylvia as they made their way down the long corridor to the stairs. "She was dedicated to her work at Bellehaven. She will be missed."

"It will be difficult to follow in her footsteps."

Sylvia sounded subdued, and Meredith felt quite sorry for her. "I'm sure you will be more than capable. After all, you are at liberty to set your own patterns, and instill your own methods. The only thing I ask is that you teach flower
arranging in your class. Kathleen loved her flowers so. In fact, she could get quite—" She broke off as a thought suddenly occurred to her.

Sylvia looked at her with curious eyes. "Quite what?"

"Oh." Meredith collected herself. "I was going to say that Kathleen could get quite irritated with anyone who mistreated her beloved blossoms." She smiled at Sylvia. "If you will excuse me, I've just remembered something that needs my immediate attention."

She hurried off, aware that Sylvia Montrose stared after her in confusion. Not that it bothered her for long. Talking about Kathleen's love of flowers had jogged her memory. She remembered a comment made by one of Kathleen's charges.

The teacher had been incensed when one of her pupils had mistaken weeds for flowers. So much so that in church on Sunday morning Meredith had remembered her friend complaining about it the night before—the same night she had been murdered.

Kathleen had also mentioned at the time that she intended to give Amelia Webster a favorite book of hers on flowers in the hopes the girl would learn to identify them more clearly.

If she had done so, it was possible that Amelia was the last person to see Kathleen alive. She must have a word with her just as soon as possible.

Chapter 8

Meredith seized the opportunity to talk to Amelia
when she caught sight of the girl leaving the assembly hall with a group of friends. To spare the young woman any awkward moments, she followed at a discreet distance until Amelia entered her room, then tapped on the door.

Amelia answered at once, her smile vanishing when she saw her visitor. She held onto the door as if determined not to let it go.

"I'd like a word with you, Amelia." Meredith gave her an encouraging smile. "May I come in?"

"Yes, of course, miss." She opened the door and stepped back.

Meredith stepped into the room, relieved to see they were alone. She wasted no time in coming to the point. "As you know, I'm trying to find out if anyone saw Miss Duncan leave the building on Saturday night. She mentioned earlier that evening that she intended to give you a book about flowers."

Amelia nodded vigorously. "Yes, miss, she did. A lovely book." She looked concerned. "Should I give it back?"

"Oh, no, I'm sure Miss Duncan would have wanted you to keep it." Meredith glanced around the room, noting the neatly made bed and uncluttered dresser. A hat sat in front of the mirror, its wide brim adorned with blue ribbons and tiny butterflies nestled among enormous white lace daisies.

Having been momentarily distracted, Meredith brought her gaze back to Amelia, who stood waiting in obvious anticipation for her next words.

"Pardon me," Meredith said hurriedly. "I came to ask if Miss Duncan happened to mention where she was going when she left you."

"I'm sorry, but I don't remember her saying anything of the sort."

"And you didn't see her again after she left your room?"

"No, I didn't." Amelia met her gaze steadily. "Loretta, my room partner, was here when Miss Duncan left. We spent the whole evening in here together while I studied the flower book. She might remember if Miss Duncan mentioned where she was going."

Meredith frowned. "Loretta Davenport?"

"Yes, miss."

"Well, thank you, Amelia." She peered at the girl. "I hope you're feeling a little better about Miss Duncan's death?"

Amelia dropped her gaze to the floor. "Yes, miss. Thank you."

Meredith studied her for a moment longer, then turned to leave.

"Oh, Mrs. Llewellyn?"

Meredith twisted her head to look at her. "Yes?"

"I just remembered something." Amelia twisted a strand of her blond hair around her finger. "I heard someone
crying in the corridor outside my room that evening. I opened the door to see who it was, and I saw Penelope Fisher running down the hallway."

Meredith pictured the tomboyish girl with flying pigtails. One of her problem students. She seemed determined to hang on to her adolescence and resented all attempts to change her into a young lady. Somehow, Meredith had a great deal of trouble picturing her crying. Penelope was far too invincible to easily succumb to tears.

"Penelope Fisher? Are you quite sure?"

"Yes, miss. I called out after her but she didn't hear me. I suppose she was too upset. I did wonder at the time what troubled her so."

"Well, thank you, Amelia." Meredith left the room, her mind juggling thoughts. Obviously something had happened to deeply disturb Penelope. She would have to question the girl. As for Amelia, her answers seemed straightforward enough, but Meredith couldn't escape the feeling that the girl was trying to hide something from her.