Murder Has No Class (11 page)

“Oh, don’t be such a worrywart.” Olivia started chopping furiously. “I told you, we won’t get caught. No one will even notice we’re there, except a few old codgers in the pub, and they’re half-blind, anyway.”

“What about the people what work there?”

Olivia shrugged. “By the time they realize what’s happening, we’ll be gone, won’t we.”

“Not if we stop to smash all the glasses, we won’t be.”

Olivia uttered a long, tortured sigh. Raising her head, she fastened her dark gaze on Grace’s face. “Look, all we are going to do is run through the public bar shouting our slogans. We’ll be carrying sticks, and we’ll swipe at the glasses as we run past. We’ll be out of there before anyone knows what’s happening.”

Far from reassured, Grace turned back to the sink and picked up the peeling knife. Grabbing a potato out of the water, she began slicing at the skin. “I just bloomin’ hope you’re right,” she muttered. “I’d just like to know why they banned everyone from the village on Saturday.”

Olivia paused in her chopping. “No one knows. I asked Mrs. Wilkins and she said she hadn’t heard nothing, and I asked Sophie Westchester, ’cos she knows everything, and she said none of the teachers will tell them why. They just told them it was for their own good.”

Grace gasped as a thought struck her. “You don’t think they heard about the protest, do you, and this is their way of stopping it?”

“Now, how would they find out?”

“Someone might have told them. Someone what didn’t want to go and thought the others shouldn’t go, neither.”

“Nah. Everyone of the girls I asked said they would be there, and they all got sworn into secrecy, so I don’t know how anyone would find out. More than likely the teachers don’t want the girls joining in the dancing on the green.” She put a hand on her hip and in a poor imitation of Mrs. Llewellyn’s voice, said haughtily, “Decorum at all times, ladies!”

Grace turned again, the potato still in her hand and dripping cold water down her arm and onto the floor. “But what if someone did tell? Don’t you think it would be better to wait until another day to do the protest, when the village isn’t banned and we won’t get into so much trouble?”

“Saturday is the perfect day. Like I keep telling you, it’s May Day and everyone will be out on the green watching the dancing and stuff. That’s where the bobby will be, too, so he won’t be hanging around the Dog and Duck and the only people what will be there will be the ones too old to dance.”

“Well, if everyone will be out on the green, what’s the use of protesting in the pub, then, if no one will know we was there?”

“Oh they’ll know we was there by the broken glass everywhere. Everyone will be talking about it, wondering who done it and how they got in and out of the village without being caught.” Olivia puffed out her scrawny chest. “I think that’s really clever to come up with a plan like that.”

Grace didn’t think it was clever at all. In fact, she still had a really nasty feeling that they were all going to end up in hot water over this one. Still, it looked as if Olivia was bound and determined to go through with it, so she had little say in the matter.

Besides, maybe this time, Olivia was right. It did seem as if they should be able to get in and out of the pub without too many people noticing them. Yeah, this time it was all going to work out and she and Olivia would be heroes for holding a successful protest. With that thought firmly in mind, Grace went back to peeling her potato.

As it was, Meredith was unable to discuss her visit to the Stalham estate with Felicity and Essie until much later that evening. Sylvia had joined them immediately after dinner, much to Felicity’s disgust.

“I wish to make a complaint,” Sylvia announced, the second she stepped into the teacher’s lounge. “Meredith, I must insist you do something about that dastardly assistant of yours.”

Meredith exchanged a weary glance with Felicity. “What has Mr. Platt done now?”

Sylvia settled herself on a chair, taking great pains to arrange the folds of her blue linen frock around her ankles. “He has exceeded all boundaries of decency. I caught him in the library, clutching one of the students to his body”—Sylvia shuddered—“while he gyrated with her in the most disgusting manner imaginable.” She fanned her face with her hand. “I have never in my life been so utterly shocked and aghast.”

Meredith winced. “I do hope you thoroughly chastised him.”

“Well, of course I did.” Sylvia seemed to be having trouble breathing, and her lisp had become even more prominent as she struggled to get out the words. “I screamed at him to drop the girl at once. He had the
audacity
to tell me he was teaching her the latest dance craze. I ask you, what kind of feeble excuse is that?”

“Were their hands clasped?” Felicity asked, looking amused, which only fueled Sylvia’s distress.

“Yes, as a matter of fact, they were.” Sylvia frowned. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“He was probably teaching her the tango,” Felicity said, disappearing behind the newspaper in her hands.

Sylvia looked as if she would swallow her tongue.

Meredith, deeming it wise to refrain from commenting, shook her head at Essie, who seemed about to join in the fray.

“The
what
?” Sylvia managed at last.

“The tango. It’s the latest craze.” Felicity leapt from her chair. Holding one hand on her hip and the other in the air, she began humming an outlandish melody with an odd staccato beat and, to everyone’s utter astonishment proceeded to swoop all around the floor in what Meredith could only describe as a wanton display of utter indecency.

Chapter 9

Speechless, the other three teachers watched Felicity in openmouthed disbelief, until Meredith finally found her voice. “Felicity Ann Cross, what in heaven’s name do you think you are doing?”

Felicity took no notice but continued her provocative prancing until at last, she came to a halt. Twirling her hand in the air, she shouted a breathless, “Olé!”

Essie immediately broke into a burst of applause, while Sylvia sat there, her face set in stone.

“Felicity,” Essie cried. “That was marvelous!”

“Wait until you see a man and woman dance it together.” Felicity threw herself down on her chair, legs sprawled in front of her. “It will take your breath away.”

“Well,
really
.” Sylvia tossed her head, sending fronds of her hair floating up and down. “I don’t have to sit here and listen to this repulsive discussion.”

“No,” Felicity agreed mildly. “You don’t.”

Sylvia gasped, and looked at Meredith for support.

Meredith pretended not to notice. “That was quite an . . . ah . . . energetic dance. What did you call it?”

“The tango.” Felicity pulled herself up into a more ladylike posture. “I saw it performed in London last year while I was recruiting a batch of new students. I was in the home of aristocrats, and it was all very respectable. I understand the dance is quite popular in Paris right now, but it hasn’t really become well known here. Now yet, anyway.” She sent a sly glance in Sylvia’s direction. “In fact, I’m surprised Roger Platt is familiar with it.”

Sylvia sniffed. “That young man would hunt out the most sordid of behaviors and waste no time in adopting them.”

Although Meredith was inclined to agree with her, she felt compelled to defend the wayward assistant. “Oh, come now, Sylvia. If the dance is accepted among London’s elite, who are we to condemn it?”

“Indeed.” Felicity looked triumphant. “I have to admit, I was intrigued, especially when I learned that it originated in the brothels of Argentina.”

“Oh!” Scarlet in the face, Sylvia jumped to her feet. “I adamantly refuse to stay one minute longer and listen to such abominable language.”

Felicity raised her eyebrows. “I am speaking nothing but the truth, Sylvia. There are such places, and we can hardly ignore their existence.”

“We do not have to mention those dreadful, vulgar places in the drawing room. Good night ladies.” With that, Sylvia swept from the room.

“Good. That got rid of her.” Felicity rubbed her hands together in glee and the door thudded to a close. “I thought it might.”

Meredith shook her head. “You are awful, Felicity. You deliberately provoked her, and with such nonsense, too.”

Felicity grinned. “I may have ruffled her feathers, but I assure you, Meredith, everything I said was the truth. I did see the dance performed, and it did originate in Argentina’s brothels. The immigrants brought it to Europe and now it’s becoming all the rage. It’s only a matter of time before it takes London by storm and then everyone will be doing it.”

“Not in this school,” Meredith said firmly. “If either of you see any of the girls even attempting such a performance, you must put a stop to it at once.”

Felicity stared at her. “Didn’t you just say we shouldn’t condemn the dance if it’s accepted by London’s aristocracy?”

Meredith tightened her lips. “Accepting it is one thing. Allowing our students to slither all over the halls of this school in that lewd manner is quite something else.”

Essie giggled. “It would be quite a sight to see.”

Felicity sighed. “Meredith’s right. Besides, you really need a man to perform it properly, though why anyone would want to get that close to a male I cannot imagine.” She finished her words on a shudder, earning a curious glance from Essie.

Meredith decided now was a good time to change the subject.

Launching into an account of her visit to the Stalham estate, she kept her friends enthralled until she reached the end of her story.

Felicity looked impressed. “You certainly managed to wheedle a great deal of information out of the staff. Well done.”

“Except for Smithers, who was the first one on the scene and would therefore have the most specific information.” Meredith frowned. “He was quite forbidding, actually. I could tell he resented the intrusion.”

“Ah well, you know what butlers can be like.” Felicity stretched out her feet and examined the toes of her shoes. “So what did you make of all that?”

“Well, it’s apparent that Howard wasn’t well liked, though it seems James was well tolerated. I think both the housekeeper and the maid were shocked that he had been convicted of the murder. What really intrigues me, however, is the possible presence of another person in the house that night.”

Essie leaned forward. “Do you think there really was someone else in the house when Lord Stalham was shot?”

“I don’t know what to think.” Meredith smothered a yawn with her hand. “Smithers testified to the opposite. I’d like to hear his side of the story but he’s unlikely to tell me.” She gave Essie a meaningful look. “On the other hand . . .”

Essie drew back. “Oh, no. Not me. This Smithers person sounds quite intimidating. I just couldn’t.”

“Oh, bosh, Essie.” Felicity leaned over and patted her arm. “Of course you can. You have done it plenty of times before when Meredith has needed information. Looking the way you do, you can wheedle the darkest secrets from the strongest of men. For some strange reason, men simply cannot resist a petite, blond-haired, blue-eyed woman.”

A pink glow colored Essie’s cheeks. “I’m glad you think I can be of some use.”

Felicity laughed. “Oh, come now, Essie. Why so modest? You have a wonderful precious personality that men adore. If you can use it to your advantage, why not?”

Sensing Essie’s discomfort, Meredith intervened. “Essie, my dear, Felicity means to compliment you, that’s all.”

Essie shrugged. “I’m not nearly as clever as you and Felicity in ferreting out the truth.”

Meredith smiled. “Essie dear, if it hadn’t been for you, I would never have been able to solve anything. You are, indeed, a great help.”

“Very well then, if you insist, I shall attempt to talk to the butler.” Essie looked down at her hands. “Though I can’t guarantee a successful outcome.”