Chapter Twenty-Eight

“You’re thinking of Riley,” said Victoria as they walked back to her car. “You’re thinking Riley could live with Dilys and be her apprentice. I’m not so sure about that. For one thing, the place is barely habitable. And how would she get to school from way out here?”

“Hmm,” said Penny. “I wasn’t thinking about Riley actually living with her, more along the lines of tagging along with Dilys on her rambles, if she’d be interested. Dilys knows more about the flowers and trees in this area than anybody. And there’s a lot to be said for Dilys passing on what she knows to a young person. She knows this area so well, and all its hidden natural secrets, it would be a shame if all that knowledge were to be lost. And to be fair, she can’t keep walking and roaming forever.”

“So you’re thinking Riley might stay in the area. Surely social services will send her back to Ireland, to be with her relatives.”

“They very well might,” said Penny. “I have no idea how these things work, but whoever makes that decision, and whatever decision they reach, I hope it’s in Riley’s best interest, and not what’s easiest for them.”

Penny rang Bethan to tell her where they could pick up the Black Chair, and she and Victoria walked on in silence until they reached the Hall’s car park. “I wonder how Emyr and Jennifer Sayles are getting on,” said Victoria as she unlocked the car. “The last time we saw them, at the Remembrance Day service, they looked on the verge of splitting up. I wonder if they’ve patched things up.”

“That’s a good question,” said Penny. “Since we’re here, why don’t we share the good news about the chair with Gwennie and see if she has anything new to report?” When Victoria hesitated, Penny added, “I’m sure there’ll be a lovely cup of coffee and possibly even a Welsh cake. Or if we’re really lucky, a scone.”

“Do you seriously think I’m so shallow that you can bribe me with a scone?” Victoria asked. The car chirped as she relocked it. “Well, come on, then. What are we waiting for?”

The dolphin-shaped door knocker clapped against its strike plate, and after a minute or two, Gwennie opened the door.

“We’ve got some good news,” said Penny. “May we come in?”

“Oh, yes, of course. I was just about to sit down for an early elevenses.”

She led the way down the familiar hallway to the warm, fragrant kitchen. Victoria and Penny exchanged a quick smile at the sight of a plate of freshly baked scones cooling on the counter.

“You’ll have a scone,” Gwennie said. “I baked extra today as a treat for the gardeners. This is the first day they’ve had complete access to the garden since the … well, you know. The police told them it was okay to take the tape down, so they did. Sad, really, that young man losing his life out there. I don’t know that I’ll ever be able to look at the walkway in the same way, thinking about him out there in the cold and the rain.” The cups rattled slightly as she placed them on the table. “Well, go on then. I could use some good news. What is it?”

“We found the Black Chair!” exclaimed Penny.

Gwennie’s face lit up. “Oh, that’s brilliant! Mr. Emyr will be so relieved. How did you find it?”

“Well, to be fair, Dilys found it.”

“Oh, her. And is it all right, the chair? Not damaged, I hope.”

“No, it seems fine, but we’re not experts. We’ve notified the police, and they’ll be here soon to pick it up and interview her, so you’re not quite rid of them yet, I’m afraid.”

“Here? The police are coming back here?” She sighed. “Will it never end, I ask myself.”

“They might want to ask you a few questions—if you saw anything suspicious over the past day or two. That sort of thing. And they’ll park here, although it’s Dilys they’re coming to see.”

“They’re coming here to see Dilys?” Gwennie asked with a blank look.

“You didn’t know she was stopping in the cottage that used to be her brother’s?” Victoria asked.

Gwennie threw an exasperated look, combined with a mild eye roll, at the ceiling. “I doubt Mr. Emyr knows, which is the important thing. Still, she’s a law unto herself, that one. Although now that she’s getting older, her rambles are shorter and she’s not ranging as far as she used to. I see her sometimes in the woodland, through the trees. Bent over, whacking things with her stick, picking up bits and pieces, although what there is to find, I have no idea. Acorns, maybe. I think Mr. Emyr’s given up on her. He’ll probably let her stay there until she dies. And if I know her, even death won’t be enough to move her off the property. She’ll be haunting those woods forever.”

“Speaking of Emyr,” said Penny, “We were wondering if you’ve heard anything more about Jennifer Sayles.”

“No,” said Gwennie. “Can’t say as I have. She hasn’t been back to the Hall since the dinner party. It’s not my place, of course, to inquire into Mr. Emyr’s personal life, so whether they’ve met up in London, I wouldn’t know.”

“Had they been seeing each other long before the dinner party, do you know?”

“Not that long,” replied Gwennie. “Just a few weeks, maybe. Of course they’ve known each other much longer, seeing as how Jennifer was a friend of Meg Wynne Thompson’s.”

“Emyr’s fiancée who died,” Penny reminded Victoria.

“Poor Mr. Emyr. He hasn’t been what you might call lucky in love,” said Gwennie. “To be honest, I don’t think they’re particularly well suited, him and that Jennifer, and it seemed to me that she came on awfully strong towards him. She seems to be a very take-charge sort of person. Likes to be in control. So I was glad she didn’t try to interfere too much with our arrangements for the dinner.” She broke off a piece of scone and buttered it. “It was her idea to bring in a butler. Said it would be more in keeping with the way a dinner party would have looked a century ago and add a touch of class to the evening.”

“This butler. Was he someone she knew?”

“Oh, I don’t think so. I think she just went to one of those London agencies and was given a list to choose from, and she chose that fellow. He was all right. Seemed to know what he was doing.”

“I expect there was a proper butler here at Ty Brith back in the day,” Victoria remarked.

“Oh, yes, there was. I was only a girl then, but I remember him well. He made sure everything ran like clockwork. He adored Mrs. Gruffydd—that’s Emyr’s mother—and could never do enough for her. Old Mr. Booth, that was. Eventually he was pensioned off and given a cottage on the estate, taking all the impeccable old ways of doing things with him. He died a few years ago. Until the Remembrance Day weekend, we hadn’t given a fancy dinner party in so long, and this one turning out so badly, with the death of that young man, makes me doubt we’ll ever give another. There doesn’t seem to be much point to this anymore.” Her gesture to the rear of the kitchen, the butler’s pantry and scullery, encompassed a long-gone way of life. “And Emyr, a single man, living here on his own. I wouldn’t be surprised if he sold off this place. It really deserves to be a family home, but if that’s not to be, then at least it could be turned into a boutique hotel or conference centre or some such.” She took a mournful sip of coffee. “Anything to breathe some life back into the dear old place.”

“And Lane,” said Penny. “How’s he doing? I hope he recovered.”

“Oh, I just heard about him this morning from the head gardener,” said Gwennie. “He’s only gone and got himself a new job in the café. I hear he absolutely loves working that Italian machine. Making lattes and cappuccinos all day long. Happy as Larry, apparently.”

*   *   *

“What do you think about Jennifer Sayles?” Penny asked on the drive back to town.

“I hadn’t really given her any thought. She was just here, and then she wasn’t.”

“Interesting timing, though, from what Gwennie said about her appearing on the scene. It seems she got interested in Emyr around the same time he started talking about giving a dinner party.”