Higgins needed a vacation. He’d attended four weddings in as many weeks, all of them stalked by a killer. Desperate for a change of scene, he found himself envying Jack Shaw and Lord Ashmore. Both men were about to leave on their honeymoons with their respective brides. The Cotswolds and a first-class train journey to Venice sounded a lot more serene than anything happening at 27-A Wimpole Street. Especially today.
Pickering had returned from the hospital, which naturally called for a celebration. Dinner last night contained as many courses as a state banquet. Higgins had no objection. He was as pleased as Eliza to have his old friend back home, looking as hale and hearty as he did before the shooting. But twelve hours of toasting the Colonel and waiting on him hand and foot was more than enough. However he forgot it was the Colonel’s birthday today, which meant Eliza and Mrs. Pearce had scheduled even more feasting, accompanied by two cakes. That he could have tolerated, but it appeared that birthday parties demanded guests. A ridiculous notion, but one which Eliza wouldn’t let him override.
The door to his study flew open. “I told you we don’t want to be disturbed!” Higgins shouted, refusing to look up from his newspaper.
Pickering put down his own newspaper. “What is it, Mrs. Pearce?”
The housekeeper gave him a benevolent smile. “Detective and Mrs. Shaw are here.”
When Jack and his bride entered the room, Pickering got to his feet. “How lovely to see you both.”
Sybil rushed over to embrace him. Higgins noticed she took care not to press against his injured shoulder. “Please sit down, Colonel.”
“Don’t be silly, my dear. I’m perfectly capable of greeting the blushing bride. I only wish I’d been able to toast the two of you at the reception.”
“It’s not your fault some madwoman turned our wedding into a shooting gallery,” Jack said. “Did you know the necklace Lady Winifred wore to Farrow’s wedding came from the Temple of Parvati treasure? That’s why she tried to kill you.”
Pickering shook his head. “A shame I never had more than a glance at it.”
“She admitted not expecting to see you at the church that day. Otherwise she never would have worn the stolen necklace. Apparently she had no compunction wearing it around the Misras because Taral never saw the jewels which were taken from the temple.”
“What about Luther’s role in all this?” Higgins asked the detective.
“According to his confession, Luther stabbed Pearl because she didn’t tell him where the treasure was hidden. Of course, the poor girl didn’t know. Anyway, both he and Lady Winifred will be tried for murder. And very likely hanged.”
“Hand that to me, Detective.” Mrs. Pearce took the wrapped birthday present he held. “We’re putting the gifts in the dining room.”
“There are at least a dozen from Eliza,” Higgins remarked. “For all I know, she’s popped off to Oxford Street for a little more shopping.”
“The dear girl is thrilled to have me home,” Pickering said. “And I’m as happy as she is.”
Sybil looked around the room. “Where is Eliza?”
“She’s getting ready upstairs.” Pickering waited until his guests sat down on the leather sofa before reclaiming his own seat. “Eliza has a special birthday outfit she wants to surprise everyone with.”
“I hope it isn’t a wedding gown,” Higgins muttered. He’d seen enough women marching about in wedding dresses to last a lifetime.
“Oh dear, someone’s at the door.” The housekeeper hurried out of the room.
Higgins put aside his paper. Normally he disliked guests, but he was fond of Jack and his bride. Both of them looked remarkably rested today, especially Sybil whose tailored skirt and blouse matched her always rosy cheeks. Good for them. He wasn’t a fan of marriage, but these two were a decent, likable pair and deserved to enjoy their time as newlyweds without the threat of murderers lurking about.
“All set for the motor trip to the Cotswolds?” Higgins asked.
“Can’t wait.” Jack grinned. “We were lucky a fellow detective at the Yard lent us his motorcar for a week. It’s a beauty too: a Maxwell Touring car.”
“I wouldn’t mind a motorcar of my own,” Higgins said. “I quite enjoyed tooling about in Lord Ashmore’s Stutz Bearcat.”
“Eliza has talked about purchasing one,” Pickering added.
“Think of the lovely day trips we could all take if she does,” Sybil said.
Freddy burst into the parlor. The young man always seemed to be out of breath and windblown, even when dressed in a dapper charcoal gray suit as he was today. “Good morning, everyone. Or is it noon already? I’ve been rushing about so much, I lost track of the time. But I did manage to secure a ripping good present for the Colonel.” He bowed his head in the older man’s direction, then scanned the study. “I say, where’s Eliza?”
“Upstairs,” Higgins, Sybil, and Jack said at the same time.
Higgins groaned when knocking commenced at the front door once more. “Just how many people has Eliza invited for Pick’s birthday lunch?”
Mrs. Pearce ushered in Detective Ramsey. Higgins thought he seemed a bit too formally dressed for lunch at Wimpole Street. Looked like the young man was out to make an impression. And Higgins knew it wasn’t for him. This could be why Eliza was taking so long to get ready.
Freddy and Colin Ramsey exchanged startled looks, as if neither expected the other to be here. “Best grab a seat,” Higgins said wearily. “If too many people show up, we’ll have to send them to the kitchen to sit.”
Freddy plopped down on an ottoman. Colin took a chair on the other side of the room.
“I thought you’d be busy at Scotland Yard, Detective Ramsey,” Freddy said. “After all, Luther North and Lady Winifred were only arrested three days ago.”
“No need,” the detective answered. “Lady Winifred confessed later that day. Then we found the smuggled treasure in the trunk of her car. As for Luther, we had his fingerprints on the knife that killed Pearl Palmer. We didn’t need his confession, but we got one anyway. Although we had to wait until the next day when he finally recovered from the snake bite.”
More banging on the front door. “Who’s here now?” Higgins barked.
He didn’t have long to wait as Mrs. Pearce led Taral and Basanti Misra into the parlor. The housekeeper couldn’t hide her curiosity at Taral’s jeweled turban and Basanti’s flowing purple sari. Colin offered the Indian woman his seat, while Taral sat on the piano bench.
“Where is Eliza?” Basanti settled her sari and sash about her.
Before anyone could answer, Eliza swept into the room. A moment of stunned silence greeted her.
She wore a dazzling red sari trimmed in gold. Higgins raised an eyebrow at her bare midriff and uncovered arms. Even more shocking, Eliza’s brown hair was neither pinned up nor in a thick braid. Instead it flowed about her shoulders, reaching halfway down her back. He shot a look at Freddy and Colin Ramsey, who stared at Eliza with a mixture of surprise and pleasure.
Basanti clapped her hands in delight. “Eliza, you look most beautiful. And you honor me by wearing the sari I gave you. But let me re-pin the sash so it remains on your left shoulder.”
While Basanti fussed with the crimson sash, Pickering said, “My dear, seeing you dressed like that I can’t help but recall my many pleasant memories of Bombay.”
“It’s why I wore it, Colonel. When I took tea with the Misras at their hotel, Basanti showed me all her pretty saris. After she saw how much I loved them, she gave me this. And sandals besides.” Eliza stepped back and twirled. The diaphanous skirt and sash swirled with her movements, displaying corded sandals on her bare feet. “Because you spent so much time in India, I wanted to wear it for your birthday.”
Higgins hoped Eliza had no plans to wear it on the streets of London. So much bare skin on a proper young Englishwoman would create an instant scandal.
Freddy cleared his throat. “Eliza, perhaps only a woman from India should wear such a thing. The sari is far too revealing.”
“It is a most proper form of apparel,” Taral protested. “All my countrywomen dress in such a way.”
“I love it.” Eliza wore a familiar stubborn expression.
“I love it, too,” Colin Ramsey said. He walked over to Eliza and lifted up one of the folds of her sash. “I’ve heard you’re quite the lady of fashion. Perhaps you’ll start a trend. I know I wouldn’t mind seeing women walking about Mayfair in saris.” He winked. “And it looks far more comfortable than those corseted outfits you ladies like to wear.”
“Indeed it is.” Eliza smiled back at him.
“Although it may not be the best choice for our English winters,” Pickering added.
Freddy marched over to Eliza. “You’ve shown the Colonel how nice you look in the sari.
Now please go upstairs and change into something more appropriate.”
“I will not,” Eliza said. “And I resent you telling me what to do.”
“I do not see anything improper with our saris.” Basanti sighed. “But he is your affianced gentleman, Eliza. Perhaps you should do as he asks.”
“Freddy is not my affianced anything. Even if he was, I wouldn’t let him tell me what to do.” Eliza smoothed down the silk and chiffon folds of her sari. “If you’re going to keep bothering me about it, you’d best leave, Freddy. I won’t have you spoil the Colonel’s party.”
“I’d listen to her,” Higgins advised, enjoying the sight of Freddy looking so uncomfortable. “Eliza will have your head if you ruin Pick’s birthday.”
Colin’s smile grew wider. Higgins wondered if fisticuffs would break out between the two men. But another knock at the front door broke the tension.
“Now what?” Higgins asked.
This time it was Clara and her Aunt Lavender who were announced by Mrs. Pearce. With a groan, Higgins got to his feet. They had now officially run out of chairs. Lavender Stratton gave him a gracious nod as she sat in his favorite chair by the Victrola. Clara’s aunt looked almost as unconventional as Eliza in a geometric print dress and satin bandanna wrapped about her upswept curls. At least Clara was decked out as expected; she wore one of those ludicrous hobble skirts with a matching navy and white striped jacket.
Clara immediately began to ooh and ahh over Eliza’s sari as Basanti described how such a garment should be draped.
“Where’s Lord Ashmore and Clara’s mother?” Higgins asked Lavender.
“My sister is still resting from all the excitement of the wedding, so I had my driver bring Clara and me here. And Richard is busy finalizing a transaction regarding his collection. He’ll be here presently in his Stutz Bearcat. I quite like that car.”
“As do I,” Higgins said. “Did you say Lord Ashmore is doing something with the collection?”
“Oh, yes.” Lavender looked over at Taral who sat listening to them. “I would have thought Mr. Misra would have informed all of you by now.”
Everyone turned to Taral. “The day after his wedding,” he said, “Lord Ashmore agreed to send the Parvati temple objects back to India.”
“He only did that because of me,” Clara broke in. “After what happened in the maze, I was quite upset. Poisonous snakes left in boxes, one murderer found at the folly, the other running about trying to kill Eliza! And all because of those dreadful things from the Indian temple. I don’t care what anyone says, there is a Curse of the Cobra. I told Richard he must get rid of all of it. And as soon as possible.”
“He will return all the pieces from the Temple of Parvati that he has in his collection. But at a price.” Taral sighed. “It is a steep price, but my family and the Maharajah in Mysore must pay it.”
Basanti went over to her husband. “It is only money. And the Goddess Parvati will surely bless us with good fortune for working on her behalf.”
Clara shrugged. “Besides, Richard wants to buy modern art. Picasso, Matisse, Rousseau. And some Norwegian painter called Monk.”
“Munch,” Lavender corrected her niece. “Edvard Munch.”
This sounded like good news to Higgins. Maybe they would all hear the last of the temple and its treasure. “Does this include the treasure smuggled off the ship in the Bay of Bengal? I’m assuming it also belongs to Lord Ashmore.”
“Yes.” Taral’s voice turned cold. “And he refuses to sell that part of the temple. At least not to me or the Maharajah.”
“You should be grateful Lord Ashmore has agreed to sell any of his collection to you,” Pickering said. “He has no legal obligation to do so.”
“Only an ethical one,” Taral shot back. His wife quickly whispered in his ear.
Higgins still had questions for Clara. “Then your husband is keeping part of the treasure?”
“I told you, Professor. I don’t want a single piece of that beastly treasure near me.”
“Lord Ashmore is selling it to the very chaps Lady Winifred planned to sell it to,” Colin said. “Both men swore to us they had no idea the pieces they offered to buy had been stolen. We have no way of proving they’re not telling the truth. And they’re paying an astronomical sum.”
Clara clapped her hands together. “Isn’t my darling Richard clever? And so handsome. Now he’s even richer than before. I plan to buy new furniture for Banfield Manor when we return from our honeymoon. Everything there is so old and dusty. I want modern things.”
Higgins wondered just how clever Lord Ashmore was if he was willing to marry such a maddening creature.
Sybil laughed. “Make sure not to toss out any antique heirlooms.”
Clara looked down at the diamond sunburst brooch pinned to her jacket. “The only heirloom I care about is this one. Although I never received it in the folly as planned. Not with that deadly snake and chauffeur in there. But Richard did give it to me afterward.”
Another loud knocking at the front door caused everyone to look up.
Higgins grumbled. “If that’s not Lord Ashmore, I’m going to start turning people away.”
But it was the 5th Baron of Ashmore who peeked into the parlor. He looked pleased with himself. “Forgive me for being late, but I had a little difficulty transporting something.” He still didn’t enter the room. Instead, he merely leaned around the corner. “A gift.”
“Please,” Pickering protested. “I don’t need any gifts.”
“This gift is for Eliza,” Richard replied. “For being the one who caught the killer.”
“Not me.” She laughed. “The hero was your lovely peacock.”
“Actually, he’s your peacock now.” Richard stepped into the parlor. Behind him trotted a peacock, his immense tail sweeping the carpeting behind him.
Eliza let out a delighted cry, and the peacock responded with one of his own.
“Percy!” She knelt down and held out her arms. Higgins’s jaw dropped when the bird ran over to her, permitting her to embrace him.
“Excuse me, but I do not have a vast estate for this bird – or its tail – to run about in.”
“We have the enclosed garden out back, Professor,” Eliza said. “Percy will love that. I once owned a canary called Petey. I know all about taking care of birds.”
“A peacock is much larger than a canary,” Higgins reminded her. “He can’t live here.”
“Of course he can.” Pickering looked on approvingly at Eliza and Percy. “Many households in India have peacocks.”
Colin chuckled. “I have to admit he’s a handsome animal.”
“This is absurd, Eliza,” Freddy said. “You cannot keep a peacock as a pet. Wimpole Street is not India, although you’d never know it by the way you’re dressed. What if your students tell people that you own a peacock and you wear saris?”
“I’m keeping this blooming peacock and my sari.” Eliza aimed a defiant look at Freddy and Higgins. “Don’t forget Percy saved my life. The darling bird deserves his own little garden. And maybe a tiny room on the first floor. I’ve a lovely blanket he can sleep on.”
Percy threw back his head and emitted five piercing cries.
“By Jupiter, will we have to hear this all day?” Higgins shook his head.
“Luncheon is served,” Mrs. Pearce informed the guests.
“The bird is not sitting at the table with us,” Higgins warned Eliza.
“Don’t be silly. I know that.” Eliza stroked the peacock’s head. “He can eat in the garden. Only we must make certain to save him a slice of cake. I’m glad Cook baked two cakes.”
“As long as I get a slice, too. I’m fond of cake myself.” Unlike Freddy, Colin Ramsey seemed amused by the sight of Eliza cuddling the peacock.
Freddy looked even more unhappy with the situation. “This is ridiculous,” he whispered to Higgins. “I’m tempted to make Eliza decide between him and me.”
“You and Detective Ramsey?”
“Of course not. What is that detective to her? I’m talking about the peacock.”
“Maybe you should.” In fact, Higgins hoped Freddy did give Eliza such an ultimatum.
As if he knew they were speaking about him, the peacock took a step towards Freddy and Higgins. With another ear-splitting cry, he unfurled his magnificent fan of tail feathers.
Freddy didn’t stand a chance.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Our thanks to The Book of Weddings by Mrs. Burton Kingsland for its invaluable Edwardian wedding details; to our many loyal readers and fans; and to Dr. Souter, who explained how best to shoot – but not kill – one of our characters.
OTHER BOOKS BY D.E. IRELAND
Wouldn’t It Be Deadly
Move Your Blooming Corpse
ABOUT D.E. IRELAND
D.E. Ireland is a team of long time friends and award-winning authors, Meg Mims and Sharon Pisacreta. In 2013 they decided to collaborate on a unique series based on George Bernard Shaw’s wonderfully witty play Pygmalion, which also inspired the classic musical My Fair Lady. At work on Book Four of their Agatha nominated series, they also pursue separate writing careers. Currently both of them write cozy mysteries for Kensington under their respective new pen names: Sharon Farrow and Meg Macy. Sharon’s Berry Basket series debuted in October 2016, and Meg’s Shamelessly Adorable Teddy Bear series will be released in May 2017. The two Michigan authors have patient husbands, brilliant daughters, and share a love of tea, books, and history.
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