The Affair of the Thirty-Nine Cufflinks
Burford.
    He started to stand up, then froze in mid-movement. 'Oh, lor.'
    'What's the matter. Hurt your back?'
    'No.' He sank back down. 'Just remembered something. Gregory and Timothy aren't on speaking terms. They quarrelled years ago. They might have made it up, I suppose, but they're a stubborn couple of coves, so probably not.'
    'What did they quarrel about?'
    'Well, my memory's a bit shaky. It must have been shortly after Gregory first got into Parliament. Some little revolutionary magazine wrote something libellous about him: said he'd voted for a bill only because he stood to make money from it, or something like that. Gregory decided to sue them, and got Timothy to represent him. Stupid, really, much better to have simply ignored it. Anyway, the case had just started, when it fell apart. Gregory dropped the suit. I don't know exactly what happened, but I heard a rumour that Gregory had wanted Timothy to do something that Timothy thought unethical and after a big row refused to represent him any more.'
    'Do you believe it?'
    'I dunno. I don't say Gregory wouldn't do anything unethical; on the other hand, Timothy might well think something was unethical that nobody else would think was. He is a bit of a prig.'
    'It's not a problem for us, though, is it?'
    'No, but they ought to be kept apart. Rooms in different wings, so they don't keep running into each other, have to use the same bathroom, and so on.'
    As he was speaking Lady Burford had entered. 'Ah, Lavinia, I was just telling Gerry about Gregory and Timothy. They must—'
    'I heard, George, and it's all right. I remembered about the quarrel. Gregory is in the east corridor and Timothy the west. And they will be well apart at dinner.'
    'You think of everything, my dear,' said the Earl.

Chapter Thirteen
    The Wednesday of the funeral was a cloudless and bakingly hot day. 'Makes a change,' said the Earl. 'Practically always rains at the funerals I go to. Not the sort of day, though, you feel like getting togged out in a mornin' suit.' He ran a finger round inside his stiff wing collar.
    Everything was ready for the guests, just nine rooms having eventually been prepared, after Bradley explained that he had friends living not far away, with whom he had arranged to spend the night. In the dining-room, the servants were busy laying out the buffet.
    At eleven forty-five the Earl, the Countess and Geraldine set out in the Rolls on the short drive to the church, just the far side of the village. On the way they saw the smoke from the London train approaching in the distance. When Hawkins pulled up at the church, there were a number of cars already parked in the vicinity, together with eight taxis, brought in from the county town of Westchester by the efficient Harry Jenkins. The hearse, which had borne Florrie's coffin from London, was parked immediately outside the church. Twenty or so spectators, including a number of children, were standing around. For the sleepy village of Alderley, this ranked as quite a show. The village constable, P.C. Dobson, a stout, red-faced man whose uniform always seemed too small for him, self-importantly tried to appear to be keeping order.
    They alighted from the Rolls. Some of the children cheered and Gerry gave them a cheery wave. Then she looked down the road in the direction of the station. 'Here they come,' she said.
    Her parents followed her gaze. Quite a procession was approaching. All garbed totally in black, and looking, from a distance, like a disciplined army of beetles, they strode determinedly towards the church. As they drew closer, Lord Burford tried to count them. He made the number at least seventy. 'By Jove,' he muttered. 'Never thought there'd be so many.'
    'There won't be enough taxis,' Gerry said.
    'Then they'll just have to run a shuttle service.'
    Fifteen minutes later everyone was seated in the little church, which had not been so full for many years, and the coffin had been brought in and placed in position. After

Similar Books

A Pirate's Possession

Michelle Beattie

No Pity For the Dead

Nancy Herriman

Time Goes By

Margaret Thornton

The Stories We Tell

Patti Callahan Henry

Dumb Clucks

R.L. Stine

The Shepherd's Betrothal

Lynn A. Coleman