Chapter One
Lilly Tweed, former agony aunt now purveyor of fine teas at The Tea Emporium in Plumpton Mallet's market square, was currently sitting in Psychiatrist Dr Jorgenson's office. She had met him a few months prior when she'd made a phony appointment in order to question him about one of his patients. A woman who had died in what Lilly thought were suspicious circumstances. He'd been very gracious regarding her subterfuge and had answered those questions he could, within the remit of his profession, but toward the end he'd cleverly brought the conversation round to Lilly herself. Through their conversation she discovered she had been harbouring negative feelings and some fair amount of guilt regarding her divorce several years prior.
He'd recognised immediately she had been swallowing her emotions and putting on a brave face which as the years had gone by had become second nature. It had come as a complete surprise to Lilly, however. She and her ex-husband had eventually fallen into a platonic relationship, more house mates than partners, and had become lazy in their romantic endeavours, taking each other for granted, and they had naturally drifted apart. While one party wasn't to blame over the other, Lilly had shouldered more than her fair share of responsibility for the failed relationship. Alongside the proverbial, 'is it me?'
Falling out of love, they had gone their separate ways before the apathy could become animosity, and in the main it had been with little tension. He had moved away from Plumpton Mallet, making it easier for them both to move on with their lives. Yet, there was still something about the experience that had been quietly gnawing away at her, and it had taken Dr Jorgenson to make her see it.
He'd also made a diagnosis which could transform into something of a more serious nature if not addressed; compassionate empathy disorder. Lilly had never heard of it, but once Dr Jorgenson had explained what it was, she'd recognised it in herself immediately. It had come to the fore when she'd become reluctantly involved in solving the death of the local woman who had been the doctor's long-term patient.
“So what exactly is compassionate empathy disorder?” she'd asked when he'd first brought it up.
“Well, empathy itself is a significant human capability. It allows us to connect with one another, as well as recognise, understand and share in emotions.”
“So, being able to react with compassion to what someone else is going through?”
“Exactly. But in some cases the person is very sensitive and highly tuned to others' emotions. This can result in 'empathy burnout,' which is when you become emotionally exhausted and completely overwhelmed by taking on everyone else's problems.”
“And this is what I have?” Lilly had asked.
“Not quite yet, it's borderline, though. It would seem you do have difficulty regulating your emotions. If there isn't that boundary, then you risk taking it all on and going the other way. That's to say you tend to stop feeling so empathetic. Your empathy becomes your kryptonite, if you like, and can start to cause you harm. It's a challenge to step back from, but that's something I can help you work through.”
It was at this point that Lilly had welcomed the opportunity to address her issues with the doctor, and regular therapy sessions were set up. He went on to explain in more detail the disorder.
“There are three categories of empathy; Cognitive; where you can place yourself in another's shoes, understand and relate to their emotions and react in an appropriate way. Affective; where you share the feelings another is experiencing. Becoming one with their emotions if you like. And finally, Compassionate; this incorporates both of the other types, making you want to take action and relieve the other person of their suffering. It's partly what made you such an effective agony aunt.”
Over several sessions, they went on to discuss at length the emotional cost of Lilly's involvement in the death of Carol Ann Hotch. She had found herself several times mired in the guilt and emotional well-being of all those concerned. From the victim herself, her husband, and the perpetrator. Even Abigail Douglas, the woman who had taken over her agony aunt job at the paper and was known to be an extremely difficult personality, didn't escape her innate feeling of compassion.
But it was Stacey, an American student and her employee, who had eventually come to her and Abigail's rescue at the eleventh hour, that she felt most responsible for. And it was to her that the conversation turned today, during her fourth session with Dr Jorgenson.
***
“So, tell me how things are going with Stacey? She's been with you a few months now.”
Lilly shifted in her chair and reached for a glass of water on the side table, taking a sip before answering.
“Well, now that the summer holidays are here, she's taken more hours at the shop as she's not got classes. She really is an excellent employee and the customers love her. I had been worried initially about her lack of knowledge regarding what I sell, but she's learned so much since she came to work for me. She said when she first applied that she was a quick study and she was right. My fears were totally unfounded. I couldn't be more pleased.”
Dr Jorgenson smiled. “I expect her being on summer break has afforded you more free time than you're used to since you first opened?”
“Absolutely. I try not to take advantage of her and still spend most of my time in the shop. It is my business, after all. But I am a bit worried about Stacey.”
“Worried? In what way?”
“It's her father,” Lilly said. Wondering if she was about to be ticked off for getting involved in matters that weren't her concern. “She has dual citizenship and grew up in America with her mother because her father was unreliable. She chose to come to a university in England in order to get to know him better, yet he kept her at arms-length for the longest time. He didn't seem to want anything to do with her. He lives in London, I think I've mentioned that before?”
“It's a long way from here. Has he been to visit at all?”
“Not at first, but ever since the newspaper headline ran about how we solved Carol Ann's case, he turns up quite regularly.”
Both Stacey and Lilly had ended up on the front page of The Plumpton Mallet Gazette when it was discovered they were instrumental in solving the case. Stacey had two black eyes, the result of a traffic accident which had ultimately ended a high-speed car chase, the likes of which the small town had never seen before, and saved Lilly's bacon. Along with that of Abigail Douglas who was driving the car being pursued. The sight of his daughter's injuries on-line had spurred Mr Pepper into action, and he'd immediately caught the first available train and landed in Lilly's shop the same afternoon.
“What is it that concerns you, exactly?” Dr Jorgensen asked after a lengthy pause. He never seemed to ask a question that he didn't at least suspect she already knew the answer to.
“I suppose I'm worried it's not sincere,” Lilly said. “Stacey and I have become quite close since she started working for me, as well as also renting the flat above the shop, and I naturally care about her welfare. Mr Pepper has a tendency to let her down quite regularly whenever they make plans, and I'm worried it's causing her some stress.”
The doctor made some notes then asked, “Have you tried to get to know Mr Pepper at all?” without looking up.
Lilly sighed. “No, not really. To be honest, I haven't actually wanted to. I find him quite taciturn and a bit belligerent.”
Dr Jorgenson nodded as though that was exactly what he expected her to say. “Do you think perhaps, Lilly, the reason you are so concerned about the relationship between Mr Pepper and his daughter is because you are using Stacey as a stand in for your own lack of family in the area? Specifically, the fact that you and your ex-husband never had children of your own?”
Lilly started in shock. Her stomach dropped and her heart thumped. Then she frowned. She sometimes wondered why she came to see a man who kept holding up a mirror to her like this. Her parents had passed away, and she'd been an only child. While she'd grown up in Plumpton Mallet and had many friends, it was true she lacked a strong family connection. Drat it!
“I don't believe that's what I'm doing …” she said, then shook her head. “I don't know, maybe I am.” It was a disconcerting admission.
“Don't get me wrong, Lilly, I think the relationship you've developed with Stacey is to be admired. There's nothing wrong with being a role model for the girl, and from what you've told me that's the kind of relationship you've developed. My concern is that Stacey already has both a mother and a father. Her own family drama to juggle. But it's her responsibility, not yours. It's wise not to overstep the mark and intertwine yourself in another's family matters.”
Lilly folded her arms and looked down, tracing the pattern in the carpet with the toe of her sandal.
“Yes, you're right,” she said eventually. “I don't want to overstep, Stacey and I have a good relationship, but I must remember that what's going on between her and her father is their business. I think being the agony aunt for Plumpton Mallet for so long has sometimes made me think people value and want my opinion or help more than they actually do. It's an issue of pride, isn't it? Another reason why I was sceptical initially about the idea of counselling. It was partly the irony of an agony aunt needing the services of a shrink.”
Dr Jorgenson laughed. “It's good you recognise that about yourself.” He closed his notebook and put his pen in his shirt pocket. The signal that the session was coming to an end.
They both stood up and Lilly grabbed her handbag from the adjacent chair, putting the strap over her shoulder.
“So, tell me, what's life been like since you became the most famous woman in Plumpton Mallet?”
Lilly chuckled. “Very strange. A couple of days ago I was away from the shop and Stacey told me later that four different people had come in looking for 'The Super Sleuth.' I've gone from being a local tea shop owner to a point of gossip or interest for over half the town. And beyond, actually. It's weird having people turn up at the shop wanting autographs or their photo taken with me, like I'm a character in a mystery book. It was over three months ago, yet people are still eating it up like it was yesterday. Even the tourists are aware of it. So much so that The Tea Emporium has now been added to the must see stops on the town tour.”
“That must have been good for business?”
“It really has, and believe me I am not complaining, it's just not something I'm used to. Stacey loves it all though, and is now in charge of all our social media, which again has had a very positive effect on trade.”
They'd walked as they talked and now found themselves at the door. Dr Jorgenson opened it for her and Lilly stepped out into the sunshine.
“I'll come and visit your shop soon,” he said. “I'm an avid tea drinker.”
“You wouldn't be British if you weren't,” Lilly replied with a grin.
“Indeed. I need to find enough time to dedicate an hour or two in my pursuit of a perfect cup of tea.”
“Well, you'll be made very welcome. You can try any sample I have. I'm sure we'll find your next favourite blend.”
Lilly thanked the doctor and made her way down the small path. At the gate she turned left and within a couple of minutes was back out into the town centre, a few minutes' walk from the market square and her shop.
***
The summer was now in full swing and the town centre was a hive of activity. Tour buses arrived daily, disgorging excited passengers eager to discover what this quaint little market town had to offer, and Plumpton Mallet had everything they could want.
The river, running along the outskirts of town, was flanked by large fields and small stony beaches, perfect for picnics, with designated areas for both swimming and fishing. The woods, a mass of bluebells carpeting the floor in the spring, were a joy to walk through in summer. Full of squirrels and songbirds and if you were very lucky, the odd deer. And the large green park with its avenue of trees, a play area for children and a pub with a cafe and outdoor seating at one end was immensely popular. As were the colourful rowing boats moored at the side of a quaint stone jetty, in the shadow of an ancient humped-backed foot bridge which took you over the river to the fields at the opposite side.
At the other side of the town were the moors, popular with walkers and hikers. Turning into a mass of purples and green in spring with the heather in abundance, it looked like an old master oil painting viewed from the town's market square nestled in the valley below. It was one of the most popular images for both photographs and on the postcards the town sold to tourists.
The cobbled market square was where Lilly's shop, The Tea Emporium, was situated. A prime position in the centre of the long row of historical shops that flanked one side, double fronted with a cream door in the centre. It looked both inviting and exciting. It also had the one thing none of the other shops had; a sleeping cat in the window. Earl Grey had been a stray who had wandered into the shop a week after it had opened and never left. Lilly adored him, especially because the scar across his nose and the missing chunk of his ear spoke volumes. Proof he'd had it tough on the streets but had survived.
Her bicycle, parked outside the shop and festooned with hanging baskets, looked an absolute picture, and several people had stopped to pose next to it to have their photos taken.
Inside, she checked the basket where her agony aunt letters, posted through the letterbox outside, were collected, and finding several tucked them under her arm. As her eyes adjusted to the dimmer light, compared to the blinding sunshine outside, she spotted Archie Brown, crime writer and her old colleague at the paper, having tea at the counter with Stacey.
Chapter Two
It was rare Lilly got a visit from Archie these days. With his additional workload due to the paper being taken over by a larger concern, a primary reason for Lilly being made redundant, he didn't have a lot of free time. But she was always happy to see him on those rare occasions when he did have enough for a cup of tea and a chat.
“Ah, the wanderer returns.” Archie said with a smile. “We were about to give you up for lost.”
“Hey, Lilly,” Stacey said from the other side of the counter where she was brewing samples for some waiting customers.
Lilly smiled and spoke to several shoppers on her way through the shop, pleased to see it so busy.
“Hello you two. Nice to see you, Archie. What brings you in? Crime at an all-time low?”
Archie scoffed, “I wish. Actually, I was looking for some repair work,” he said, pointing to a little teacup on a velvet covered board at the end of the counter. It was the area Lilly used for examining damaged items for repair. Fine china, delicate as it was, had a nasty habit of being mishandled and damaged, so this was an additional service she offered her customers. She'd taken numerous night classes and become very adept at it, but she only touched those items that weren't antiques or highly valuable.
“Let's have a look,” she said, going behind the counter and searching through a drawer for her combined light and magnifying glass. After a close examination, she deemed it an easy repair. “There are no bits missing so a good adhesive, a light sand and a touch up and it will be as good as new.”
“Excellent,” Archie said. “I'm very fond of that tea set.”
“I'm glad to hear it since you bought it from here.”
“Best set I've ever owned, but I admit I should treat it with a bit more care. Now what's this little repair going to cost me?”
“Consider it a gift for a friend, Archie. It won't take me too long.”
“Very kind of you, Lilly, thank you. Although I suppose you do owe me a favour.”
Lilly raised an eyebrow. “Oh? And why is that, Archie Brown?”
“Two words,” he said, holding up his fingers before folding his arms. “Abigail Douglas.”
Lilly groaned. “What's she done now? And why is it my fault?”
“You persuaded me to let her co-write that last article. The greatest headline and story we've ever had. Since then, she's been the biggest headache you can imagine. She has ideas so far above her station I'm surprised she's not short of oxygen. Which actually would be a big improvement, come to think of it. She's driving everyone at the paper crazy with her demands for all the biggest projects, but especially me.”
Lilly cringed. Abigail had started investigating the Carol Ann Hotch case behind Archie's back. She'd even swiped all his carefully researched notes. Because so few people wrote to the paper for Abigail's agony aunt column now, she had acted out of desperation and fear that her job was in jeopardy. However, Abigail had also been a great help to Lilly as she sought the truth and as a result Lilly had insisted Archie co-write the article with her, to give her some help and job security.
“I'm sorry,” Lilly said. “Is she really that bad?”
“Think of the worst it could be, then multiply it by ten,” Archie said bitterly. “I honestly thought after we'd helped her get her name on the byline, she'd settle down and be grateful. Unfortunately, it wasn't enough to persuade the big bods she had the skills, so they didn't back her up. She's returned to doing her agony aunt column, which doesn't amount to much, and the odd human interest piece, which she's not very good at either, unfortunately. Not enough interest, sympathy or motivation for the reader. She's taken to demanding a position on the investigative journalism team, and I'm not going to put up with it anymore. She's already stolen evidence from my desk once.”
“Couldn't she have been fired for that, Archie?” Stacey asked.
“At the time, yes, if I'd reported it. But there's too much water passed under the bridge now. Not to mention I let her co-write the article in the first place. I wouldn't have a leg to stand on. Has she given you any more trouble, Lilly?”
For a long time Abigail had been a thorn in Lilly's side, insisting she remove the letterbox from outside her shop as it was interfering with her job. The fact people preferred to write to Lilly had not crossed her mind, she was insistent that Lilly was doing it deliberately to make her look like a fool.
“Honestly, since the article ran, I haven't heard from her. She knows I'm the main reason she was allowed to co-write it in the first place, so I imagine that's why she's left me alone as long as she has.”
“Lilly's getting a lot more agony aunt letters though,” Stacey said. “Since you mentioned the letterbox in the article, Archie, people have been writing in from everywhere. There's at least three or four new letters in it every day now.”
“That's true,” Lilly said, nodding.
“You always were good at it. A lot better than Abigail Douglas, that's for sure.”
“Thanks, Archie. Stacey, could you hand me an order form for repairs, please?” She glanced up when Stacey didn't respond. She was staring at her phone while sending a text. “Earth to Stacey!” Lilly said, a little louder, and Stacey jumped.
“Sorry, what did you need?” She asked, stuffing her phone in her pocket.
“A repair order form.”
Stacey located the paperwork and handed it over. Lilly filled it in, asked Archie to sign in then sent Stacey back into the storeroom with the form and the cup. There was a designated shelf with all the repairs Lilly had to do that week. She watched as Stacey disappeared before turning to Archie.
“She's been a bit distracted lately. I think something might be going on. I might need to talk to her about it.”
Archie stood up, stretching his back, then grabbed his hat from the counter and put it on. “Don't prod, Lilly. She's a student and probably doesn't want you nosing into her private business. You're already her boss and her landlord, you don't need to be a parent too.”
“Yes, all right, Archie,” she huffed in response. She thought back to her conversation with Dr Jorgenson. If Archie was pointing it out too, she wondered if she really was guilty of prying too much. It was difficult not to be concerned when there was something so obviously amiss.
***
Stacey took a while to return from the back room, and Lilly suspected it was because she'd been on her phone again. She elected not to mention it. Stacey had always been a highly personable and productive employee, and it shouldn't be necessary to introduce a no phone policy. It should be a given during work hours unless it was an emergency. Yet, for the past couple of days, Stacey had been glued to her phone far more than usual.
Lilly couldn't help but think that Stacey's out of character behaviour had something to do with her father's reappearance in her life. She clearly had a lot of baggage where James Pepper was concerned, and the way he'd acted when the girl had first come to England was, to Lilly's mind, downright insulting.
But then again, it was hardly her job to judge. He had come rushing to Plumpton Mallet when Stacey had been injured, so in his own way he did care. Lilly idly wondered if Stacey would consider moving down to the capital to be closer to her father. The thought worried her, but she shouldn't try to stop her if that's what she wanted. Her thoughts were interrupted when the shop door opened and a familiar face entered.
“Hello, Mrs Davenport, nice to see you again.”
Elizabeth Davenport was a rotund woman of indeterminate age who was always dressed to the nines regardless of what her plans for the day were. She walked with a dignified elegance that spoke of socialites of a bygone era and tilted her head back as though looking down her nose at those around her. Comical looking considering her short stature.
“Miss Tweed,” she said in reply. “How have you been, my dear?”
“Very well, thank you. Is there anything I can help you with?”
“Just browsing today. Your shop has been the talk of the town recently, and I'm rather ashamed to admit I haven't been in since you first opened. You've added to your inventory I see, those gift hampers are new. I'll have a good look round and perhaps will pick up a little something for myself before I leave.” She concluded, before making her way to the rear of the shop to admire some of the silver tea spoons and cake slices.
Stacey, who'd returned from the back and was now standing near Lilly, whispered, “She sounds like the Queen of England.”
Lilly smiled but warned Stacey to hush. Stacey grinned in response.
The shop bell tinkled once more and several well-dressed women entered together. Lilly recognised the woman in the lead immediately. She touched Stacey's shoulder and leaned over, whispering. “That's Lady Defoe. Be as professional as possible while she's here, please.”
“Me? Professional? Always,” Stacey replied, shoving her phone in her pocket, as though she knew she'd been anything but by being glued to it for half the day. “So, like, a real Lady? As in Lord and Lady?” she whispered.
Lilly nodded. Plumpton Mallet may be a historic market town, but it was one of the most sought after places to live in the north of the country, and counted among its residents several members of the aristocracy.
“Welcome to The Tea Emporium,” Lilly said as Lady Defoe caught her eye.
The woman smiled politely. “You have a very beautiful shop.”
“Thank you.”
“Oh, would you look at these adorable teapots? This one is in the shape of a welsh dresser, and look at this one, tea and honey with a beehive as the lid. I've never seen anything like them. They really are exquisite.” She said to her friends, who agreed unanimously.
Lilly was a wise woman. She knew if Lady Defoe made a purchase it would mark her shop as the most fashionable place to buy and consequently bring in an influx of new and very wealthy customers. She stood back, watching Lady Defoe carefully to see what piqued her interest, and waiting for an opportune moment to offer her assistance.
***
Lilly glanced in Stacey's direction and found her gawking open-mouthed at the ladies across the shop. She was utterly mesmerised by Lady Defoe's presence. She had become so adept regarding the teas and other British customs that Lilly had forgotten how alien some things still were to her. There were obviously no members of the aristocracy in the states.
“Stacey, close your mouth. We are not a codfish,” Lilly said quietly, trying not to laugh.
Stacey turned and began to giggle. “Mary Poppins, right? Sorry, it's all kind of new. A real Lady. Wow!” she whispered.
“She's just a person, one with a title admittedly, but she's just the same as us. She's also someone I wouldn't mind frequenting my shop from time to time. It's bound to attract positive attention if she begins to purchase from me.”
“Right, got it,” Stacey said. Turning and getting on with restocking the shelves.
Lady Defoe was, as expected, perusing the high end tea sets Lilly displayed in a locked art deco style cabinet. Since opening the shop, Lilly had only sold one single item from that cabinet and it had been an individual twenty-four carat gold rimmed teacup, for a lady wanting to replace one in a set she already owned.
“Now these are sublime.” Naturally, her friends all agreed with her. “I have been looking for a new set …”
“I can see why you wanted to come here,” one of the others said. “I must tell my husband about this place when I get back to London.”
As Lilly eavesdropped on the conversation, she realised Lady Defoe was hosting a number of out-of-town friends. Among them a fashion designer, and the wife of a foreign diplomat from Paris. Lilly made her way over and smiling politely asked if there was anything she could help them with?
“I do so love this set,” Lady Defoe replied, indicating the set in the cabinet. “Though I'm looking for something not quite so dark. Do you have anything similar but in a lighter shade?”
“Not in stock, but I do have an extensive catalogue you can look through. Perhaps something in there will catch your eye?”
Lady Defoe agreed and followed Lilly back to the counter. The other ladies electing to continue browsing.
“Lilith, look at these napkin rings.” One lady exclaimed.
“These silver teaspoons are precious …”
“This is a beautiful linen tablecloth. Just look at the thread count.”
Lady Defoe settled on one of the stools at the counter, taking in the array of fine teas displayed in the cabinet on the back wall.
“Would you like to sample one of our teas, ma'am?” Stacey asked.
Lady Defoe raised an eyebrow. “Oh, you're an American. How delightful. Where are you from?”
“Well, my mom's work meant we travelled a lot, but I spent a good bit of time in Georgia.”
“I just love the southern united states. I visited Key West last year. Do you know it?”
“I do, actually. Mom and me vacationed there a lot when we were in Georgia. The last time I visited the Earnest Hemingway house.”
“Oh!” Exclaimed Lady Defoe, clasping her hands together in delight. “I adore the Hemingway House. Do you know, I tried to adopt one of the polydactyl cats that live there but they wouldn't let me.” She laughed. “They were offended I'd had the cheek to ask, but there were so many and so adorable, I thought they wouldn't miss one if I made a donation to the museum, but no. They wouldn't countenance the idea.”
“I know, right?” Stacey said, laughing along with her. “They're the cutest things. After the tour, I sat in the garden and one hopped right in my lap and fell asleep. I wound up hanging around for ages because I didn't want to disturb it. So I sat and read Old Man and the Sea while one of Hemingway's cats slept in my lap.”
“How romantic,” Lady Defoe said before turning to Lilly with a smile. “I like this girl. Very cultured. Wherever did you find a young American who knows her teas?”
“As a matter of fact, she found me and she picked up the knowledge very quickly.”
“I'll brew you up something,” Stacey suggested.
“Your favourite, my dear,” Lady Defoe insisted, and Stacey beamed in response, reaching for the chamomile.
Then the genial, relaxed atmosphere was spoiled.
***
“Lady Defoe!” Mrs Davenport shrilled as she materialised out of nowhere to stand at her side. “Always such a pleasure,” she continued, almost performing a curtsy.
Lilly couldn't help but notice Lady Defoe cringe briefly before relaxing her face into a polite smile. She was the epitome of good breeding and manners.
“Hello, Elizabeth. It's been a while. What brings you here?”
“The same as you, it seems. I'm looking for a new tea set.”
Lilly busied herself with arranging the new gift hampers on the counter, fully aware of the reason for Mrs Davenport's change of mind. She'd gone from just browsing and possibly picking up something small to now wanting something extravagant and costly. There were no prizes for guessing why.
Stacey had finished brewing the tea and poured out for both ladies into bone china teacups with a background of vibrant green, on which were decorated an array of colourful spring flowers. Lady Defoe paused to examine and admire the china. “How pretty,” she said with a smile. Everything in the shop seemed to impress the woman. Clearly, she felt as though she'd found a hidden jewel in Lilly's shop.
“Oh, I agree. Lovely colours.” Mrs Davenport said, taking a sip.
“This tea is wonderful,” Lady Defoe said.
“Oh, it is,” Mrs Davenport agreed. “You have excellent taste, Lady Defoe.”
“Oh, it wasn't my choice, Elizabeth. This young lady picked it out for me, and I'm most definitely going to need a box or two to go along with my new set.” She pointed to a photograph in the catalogue, tapping the image twice for emphasis, and Lilly promptly found an order form.
It was an exquisite set, with a background of pale duck egg blue, decorated with Camellia blossoms in the palest pink, called Fairy Blush. A stunning bluebird completed the design, and it was all set off with a 24 carat gold rim around the edges of every individual piece. With a full set for six people, including side plates, teaspoons and infusers, it was the best single sale Lilly had ever had. Lady Defoe also insisted on paying in full there and then rather than just the normal deposit.
The other women also made their way to the till, each of them carrying something to purchase. They all had wide smiles and had obviously thoroughly enjoyed their shopping experience. The French diplomat's wife had bought a couple of single teacups to go with her eclectic set of mismatched ones, along with a silver-plated heart shaped infuser. The fashion designer had bought the linen tablecloth, matching napkins, and a set of six silver napkin rings. The others had selected various items, including two teapots, three gift hampers and sets of fine teaspoons.
“Mark my words, ladies,” Lady Defoe said, rising from her seat. “This adorable shop is going to become a true staple of Plumpton Mallet.”
Chapter Three
Mrs Davenport, who had been standing at the counter browsing the catalogue, cleared her throat. “I think I would like to order this tea set, here,” she said, pointing to the exact one Lady Defoe had just bought.
“I see you and Lady Defoe have similar taste,” Lilly said diplomatically. “Let me get an order form.”
“Thank you, dear. It's a beautiful set, similar to the one in your cabinet I noticed, but I do love the design of this one just that bit more.”
As Lilly was completing the form, the bell rang and glancing up she saw it was Fred Warren, a face she'd not seen for a while. He was a student at the local university who'd come into the shop for advice, just as the Carol Ann Hotch case began to pick up speed. He'd saved her a couple of times during that investigation.
“Fred, what a pleasure.”
“Hi, Miss Tweed.”
“Hey, Fred!” Stacey exclaimed enthusiastically.
Fred smiled and held up a paper bag. “I've got your lunch.”
“You're the best. Thanks!”
“You can take your lunch break if you want, Stacey.”
“Thanks, Lilly.”
Lilly watched as Stacey and Fred made their way to the back storeroom kitchen where there was a table and chairs for breaks.
“Well, well, well …” Lilly muttered to herself. Could that explain the change in Stacey and her obsession with her phone recently? Were she and Fred dating? If they were, then Lilly was pleased for them, they made a nice couple.
“Is everything all right, dear?” asked Mrs Davenport.
“My apologies, Mrs Davenport. Yes, everything's fine. I'll put your order in this evening. Would like to pay in full or just the deposit?”
“Oh, in full is fine.”
Lilly took her gold card and rang it through. Mrs Davenport may not be a member of the aristocracy but she was certainly on a par wealth wise.
“Now, Lilly. I hope you don't mind, but I have a proposition to put to you.”
Lilly poured them both a cup of newly made Green Tea with Jasmine and asked Mrs Davenport what she had mind?
“Well, dear, as you are probably aware, I run one of the most popular book clubs in Plumpton Mallet.” Lilly had had no idea, but she nodded anyway. “Well, our current read is a magnificent saga about a family owned tea plantation in Africa. A beautiful, evocative story, and I happen to be the host this week.”
Lilly continued to nod, patiently waiting for Mrs Davenport to get to the point, because she had no idea where all this seemingly irrelevant information was heading.
“Now, from what I hear on the grapevine, you know your teas very well.”
“Yes, I do. I've always had an interest and had gained a vast knowledge even before opening The Tea Emporium. It was a natural transition for me to make after I left the paper.”
“Well, Lilly, I would like you to come along and give the book club a talk on your teas and a demonstration of how to make a perfect cup using your various samples. You've become rather famous around here, haven't you?” she added, revealing her true motivation. “So, how does that sound?”
Lilly sipped her tea while she thought. Mrs Davenport had a reputation for being a bit pretentious and a bit of a snob. She liked to surround herself with important people, and it was apparent that Lilly had garnered her attention thanks to her sudden rise in popularity as a sleuth. A part of Lilly didn't want to be used in such a way, but on the other hand she recognised what a good opportunity it would be for her business. It would be foolhardy of her to bite her nose off to spite her face.
“It sounds very interesting, Mrs Davenport, although I've not done anything like that before, so don't have a fee off the top of my head.”
“A fee?”
Lilly realised the woman had expected her to do it for free, no doubt for the supposed PR benefit.
“Well, if you're wanting your group to be able to sample the teas, then it will cost me in merchandise. Not to mention my time in preparing and presenting, which will take me away from my business.”
“I see,” Mrs Davenport said, looking crestfallen.
“How many are in your book club?”
“Usually, we have at least five or six in attendance.”
Lilly thought for a moment, then nodded as she worked out a suitable compromise.
“How about seventy-five pounds for the fee? but I'll bring along a selection of my merchandise to sell. If I do well and manage to sell a few items and it's enough to cover the fee, then I will waive it completely. I will take care of everything. All you'll need to do is inform your members they'll need cash deposits if they wish to buy anything, but receipts will be given. How does that sound?”
“Oh yes, that's much more agreeable.” Mrs Davenport said, suitably buoyed again.
“Wonderful, here's my business card. You can send me all the details and I'll be sure to prepare a good presentation for you and your club members.”
“Thank you, my dear. I do believe my guests will enjoy it very much. After all, your shop is truly on its way to becoming a town staple.” With that regurgitation of Lady Defoe's parting words, Elizabeth Davenport sailed out of the shop like a tug boat.
***
“Ooh, I just love the sets you've picked out for this!” Stacey declared as she helped pack the merchandise that would be part of the first outside event Lilly had done.
“Thanks, Stacey. I wanted to make sure I had something for every budget,” Lilly said, passing her a dusky pink coloured teacup with a single dark pink rose and turquoise leaf design. It was part of the vintage range and one of her favourites. Lilly had planned everything down to the last second and was determined to provide an entertaining and interesting presentation for the ladies Elizabeth Davenport was hosting at her book club.
“Do you think there will be a lot of important people there?” Stacey asked. She'd certainly lived up to her name this week, as she'd peppered Lilly with questions about the Defoe family non stop ever since the family matriarch had visited the shop. She was interested in learning more about British history and culture since it was a strong part of her identity despite having grown up the states.
“Not a lot, there's usually only half a dozen or so apparently, but knowing Mrs Davenport they will certainly be influential I should think.”
Lilly passed Stacey several tea infusers and a set of teaspoons with ceramic Alice in Wonderland decorated, handles. “I'm quite sure she only invited me because Lady Defoe complimented my shop and due to my newfound fame as a sleuth. Ridiculous as that is.”
“Seems a bit shallow,” Stacey said.
“I suppose it could be conceived that way, it's all about social games though, isn't it? It's common the world over, not just in rural England. I mean, you only need to look at the news and social media to see it in action.”
“Yeah, I suppose you're right. It's a bit sad though, right?”
Lilly nodded.
“Well, I've got the shop today. Earl will help me hold down the fort.”
Earl meowed from the doorway when he heard his name, he'd been watching proceedings with an avid interest. Probably wondering when he could commandeer an empty box. “We're still here, Mr Grey,” Lilly said, scratching his ears, before taking the last of the boxes out the back door to her car.
Before she left, she returned to double check the till float and saw Stacey was once again glued to her phone, a giddy smile plastered across her face.
“You know, Stacey,” she said gently. “I really like Fred, and I'm glad you've become friends. But, I'd appreciate it if the phone stayed in your pocket during working hours.”
Stacey's face went scarlet. “Oh,” she said. “Um … of course. I'm sorry, we're not …”
“You don't have to tell me, Stacey, it's none of my business. But I do know how exciting the beginnings of a relationship are, I've been there myself. The odd text is fine providing it doesn't affect productivity.”
“Thanks, Lilly,” she said with a weak smile.
The worried expression caused Lilly to pause. “Is there something else worrying you?”
Stacey put her phone in her pocket and sighed. “Fred wants to introduce me to his family.”
“Does he? Well, I'd say that's a very good sign. But it's not something you're ready for, is that it?”
“No, I'm totally fine with meeting his family, it's just I haven't told him about my family drama. You know, with my dad. I'm a bit embarrassed, if I'm honest.”
“Stacey, everyone has family drama of one sort or another, it's nothing to be embarrassed about. Your experience is a lot more common than you'd think, and I'm sure Fred would understand if you explained it to him. He's a sensible young man with a good head in his shoulders.”
“Yeah, it's just that things with my dad are so strange right now, and bringing a boyfriend into the picture, well it would be nice to be able to keep those things separate for a while, you know?”
“I do know. And if you explain it to Fred, I'm sure he will too,” Lilly assured her.
“Thanks, Lilly.”
'No problem. If you want to talk, Stacey, I'm happy to listen,” she said, checking the till as she'd intended to before she left. “But for now, I really need to go if I'm to make this book club meeting on time.”
***
Elizabeth Davenport had given Lilly comprehensive directions to her house: across the bridge that went over the tunnel she rode through into the park, when she took her bike to work. Continue up the road until it reaches the top of the woods and then take a left. Her house, a very large detached in an acre of grounds, was the second on the left. Named Dovecote Grange.
The weather was glorious, very hot with brilliant sunshine in a sky of bright blue. Not a cloud in sight. Elizabeth had told her the book club would be meeting in the garden, under the rose covered pergola, and Lilly could set up in the garden room. A glass covered orangerie style area with wicker seating, brightly coloured soft furnishings and a huge array of plants. Lilly thought it sounded perfect. The demonstration would be at a seating area on the outdoor patio area, alfresco style.
As she pulled up outside, the double wrought-iron gates opened automatically, and once Lilly was through, closed behind her. She continued down the gravel drive, flanked with blossoming rose bushes, Dahlia and marigolds, until she reached the front of the house. Elizabeth Davenport was there to meet her.
“Ah, Lilly, perfect timing. Are you excited to present?”
“Do you know? I am, as a matter of fact. Thank you for the opportunity, Elizabeth,” Lilly replied with a smile.
“I'll show you where you can set up. Follow me.”
Lilly was led through the hallway to the rear of the house and into the garden room. The back of the house was as beautiful as the front, with a well landscaped garden consisting of verdant lawns, established trees and colourful beds. Set in the distance were several ornate white dovecotes, which obviously gave the house its name. In the room itself, against one wall, a sideboard was available for her to display her wares and next to that a table adjacent to the wall outlets for the kettles. Water, Elizabeth said, could be obtained from the kitchen inside to the left.
“And I thought,” she said, taking Lilly out onto the terrace. “That this is where we could sit while you're serving the tea and explaining their benefits.”
It was a large wrought-iron chair and table set in white, adorned with red, white and blue striped cushions, very French looking and perfect for the occasion. There was also a huge free-standing garden umbrella in royal blue for much needed shade.
“I also have a table cloth should you need one?”
“This is lovely, Elizabeth, thank you. I have brought my own cloths. A pale blue with a yellow and white embroidered daisy design for out here, I thought?”
“Oh, how perfectly summer!” she exclaimed, glancing at the small, neat gold watch on her wrist. “Now, my guests will be arriving shortly and will most likely walk straight through the house to the pergola, over there. We'll keep it short and sweet this week so you'll probably have three quarters of an hour or so to get ready before your presentation.”
“That should be plenty of time. I'll just go and get what I need from the car.”
“Wonderful. You can use the gate at the side of the house, it will save you having to walk through. Now if you'll excuse me, I have biscuits in the oven to serve with the tea.”
Lilly smiled as Mrs Davenport scurried back inside. She was absolutely in her element playing hostess. It took Lilly six trips back and forth to get everything she needed, and twenty minutes later the display inside the garden room was complete. She'd added vases of faux greenery and artificial but very realistic tea roses in creams and pinks, then finalised it all with sprinkles of rose petals. She was very pleased with the end result. And when Mrs Davenport entered, so was she.
***
“Oh, Lilly, how gorgeous. You've clearly put a great deal of work and imagination into this,” she said. “It looks like something the Savoy or Claridges would do.
Lilly turned and smiled, seeing her host now had a guest in tow.
“Lilly, let me introduce you to Jane Nolan,” Mrs Davenport began, indicating the woman who had already moved away to examine Elizabeth's orchids. She turned to Lilly and said in hushed tones, “Jane's just inherited two of Plumpton Mallet's best hotels and a number of other properties around the town from her father.” She dropped to a lower whisper. “She's now one of the richest single women in town to come from new money. Her family is all new money, you see, but they've made quite a splash, nonetheless.” She turned to Jane. “Jane, dear, this is Lillian Tweed. She owns that precious new tea shop in the market square.”
Lilly nodded politely.
“How do you do?” Jane said, without meeting Lilly's gaze. She had what Lilly recognised as a supercilious hauteur. Very aloof and unfriendly, as though Lilly were so far beneath her she mattered very little. She wandered over to the display table as a tea set caught her eye.
“How pretty. I've not seen one quite like this before.”
It was the darkest blue one with gold accents, not a rare colour scheme, it was the peacock design that made it unusual. Lilly was about to give her more information on the artist, when Jane excused herself and wandered out into the garden. Lilly frowned, hoping she wasn't going to be treated like 'trade' by all of Elizabeth's guests just because she hadn't been born into wealth and privilege.
“I'll come with you, Jane,” Mrs Davenport called out, then quickly turned back to Lilly. “If Lady Defoe arrives, would you mind calling me?”
“Of course, I didn't realise she would be coming.”
“Well, I naturally invited her and explained you would be attendance to do a bespoke presentation. I didn't hear back, but of course she's very busy.”
Lilly nodded. She doubted Lady Defoe would turn up, but privately wondered if half the reason she'd been invited in the first place was to see if it would be enough to lure the biggest fish. There was no doubt it would be a coup for Elizabeth Davenport to have a woman of her standing attend her little function.
When Elizabeth had gone, Lilly started on the table outside. It was a meticulous process setting up an elegant table, but Lilly knew the type of women who were attending would expect the fine details. Not only that, they would also be able to identify immediately if anything was out of place. She was just placing the sugar bowl and tongs on the central tray when she heard a familiar voice, “Lillian Tweed.”
Lilly couldn't believe it, it was none other than Abigail Douglas.