Page 24 of Murder at Hambledon Hall
“The science will catch up when microscopes become more sophisticated,” Harry said. “One day.”
It was a long way to come to hear a few short sentences that could have been told to me over the telephone, but I didn’t mind. There was one more thing I wanted to ask D.I. Hobart. I told him about the bridleway marked on the old map.
“I believe the current Lord Kershaw has revoked the right for the public to use it,” I said. “If the right was never actually given, can he simply do as he pleases? It doesn’t seem fair if the villagers have been using it for centuries.”
“I don’t know a lot about country laws. Not a lot of need for that kind of knowledge at Scotland Yard. But I think that if the villagers can prove they’ve been using the path for a long period of time without interruption, there’d be a case to have Lord Kershaw’s decision overturned by the courts.”
“The proof would have to be documented,” Harry added. “No judge will overrule a landowner of Kershaw’s caliber based on the testimony of a few elderly locals who’ve lived in the area all their lives.”
I refrained from discussing it further as the two Mrs. Hobarts returned. I didn’t want to talk about the rather upsetting topic of murder in front of Ann Hobart. While I knew Harry’s mother didn’t mind, having been married to a policeman for so long, I didn’t want the twinkle in his aunt’s eye to disappear.
We talked about other topics while they poured tea and sliced up the lemon cake. It gave me an opportunity to get to know them all better. Usually, our conversations were of a gruesome nature, but now I got to see how they interacted as a family. They were clearly all fond of Harry. If he accepted every slice of cake and refill of his cup offered to him, he would have to be rolled out of the house, but he politely declined with his usual charm. It seemed the two childless couples had raised him together. As a lonely thirteen-year-old who’d spent some time living on the streets, they’d given him just what he needed.
I wasn’t sure why the conversation turned to gardening, but when it did, it triggered a memory of something Lord Kershaw had said. That led to further questions I needed to add to my list.
I hadn’t realized my concentration drifted until Harry spoke up. “Go on, Cleo. Out with it.”
“Out with what?”
“You haven’t been listening to a word I’ve said.”
“That’s because you were talking about how the Eiffel Tower was made.”
“I was talking about Philadelphia City Hall’s tower.”
I glanced around at the three Hobarts, hoping I hadn’t offended any of them by suggesting Harry’s conversation was dull. While his mother scrutinized me over the rim of her teacup, and his father looked oblivious, his aunt smiled at me.
“I found myself drifting off, too, Miss Fox,” she said. “I don’t share Harry’s enthusiasm for science and mathematics. Sorry, Harry dear.”
That gave me the opening I needed to broach the topic that was occupying my mind. “I was thinking about science just now, actually. Forgive me, but my current case is somewhat complicated and there’s a particular point I wanted Harry’s expertise on.”
His aunt’s smile brightened even more. “I’m not surprised. He is very clever.”
His mother’s gaze softened a little, and his father stopped giving his cake so much attention and regarded me with interest. It seemed I’d said the perfect thing.
“You read a great deal of science books when you were young,” I began. “What do you know of botany?”
Harry laughed softly. “I’ve lived in the city my entire life, so very little. My interest has always been in engineering. Mother and Aunt both like gardening, though.”
“We do!” Ann Hobart declared. “We would love to be able to assist you in your investigation, Miss Fox.”
Harry’s mother put down her cup. All vestiges of stern scrutiny and stiffness were gone. She was as eager to help me as her sister-in-law. “What would you like to know?”
“The leaf or stem of a plant can stain the gardener’s skin, I presume.”
“If the gardener is foolish enough not to wear gloves.”
I indicated the side of my right forefinger where Lord Kershaw had tried and failed to rub off the discoloration. “One of the suspects had a stain here, but it was an unusual shade of green.”
“Unusual how?” Harry’s aunt asked.
I looked around the room in an attempt to find a match but couldn’t. “It was similar to teal, but softer.”
“The leaves of many succulents are teal.”
“She said it was softer,” the other Mrs. Hobart pointed out.
“I’ve seen succulents,” I said. “That’s not the right color.”
