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Updated: June 10, 2025
Surely Olivia Pendarth's interest in her neighbours' concerns was, to say the least of it, excessive. But the other's next words modified her censorious thoughts. "Colonel Crofton and one of my brothers were in the same regiment together.
"The Regiment!" How sick she had got of those two words during her second married life! She was sorry that Alice, whom she liked, should be so queerly like Cecil. Even their voices were alike, and she had uttered the two words with that peculiar intonation her husband always used when speaking of any of his old comrades-in-arms. All the same Miss Pendarth's sudden appearance had been a godsend.
She intended to stay only the time that strict civility enjoined, and she would have been surprised indeed had she been able to foresee what a pregnant and, to her, personally, painful train of events were to follow as a result of the quarter of an hour she spent in Miss Pendarth's old-fashioned upstairs sitting-room where only privileged visitors were ever made welcome.
As he did so, he realised that it formed a key to the newspaper report he had just read, for Miss Pendarth's letter ran: My dear Janet, I am longing to talk over the enclosed with you. I was lately in Essex, and when we meet I will tell you all that was said and suspected there at the time of Colonel Crofton's death. Someone we wot of got off very lightly.
They seem to have gone on a walk together yesterday afternoon, and the girl at the post-office, who is often sent long distances with telegrams and messages, saw them in the North Wood kissing one another." Godfrey uttered an exclamation of surprise and disgust. How extraordinary that a woman of Miss Pendarth's birth and breeding should listen to, and believe, low village gossip!
Miss Crofton had also stayed on in Beechfield, but only a day longer than she had intended to do that is, till the Tuesday. She and Miss Pendarth had met more than once, striking up something like a real friendship. But this, instead of modifying, had intensified Miss Pendarth's growing prejudice against the new tenant of The Trellis House.
"I was thinking, Miss Betty, that you might borrow a bottle of port wine at Rose Cottage." "I don't think I can do that," said Betty decidedly, "you see, Miss Pendarth's port is very good port, and we could never give her back a bottle of the same quality."
Janet looked up quickly. "I confess I should very much like to read that," she exclaimed, and then she added, "but I shan't be in this afternoon. I've promised to go over to Oakford." That much information she would vouchsafe her old friend. A slightly satirical look came over Miss Pendarth's face.
"That poor, second-rate little woman seems to have told Rosamund as much, and Godfrey Radmore confirmed it." "Yes, I suppose one ought to say that there is no real doubt that he committed suicide." Yet Miss Pendarth's voice seemed to imply that there was some doubt.
Very carefully he then slipped the india-rubber band off the roll of brown paper which had been confided to him by Miss Pendarth. He spread out the sheet of newspaper, putting aside the brown paper in which it had been rolled, as also Miss Pendarth's open letter to his mother.
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