‘I might lie down a bit,’ she said to no one, and sank to the ground, feeling not at all well, and rather cold, and wondering where on earth her coat had gone.
The Disappearance
Day One
Saturday, 4 December 1926
THE SUN HAD been up for hours when a maid knocked on Archie’s door. I lay in bed across the hall reading The Great Gatsby. This, I thought, turning another page, is the kind of book I would write, if I were an author. Not detective stories.
Despite the thickness of the walls I could hear the maid’s voice clearly. ‘Colonel Christie,’ she said, ‘there’s a telephone call for you. The lady says it’s urgent.’
The rush of air that followed indicated Archie used too much force opening the door. Then I heard his sure-footed steps, following the maid down the hall. I could guess the words going through his mind. No doubt he thought – as I did – that the call must be from Agatha, in the midst of unbearable torment, longing for him to come home and calling it urgent. I shivered under the covers, glad I wouldn’t be the one to hear her tears and pleas.
I closed my book and rose to dress. At least Agatha hadn’t shown up on the Owens’ doorstep. There’s no telling what someone will do, in a true state of bereavement. Especially a woman.
The Owens kept their telephone in their sitting room. When I got downstairs Archie was just emerging, wearing a dressing gown, a broad scowl on his face.
‘Was it Agatha?’ I whispered.
‘It was Honoria,’ he said, tightening the sash around his trim waist. ‘She claims Agatha has gone missing.’
‘Oh dear,’ I said. ‘I hope she’s all right.’
‘I’m certain it’s just histrionics. A ruse to get me back to Styles. I’m ashamed of Honoria, that she’d go along with it.’
‘But Archie.’ I reached out my hand to touch his elbow. ‘Shouldn’t you find out? Make sure everything’s all right? There’s Teddy to think of.’
He frowned at my misstep, sounding like an admonishing wife instead of a mistress. I stepped closer and placed my hand on his chest. ‘Indulge her,’ I said. ‘She’s hurt. Badly hurt.’
Archie’s face softened. He nodded. I felt a pang of humiliation on Agatha’s behalf. That kindness from her husband should be directed by me. He jogged up the stairs and I went to join the Owens in the dining room to take breakfast. I’d already finished my jam and toast when Archie bustled in, fully dressed and holding his pocket watch. I looked on impatiently while he poured himself a cup of coffee. It seemed important that he hurry off home and make sure all was well.
The door bells chimed. After a few moments a maid came in looking puzzled. ‘So sorry to interrupt,’ she said, ‘but there’s a policeman here.’
Noel got to his feet. ‘I’ll see what this is about.’
The maid said, ‘He’s asking for Colonel Christie.’
‘Well, then,’ Noel said, with the confidence of a man who rules the police, and not the other way around. ‘I suppose you’d best show him in.’
‘I’m on my way out,’ Archie said. ‘I’ll see what he wants as I go.’
He nodded to me and I took this as instruction to stay where I was. The men went into the hall and when Ursula followed them I decided I might as well, too. By the time I reached the foyer Archie had gone rather pale.
Noel was scolding the police officer. ‘This is preposterous, Thomas,’ he said. ‘Surely you can trust the man to see to his business on his own.’
‘A lady’s missing,’ the policeman said. He was young – still spotty across his chin – and the effort it took to contradict Noel Owen was evident in the quaver of his voice. ‘I’ve been told to bring Colonel Christie back to Sunningdale.’