The Village of Styles St. Mary
Hastings describes the station at Styles St. Mary when he arrives as "an absurd little station, with no apparent reason for existence, perched up in the midst of green fields and country lanes." He goes on to describe:
The village of Styles St. Mary was situated about two miles from the little station, and Styles Court lay a mile the other side of it. It was a still, warm day in early July. As one looked out over the flat Essex country, lying so green and peaceful under the afternoon sun, it seemed almost impossible to believe that, not so very far away, a great war was running its appointed course. I felt I had suddenly strayed into another world. (4)
The "absurdity" of the station suggests the disjunct between the evidence of industrialism, i.e. the train, among such a pastoral, "otherworldly" atmosphere. Hastings goes on to describe Styles in idyllic terms, clearly buying into the Merrie England fantasy, nostalgic for a pre-Industrial, natural world. His mention of the war being waged "not so very far away" further emphasizes this disjunct between the atmosphere of Styles and the global situation.
Mary's Freedom
When Mary describes her marriage to Hastings as a prison, he narrates:
As she spoke, I had a sudden vision of broad spaces, virgin tracts of forests, untrodden lands—and a realization of what freedom would mean to such a nature as Mary Cavendish. I seemed to see her for a moment as she was, a proud wild creature, as untamed by civilization as some shy bird of the hills. (171)
This imagery, further drawing on the pastoral atmosphere of the novel in general, underscores the fact that Hastings deeply romanticizes Mary Cavendish. It also demonstrates how he so casually objectifies her; Mary's conception of herself, to Hastings, matters less than his own conception of her as a "wild creature."
The Paparazzi Lie in Wait
Hastings describes the charged atmosphere of Styles Court after news of the murder of Emily Inglethorp had circulated through London:
Naturally it was very annoying for the Cavendishes. The house was constantly besieged by reporters, who were consistently denied admission, but who continued to haunt the village and the grounds, where they lay in wait with cameras, for any unwary members of the household. We all lived in a blast of publicity. The Scotland Yard men came and went, examining, questioning, lynx-eyed and reserved of tongue. (135)
The imagery of journalists and photographers "haunting" the village and his use of the phrase "lay in wait," which evokes a predatory nature, in addition to the description of investigators as "lynx-eyed," all contribute to an imagistic portrait of hostility and violence (if not physical violence, then emotional/psychological) toward the Cavendishes.
The Shrewish Wind
As Hastings, Poirot, and Mary approach the house where they will receive the bad news that John has been arrested for the murder of Emily Inglethorp, Hastings describes the weather. "The weather," he narrates, "had broken, and the sharp wind was almost autumnal in its shrewishness. Mary shivered a little, and buttoned her black sports coat closer. The wind through the trees made a mournful noise, like some great giant sighing" (178). Hastings' personification of the weather as beastly and "shrewish" forebodes the bad news that they are about to receive, and the phrase, "the weather had broken" strongly suggests a major shift, like the consequential plot point of John's arrest.
