most perfect weather? Clear summer skies and still nights. I just adore it. I can smell the night-scented stock from the bedroom window, and when the breeze is off the sea, I awake to the fresh fragrance of sand and seaweed. Wonderful.”
Her low laugh seemed to ripple across the room, and Cecily gazed at her friend with the sense of wonder that never deserted her.
Madeline’s youthful appearance belied her age by at least ten years, sometimes more. Her graceful figure and long, flowing black hair belonged more to a young girl than a woman past forty.
There was not too much difference in their ages, but Cecily felt positively ancient compared to her friend. Maybe it was the hair, though Cecily couldn’t imagine letting her own long tresses loose from the bun to fall about her shoulders that way.
Yet on Madeline it seemed so natural—if there was anything natural about Madeline. There were many who swore she was a witch, or at the very least a gypsy, possessed of strange and incredible powers.
There was no doubt that Madeline exhibited unusual capabilities, seemingly impossible at times. For some reasona vision of Simani popped into Cecily’s mind. It took her a moment or two to heed the question Madeline asked her.
“I’m sorry.” Cecily stared up at her friend. “What did you say?”
“Well, well, you look positively bewitched.” Madeline peered closer at her. “Are you feeling unwell? Can I get you some herb tea? You look as if you need something to relax you.”
“When have I not?” Cecily answered lightly. “I’d love tea, but plain black Ceylon, please. I never did enjoy that brew that you are so fond of.”
“Much better for you.” Madeline seemed to float across the room, managing to look regal in a soft blue cotton gown that had long ago faded from being hung so many times in the sun to dry. “Herbs can cure so many ills, you know.” The bead curtain serving as a door rattled as she passed through, then slowly settled back into place.
Cecily leaned back in the chair and closed her eyes until Madeline returned with a loaded tray in her hands.
“I’m sure you haven’t had dinner yet,” Madeline said, “so you must be hungry. Help yourself to a Cornish pasty or sausage roll. I picked them up from Dolly’s Tea Shop today, so they are quite fresh.”
“No, thank you, just the tea.” Cecily took the cup and saucer from her. “I’ll be dining as soon as I get back to the hotel. I won’t stay long this time. I must get back, or Baxter will begin to worry.”
“It must be wonderful to have a man to worry about you.” Madeline lowered herself to the floor in one fluid movement and tucked her bare feet under the fabric of her voluminous skirt.
Cecily took a sip of her tea before answering. “Oh, you know Baxter, he worries about everything. He’s an old fussbudget, but he means well, I suppose.”
Madeline’s dark eyes rested on Cecily’s face. “One day, Cecily, my dear, you will know what is in your heart and inyour mind. Don’t wait too long, for devotion is only too fleeting and can disappear in a twinkling if neglected.”
Well used to Madeline’s flowery speeches, Cecily took little notice of the words. “Well, I have more to worry about right now than Baxter’s supposed devotion. I’m afraid we’ve had another death at the hotel.”
Madeline’s eyes widened. “No one I am acquainted with, I hope?”
“Not unless you were on personal terms with Sir Richard Malton.”
“Sir Richard? I know who he is, of course.” Madeline replaced her cup in the saucer and wriggled closer. “Tell me what happened. Don’t leave out a thing.”
Cecily recounted the dramatic death, while Madeline’s gaze remained fastened on her face. “Poor Phoebe saw the whole thing,” Cecily said after she’d described the fall. “Arthur had to carry her back into the hotel.”
Madeline sniffed. “Phoebe always did like to be melodramatic. She falls in a dead faint if a horse steps
Her low laugh seemed to ripple across the room, and Cecily gazed at her friend with the sense of wonder that never deserted her.
Madeline’s youthful appearance belied her age by at least ten years, sometimes more. Her graceful figure and long, flowing black hair belonged more to a young girl than a woman past forty.
There was not too much difference in their ages, but Cecily felt positively ancient compared to her friend. Maybe it was the hair, though Cecily couldn’t imagine letting her own long tresses loose from the bun to fall about her shoulders that way.
Yet on Madeline it seemed so natural—if there was anything natural about Madeline. There were many who swore she was a witch, or at the very least a gypsy, possessed of strange and incredible powers.
There was no doubt that Madeline exhibited unusual capabilities, seemingly impossible at times. For some reasona vision of Simani popped into Cecily’s mind. It took her a moment or two to heed the question Madeline asked her.
“I’m sorry.” Cecily stared up at her friend. “What did you say?”
“Well, well, you look positively bewitched.” Madeline peered closer at her. “Are you feeling unwell? Can I get you some herb tea? You look as if you need something to relax you.”
“When have I not?” Cecily answered lightly. “I’d love tea, but plain black Ceylon, please. I never did enjoy that brew that you are so fond of.”
“Much better for you.” Madeline seemed to float across the room, managing to look regal in a soft blue cotton gown that had long ago faded from being hung so many times in the sun to dry. “Herbs can cure so many ills, you know.” The bead curtain serving as a door rattled as she passed through, then slowly settled back into place.
Cecily leaned back in the chair and closed her eyes until Madeline returned with a loaded tray in her hands.
“I’m sure you haven’t had dinner yet,” Madeline said, “so you must be hungry. Help yourself to a Cornish pasty or sausage roll. I picked them up from Dolly’s Tea Shop today, so they are quite fresh.”
“No, thank you, just the tea.” Cecily took the cup and saucer from her. “I’ll be dining as soon as I get back to the hotel. I won’t stay long this time. I must get back, or Baxter will begin to worry.”
“It must be wonderful to have a man to worry about you.” Madeline lowered herself to the floor in one fluid movement and tucked her bare feet under the fabric of her voluminous skirt.
Cecily took a sip of her tea before answering. “Oh, you know Baxter, he worries about everything. He’s an old fussbudget, but he means well, I suppose.”
Madeline’s dark eyes rested on Cecily’s face. “One day, Cecily, my dear, you will know what is in your heart and inyour mind. Don’t wait too long, for devotion is only too fleeting and can disappear in a twinkling if neglected.”
Well used to Madeline’s flowery speeches, Cecily took little notice of the words. “Well, I have more to worry about right now than Baxter’s supposed devotion. I’m afraid we’ve had another death at the hotel.”
Madeline’s eyes widened. “No one I am acquainted with, I hope?”
“Not unless you were on personal terms with Sir Richard Malton.”
“Sir Richard? I know who he is, of course.” Madeline replaced her cup in the saucer and wriggled closer. “Tell me what happened. Don’t leave out a thing.”
Cecily recounted the dramatic death, while Madeline’s gaze remained fastened on her face. “Poor Phoebe saw the whole thing,” Cecily said after she’d described the fall. “Arthur had to carry her back into the hotel.”
Madeline sniffed. “Phoebe always did like to be melodramatic. She falls in a dead faint if a horse steps
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