Read Online Death at Daisy's Folly by Robin Paige - Free Book Online Page A

“Wickett,” he said, “‘ave ye met Winnie Wospottle?”
    Across the table, Wickett was taken with a fit of coughing and had to leave. With a disgusted look, Richards rose from the bench, too, followed by surly young Marsh. Lawrence had been abandoned.
    Winnie leaned seductively toward him. “Don’t tell me ye don’t know wot goes on at these country ‘ouse parties, Quibbley.”
    â€œWot d’ye mean?” Lawrence managed, trying to maintain the appearance of innocence.
    â€œI see th’ sheets when they come down t’ th’ laundry,” she said in a conspiratorial tone. “There’s foolishness afoot abovestairs. Ev‘ry lady’s got ’er gent, ev‘ry gent’s got ’is lady.”
    â€œBut o’ course,” Lawrence said, making a last effort. “The ladies an’ gents ’re married, ain’t they?”
    Winnie boxed Lawrence’s ear smartly. “Lor’ bless th’ man!” she exclaimed. “Did ye jes’ ride in on th’ hay wagon, Quibbley? Th’ lords an’ ladies don’t tumble wi’ th’ ones they’re wed to, not a bit of it!” She grinned suggestively, showing a gold-capped tooth. “Why don’t ye meet me i’ th’ ironin’ room t‘night, luv? There’s a corner by th’ ’ot water boiler that’s private an’ not too uncomfort’ble.”
    The sight of Amelia’s white face rose before him, and Lawrence knew he had to resist Winnie’s wiles. He shook his head determinedly. “I got t’ admit, yer beaut’ful as ever, ol’ girl, but—”
    She stroked his arm. “We don’t ‘ave t’ do nothin’, if ye don’t feel like it, Quibbley,” she murmured. “Jes’ come along an’ ’ave a bit o’ tipple wi’ me, fer ol’ times’ sake.” She looked up at him. “Pleeze?”
    And Lawrence, who had once been brave enough to jump onto a runaway motorcar and bring it to a halt, found that he lacked the courage to say no to Winnie Wospottle.

7
    When lovely woman stoops to folly
And finds too late her heart’s betrayed,
She’ll learn to practice stratagems
And wield her power undismayed.
    â€”BERYL BARDWELL The Loves of Lady Lenore
    Â 
    Â 
    A melia had no way of knowing the extent of Lawrence’s perfidy, but she could guess. Imagining the worst—Lawrence reunited with a love he had once jilted—she stumbled out of the servants’ hall. Halfway up the back stairs, she could go no further. She sank down, sobbing, brokenhearted.
    After a few moments, she felt a hand on her shoulder. “Amelia?” a voice asked. “Wot’s wrong, dear? Is there anythin’ I kin do?”
    Amelia looked up into the face of the young girl—one of the laundry maids—whose room she had shared last night. Hearing the comforting voice, she broke into a fresh fit of weeping.
    The girl, whose name was Meg, sat down beside her on the step and put an arm around her shoulders. “Whatever ‘tis,” she said practically, “ ’tain’t bad ‘nough t’ carry on that way.”
    â€œYes, ’tis,” Amelia insisted, sniffling. “It’s worse.”
    â€œIt’s yer sweet‘eart, I bet,” Meg said, patting her arm. “Ye ought t’do what th’ upstairs ladies do, Amelia. ‘Ave more’n one sweet’eart. That way, when one betrays yer, there’s another one waitin’”
    Meg’s advice was sensible enough, but Amelia’s gentle heart almost gave way at the thought of dealing with more than one treacherous man at a time. “I cudn’t do that, Meg,” she said, and dropped her forehead on her knees. “I’m too true.”
    Meg sighed. “I know,” she said forlornly. “I cudn‘t, neither. First one, then another—I