Read Online Death at Wentwater Court by Carola Dunn - Free Book Online

the horror returned. Nonetheless, she was rather pleased with the way they had come out. She had succeeded in shading the lens from the glare of sun on snow and ice. Most of both close-up and more distant shots were clear, with jolly good contrast. Lucy would be proud of her.
    With a puzzled frown, she took a closer look at one of the pictures. Those marks on the broken edge of the ice, almost as if …
    A knock on the door interrupted her train of thought. “Miss?”
    â€œIt’s all right, you can come in.”
    The door opened two inches and an eye appeared. “I don’t want to spoil your pitchers, miss.”
    â€œThank you, but really, it’s all right now.”
    Gingerly, a footman stepped into the scullery. “Luncheon will be served in quarter of an hour, miss, and the detective’s asking to see you.”
    â€œA Scotland Yard man?” Daisy asked, flipping electrical switches to Off. “Here already? Or is it the local police?”
    â€œFrom Scotland Yard, miss, a Chief Inspector. Seems he was in Hampshire on business anyway. He’s already seen Miss Petrie and Master James—Lord Beddowe, that is.” He stepped back to let her precede him through the door and along the dimly lit corridor.
    â€œWell, I don’t want to keep him waiting, but I’m starved. Is he lunching with the family?”
    â€œCrikey, miss, I shouldn’t think so! I mean, a p’leeceman’s not a real gentleman, is he? But you better ask Mr. Drew.” He dodged past her to hold open the baize door from the servants’ quarters.
    The butler was in the dining-room, casting a last glance over the
table before announcing lunch. “His lordship has not intimated to me that he wishes the detective to join the Family,” he said austerely.
    â€œA Chief Inspector won’t be frightfully happy to be expected to eat in the servants’ hall! I suppose you’ll give him a tray in … wherever he is?”
    â€œThe Blue Salon, miss. The detective has not requested refreshment.”
    â€œThe poor chap’s bound to be glad of a bite to eat. I’m sure Lord Wentwater won’t mind if you take him some soup and sandwiches. Tell him I’ll be with him right after lunch.” She would willingly have shared the policeman’s sandwiches, but she wanted to see how Lord Stephen’s demise affected the company.
    Fenella appeared to have recovered from the shock of finding the body. James and Phillip sat on either side of her, treating her like a piece of priceless porcelain. She basked in their solicitude.
    Marjorie was absent. “The poor prune came unstrung,” Wilfred told Daisy, seated beside him. “Dr. Fennis doped her up. Doesn’t know when she’s well off,” he added in an undertone. “Astwick was a rotten swine.”
    â€œI can’t say I cared for him myself, but he’s dead now.”
    â€œDe mortuis , et cetera.” He pulled a face. “Hypocritical bunkum.”
    Since Wilfred was distinctly cheerful, the smell of gin on his breath was presumably not from drowning his sorrows but from celebrating. Lady Josephine was also in sunny spirits which, whenever she glanced at her thoughtful husband, she tried guiltily to hide behind a more appropriate cloud of solemnity.
    Annabel, on the other hand, was even paler and quieter than usual, and seemed to have lost her appetite. The removal of her persecutor ought to have bucked her up no end. Daisy wondered whether she was mistaken in believing that the young countess had feared Lord Stephen. Was she now mourning her lover?
    The earl certainly had every reason to rejoice, yet he was as soberly formal, as unreadable, as ever.
    After lunch, Daisy declared her intention of skipping coffee and
going to see the C.I.D. man. At once Phillip, James, Lord Wentwater, and even Sir Hugh offered to accompany her.
    â€œHeavens, no, thank you,” she said, laughing.