Read Online Murder at the Mikado by Julianna Deering - Free Book Online
Authors: Julianna Deering
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new. Besides, isn’t that sort of like my coming to England? While everything’s very old here, it’s all new to me.”
Mrs. Forest brought out a piece of black velvet and laid it on the counter. Then she set the brooch on it.
“The lady who owned this, a Mrs. Featherstone, was also from America. She came here when she was just a girl, sent over by her parents due to the war between the North and the South. She met Mr. Featherstone and never went home again. They were married nearly seventy years and passed away about four years ago now. She went only a day after he did. I’m told he gave her this brooch on their wedding day.”
“Isn’t that a lovely story?” Madeline turned shining eyes to her aunt. “So romantic.”
Aunt Ruth looked as if she didn’t believe a word of it, but at least she was polite enough not to say so. “And how did you come by it, may I ask?”
“Once the old couple were gone, one of the man’s distant relatives, a great-nephew or some such, sold off everythingthey had.” There was a certain wistfulness in Mrs. Forest’s rheumy eyes. “There were a few rather grand pieces of jewelry that were a bit much for my shop, but I did manage to get hold of some of the smaller ones. All of them sold now. All but this.” She held up the brooch near Madeline’s cheek. “You would look charming wearing it. It suits you.”
Madeline beamed at her. “It’s just what I wanted, even if I didn’t know it until just now. I’ll take it.”
“Hogwash,” Aunt Ruth said the moment she and Madeline left the shop. “Utter and unadulterated hogwash.”
Madeline giggled. “I don’t care if it is. I like the brooch, and I want it for my wedding.”
“Besides,” Aunt Ruth said, “aren’t those things, the something old and new and all the rest, aren’t they supposed to be given to you? I didn’t think you were supposed to buy them for yourself.”
“What difference does it make? If you like, I’ll give the brooch to you, and you can give it to me as a wedding present. How would that be?”
Madeline put the little box holding the brooch into her purse and snapped the clasp shut.
“Well, that Mrs. Forest can tell a tale,” Aunt Ruth said, pulling her coat more snugly around her neck.
“I thought it was a very sweet story, and maybe it really is true.” Madeline took her aunt’s arm. “Come on. I want to go to the bookstore.”
“Whatever for? You have stacks of books you haven’t read yet, as well as a whole library at Farthering Place.”
“I know.” Madeline piloted her aunt across the slushy street and onto the sidewalk in front of the tea shop. “I just want to see how much it’s changed since it was open last.”
Aunt Ruth looked over at the bookstore and frowned. “I’d think you would want to steer clear of it after what happened there.”
“I can’t go my whole life being afraid of the local bookstore. Besides, from what I hear, Mr. and Mrs. Ketterley are very nice.”
“I’m certain you and your Englishman will be in and out of their shop more days than not. If you—” Aunt Ruth stopped short, her lips pursed. “I think we need to go back home instead, Madeline. I have something I need to see to.”
For a moment, Madeline was puzzled. Then she saw the gleaming red bicycle leaning up against the side of the bookshop and suppressed a laugh. “Still avoiding him?”
Aunt Ruth shook her head. “Nothing of the sort. No man will ever influence where I choose to go or when I choose to go there. I just . . . feel like going home now.”
“Yes, Aunt Ruth.”
Madeline took her arm, still trying to hide her smile, and they hurried down the High Street. Just as they passed the bookshop, there was the jingle of a bell and the front door opened.
“Well, good morning, ladies.” Mr. Llewellyn, owner of the bicycle, grinned and made a courtly bow. “What a delightful surprise to see you both.”
“Good morning, Mr. Llewellyn,” Madeline called as Aunt
Mrs. Forest brought out a piece of black velvet and laid it on the counter. Then she set the brooch on it.
“The lady who owned this, a Mrs. Featherstone, was also from America. She came here when she was just a girl, sent over by her parents due to the war between the North and the South. She met Mr. Featherstone and never went home again. They were married nearly seventy years and passed away about four years ago now. She went only a day after he did. I’m told he gave her this brooch on their wedding day.”
“Isn’t that a lovely story?” Madeline turned shining eyes to her aunt. “So romantic.”
Aunt Ruth looked as if she didn’t believe a word of it, but at least she was polite enough not to say so. “And how did you come by it, may I ask?”
“Once the old couple were gone, one of the man’s distant relatives, a great-nephew or some such, sold off everythingthey had.” There was a certain wistfulness in Mrs. Forest’s rheumy eyes. “There were a few rather grand pieces of jewelry that were a bit much for my shop, but I did manage to get hold of some of the smaller ones. All of them sold now. All but this.” She held up the brooch near Madeline’s cheek. “You would look charming wearing it. It suits you.”
Madeline beamed at her. “It’s just what I wanted, even if I didn’t know it until just now. I’ll take it.”
“Hogwash,” Aunt Ruth said the moment she and Madeline left the shop. “Utter and unadulterated hogwash.”
Madeline giggled. “I don’t care if it is. I like the brooch, and I want it for my wedding.”
“Besides,” Aunt Ruth said, “aren’t those things, the something old and new and all the rest, aren’t they supposed to be given to you? I didn’t think you were supposed to buy them for yourself.”
“What difference does it make? If you like, I’ll give the brooch to you, and you can give it to me as a wedding present. How would that be?”
Madeline put the little box holding the brooch into her purse and snapped the clasp shut.
“Well, that Mrs. Forest can tell a tale,” Aunt Ruth said, pulling her coat more snugly around her neck.
“I thought it was a very sweet story, and maybe it really is true.” Madeline took her aunt’s arm. “Come on. I want to go to the bookstore.”
“Whatever for? You have stacks of books you haven’t read yet, as well as a whole library at Farthering Place.”
“I know.” Madeline piloted her aunt across the slushy street and onto the sidewalk in front of the tea shop. “I just want to see how much it’s changed since it was open last.”
Aunt Ruth looked over at the bookstore and frowned. “I’d think you would want to steer clear of it after what happened there.”
“I can’t go my whole life being afraid of the local bookstore. Besides, from what I hear, Mr. and Mrs. Ketterley are very nice.”
“I’m certain you and your Englishman will be in and out of their shop more days than not. If you—” Aunt Ruth stopped short, her lips pursed. “I think we need to go back home instead, Madeline. I have something I need to see to.”
For a moment, Madeline was puzzled. Then she saw the gleaming red bicycle leaning up against the side of the bookshop and suppressed a laugh. “Still avoiding him?”
Aunt Ruth shook her head. “Nothing of the sort. No man will ever influence where I choose to go or when I choose to go there. I just . . . feel like going home now.”
“Yes, Aunt Ruth.”
Madeline took her arm, still trying to hide her smile, and they hurried down the High Street. Just as they passed the bookshop, there was the jingle of a bell and the front door opened.
“Well, good morning, ladies.” Mr. Llewellyn, owner of the bicycle, grinned and made a courtly bow. “What a delightful surprise to see you both.”
“Good morning, Mr. Llewellyn,” Madeline called as Aunt
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