Read Online Murder Goes Mumming by Charlotte MacLeod - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Charlotte MacLeod
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Annabelle.”
She gave him a peck on the cheek to ease the pain of parting and went along to the bathroom. Rhys knew he should wish her elsewhere, but how could he when the mere thought of being away from her was too dreadful to admit into consciousness? Anyway, there was no chance of getting her out without putting her to greater risk from the weather than she stood at in the house, and furthermore Ludovic liked her. Whatever had happened to Granny must surely be a family affair. The best protection Rhys could give Janet was to leave it that way, for as long as he could manage.
Playing the role of an undistinguished member of a distinguished family, in love with a young woman as eminently loveworthy as Miss Janet Wadman and not much interested in anything else, should convince any murderer that neither he nor she was a threat. It would involve a lot of hand holding and so forth, but Rhys was not one to shirk so manifest a duty. He had no trouble putting on a shining morning face for Squire.
“Ah, there you are, Madoc. I was wondering if I’d have to eat my porridge alone.”
Rhys went to the sideboard and took a plate. “Janet should be along sooner or later. She’s getting up now, I believe.”
“That’s a pleasant surprise. I thought she and Val would chatter half the night and sleep all day.”
“Oh, they ragged a bit. Girls will be girls and all that. But Janet was rather done in as she’d mentioned before we went up. By the way, I must tell you that she and I are aware of last night’s sad event. We were with Babs and Clara when they found Mrs. Condrycke. It had been a question of whether we were to be introduced, you see. We quite understood why they felt it would be wiser not to spoil the memory of a delightful evening by rousing everyone and spreading the bad news. Janet and I do sympathize most sincerely. If the weather permitted, we’d take our discreet departure, but as we can’t do that, please count on us to do whatever will make things easier for you and your family.”
“My boy, you mustn’t think of leaving. Surely you realize that while we’re all naturally grieved, we’re not in the least surprised. Considering Granny’s age and the state of her health, she could have gone any time these past two years. We’d all bowed to the inevitable some time ago.”
Squire put down his porridge spoon and bowed to the inevitable a moment longer, then shook his head and bravely picked up the spoon again. “With the lads home from school and the whole family gathered together for a happy holiday, it would be too cruel to go into mourning for what couldn’t have been helped. Clara was quite right in her decision. We must carry on. Granny wouldn’t have wanted it any other way, nor do I.”
He took a manful scoop of porridge. “Between ourselves, Madoc, life can be damned dreary up here for my daughters during these long winter months. Not that they complain. Wonderful women, both of them, always ready for a prank. I can’t help thinking of Queen Alexandra and her children. Did you know that when they got together, those grownup princes and princesses used to romp and play like a crowd of young hobbledehoys? That’s the true family spirit, Madoc. That’s what I like to see here at Graylings. And damn it,” Squire wiped his nose rather savagely on his napkin, “that’s what we’re going to have this Christmas. I suppose,” he added on a more conventionally matter-of-fact note, “it’s much the same when your family get together.”
Rhys tried to picture his Welsh relatives romping like young hobbledehoys for the edification of his great-uncle and couldn’t manage it. They’d more likely be either singing in parts, making up rude rhymes in the ancient bardic tradition, drinking, eating, or exchanging heated views on their pet subjects of religion, music, and sheepdip.
“Oh, you know the Welsh,” he murmured. “Our idea of a wild time is reading the juicier bits from the Song of
She gave him a peck on the cheek to ease the pain of parting and went along to the bathroom. Rhys knew he should wish her elsewhere, but how could he when the mere thought of being away from her was too dreadful to admit into consciousness? Anyway, there was no chance of getting her out without putting her to greater risk from the weather than she stood at in the house, and furthermore Ludovic liked her. Whatever had happened to Granny must surely be a family affair. The best protection Rhys could give Janet was to leave it that way, for as long as he could manage.
Playing the role of an undistinguished member of a distinguished family, in love with a young woman as eminently loveworthy as Miss Janet Wadman and not much interested in anything else, should convince any murderer that neither he nor she was a threat. It would involve a lot of hand holding and so forth, but Rhys was not one to shirk so manifest a duty. He had no trouble putting on a shining morning face for Squire.
“Ah, there you are, Madoc. I was wondering if I’d have to eat my porridge alone.”
Rhys went to the sideboard and took a plate. “Janet should be along sooner or later. She’s getting up now, I believe.”
“That’s a pleasant surprise. I thought she and Val would chatter half the night and sleep all day.”
“Oh, they ragged a bit. Girls will be girls and all that. But Janet was rather done in as she’d mentioned before we went up. By the way, I must tell you that she and I are aware of last night’s sad event. We were with Babs and Clara when they found Mrs. Condrycke. It had been a question of whether we were to be introduced, you see. We quite understood why they felt it would be wiser not to spoil the memory of a delightful evening by rousing everyone and spreading the bad news. Janet and I do sympathize most sincerely. If the weather permitted, we’d take our discreet departure, but as we can’t do that, please count on us to do whatever will make things easier for you and your family.”
“My boy, you mustn’t think of leaving. Surely you realize that while we’re all naturally grieved, we’re not in the least surprised. Considering Granny’s age and the state of her health, she could have gone any time these past two years. We’d all bowed to the inevitable some time ago.”
Squire put down his porridge spoon and bowed to the inevitable a moment longer, then shook his head and bravely picked up the spoon again. “With the lads home from school and the whole family gathered together for a happy holiday, it would be too cruel to go into mourning for what couldn’t have been helped. Clara was quite right in her decision. We must carry on. Granny wouldn’t have wanted it any other way, nor do I.”
He took a manful scoop of porridge. “Between ourselves, Madoc, life can be damned dreary up here for my daughters during these long winter months. Not that they complain. Wonderful women, both of them, always ready for a prank. I can’t help thinking of Queen Alexandra and her children. Did you know that when they got together, those grownup princes and princesses used to romp and play like a crowd of young hobbledehoys? That’s the true family spirit, Madoc. That’s what I like to see here at Graylings. And damn it,” Squire wiped his nose rather savagely on his napkin, “that’s what we’re going to have this Christmas. I suppose,” he added on a more conventionally matter-of-fact note, “it’s much the same when your family get together.”
Rhys tried to picture his Welsh relatives romping like young hobbledehoys for the edification of his great-uncle and couldn’t manage it. They’d more likely be either singing in parts, making up rude rhymes in the ancient bardic tradition, drinking, eating, or exchanging heated views on their pet subjects of religion, music, and sheepdip.
“Oh, you know the Welsh,” he murmured. “Our idea of a wild time is reading the juicier bits from the Song of
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