Read Online Styx and Stones by Carola Dunn - Free Book Online Page A

his points, but as a life’s companion … Well, let’s say my parents weren’t far off the mark. I’ve certainly no desire for a second venture into matrimony. Ah, here’s our coffee. Thank you, Alice.”
    The maid transferred a Wedgewood coffee set and a plate of shortbread from her tray to the wrought-iron table. Mrs. LeBeau dispensed coffee and biscuits.
    â€œMarvellous shortbread,” said Daisy after her first bite.
    â€œMy cook-housekeeper is Scottish.”
    â€œAnd your maid is from London, isn’t she? Not local, anyway.”
    â€œI have a flat in London and I spend a good deal of time there. And I don’t care for gossiping servants,” Mrs. LeBeau admitted with a wry smile. “There is enough talk without a maid who goes home twice a week to report my every move to her family. You live in London, don’t you? Lady John mentioned Chelsea, I think.”
    Daisy accepted the change of subject, for the moment at least. They talked about London and Daisy’s work. Mrs. LeBeau kept the conversation steered firmly away from her own concerns, until at last Daisy could not decently prolong her visit.
    A fearful waste after such a promising start, she thought as they descended the steps together and went into the house. The police had a great advantage in being able to pose direct questions instead of having to feel around in the dark.
    On the way to the front door, Mrs. LeBeau picked up a small pile of letters from the hall table. She opened the door and bade Daisy goodbye. Daisy was half way down the path when she heard an exasperated exclamation behind her.

    â€œOh no, not another of the wretched things!”
    Mrs. LeBeau was leaning against the doorpost, staring at one of the envelopes in her hand with mingled annoyance and apprehension. Perking up, Daisy hurried back to her.
    â€œIs something wrong? Can I help?”
    â€œNo, no, it’s just …” Mrs. LeBeau’s voice faded, and she looked searchingly at Daisy, who did her best to appear guilelessly sympathetic. “Actually, it would be a relief to tell someone about it, but I’d hate to shock you.”
    â€œI don’t think I’m frightfully shockable. Living in Bohemian Chelsea, you know, and then I’ve helped the police with one or two criminal investigations …”
    â€œI wouldn’t want the police involved in this,” said the Scarlet Woman in alarm.
    â€œOf course not. May I guess? It’s an anonymous letter, isn’t it? I happen to know you’re not the only one to get them.”
    â€œNo?” Mrs. LeBeau’s expression lightened. “Perhaps it’s silly, but that does make me feel better. Come back in, won’t you?”
    She led the way into a drawing room decorated in light blues and greys, with touches of peach, and vases of roses everywhere. A modern, comfortable sofa and easy chairs continued the colour scheme. The rest of the furniture had the simple, elegant lines of traditional Sheraton and Hepplewhite designs, whether antique or reproduction Daisy was not competent to judge. There were two well-filled bookcases, as well as a gramophone with a pile of records, and an expensive wireless set.
    â€œWhat a lovely room!” A painting hanging over the mantel caught her eye and she went across to study it. A twisted thorn tree to one side framed the foreground of sun-bleached grasses and a range of dark, rocky hills which stood out against a deep blue sky. “And what an interesting picture.”

    â€œThe Witwatersrand, ‘whence cometh my help,’ if you’ll pardon the blasphemy.”
    â€œI’m not very religious. You painted this?” Daisy asked, noticing the initials “W. L.” in the corner.
    â€œYes, I had to keep myself occupied somehow. My friends forgive its deficiencies, and my enemies are not invited into my house. I have enemies, you know, in the village.” She took a