Read Online The Wrong Rite by Charlotte MacLeod - Free Book Online

against the dark woodwork and busy carpeting. Exactly where were you when you spotted the thing?”
    “Almost to the stairs.”
    “Just the right spot. The operator saw you coming up the hall and had plenty of time to wiggle the whatsits. You were on your way down and it was odds-on you’d mention the ghost at dinner, as who wouldn’t?”
    “Well, of course. Why didn’t I think of that? It must have been nothing more than a piece of gray chiffon or tulle draped over a thin wire to give it shape. I suppose I stood there gawking for a second or so. As soon as the joker was sure I’d noticed, he just dropped the thing to the floor and whisked it under the drapery. I should have gone over and investigated, but Uncle Caradoc had said they’d hold dinner till I got back from checking the baby. I’d asked him not to, but I was still afraid he might, and didn’t want to keep the rest waiting. You didn’t happen to notice who followed me upstairs?”
    “Nobody did.”
    “What makes you so sure?”
    “Darling, do you have any idea what an effect you made in that blue gown? There wasn’t an eyeball in the place that wasn’t straining after you, my own included. Believe me, I’d have noticed.”
    “Which means it was either some outsider or one of the help?”
    Janet spoke rather brusquely, being a cynosure was not the Canadian way. Now she’d be embarrassed to wear that blue gown again, and she did love it so. “I can’t see that meek little Megan working the fiddle, unless she had fishlines strung the whole length of the hall. Anyway, she doesn’t strike me as the type. What about Danny the Boots? Is he inclined to go in for practical jokes?”
    Danny the Boots had been playing second footman. Madoc didn’t tell Janet so. “I shouldn’t be surprised. Come on, let’s go see whether Dorothy’s worn out her welcome with Aunt Elen yet.”
    She hadn’t, of course; she was sitting on the floor making goo-goo eyes at her Uncle Dafydd, of all people. Dafydd was eyeing her back as he might have eyed a mermaid in his bathtub; charming to look at, but what was one supposed to do about her? He greeted his brother with noticeable relief and some degree of puzzlement.
    “Madoc, did you actually produce this kid all by yourself?”
    “Oh no, Jenny helped a bit. What got you up so early?”
    “Tib was after me to go horseback riding with her.”
    “And did you go?”
    “God, no! What do you think I’m made of? I told her I had to see Uncle Huw on urgent business. Namely conning Aunt Elen into cooking my eggs. Lisa wouldn’t feed me, she’s got a gaggle of minions over there chopping leeks for tomorrow’s pies. Thank you, Auntie love, this is beautiful. Want a bite, Jenny?”
    “No thanks, I’m on a strict diet of tea and Welsh cakes. I’ve tried making them at home, but for some reason mine never come out the way Aunt Elen’s do.”
    That was just for manners, Janet’s cakes were as good as anybody’s. Even Sir Emlyn said so, and he should know if anybody did. Who the heck did Dafydd think he was, coaxing her to eat from his plate like the princess and the frog? Or the prince and the frogess? The great Dafydd Rhys gave her a pain where she’d never had an ache. One of these days she was going to tell him so.
    Which was mean, rotten, and uncharitable, and she ought to show more compassion. Maybe he was just trying to be brotherly. That glamorous life Dafydd led must in fact be rather a lonesome one at times, when you came right down to it. Being a star meant always having to shine, being so much in demand meant being on the road too often for comfort. Having a different woman panting after him every time he turned around meant that he never really got to know any of them. Except, perhaps, in the biblical sense. “Come on, Dorothy,” she said. “Quit teasing Uncle Dafydd and let him eat his breakfast in peace. Where can I change her, Aunt Elen?”
    “I’ll show you.”
    Bathrooms had come to the farm