Read Online Up from the Grave by Marilyn Leach - Free Book Online

the domestic. The picture next is Mummy.” She looked over Berdie’s shoulder at the photo of the tall, shapely woman. Rosalie’s voice went wispy as she continued to speak. “She was an entertainer, a dancer, and a cabaret singer. But she gave that all up for Robin and me. Wonderfully caring Mum, I loved her dearly.” The young woman went on. “Of course Aunt Flora isn’t especially keen on this photo either.” Rosalie now whispered. “It was taken at Blackpool near the cabaret where Mummy performed, you see.”
    A chuckle rippled amongst the three women. They were aware that Flora Preswood took great pride in a family lineage of great distinction.
    “She’s an attractive woman,” Hugh offered. “Where the picture was taken is of no matter. She was your mother and undoubtedly devoted.”
    There was that generous spirit for which Hugh was so highly regarded.
    “Good evening, Reverend, Mrs. Elliott, Miss Foxworth.” Mrs. Flora Parks Preswood had arrived and in full authority.
    Hugh stood and the nearly six-foot woman stepped gracefully towards the group. Her coiffed hair, flawless makeup, and tailored dress declared her eminent urge for all to be neat and in appropriate order.
    “Please sit down, Vicar. I see Rosalie is taking good care of you. Is everyone comfortable?”
    “Yes,” Hugh answered.
    “Colonel Preswood received an important telephone call, business of course.” Flora Preswood ran a well-manicured finger across her distinguishing chin. “If he’s not in the London office, he’s speaking to the London office. He’ll join us at dinner.”
    She noticed the pink satin book open in Lillie’s lap. “Rosalie, I’ll look after our guests. Would you please get Charles? I believe he’s reading in the library. Make sure he gets to the dining room.”
    “Right away, Aunt Flora. If you’ll excuse me.” Rosalie swept across the room and out the massive door.
    “I see you’re perusing the twins’ photos.” Mrs. Preswood’s voice sounded more candid. “As you can see, there is precious little of them before they came to live here at the hall with Colonel Preswood and myself.” She exhaled deeply and sat in a large brocade chair. “Rosalie showed you the ghastly picture of my precious but wayward younger sister, I’m sure.”
    Berdie, Hugh, and Lillie all nodded.
    “She’s quite pretty,” Hugh said.
    Mrs. Preswood raised a brow. “Yes, well, pretty though she may be, my dear sister never had the best judgment, frankly. Especially when it came to men. She married a loathsome con artist, John Darbyshire, who carried her off to Venezuela on some oil cache scheme that went terribly wrong. The girls were born there, you see. One morning, twenty-five years ago, I received a postcard from overseas in the morning mail from my sister. ‘Dear Flora, you are the aunt of twins’ was hastily written across the back.” Mrs. Preswood took a deep breath. “At least Rose did have the decency to have the girls christened here the moment they set foot on English soil. When Darbyshire deserted Rose, leaving her desperately alone to care for the girls, she came to live with us. Shortly, she became ill. It was only a matter of months, and she was placed in hospital where she eventually succumbed. We assumed responsibility for Robin and Rosalie. We raised them as our own.” The woman, as if just unloading a large basket of wilted flowers, sighed. “I do ask this information to stay in confidence.”
    “Of course,” Hugh assured, “you needn’t worry on that account.”
    She needn’t worry , Berdie thought, because everyone in the village, at least those at the Copper Kettle, are already aware of it anyway.
    The man in black stood in the drawing room doorway.
    Berdie was expecting him to snap his heels.
    “Dinner, madam.” He bobbed his head, and Mrs. Preswood stood. She recovered the photo album from Lillie’s lap. “To the dining room, shall we?”
    The group made their way into the entry hall