British Manor Murder by Leslie Meier Read Free Book Online

pillows, Lucy was afraid that she wouldn’t be able to sleep. Oddly enough, even though she felt exhausted much of the time, when she got to bed, sleep would elude her and her mind would run in circles, imagining the dangers little Patrick faced in Alaska. She fretted about possible tragedies such as encounters with polar bears, falls into icy streams, and snowmobile accidents; knowing her fears were unfounded didn’t matter and she would lie under the covers, wakeful and trembling with terror. That had been the usual scenario lately.
    She was quite surprised when a knock on the door woke her up two hours later. “Mmmph?” was all she managed to say, feeling rather groggy.
    It was enough for Sally, who poked her head around the door. “Perry sent me up to tell you and your friend that lunch is almost ready.”
    â€œThank you,” said Lucy, wishing she could sink back into the very comfortable pillows.
    That wish must have become reality, because next thing she knew Sue was shaking her shoulder. “Rise and shine, sleeping beauty. Up and at ’em, onward and upward. You know the drill.”
    Lucy glared at her friend, who was impeccably turned out. Sue was always beautifully dressed. She was doing the country house look with a gray cashmere sweater, charcoal tweed slacks, the shiny new hunter green Wellies she’d worn on the plane, and a string of pearls. Her makeup had been freshly applied and her hair was shiny from brushing.
    â€œHow long have you been up?” inquired Lucy, suspecting she looked rather the worse for wear.
    â€œAbout half an hour. Just since Sally called me.” She gave Lucy a stern look. “You had better hurry or we’ll miss lunch.”
    Lucy groaned and hauled herself out of bed with great effort. Once in the bathroom, a glance at the mirror over the sink proved her suspicion was correct—she looked awful. Her hair was sticking up every which way and a long, angry red pillow-crease crossed her face. She dampened a washcloth with cool water and used it to wipe her face, then quickly washed her hands and applied a quick slick of lipstick. Back in her room, she made a stab at taming her hair, which seemed hopeless until Sue grabbed her hairbrush and with a few deft swipes created order out of chaos.
    â€œThanks,” said Lucy, studying her improved reflection with amazement.
    â€œIs that what you’re wearing?” asked Sue in a rather disapproving tone.
    Lucy regarded her image in the mirror. She was wearing the same turtleneck sweater and jeans she’d worn on the plane, as well as her usual athletic shoes. “I just have more of the same in my suitcase.” She got an eye roll from Sue.
    â€œYou can take the girl out of Maine, but you can’t take the Maine out of the girl,” complained Sue, opening the door.
    Following an appetizing scent redolent of meat and herbs, they made their way together down the stairs to the family kitchen. There, they found Perry standing at the Aga stove stirring a bright red casserole with a wooden spoon. The two dogs were sitting on their haunches beside him, apparently hoping there might be a slip twixt the spoon and the lip as he raised the spoon for a taste.
    â€œWhat is that? It smells delicious,” exclaimed Sue.
    â€œVenison stew. We try to live off the estate as much as we can,” he said, putting the spoon down and adding a few grinds of pepper.
    Discouraged, the dogs turned their attention to Lucy and Sue, approaching them with wagging tails.
    â€œAh, so now you like us,” said Lucy, scratching the nearest Lab, which happened to be the black one, behind its ears. “I have a dog at home just like you.”
    â€œDid they bother you?” asked Poppy, entering through the doorway that led to the service corridor. She was carrying a couple needlepoint throw pillows and a somewhat dented silver ewer, all of which she dropped on a chair.
    â€œThey didn’t