Death at Wentwater Court by Carola Dunn Read Free Book Online Page B

place beside her. “Do come and sit here, Annabel. I want to ask you about … about the gardens,” she improvised. She was beginning to believe Annabel accepted Lord Stephen’s attentions because she was afraid of him.
    Marjorie managed to corner Lord Stephen. “The waltz is frightfully old-fashioned,” she said, and prattled on about the latest dances from America, the camel-walk, the toboggan, the Chicago. Geoffrey was talking to Lady Josephine. Daisy overheard snippets of both conversations as she chatted with Annabel. It turned out she had picked a good subject, for Annabel had missed English flowers while in Italy
and took a great interest in Wentwater’s gardens. Gradually she relaxed and even grew enthusiastic.
    The quiet background of piano music changed as Fenella and James sang a sentimental song together, a tentative soprano and a robust baritone.
    â€œCharming,” Lady Josephine applauded.
    â€œIt’s called ‘Lovely Lucerne,’ Aunt Jo, a new hit that’s not from America for a change.”
    â€œDo give us another song,” she requested.
    James set a sheet of music on the stand and they launched into “The Raggle-Taggle Gypsies.” Paling, Annabel lost the thread of what she was saying. Lord Stephen stared at her, his gaze at once avid and cold. With a smirk, James began the second verse:

    It was late last night when my lord came home
Enquiring for his lady-o.
The servants said on every hand,
She’s gone —

    â€œEnough!” commanded Lady Josephine.
    The innocent Fenella stopped with her mouth open, bewildered.
    Annabel jumped up. “Excuse me,” she said in a stifled voice. “I … It’s been a tiring day. I’m going up now.” She fled.
    â€œJames, I wish to play bridge,” Lady Josephine declared. “You may partner me. Has Drew set out the cards?”
    â€œYes, Aunt Jo, as always.”
    Fenella and Geoffrey did not play. Marjorie was roped in, but Lord Stephen begged off. Daisy was afraid she’d be asked to take a hand, but Sir Hugh came in just in time to save her.
    As the foursome moved to the card table, Lord Stephen said, “I believe I’ll be off to bed, too. Dawn rising, don’t you know.” He sauntered out, unhurried yet purposeful.
    Dismayed, Daisy felt she ought to do something but couldn’t think
what. Then Fenella turned to her with a plaintive, “I don’t understand, Daisy. Why … ?”
    â€œI suppose Lady Josephine doesn’t like that song,” Daisy said quickly, and asked for news of her family at home in Worcestershire.
    Phillip and Wilfred returned from the billiard-room shortly thereafter, Phillip having won even with the agreed handicap. He proposed a game of rummy. Geoffrey had disappeared, but the four of them played until it was time for the late weather forecast on the wireless. The bridge game broke up at the same time and they all listened to a promise of another day of freezing temperatures before retiring for the night.
    On her way to bed, Daisy went to the library to borrow the book about Wentwater Court recommended by Lady Josephine. Though the evening had ended peacefully, it had been fraught with overwrought emotions, and she hoped a little of the duller kind of history would send her straight to sleep. Through the open connecting door to Lord Wentwater’s study she saw the earl sitting in a wing chair by the fire, his face set in stern, melancholy lines. In his hands he warmed a brandy-glass and a half-full decanter stood at his elbow.
    So perhaps Lord Wentwater was not indifferent to Stephen Astwick’s pursuit of his young wife. Daisy wished he would hurry up and decide how to put an end to it.
    Â 
    In the morning, Daisy rose with the sun, which, as Wilfred had pointed out, was not particularly early at the beginning of January. Skipping the cold bath and postponing the outdoor exercise, she dressed warmly and