Manor House 03 - For Whom Death Tolls by Kate Kingsbury Read Free Book Online

think I'll just take a quick peekaround the churchyard before I leave. You never know what I might find."
    The vicar gave her a shrewd look. "I think the American investigators have already confiscated anything that might be of interest. I appreciate your concern, Lady Elizabeth, but I must caution you about the dangers of participating in this nasty business."
    Elizabeth waved an airy hand in dismissal. "Don't worry, Vicar. I know what I'm doing, and I promise I won't get in the way of that rude American in the bell tower."
    She left the vicar snipping his rosebushes, and trod around the perimeter of the church and the grounds. After satisfying herself that there was nothing out of the ordinary to be found, she returned to her motorcycle and lifted the hem of her skirt to ease a leg over the seat.
    It was a maneuver that had taken months of practice to manage gracefully, and even now, every time she climbed aboard, she shuddered to think what her mother would say if she knew that the sole heir to the Wellsborough estate was cavorting around the town perched on the seat of a motorcycle and sidecar.
    The truth was, of course, that she could not afford a motorcar, and even if she could, she didn't know how to drive, which would mean hiring a chauffeur, since Violet had never been behind the wheel of anything mechanical, and half the time Martin wasn't even aware there was such a thing as a motorcar, much less how to drive one.
    She arrived a short time later at the gate of Henrietta's cottage. Henrietta had leased the cottage at least a month ago, and Elizabeth was feeling rather guilty about not having visited the elderly lady before this. According to Violet, the widow had no family except for a grandson who lived in London.
    As she marched up the pathway to the weather-beaten door, Elizabeth promised herself that she would remember to drop by more often to keep an eye on her newest tenant.
    As she stepped up onto the tiny porch, she heard the shrill whistle of a teakettle. A moment later the sound was abruptly cut off, and Elizabeth smiled. It seemed as if she'd arrived at just the right time to enjoy a cup of tea. She lifted the brass lion's head that served as a door knocker and let it fall with a soft thud.
    The door opened almost immediately, and a white-haired lady wrapped in a thick red shawl peered through a pair of metal frame glasses, with a worried look on her wrinkled face.
    Elizabeth hurried to reassure her. "Mrs. Jones? I'm Lady Elizabeth from the Manor House. I brought you a few bits and pieces I thought you might find useful." She held out the basket to the old lady, who hesitated before she reached to take it.
    Elizabeth saw her wince and said quickly, "Oh, I'm sorry, perhaps I should carry it in for you."
    She flung out her hands but Henrietta hung on to the basket, answering in a low, husky voice that sounded like the effects of a bad cold. "It's very kind of you, I'm sure. I'm having a bit of trouble with my rheumatism right now. I get it in my elbows now and then. I was just in the kitchen, making a cup of tea. Would you care to join me?"
    She turned and carried the basket across the tiny living room and through the door that led to the kitchen. Elizabeth stepped into the house and closed the front door behind her.
    It had been some time since she had been inside the cottage. The last tenant had died and the house had been empty for months until the estate agent in North Horsham had informed Elizabeth that he'd leased it again.
    Studying the faded wallpaper with a critical eye, she wondered if anyone had inspected the premises before Henrietta Jones moved in. That was the trouble withhaving to use an agent in North Horsham. He was too far away for constant supervision, and she knew from experience how lax the agents could be.
    "You must let me know, Mrs. Jones," she called out, "if you have any repairs that need doing. As your landlord I'm responsible for the upkeep of the cottages." Which the rent hardly