Murder at the Lighthouse: An Exham on Sea Cosy Mystery (Exham on Sea Cosy Crime Mysteries Book 1) by Frances Evesham Read Free Book Online Page B

history society was giving a talk about Victorian women at Mangotsfield Hall, the huge mansion nearby, owned by the National Trust. It was the place Robert mentioned. Trevor’s ancestor had worked there as a maid.
    In a rash moment, Libby had promised to let Marina use her as a model in a talk about costume. She’d forgotten about it. “You might have reminded me.”
    “We talked about it on Tuesday.” Marina dropped the outraged voice. “Look, don’t panic. Angela’s doing the magic lantern show first, so you’ve got a bit of time. I know how you feel, I’ve been all of a tizz ever since the Susie thing. Just get here, as fast as you can.”
    “What about the refreshments?” Libby was supposed to have taken them across from the bakery this morning.
    “Mandy brought them over. She said she stayed with you last night?” The question hung in the air. No problem with Marina’s gossip antennae.
    Libby ignored it. “Look, my car’s in the garage. Can someone pick me up? I’ll be ready in ten minutes.”
    She grimaced. She’d agreed to some crazy things, since she came to Exham, hoping to fit in with the townspeople, but it would probably take at least twenty years to be accepted as a local. She really ought to spend more time on her career. She was getting behind with the book, and it was time she booked another cooking course. Patisserie. That would be her future. Or maybe, chocolate. She’d see what Ali thought. She ran downstairs. Better not keep Marina waiting.

    Marina’s car screeched to a halt at the back of the Hall, at the tradesman’s entrance. Libby dashed through the sudden downpour, frantically grasping the edges of an umbrella as the wind threatened to turn it inside out. She pasted a serene expression on her face as they walked in. “It’s OK.” Marina poked her head through a crack in the door. “Angela’s kept them busy.” Laughter blared from the hall, followed by applause as Angela finished. “Come on, then,” Marina hissed. “It’s us next.” She gave her friend a hearty shove and Libby half-fell into the hall.
    She was never going to volunteer for anything, ever again. She really, really hated people staring. What had she been thinking? Well, too late now. She smiled through clenched teeth, lips stiff, as Marina dressed her up in Victorian costume and make-up, beginning with a cotton shift and working up through layers of corsets and wire crinoline cages. She wouldn’t be able to bear the weight for more than five minutes. How did Victorian ladies keep going all day?
    Marina attached false ringlets to the sides of Libby’s head. “The Victorians thought it impolite for a lady to show her ears,” she explained, taking a pot of strong-smelling potion and a paint brush, and smoothing oil over Libby’s hair. As it dried, Libby shook her head, but the ringlets stayed rigidly in place.
    The result was a passable imitation of Queen Victoria. As though that were not sufficient humiliation, the audience gathered round, taking photos that threatened to haunt Libby for the rest of her life. They plucked at the costume, lifting heavy layers and letting them fall. “Look, you can hardly raise your arms, those sleeves are so tight.”
    “It’s all part of the Victorian way of life,” Marina said. “In fact, wearing a corset supports your back, don’t you think, Libby,”
    “I could wear this every day,” Libby lied. “For one thing, it hides my waist. I could put on pounds and no one would notice.”
    Slowly, the audience dispersed, chattering happily. At last, she could get rid of the costume and have a few words with Marina. “What’s in that disgusting stuff you spread all over my hair? You didn’t warn me about that. How am I going to get it off?”
    The words dried up on her lips as Libby caught sight of Detective Sergeant Joe Ramshore. She shifted, embarrassed. Did Joe know she’d been out to dinner with his father? Oh, well, who cared? She was a grown woman and Max