Stranger by the Lake by Jennifer Wilde Read Free Book Online

hearty, “but Althea was having one of her spells this morning and I had to scold her out of it. She keeps imagining things—I’m quite worried. Of course we have had a lot of excitement recently, but I’m afraid she’s going off the deep end——” She shook her head, a crease between her brows.
    â€œI’m eager to meet Althea,” I said.
    â€œYou will, dear. She’s divine, actually, though hardly a day passes that we don’t go at it like a couple of cats. But then our quarrels are so stim ulating. Poor thing’s been a bit under the weather lately what with all that’s been going on. Susan, dear, do sit down. Don’t hover!”
    Aunt Agatha sprawled out on the Victorian sofa, crossing her legs and resting her elbow on the arm, her long body completely relaxed. I sat in one of the yellow chairs, and Earl padded over to lay his heavy head in my lap, his eyes looking up at me with slavish devotion. I scratched his ears, still a little perturbed by this sudden outpouring of affection.
    â€œTell me, dear,” Aunt Agatha said. “Did you have a nice journey down?”
    â€œThe train ride was uneventful,” I replied, “though I had a dandy time at the inn last night.”
    â€œYou spent the night at the inn?”
    I nodded. “There was no one to meet me,” I said, “and it was pouring rain. The room was quite pleasant, but the innkeeper——”
    â€œCharlie Grayson’s tetched,” she interrupted. “Poor thing’s always been a bit slow , though he’s a fine, responsible lad, quite capable of running the inn. He’s an amiable sort—though distracted! What happened?”
    I related my experiences at the inn, telling her about Charlie’s curious attitude, the mysterious conversation I had overheard, and the message someone had slipped under my door. Aunt Agatha laughed uproariously, shaking her head.
    â€œYou blundered into the middle of one of our famous illicit affairs,” she said. “They’re rampant in Gordonville. You see, we get very poor reception on the telly, dear. What else is one to do ? Gordonville’s a veritable—what’s that place in America? There was a book about it, I believe, and a television series——”
    â€œPeyton Place?”
    â€œGordonville’s a veritable Peyton Place, though you wouldn’t guess it on first sight. So quaint and serene on the surface, but sub rosa ——”
    â€œWhat about the note?” I protested. “Surely that——”
    â€œOh, I have no doubt Charlie slipped the note under your door, afraid you’d talk about what you’d overheard and give the inn a bad name. He tries to run a respectable inn, though I must say his conduct hasn’t always been blameless. Involved in a rather delicious scandal himself, he was, a few months ago——”
    Her eyes danced with glee as she told me about Charlie’s affair with a young actress who had come down from London to stay at the inn. According to Aunt Agatha, the girl had been stunning, a rather mysterious figure in Gordonville. No one knew who she was or why she had come, but Charlie had been fascinated by her. She had her bit of fun, leading him on, no doubt finding it amusing to toy with the affections of a boy much younger and obviously smitten.
    â€œShameless hussy!” my aunt exclaimed. “Probably couldn’t pay for her room. People were outraged, I don’t mind telling you. Charlie may be a bit peculiar, but he is a strikingly handsome lad, quite virile. Several local girls would like nothing better than to snare him. He’s dependable, and he owns the inn, and there’s plenty who’d consider themselves lucky to marry his likes. Good husband material isn’t all that common in these parts.”
    â€œWhat happened to the actress?” I inquired.
    â€œNo one knows. She