Styx and Stones by Carola Dunn Read Free Book Online

something he had rather keep quiet. What had he been going to say?
    Even if he had any hope of succeeding? Perhaps it was rather remiss of a clergyman to relinquish one of his flock without a fight, Daisy thought vaguely, but not bad enough to explain Mr. Osborne’s alarm. Surely not enough to warrant a reprimand from the bishop, let alone defrocking!
    Even if he received anonymous letters on the subject? A vicar was probably no more immune to Poison Pens than anyone else.
    A movement off to her right distracted Daisy from her cogitations. A woman trotted down the steps of the Parish Hall, a high-roofed stucco building of the same vintage as the Vicarage, set well back from the lane on the far side of the churchyard. She passed through a gate in the churchyard wall. As she crossed the burial ground towards the lych-gate, passing behind a row of mausoleums and large monuments, her mud-brown dress and hat vanished at intervals from Daisy’s view. The effect was oddly sinister, as if the earth kept swallowing her up and disgorging her.
    â€œMud to mud and ashes to ashes,” Daisy muttered to herself.
    But the plump, white-haired old lady who stepped through the lych-gate was very much alive and vigorous, with pink cheeks and bright eyes. These she fixed on Daisy with a querying gaze.
    â€œGood afternoon,” she said kindly, “have you lost your way?”
    â€œNo,” Daisy said in surprise. She was beginning to think all she had to do was stand there and half the inhabitants of Rotherden would come to talk to her.

    No doubt she looked as if she was lost, or had lost her wits, she realized. “Oh, no, thank you. I was just waiting for two children and a dog, but I suppose the shop will be shut by the time I get there.”
    The old lady turned to glance up at the church clock, which promptly began to strike the half hour. “I fear so. Mrs. Burden has no regard for the convenience of others. Often enough I have seen her lock the door when I was just a few steps away. A selfish woman, alas, as I have upon occasion felt obliged to mention to our dear vicar. You are staying at Oakhurst, then?”
    â€œYes, I’m Violet’s sister, Daisy Dalrymple.”
    â€œAh yes, I had heard you were coming to visit. How delightful for Lady John. I am Mabel Prothero, by the way. I live just two doors down.” She gestured.
    â€œNext door to Mrs. LeBeau?” Daisy asked, grasping at another suspect. “I’ve just met her. I thought her charming.”
    â€œAll is not gold that glitters,” said Miss Prothero darkly. So the kindly, rosy-cheeked old bird had sharp talons, did she? “Much as I dislike speaking ill of my fellow creatures,” she continued, “I hope you will not take offence if an old lady advises you not to pursue that acquaintance.”
    A promising opening, and Daisy quickly jumped in: “Why, what … ?”
    â€œAunt Daisy!” The footsteps galloping down the drive towards her sounded like a herd of elephants, not a mere two children and a dog. “Aunt Daisy, I got my shoe. Now we can go to the shop. Oh, good afternoon, Miss Prothero.”
    â€œHold that dog! I will not have him putting dirty paws on my skirt.”
    â€œHer,” Derek corrected, grabbing Tinker Bell’s collar.
    Miss Prothero ignored him. “Children these days are so dreadfully undisciplined, are they not, Miss Dalrymple? A great deal has changed since the War, and not for the better, as I
was saying to the dear vicar only the other day. Well, I’d better be getting home. My Puss will be waiting for his fish. Perhaps we shall meet again while you are here.”
    â€œI hope so,” said Daisy sincerely, or rather purposefully. Miss Prothero was the perfect suspect. As Johnnie had said, Poison Pen letters were practically always written by frustrated spinsters, and by all accounts that description by no means fit Mrs. LeBeau!
    Daisy turned to the