The Courtyard by Marcia Willett Read Free Book Online Page B

the novelty had quickly worn off and other temptations presented themselves. And it was so easy with credit cards; not like using real money at all. Not
until it came to paying the bill. That was real money all right! And where on earth was she going to get it? She considered and rejected several possibilities and then, tucking the statement into her shoulder bag, ran downstairs and into the study. She dialled quickly and then spoke.
    â€˜Hello, Elizabeth. It’s Gillian … Yes, it is isn’t it? I seem to keep missing you … Oh, are you? Just bad timing then. I was wondering if I were to pop in later this morning you’d be around? … Great … Yes. Lunch would be super … OK then. About half an hour.’
    She replaced the receiver, went to get her things together and presently put her head round the kitchen door.
    â€˜I’m off out, Mrs Ridley. I’m having lunch with my godmother. Could you tell Mr Morley?’
    â€˜Dare say I c’n manage that.’
    Mrs Ridley didn’t look round from the washing up and, after a moment, Gillian pulled a face at the unresponsive back and went out. A little later, her small car was turning into the drive of her godmother’s grounds. The delightful Georgian house, a miniature gentleman’s residence, looked well cared for and welcoming and Gillian, switching off the engine, wondered if Elizabeth was going to leave it to her in her will. After all, she had no other living relative. As she gazed, her godmother opened the front door and stood looking at her.
    â€˜Hello there!’ Gillian had the horrid feeling that Elizabeth knew exactly what she was thinking. She scrambled out of the car, seizing the bunch of early daffodils that she had bought in Ashburton en route. ‘How are you? Looking glamorous as ever. How on earth do you do it?’
    Elizabeth raised her eyebrows as she bent to receive the kiss and the flowers.
    â€˜The best butter,’ she murmured and drew back.
    â€˜Not a bit,’ protested Gillian. ‘Simply the truth. You look younger all the time. Drives Mum mad.’
    â€˜Well, it’ll certainly get you a drink. Let me just put these into
some water. I’ll arrange them later. How pretty they are.’ In the spotless kitchen she filled a bowl and put the daffodils’ feet in it. ‘There. That will do for now.’ Elizabeth led the way into her small, perfect drawing room. She disliked spending time in the kitchen unless it was in the preparation of food. ‘What would you like? Gin and tonic? Some wine?’
    â€˜I’ll stick with wine since I’m driving.’ Gillian sat down in a deep, squashy armchair and stretched her legs to the bright log fire. ‘How lovely this room is. It seems so, well, so organised, after Nethercombe. ’
    Elizabeth frowned a little as she poured the cold dry wine. ‘Organised? ’
    â€˜Yes. You know. The paint’s all sparkling instead of peeling and the chair covers don’t look as if they’ve been dogs’ beds for centuries.’
    Elizabeth chuckled a little. ‘Nethercombe’s not that bad. Just needs a bit of a face-lift. I must admit I wish I could get my hands on it.’
    â€˜I wish you could, too,’ said Gillian feelingly. ‘It’s just so sad. It’s such a wonderful old place. Actually …’ She paused, staring into the flames.
    Elizabeth stood quite still, looking down at her goddaughter’s blonde head. Her eyes were narrowed a little, as if she waited for something. Gillian gave a quick sigh and glanced round and Elizabeth gave her the glass and sat down opposite. She crossed her long elegant legs and laced her fingers round the bowl of her own glass.
    â€˜Actually what?’
    Gillian gave her a little look of well-simulated surprise. What? Oh. Yes. Well, it’s got me into a bit of trouble actually.’ She gave a little grimace, hoping that Elizabeth would