The Dead Queen's Garden by Nicola Slade Read Free Book Online

generous,’
    Charlotte heard her being gracious to a hapless neighbour, as he bowed to her stronger will and signed his name to her list. ‘And you, madam? I’m sure you will not hang back for such a worthy cause?’
    Lord Granville, who had been looking shocked at the predatory manner in which she proceeded to milk her hapless fellow guests, now assumed an even more miserable expression as his lady hooked a proprietorial hand into his arm.
    ‘Ah, Lady Granville.’ There was a beadily-ingratiating smile on the face of the Lady with the Lamp as she raised her head from her notes and observed the newcomer. ‘I am sure you will wish to match your husband’s generosity by making a donation on your own behalf to my proposed training school for nurses?’
    A chilly stare was the initial response she received followed by a decided shake of the head. ‘I think not.’ Lady Granville’s response was cold, abrupt and, it had to be admitted, rude. ‘If you have ensnared my husband and trespassed upon his well-known goodwill – and, as I have observed, the goodwill of many of the other guests already – then that must suffice you, along with those remaining parties whom you no doubt intend to approach. Come, my lord, I cannot see our son, Osbert, anywhere and I am becoming anxious about him.’
    Charlotte had to conceal a gasp of admiration at this fearless refusal.
    ‘How brave,’ she whispered to Kit Knightley. ‘To give a set-down to Miss Nightingale, who is the most intimidating female I’ve ever encountered. She’s even more daunting than a fearsome landlady of an outback lodging house where we once stayed. She was rumoured to have summarily disposed of seven husbands.’
    Kit’s blue eyes creased in a smile and Charlotte remembered Will Glover’s comment,
‘Ate ‘em all on the wedding night, probably.’
    The heroine of the Crimean War, plainly gowned but tall and imposing, half rose in her seat, while her gathering frown struck fear into the guests in her immediate neighbourhood; but her quarry was gone. Lady Granville had dragged her lord away and was now bearing down on the groaning table where her son, trapped by his greed, was unable to escape. Charlotte watched with sympathy as the anxious mother loomed over the boy and began to pick out delicacies from the table and pile them on to his plate, frowning heavily as Captain Penbury whisked one particularly choice morsel away moments before her ladyship’s hand descended to it.
    Suddenly there was an outcry. Charlotte, who had shrugged and turned away, recognised her own name called out in Lady Frampton’s stentorian tones and she craned round the heads infront of her, anxiety uppermost in her thoughts. A cry of ‘Murder!’ rang out from a couple of the guests and she felt her heart contract. What she saw made her elbow her way through the throng.
    Captain Penbury had crashed to the floor with his hand clutched to his chest, the weather-beaten colouring fading rapidly from his broad, square face.

Chapter 3
    L ADY F RAMPTON STOPPED in mid-bellow as Charlotte rushed to her side.
    ‘Sit down, Gran,’ she urged once she had ascertained that the old lady was unhurt; all her shouting had been for her granddaughter to come to the aid of the captain. ‘At once, do you hear? I’ll see to this.’
    There was still a clamour of voices shouting
‘Help, murder
!’ as she knelt beside the stricken sailor to loosen his collar. ‘Cease that nonsense this instant,’ she commanded and raised her head to seek assistance. ‘Someone clear the room at once, if you please, ah, Mr Knightley? Thank you. And someone else please enquire whether Dr Perry has arrived, I know he is expected. Ask him to attend the captain directly.’
    She bent to her task. Captain Penbury was breathing, although he looked distressed and his colour was still poor; she prayed that he was not having a heart attack. Charlotte slipped an arm beneath his head and looked up in gratitude as someone