Murder In Martindale by Marilyn Clay

Author:Marilyn Clay
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Agatha Christie inspired British cozy mystery, Regency historical female sleuth mystery series, British Cozy Mystery, Country House thriller, Regency romantic suspense mystery thriller
Publisher: Marilyn Clay
Published: 2021-11-10T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 17

The Imposter’s True Name Is . . .

I WAS EVERY BIT AS anxious as Miss Crawford to avoid seeing the heir that morning, so hurried back up the stairs. Once safely within our suite, I very nearly handed the broadsheet to Beth to read, then realized the gesture was futile, so simply read the notice aloud to her.

“Our caller was a young lady from Penridge, who brought a placard she wished me to give to your brother. Shall I read it to you?”

When she nodded, I began, “‘This year’s May Flower Fest will be held on the Square in old Martin’s Dale. Come One, Come All. Contests, Games, Dancing. Prizes to be Awarded for the Finest Entries in . . .’” Smiling, I looked up to find Beth’s countenance had again saddened. “What is it, Beth? It was not my wish to overset you.”

“It is no matter.” She attempted to shake off her gloom. “It’s just that, in years past, the May Flower Fest was a jolly time for our family. When James was home, he won the musical contest every year running. He loved to play his lute, or at times, even his horn. He always won the Finest Musical Talent and took home a prize.” She paused to reflect. “I remember once his prize was an especially large plum pie, all of which he consumed before we departed the fair. Mother told him not to eat the entire pie, but he refused to listen, and as a result, began to complain of a stomach ache. He tried to tell us that he had shared the prize with his friends, but not a one of us believed him.” She smiled sadly. “I-I wonder if he remembers those delightful days?”

I laid aside the broadsheet, its margins decorated with drawings of girls in white dresses wearing flowers in their hair. The margins featured coloured drawings of pastries, pies, cakes, and even a leg of lamb.

“The caller was a Miss Mary Leigh Crawford,” I said. “It was she who brought the placard and asked that I give it to your brother.”

“Mary Leigh? Here? Are you acquainted with Miss Crawford?”

“No, not at all. I expect Mrs. Cantrell sent for me simply because there was no one here to properly receive her. Apparently the heir has stepped out, again, and we’ve still no proper butler on hand. From Miss Crawford’s remarks and her demeanor, I gather she and James were, at one time, quite . . . well acquainted.”

Beth was nodding. “Mary Leigh has been sweet on James since they were children. I believe he shared the sentiment, but . . .”

“She seemed especially anxious to know if he had returned home with a bride.”

“Did she not ask after me?” Her tone sounded hurt.

“Indeed, she did; but evidently word has got out that you recently lost your life in a riding accident. The fact was mentioned at dinner the first evening I was here. Miss Crawford did express sincere sympathy over your demise, as well as that of your father.

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