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115 pages

English

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It is the aftermath of the Second World War and the country is in the grips of post-war austerity. Tommy and Duds Lethbridge have inherited a manor house in Buckinghamshire and plan on a weekend-long celebration to keep their minds off the drabness of the times. They have very little food or drinks to offer their guests, so the onus falls on the attendants to chip in their ration books...Unfortunately everything goes wrong at the party: all the inviteesseems to be falling out with each other, in particular the two highly attractive twin sisters. Flo and Jo. The drinks are running low and Duds is beginning to regret that they ever thought up this house party. But in the early hours of New Year's Day, one of the sisters is found dead, an apparent suicide. Duds realises that as well as the police, it might be a good idea to call in the services of her good friend Lady Lupin, the somewhat scatter-brained wife of the Glanville vicar...and amateur detective. The Coroner seems convinced that

Informations

Publié par	Galileo Publishing
Date de parution	19 mai 2022
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781912916610
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0200€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

Also by Joan Coggin
Who Killed the Curate? (1944)
The Mystery of Orchard House (1946)
Why Did She Die? (1947)
Dancing with Death (1947)

Galileo Publishers
16 Woodlands Road
Great Shelford Cambridge
CB22 5LW UK
www.galileopublishing.co.uk
Distributed in the USA by:
SCB Distributors
15608 S. New Century Drive
Gardena, CA 90248-2129
Australia: Peribo Pty Limited
58 Beaumont Road
Mount Kuring-Gai, NSW 2080
Australia
ISBN 978-1-912916-60-3
This edition © 2022
© 1947 Joan Coggin
All rights reserved.
This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
Printed in the EU

Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24

CHAPTER 1
“Am in great trouble, please come at once. Duds.” Lady Lupin Hastings read the telegram through twice, with a puzzled expression on her pretty face, then she handed it back to her maid. “Staines,” she said, “can you make head or tail of this?”
Staines had been with Lupin since she was a girl. She had come with her, as lady’s maid, when she left Lorrimer Castle for Glanville Vicarage. Now she did nearly all the work of the house and a great deal of the work of the parish. She adjusted her pince-nez and took the flimsy piece of paper. “I fancy, my lady, that this is from Mrs. Lethbridge and that she is in trouble.”
“Yes, I know. But how and why?”
Staines read the message once more. “She does not say, my lady.”
“It really is most inconvenient,” grumbled Lupin. “There is the Sunday school treat tomorrow and the Good Wives’ Fellowship in the evening, and the next day it is the Mothers’ Union and Nanny’s afternoon out.”
“I daresay Nurse would kindly change her day to tomorrow, my lady, in which case I could take Master Peter and Miss Jill to the Sunday school treat.”
“That’s a good idea, but don’t let them make themselves sick, and don’t let them grab all the best things for themselves, it does look so bad. And for pity’s sake don’t let Peter fight any of the other children. He always wins and then the mother of the other child won’t let it come to Sunday school any more, and that upsets the vicar. Talking of the vicar, whatever will he think when he comes back tonight and finds that I have gone away?”
“I could tell him that you have gone to Mrs. Lethbridge’s, my lady.”
“So you could, and you will have to go to the Good Wives’ Fellowship tomorrow evening too, not that you are exactly a good wife, but then no more am I, if it comes to that. I always forget that Mr. Hastings can’t eat pastry at night, and that he doesn’t like one to use his nail scissors for cutting string. I think that they are having a discussion, the wives I mean, about religion or food or something of that sort. I suppose you will have to take the chair.”
“Perhaps it would be best, my lady, if I were just to go round and say that you had been called away and would be glad if one of the other ladies would take the chair in your place, my not being a wife, so to speak.”
“But if you ask one of them to take the chair, the others will all walk out and there will be no discussion. Not that that would be a bad thing, as discussions so often lead to unpleasantness.”
“Should I suggest that they vote themselves a chairman, a secret ballot as they say?”
“Absolutely! Good idea! It must be very secret. Just the thing! With any luck it will keep them quiet and happy for the whole evening. Remember to take down plenty of paper and pencils and India rubbers. Oh, I know what the discussion was: ‘What should one do with a disobedient child?’ I know what I should do, give it a good smack. Jill, what on earth are you doing?” Five-year-old Jill had just marched into the room in her pajamas, having grown tired of her afternoon rest. “You awful child, don’t you realize that it is the coldest day there has ever been, and you will be frozen, and anyway you ought to be asleep—go back to bed at once.”
“Want to hear about the free bears.”
“Oh bother. I’ll just have to run up and tell her the story, Staines, then I’ll come down and we’ll arrange about the Mothers’ Union. You might be looking up some trains.”
As Lupin came downstairs she heard voices in the library and found eight-year-old Peter, who was home for the holidays after his first term at school, sitting on the floor assembling the pieces of his model airplane. His father’s papers lay all around him, as he had accidentally knocked them off the table while looking for some glue.
“Peter, this is Daddy’s zone. What are you doing in it? Take your airplane up to the nursery.”
“There is a better landing-ground here. Look, Mummy, do you think that bit goes in there?”
“I shouldn’t think so. And there is Daddy’s sermon all over the floor, or is it his income tax returns? Anyway, whatever it is, it is all stuck together and will never be any good again. Talk about children trailing clouds of glory! Oh, and about the Mothers’ Union, Staines. I think they will run their own party all right. Mrs. Smythe will do the refreshments. I had made out a list of games, but I don’t know where it is, and anyway I don’t expect they will want any suggestions. Oh, I know where I put it, inside my ration book so that I should know where it was, or was it my prayer book? But don’t make any suggestions unless they ask you for them, just hover about helpfully, if you know what I mean. Oh, are those the trains? Glanville, 4:10; Victoria, 5:45 Paddington, 6:20; yes, but how? There won’t be any taxis. Fordham, 7:30. I shall be far too exhausted by then to be of any help to anyone, even if I catch the 6:20, which is very doubtful. Oh, there you are, Nanny. Do you think you could get Peter to go up to the nursery? Oh dear, that’s the picture of me as a bride,” as Peter’s airplane suddenly and unexpectedly flew across the room and collided with a framed photograph. “No one will know now that I was ever married and I will have to resign from the Good Wives’ Fellowship. I have got to run off into Buckinghamshire immediately to Mrs. Lethbridge. Staines will tell you all about it, not that we know anything, but you will be able to cope between you, won’t you? And do you think you could possibly change your afternoon to tomorrow? What is the time? I will have to fly. Staines, will you order a taxi, while I put some things together?”
“I hope Mrs. Lethbridge is not ill, my lady. I will get you a cup of tea while Miss Staines rings up the taxi and packs your case. Go up to the nursery at once, Peter. Don’t you worry about anything, my lady. Everything will be all right.” And Nanny walked out of the room followed by Peter.
“Well, it is a good thing mine are obedient children,” said Lupin. “Obedient to Nanny, I mean,” she added, on second thought.
Staines accompanied her mistress to the station and saw her into the train. “You will explain everything to Mr. Hastings, won’t you, Staines?” said Lupin, as the porter arranged her case on the rack.
“Yes, my lady,” and Staines descended to the platform.
A good many of the citizens of Glanville were seeing off their Christmas visitors by this train and the usually quiet platform was quite crowded.
Lupin leaned out of the window, calling out last-minute instructions. “I am sorry to have landed you with the Sunday school treat, it is sure to be pretty frightful, but you need not take any active part, except in stopping Peter and Jill from getting too rough. And you know about the Good Wives’ Fellowship and the Mothers’ Union. I don’t think there is anything else. Remind Mr. Hastings about the parish council meeting tomorrow. And I believe the Boy Scouts were doing something some time this week and he promised to look in, or was it the Darts Club? And don’t let him forget his Eno’s each morning, whatever you do. It makes all the difference. And then of course there will be some services in church you know, see that he goes to them.”
“I am sure Mr. Hastings will remember them, my lady.”
“Let’s hope so.” By this time the train had started and Staines had to hurry along beside it to hear her mistress’s last words.
“Don’t let the vicar gobble his food,” Lupin called out clearly.
“Very good, my lady,” called back Staines.
Lupin sank into her seat and took a letter out of her bag.
Dearest Loops,
Many thanks for the records. My dear, this is the scaliest Christmas I have ever had. I thought it would be fun to have a real old-fashioned Christmas houseparty, so I asked a few friends and relations. Naturally I wanted to ask you and Andrew, but Tommy said you would be having services and confirmations and youth movements. I asked Flo and Jo, you remember them, they were bridesmaids with you at my wedding, and Sandy Ferguson who is a sort of cousin too, and then I had a letter from Henry Dumbleton asking if he might bring his new wife, so I said ‘yes, delighted,’ and he has turned out too frightful, or was he always like that? Anyway, Tommy says he will murder him before the week is out, Christmas or no Christmas!
Lupin put down the letter and looked out of the window. Of course she had not taken it seriously when she received it. It was the sort of thing anyone might say, but the telegram had put a different complexion on it. It seemed impossible think of Tomm