Murder At Marley Chase by Marilyn Clay

Author:Marilyn Clay
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Regency-set cozy mystery Jane Austen inspired mystery, country house historical thriller suspense, British cozy mystery female sleuth, Historical suspense mystery thriller, Regency romance historial mystery suspense, Amateur female sleuth historical mystery suspense, Clean wholesome Christian Regency suitable for teens and young readers, Country house party racehorses Derby, Regency-set country house murder mystery
Publisher: Marilyn Clay
Published: 2022-12-11T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 12

The Suspect List Grows, Sort Of . . .

THE FOLLOWING MORNING Tilda declared that neither she nor the kitten had slept well that night. The fierce wind and rain, the deafening thunder and cracks of lightening had caused the frightened kitten to burrow beneath the bedclothes in an attempt to escape the terrifying sounds.

“Poor little fellow,” said Tilda, cradling the cat in her arms. “He thought I was his mum and he wanted to snuggle close to me.” She planted a kiss on top of the kitten’s head.

When a kitchen maid appeared at the door bearing our breakfast tray, she also remarked on the overnight storm. And relayed a good bit more to us regarding the results of the gale-like winds and hard rain.

“Rooms on the top floor of the house is all flooded. Roof is leaking somethin’ awful! One o’ the guests said that before the storm hit a man pushed his way into her room and made off with her jewels an’ money!”

“Oh!” I cried, a hand flying to my breast. “She is not dead, is she?”

“Weren’t her husband there to chase him away?” Tilda asked.

“It were Mrs. Brandon, and no, she ain’t dead,” the maid replied, her mobcap-covered head shaking. “But she’s a good bit shook up. Said she throwed her money an’ jewels at the thief and tol’ him to leave her room straightaway. We all thinks he run outta’ the house cuz he tripped over one o’ us maids on ‘is way out the door. Footman, he took off runnin’ after ‘im. Said it was most like a highwayman wandered up off the toll road when the rains come.”

“Oh,” I exhaled a relieved breath. “Thank the dear Lord Mrs. Brandon is alive!” Recalling the shadowy figure I observed streak from the house last night, I was certain I, too, had seen the thief scurry off into the night. “I daresay she’ll be returning to London straightaway.”

“Ain’t nobody goin’ nowheres today, miss” said the maid. “Storm washed out the bridge, carried it clean off! Ain’t no way to get across the stream to the toll road now, least ways not ‘til the bridge gets rebuilt. Briggs said the lumber left from the grandstand is too wet to use. And, if’n they did use it, then once it dried out, it’d jes’ . . . ”

“Oh, dear, I assume the races scheduled for this afternoon must now be postponed . . . until the racetrack can dry out.”

“’Spect so, miss,” agreed the maid. Having completed her task of laying out our breakfast, she headed for the door. “To be sure, her ladyship is at sixes and sevens. Says she don’t know what to do with a houseful of guests what cain’t go outdoors, and all of ‘em too frightened to stay indoors. Menfolk took to playin’ faro last night; ladies played the pianoforte. Perhaps they’ll play again today. Us maids crept up the stairs to hear the music, but we all scattered when we heard the lady screamin’ from above stairs.

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