Murder at the Spring Ball: A 1920s Mystery (Lord Edgington Investigates...) by Benedict Brown

Author:Benedict Brown [Brown, Benedict]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Heathdene Books
Published: 2021-03-14T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-One

Grandfather was already waiting for us at the front of the house and a look of wonder crossed his face, which was only rivalled by his chauffeur’s.

“That’s more like it!” he said, practically running over to board the stunning vessel. “Good choice, Todd. Away we go.”

Our driver turned to wink at me, and I didn’t mind him taking the credit. I was slightly less happy that big, fluffy Delilah decided to jump on top of me in the back seat to spend the journey whipping me with her tail.

But, oh what joy it was to speed down those English lanes in the unexpected heat of early June! With the cover drawn back and the wind in our hair, we felt like the gods of Olympus taking flight from the Earth. It was enough to make me forget the terrible things we’d witnessed over the last twenty-four hours and trust once more that everything was right with the world. Sadly, there were rather a lot of flies about that day and the ones that didn’t end up in my eyes, went straight down my throat. Delilah did not seem troubled by them and let out yelps of glee the whole way there.

Though protected by his driving goggles, Grandfather had lost his initial buzz of excitement and seemed perturbed by our situation once more. His visage was not the easiest to read. It was hard to tell whether he was reliving Maitland and Belinda’s deaths, working through his hypotheses on the case, or preparing for the interview he was about to embark on.

“We’ll go to Langford House first, Milord,” Todd explained. “If Cora isn’t there, we can always drive on to Holly Tree Cottage.”

He was distracted for a moment before finding his reply. “Very good, Todd. I need to have a word with my sister-in-law anyway. Whether the old thing will make a jot of sense is another matter.”

Langford House was one of the minor residences in the Cranley family’s possession. It had been occupied throughout its history by spinsters and dowagers. When her husband died in the First Boer War, Clementine was shipped out of Cranley Hall to make her home there. I have no doubt it was once a grand building, but it had fallen into decline under her stewardship.

The façade of the grey stone property was patchy and crumbling. The garden, which my great-aunt had once kept immaculate, was now overgrown. There were leaves and fruit still rotting on the ground since last autumn and the whole place looked like it needed a good clean. Yet, there was something charming about the scene that made me miss my own family home. It suited the nice old lady who lived there and, no matter what anyone might think of her mental state, I could imagine enjoying the life she had.

There was a Crossley 19.6 parked beside the house and, racing ahead of us, Delilah soon found Cora taking tea with her grandmother in the wild back garden.

“Beautiful weather

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