Death Down the Aisle by Emily Queen

Author:Emily Queen
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Willow Hill Books

CHAPTER 12

ROSEMARY FOLLOWED VERA around the village of Pardington the next afternoon, her arms laden with shopping bags, a blister beginning to form at her heel. Why anyone needed six pairs of hose for one day, she couldn’t begin to fathom, especially considering under Vera’s floor-length gown nobody, save Frederick, would have any reason to see her legs.

Of course, she’d kept that thought to herself while Vera chose several nearly identical pairs in sheer white and then moved on to the nudes.

Next came gloves, and those took another hour despite the presence of at least two perfectly good pairs in a box at home. When Vera began to have second thoughts about her lingerie choices, Rosemary put her foot down.

“Vera, my dear, you may be running on some sort of bride’s petrol, but I’m on fumes,” she said when they’d stopped at the car to stash the bags in the boot. “I need a strong cuppa and an enormous scone.”

It looked as though Vera might argue, but she took a deep breath and nodded. “All right. I suppose I’ve cleaned out the Pardington shops by now—oh no!” Vera stopped short and ducked behind the boot, dragging Rosemary with her.

“What on earth are you thinking? Are you positively mad?” Rosemary demanded, exasperated.

Vera shushed Rosemary’s attempts to ascertain why she was being manhandled, peered around the side of the car, and then quickly slammed the boot.

She shoved an arm through Rosemary’s elbow and then swiftly pulled her towards Shropshire’s Tearoom, where they tumbled inside in a heap.

Vera peered through the front window, looking furtively back and forth, and then finally relaxed her shoulders. “Thank goodness, he hasn’t spotted us. I couldn’t bear to spend the next hour being badgered with questions by your cousin Simon.”

She held up a hand against Rosemary’s protests. “I know you adore him, and that’s lovely for you, but you would feel differently were it your skirts he chose to sniff around.”

“You could do worse,” Rosemary said with a mock straight face. “He is the heir to Mother’s family fortune, you know.” She nodded sagely until Vera’s ears turned red and then burst out laughing.

“It’s good to see age hasn’t stolen your senses of humor,” came a scratchy old voice both Rosemary and Vera knew well.

They both whirled and caught sight of Mrs. Shropshire, the proprietor of the tearoom, staring at them with her head cocked, a wicked smile on her lips.

“Mrs. S!” Rosemary cried, striding towards the old lady and allowing herself to be embraced and kissed on both cheeks. Vera took her turn as well, and each received a thorough judging.

“Too thin by half and far too beautiful. You’ve obviously been smiling too much. Sooner or later, you’ll have laugh lines all over your forehead, and then it’s just a hop and a skip until your décolletage resembles crepe paper the day after a birthday party.”

Mrs. Shropshire had an odd sense of humor. One never knew what scandalous comment might fly out of her mouth, and that was, in fact, the quality of hers both Rosemary and Vera found most endearing.

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