Murder At Rudhall Manor Read Online Free Page A

always blushed whenever he uttered a full
sentence.
    She imagined his pale, almost translucent skin flushed pink,
his eyes downcast and a few strands of fine blonde hair hanging over his broad
forehead. He was an attractive fellow with a pleasant sort of temperament—a manly
wallflower who seemed out of place among the rest of the Sedley family.
    "Any other reason for believing Miss Trotter is
responsible?" The stranger queried.
    "Oh, so you are going to help us,"
Elizabeth exclaimed. “I am so glad Ian thought of you."
    "I ran into him in the village. He had once done me a
good turn, and now that I have a chance, I would like to repay him by helping
his family."
    "My youngest child … yes, Ian is the good one,"
Lady Sedley said, forgetting that her other children were sitting right next to
her. "But I would not like to involve you in such a petty matter, my lord.
I think we can find the thief ourselves—"
    "This once, I disagree, Mamma," Elizabeth spoke
over her mother. "I think Ian is right. We really should let him help
us."
    "It would be my pleasure," the man replied.
    Lucy imagined Elizabeth nodding smugly as she said,
"Now, let us quickly tell you all about this thief before she leaves the
country and is lost forever."
    Lady Sedley reluctantly picked up where her daughter had
left off. "The governess's full name is Lucy Anne Trotter. Her parents
were innkeepers and they died in a fire. Miss Trotter was five at the time.
Thereafter, she was taken by a relative to the Brooding Cranesbill, which is an
orphanage run by an admirable lady called Miss Marianne Summer."
    Elizabeth made an annoyed sound. "Miss Trotter was said
to be the sharpest of the lot, but truly it was a dreadful lie. The girl has
been a nightmare. She has behaved in the most suspicious manner ever since her
arrival."
    Lucy relocated the spider and forced herself to follow its
progress. It moved up the white wall like a drunken old man, scuttling up one
way, pausing and then changing direction.
    "She is always watching," Lady Sedley confirmed.
    "She also likes sliding down banisters. I caught her
doing just that with the children the other day," Elizabeth said
passionately. "How can someone who sings and dances with no one around,
slides down banisters and has the audacity to call the master of the house an
oozing pustule—"
    "She did what?" the man interrupted.
    "You heard that right. She called him an oozing
pustule, and only because he pinched her bottom. Now, my lord, I would not like
to speak of such things, being a lady, but she had no trouble yelling at the
top of her lungs about her pinched bottom. She also threatened a whole lot of
unseemly things when the other day poor sozzled Ian happened to fall into her
room at a late hour. She could have been polite and shown him the door, but no,
she punched him and gave him a bloody nose. My brother was pinked, my lord,
pinked. Honestly, what sort of an educated lady does such things?"
    "I caught her prying too … She likes looking at
things," Lady Sedley added moodily. "She is curious."
    "I don’t understand what Father and Ian see in her. She
has a gap between her teeth, an upturned nose and big brown eyes. She looks
like a starved rabbit. Rotten thing, she is. Arrest her, sir, and throw her in
the gallows. Send her to the continent," Elizabeth demanded.
    "Hang her," Lady Sedley exploded.
    A small silence ensued, laced with a lot of heavy breathing.
    Meanwhile, Lucy wondered if a spider fell into a bottle of
gin and was quickly fished out before it drowned, would it become maudlin?
    Suddenly there was a crash and then Lady Sedley's quivering
voice said, "I am glad I won't have to see that vase again. One should not
be forced to keep unsightly things …."
    "Just like Miss Trotter," Elizabeth finished.
    Lady Sedley made a noise that sounded like agreement and
continued. “It is a good thing her parents are dead or—"
    Lucy saw red.
    "Oh, you bloody rotten things," she screeched
charging into the