A Mourning Wedding (Daisy Dalrymple Mysteries, No. 13)
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Lucy's grandfather is hosting the ceremony at his beautiful estate and so it promises to be a typical affair with hordes of gossipy aunts and other colorful but not necessarily pleasant relatives. Daisy meets all these characters and observes the ensuing familial fraternization with a certain kind of amusing nonchalance. That is, until Lucy's great aunt is found strangled to death in her bed. Lucy, in the meantime, has arranged to meet her betrothed in the conservatory, but when she arrives she finds him trying to revive her uncle, who has died-or has he been murdered? And just like that a normally celebratory occasion turns suspicious. Now Daisy must sift through a throng of relatives-aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents- once wedding guests and now murder suspects. And she must find the killer quickly before another family member becomes a corpse.
“Cats will always catch and torment mice and birds, and I expect people will always eat meat. But people can be taught not to inflict cruelty, deliberately or through negligence.” Daisy encouraged her to talk about her job with the RSPCA. “It would make an interesting article,” she decided. “I’ll make some notes on what you’ve told me and see if I can interest an editor. You wouldn’t mind answering a lot of questions, maybe letting me trail around with you for a day?” “Not at all. I’ll do
he howls.” Tom’s moustache twitched and Daisy grinned. There and then Alec more or less gave up on Angela Devenish as a suspect. “Go on.” “I went to the Long Gallery and opened one of the French doors—” “Locked?” “Yes, and bolted top and bottom, but the keys are kept in the drawer of a table. The gold and marble one, you know, Daisy? We went out on the terrace. And hung about and hung about for simply ages.” “Did you move out of sight of the door?” “No. That is, I took Tiddler down the
“Coming, darling?” “Is it tea-time already? Yes, coming. Alec, darling, I’ve told you all I know about your next two victims. I’ll be back as soon as I can. I’ll make sure Baines sends in tea for you and Tom.” “Very welcome it’ll be, too, Mrs. Fletcher,” said Tom, studiously avoiding Alec’s eye. With brisk steps, the two young women departed. The library door closed behind them. “So you’ve decided to marry him after all?” Daisy enquired as they crossed the hall, already emptied of trestle
believe that the baronet was capable of making up such a story and presenting it in a credible manner. “Ah,” said Tom. “Seems a pretty straightforward chap, but remember how Mrs. Fletcher thought he’s under the cat’s paw while all the time it’s him that holds the whip hand. And Mrs. Fletcher isn’t easily fooled.” “You’re right, in spite of the mixed metaphors. We’ll have to dig into his financial situation, find out how badly he needed the London house and whatever the estate was paying out to
us that?” “Mr. Montagu,” said Ernie. “Flora told me the same,” Daisy observed. “Lucy said Rupert found it humiliating to beg from Lord Haverhill. He’s bored with the Army. Lady Haverhill told me that.” “Why on earth … ? Why do people tell you these things, Daisy?” Daisy fluttered her eyelashes at him. “I didn’t ask, I promise you. I had no interest in Rupert whatsoever then. She also said he doesn’t want to come and live here at Haverhill either, to help run the estate. And I think it was