Death at the Theatre: Miss Hart and Miss Hunter Investigate: Book 2 Read Free Page A

inclined his head to us courteously and was gone.

Chapter Three
     
    The dramatic events of the evening had completely driven the news about Lord Cartwright from my mind. I’d stuffed the newspaper into my handbag as I’d got to the theatre and hadn’t thought anything more about it until late that night, when Verity and I had finally got home and were preparing for bed. Verity had undressed first and was already under the covers by the time I got back from the bathroom. It seemed foolish to bring up such a contentious subject so late at night, and she was already almost asleep, so I merely put the newspaper on the bedside table and got into bed myself. For all the excitement of the evening, sleep came quickly, as it tended to do. I worked too hard every day to find getting to sleep a problem.
    The clang of the alarm woke me as it did every morning. I groaned and slapped a hand onto the vibrating metal clock. Rubbing my eyes, I reluctantly sat up to see Verity already awake and sitting up in bed with yesterday’s newspaper spread over her knees.
    “Oh,” I said reluctantly, and she looked across at me with a stricken face. “I meant to tell you last night but, well, things happened. I was distracted.”
    Verity put the paper back down on her lap, her shoulders sagging. She looked down at the headline. “Dorothy’s going to be distraught.”
    I said nothing. What could I say that would be a comfort? It was true. Verity was lady’s maid to Dorothy Drew, someone who, on the face of it, had everything. Dorothy was young, beautiful, high-born and rich. She was also someone whose father had died young, whose mother and brother had been murdered, and now her stepfather had been found not guilty of the murder both Verity and I knew he had committed.
    I sat down on the bed next to Verity and patted her shoulder. “I know it’s hard. I suppose at least he wasn’t family. Not blood, I mean.” I meant Lord Cartwright but a second after I said it I wished I hadn’t. There had been too much blood spilled already.
    I caught sight of the accursed alarm clock. “Oh Lord, look at the time. Mrs Watling will be after me.”
    Verity tried to smile. “We’ll talk later, Joanie. Have a good morning. I suppose the inspector will be contacting us, won’t he?”
    I paused in my frantic dressing. “Golly, I’m not sure. Should we telephone?”
    Verity looked down at the newspaper on her lap. Then, with a sudden movement, she screwed it up into a messy ball and threw it hard across the room. “God! Are we never to be free of all this…this nonsense?”
    I felt guilty then. Although Verity and I had been instrumental in tracking down the murderers of Dorothy’s family, it had meant a very big upheaval in our lives. Dorothy had moved back down to London after the dust settled and had taken most of the staff of Merisham Lodge, Lord Cartwright’s summer residence, with her. I had been glad at the time – glad to still have a job, glad to be working with the cook, Mrs Watling, who was an amiable woman and a good employer to work under. I was still glad. As jobs went, this one really wasn’t too bad. Plenty of time off, good food and most of the staff had worked together for long enough that most little annoyances between us had been smoothed away. But the shadow of what had happened at Merisham Lodge still hung over us. I suppose it always would.
    I squeezed Verity’s arm in farewell. “What are you up to today?”
    Verity rolled her eyes. “Calming Dorothy down, by the looks of it. Do you think the newspapers will call?”
    I hadn’t even thought of that aspect of it. “I suppose they might. Mr Fenwick will head them off, though.” Mr Fenwick was the butler, a rather ponderous and elderly gentleman but a very good butler. I was slightly surprised that he’d agreed to join the staff in Dorothy’s establishment, having been butler to Lord Cartwright for so long, but then I suppose the scandal of Lord Cartwright’s arrest