Mistletoe and Murder Read Free

explaining the gentleman’s woolly scarf.
    Returning her attention to him, Daisy said with a smile, “Not exactly Lord Westmoor’s guest, at least not yet. The earl is letting me write an article about Brockdene for Town and Country magazine.”
    To her surprise, his sallow face brightened. “A wonderful
subject,” he said enthusiastically. “I’ve lived here all my life and I fancy I’m something of an expert on the house and its contents. The contents are quite as wonderful as the house itself, if not more so. I am engaged in creating a detailed descriptive and historical catalogue … But I’m forgetting my manners. Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Godfrey Norville.” As if unused to the gesture, he stuck out his hand, his bony wrist protruding from his sleeve.
    â€œDaisy Fletcher.” It was rather like shaking hands with a filleted plaice. “How do you do.”
    â€œYes, yes, happy to make your acquaintance, Mrs. Fletcher. I’ve devoted my life to studying Brockdene, you know. I shall give you a tour, and then you must ask me any questions you like. Any questions at all! This is an excellent place to start. The Hall was erected in the late fifteenth century by …”
    â€œI should love a tour a little later,” Daisy interrupted hastily. “But just now, if you don’t mind, I ought to wash my hands and present my credentials to Mrs. Norville.”
    â€œCredentials to Mother?” He gave her a bewildered look. “Oh, I see! Yes, yes, I dare say that will be in order. I wonder where Mrs. Pardon would be at this hour?”
    â€œMrs. Pardon?”
    â€œThe housekeeper. Lord Westmoor keeps a good staff here to preserve the house and its contents. Some of the contents are very valuable, very valuable indeed, both in monetary terms and to the scholar. The vambrace, for instance.” He started to wander off.
    Though curious, Daisy did not permit the mysterious vambrace to distract her. “Mrs. Pardon?” she repeated.
    â€œOh, yes. I will ring the bell, but I rather doubt that it will bring anyone. They are not employed to wait on us,
you see, just to take care of the house and grounds.”
    What an odd arrangement, Daisy thought, wondering exactly what his relationship was to the earl. Her mother might know, but in general the dowager was more interested in her own grievances than in the details of distant family connections, at least those who had nothing to offer her.
    Godfrey Norville seemed to see nothing out of the way. He tugged on a bell-pull by the fireplace, then turned to frown at the suit of armour.
    Through an archway beyond the fireplace came a woman in a dark grey dress with white collar and cuffs. Norville turned at the sound of her footsteps.
    â€œMrs. Pardon, the armour needs polishing! See here, the left pouldron is beginning to tarnish.”
    â€œI believe the armour is on my list for next week, Mr. Norville,” the housekeeper told him, at once soothing and dismissive. “I shall check. Mrs. Fletcher? The boy has taken your luggage up, madam. Your room is in the East Wing, as there is no modern plumbing in the rest of the house. If you would come this way, please?” She led the way through one of the doors at the end of the hall opposite where she had entered.
    Daisy gathered—gratefully—that Lord Westmoor’s staff was prepared to wait on his lordship’s guests. The situation was not only odd but awkward. She couldn’t help regarding the unknown Mrs. Norville as in some sense her hostess, whether the earl had consulted her or simply presented her with a fait accompli.
    â€œDo you have many visitors?” she asked, following Mrs. Pardon through a dining room and along a corridor.
    â€œNot many at all, madam. Now and then his lordship
lets a historian or some such come down to take a look at the house. It’s not like the old days when we’d have a