Murder Goes Mumming Read Free

to look after him. Mrs. Condrycke, how very nice to see you again. Are we taking you away from a party?”
    “Yes, but it’s a company affair and quite frankly I’m delighted at the excuse to slip away. You see, Miss Wadman, I’m throwing myself on your mercy not to repeat that. Donald tells me you’re a member of the firm, too. Though soon to become an ex-member?”
    Mrs. Condrycke’s manner was just gracious enough, her smile just the right degree arch as she glanced with proper respect at the fine heirloom diamond gracing Janet’s left hand.
    “I hardly qualify as a member of the firm,” Janet replied with, Madoc was amused to note, the perfect mixture of modesty and amusement. “And I expect I shall be leaving before I’ve managed to scrabble my way out of the stenographic pool.”
    “Shall you miss it, do you think?”
    “With all respect to the firm, not a bit. I like keeping house, and I think office work is a bore.”
    “Then you must have a heart-to-heart chat with my daughter Val. Which brings us, as that other bore who’s making the speech back there is probably saying about now, to the true object of our meeting. My husband and I are hoping we can persuade you and Madoc to come up to Graylings with us.”
    “Graylings is up on the Bay Chaleur, not too far from Dalhousie,” Mr. Condrycke explained. “My father and some other members of our family live there year round. We’re a bit feudal in our ways, and we tend to go all out for Christmas. Yule logs and wassail bowls and silly jokes, you know. It’s totally informal and great fun. At least we think so. Don’t we, Babs?”
    His wife nodded. “The Condryckes are the jolliest crowd imaginable and the house is a gem. Enormous and about a hundred years behind the times, but quite comfortable, really. Squire—that’s our pet name for my father-in-law—even has an old retainer who brings one morning tea in the real old English tradition. It’s like taking a step backward in time. Huge open fires and, thank goodness, a hot-air furnace of sorts and some airtight stoves to put back the heat the fires suck up the chimneys. And tons of lovely food. I always have to put Donald on a diet after we’ve been to Graylings.”
    “She does, indeed,” laughed Donald Condrycke. “Valerie’s bringing her current young man and my nephews will be home from boarding school; so you kids can enjoy watching us oldsters make fools of ourselves. Please say you’ll come.”
    It was hard to picture the Condryckes making fools of themselves, but quite possible to believe Graylings would be an agreeable place to spend the holiday. Janet, who’d never been much of anywhere, was trying to look poised and gracious, and in fact giving a pretty good imitation of Cinderella being presented with a brand-new pumpkin. Lady Rhys was clearly pleased with herself, her handpicked daughter-in-law and even, as a startling change from custom, with her son. Having chosen such a different path from the rest of his family, Madoc hadn’t thought about what Janet might encounter when she was with her future in-laws. Perhaps he ought to let her have this taste of what being a Rhys could mean.
    “Thank you,” he replied. “If you’re quite sure you want us, Janet and I will be delighted to come up for a day or two. Won’t we Jenny?”
    “It’s kind of you to ask us,” Janet said in the sweet, low voice that was going to delight Sir Emlyn when he got to hear it. “What shall we bring?”
    * A Pint of Murder.

Chapter 2
    T HE CONDRYCKES OFFERED A ride up to Graylings in their car, but Madoc was loath to give up a day alone with his Jenny. “Just tell us where it is and we’ll find the place.”
    “It’s a long drive,” Babs Condrycke replied doubtfully, “and we’d hate you to miss dinner. Isn’t it tomorrow night we do the Yule log, Donald?”
    “Half past six on the dot. Then the wassail and the roast goose. I hope you eat goose, Miss Wadman.”
    “I generally eat