CHAPTER ONE – ADELAIDE
“Did you know they arrested that murderer? The one who killed the man who bled out over the tulips in Arrow Woods?”
I choked on my toast. A particularly sharp piece got lodged in my throat, and it made my eyes water as I erupted into a coughing fit and covered my mouth with my hand.
Elizabeth, the Dowager Duchess of Worcester, looked at me with her eyes wide. “Adelaide, dear, are you quite all right?”
I managed to swallow most of the offending bite of toast before I reached for my glass of water and desperately glugged it down. Thankfully, it solved the problem, but my eyes still streamed.
“Goodness, have a tissue.” She plucked one out of a box and handed it to me, and I took it with a nod of my head.
She had those tissue boxes everywhere.
I wiped at my eyes, thankful I was still in my loungewear and not yet ready for the day. I could only imagine the state of me if I’d had mascara on.
“What’s going on in here?” Alexander, the Duke of Worcester and Elizabeth’s son, strolled into the kitchen looking like he was off to a business meeting with the Queen herself. “Adelaide, what’s the matter?”
“Death by toast,” Elizabeth replied before I could. “It’s why I prefer yoghurt. One doesn’t choke on yoghurt.”
We’d had this discussion daily for the last week since I’d arrived at Bentley Manor—never mind that this was the first time I’d choked, and it was solely down to the shock at her conversation starter.
“I’m fine,” I said, albeit a smidge scratchily. “I wasn’t prepared for your mother to bring up such a… macabre… subject.”
“Oh, Mother,” Alexander said, pouring himself a cup of tea and sitting next to me at the table. “You haven’t been bringing up those conspiracy theories of yours again, have you?”
Elizabeth didn’t bat an eyelid as she slid him her empty teacup and saucer. “Only on days that end in Y, Alexander. No, I was asking if Adelaide had heard about the murderer that had been apprehended in Arrow Woods.”
“I’m assuming she had not, given the reaction.” He glanced at me.
“You assume correctly,” I said, pushing the remainder of my toast away from me.
I’d almost died once this morning. I’ll pass, thank you.
“Who did it?” I asked Elizabeth, turning my attention to the jug of orange juice and pouring myself some.
She adjusted her glasses and peered at the newspaper. “Edmund McMahon.”
My eyebrows shot up. “Eddie McMahon? Really? I went to school with him.”
“Mm. Battered the other man over the head, apparently.”
Alex put his mug down with a clatter. “Is this really breakfast conversation material, Ma? Poor Adelaide is turning green.”
Was I?
I probably was.
It was rather grim, wasn’t it?
“Oh, dear.” Elizabeth got up and fetched the biscuit tin. “Here. Have a biscuit.”
“I’m fine, thank you,” I replied slowly.
“There are gingernuts. They’ll help with your nausea. You aren’t pregnant, are you?”
“Mother!” Alexander took control of the biscuit tin and pulled it away. “That’s impolite.”
“She didn’t answer.”
“Because it’s none of your business.”
“I’m not pregnant.” The chance would be a fine thing. I hadn’t gotten any in months. “It’s just a little early for such graphic discussions about murder, that’s all.”
“Ah, you have a weak stomach.” Elizabeth nodded. “Good thing you aren’t here in the spring. Those sheep make a grand mess birthing their lambs.”
“Mother,” Alexander said, a tad firmer this time. “Do you not have anywhere to be? No doubt Adelaide would like to enjoy a peaceful cup of tea before Olympia wakes up and causes carnage.”
“Mm,” I replied. “We’re reading on the Kindle today.”
“The Kindle? What’s wrong with a real book?” Elizabeth sniffed as she stood up. “Everything is technologically driven and it’s a crying shame, if you asked me.”
I fought back a smile. “There’s a setting that changes the font to something easier to read for dyslexic children.”
She paused, her mouth forming a small ‘o.’
“I would like to have her reading a chapter book alone by the end of the summer, be that on paper or on the Kindle,” I continued. “She’s actually an extremely proficient reader, but she gets frustrated easily by the set up on paper books. I hope this setting will make it more enjoyable for her.”
Alexander hid a smile behind his mug.
“Well,” Elizabeth said, smoothing out her blouse. “That would make things easier, wouldn’t it?”
“I certainly hope so.”
“As do I.” She looked around uncertainly before she looked at Alex. “I’m going into the village. There’s a council meeting regarding the development of the skate park and I’d like to be a part of that.”
“You won’t convince them it’s a good idea,” Alex said blithely. “Despite what everyone wants, they won’t do it. They’d rather fetter the council tax away on vanity projects like getting the signs cleaned, ignoring that poor Gerald has done it for thirty years without pay. If they must pay someone, I’d rather they backdate his pay.”
“You’ll hear no argument from me,” Elizabeth said. “But that doesn’t mean I’m going to give up. The ladies and I are on a warpath. The teenagers here need something to do before they get bored and trash the place. That youth club is only good for so long.”
“Yes, well, if I didn’t have this meeting this afternoon, I would be joining you.” Alexander stood and kissed her cheek.
“Perhaps a letter from you may help our cause. I’ll speak with Margaret and see what she thinks.” She returned the gesture before bidding me goodbye and disappearing through the door.
I peered after her. “I have heard her go on and on about this skate park and I still haven’t the foggiest idea about what’s going on.”
Alex chuckled as he sat back down. “The playground in the park was renovated around eighteen months ago. The old area has been cleared, but nobody knows what to do with it, so it was put to a community vote. The council wanted a café putting there for revenue purposes.”
“Of course.”
“But the community wanted something for the children, specifically the teenagers. The youth club at the church suggested a skate park or, what was it?” He tapped a finger against his stubbled chin. “I can’t remember. Either way, the skate park was the most popular option, but the council are vehemently against it.”
“Because they can’t sell the land to someone,” I guessed.
“Exactly. Someone floated the idea of buying it to build a skate park, but it was made quite clear that they wouldn’t give planning permission.” He sighed. “I try not to get involved in things like this, but I’m afraid Ma is right. After the teens hit fourteen, there’s no place for them at the youth club. It runs from six to ten and eleven to fourteen. The older teenagers are the ones we find get into trouble, minor legal issues and the like. If there was a skate park or something similar, it would give them something to do.”