Free Corpse in a Gilded Cage by Robert Barnard

got.’
    But Dixie merely bared her teeth and drove off. Any shopping she did would simply be a cover for the interview she had arranged with Mr Lillywaite. When she returned it was nearly lunch-time, and she bore some brightly coloured cakes from the local baker’s. This time she drove round to the courtyard and parked her car by Digby’s. Try as she might to hide it, anyone who watched her walk back into the house would have gained the impression that Dixie was as pleased with herself as a cat who has upset the cream jug.
    During the morning Lady Joan had cooked a beef stew liberally laced with wine, and they ate in the kitchen. ‘Much more cosy,’ said Joan brightly. But in fact the kitchen—great, high-ceilinged barn of a place that it was—was far from cosy, unless, perhaps, one had an ox roasting on a spit in the centre of it. The Earls of Ellesmere’s consideration for their servants was a matter more of profession than of practical measures. By the late afternoon everyone was gravitating back to above stairs. One advantage of Chetton’s vastness was that even on the hottest day a fire was possible, so the Earl lit one in the Green Drawing-Room, and toasted bread for tea. Then with some ceremony he cut the cake that the Countess had made, they all sampled it and the garish buns that Dixie had brought back from Chetton (which did nothing for the reputation of small country bakeries), and eventually, with tea swilling round inside them in great quantities, they all settled down for a typical family get-together.
    Like most family get-togethers, this one had its bumpy patches.
    â€˜That’s nice,’ said the Earl, patting his stomach. ‘I always said that Elsie’s fruit cake was second to none. Did you like it, Karen, love?’
    â€˜It was lovely, Grandad.’
    â€˜Makes my day, having the children here,’ he said, looking around at them all. ‘That’s what makes it a real family party. Who knows, Joanie: by next year you could have a little addition.’
    â€˜You know we’re waiting, Dad,’ said Joan, rather tight-lipped. ‘Till we can really afford it.’
    â€˜Well, go to it, Digby,’ said the Earl coarsely. ‘There’s money and to spare from now on.’
    Joan cast at him the sort of look she gave to little boys who farted in class. Dixie didn’t look too pleased either. Since her talk to Mr Lillywaite she had become a firm convert to the idea of primogeniture, and was preparing to arrange battle-lines accordingly. Still, she could congratulate herself on the four high cards that her brood represented, and was beginning to view with new eyes what she had always regarded as the Earl’s fatuous devotion to them. All day Dixie had been quite motherly.
    â€˜You shouldn’t leave it too long, Joan,’ she said, with a tender throb in her voice. ‘It’s when you’re young that you really enjoy children. I tell you, I don’t know what I’d have done without them these last few years on my own.’
    â€˜I’m not expecting to be without Digby,’ said Joan, and added cuttingly: ‘especially not like that.’
    â€˜Now, Joanie, I’m not having that,’ said the Countess, cudgels instantlyraised in defence of her favourite. ‘You’re being smug, as per usual. You know as well as I do there’s not an ounce of harm in Phil. The worst anyone can say is that he’s easily misled.’
    â€˜Here, I say—’ protested Chokey.
    â€˜Naming no names,’ concluded the Countess significantly.
    â€˜Who okayed the whole plan?’ demanded Chokey, his barrow-boy protestations of integrity marred by his gazing at the cornice, the fire-tongs, anywhere but at the Countess. ‘Who found out the caff where the drivers always stopped for early breakfast? Who detailed me to get ’em talking and keep ’em there?’
    â€˜I said I made no