Free Murder At Plums by Amy Myers Page A

pretty young woman with her. What on earth could she find to say to Lady Bulstrode for fifteen minutes? She was nearly as mad as her husband.
    With sinking heart, she arranged her features into a welcoming, dignified expression, as the door was flung open and Wilson began his poker-faced announcements. The show was on.
    ‘My dear Daphne, how charming to see you.’
    ‘Hrrumph. Alice, have you
heard
? What do you intend to do about it, eh?’
    ‘Do about what, Daphne?’ Alice Fredericks asked blankly.
    ‘Fiddle de dee, don’t say you don’t know – and this is Gertie Briton, by the way, Charlie Briton’s wife.’
    Torn between curiosity and her duty, Lady Fredericks uttered polite platitudes to this pretty doll-like creature, who appeared very pink in the face – as much as could be seen of it in view of the ridiculously high collar on her blouse.
    ‘Mrs Erskine, your ladyship, and—’ but Wilson never managed the rest for a crowd of rustling, quivering ladies surged in after Amelia Erskine. Lady Fredericks rose more in alarm than politeness, and was surrounded by a crowd of clutching hands.
    ‘Amelia says they’re trying to keep us out.’
    ‘Who, what?’ Lady Fredericks took a seat in the forlorn hope her visitors would as well. But Lady Bulstrode continued to stride around the room, to Lady Fredericks’ great alarm, since she had a prized collection of delicate porcelain.
    It took some time to convey the message through the babble of voices, since often the purport was obscured by side issues.
    ‘I had ordered a new gown,’ wailed Mrs Briton ingenuously.
    ‘Fiddle de dee, more to this than new gowns,’ trumpeted Daphne. ‘Old one’s good enough for me.’
    ‘I had refused an invitation from Lady Warwick,’ despaired another, the wife of a committee member. ‘How
dare
they? It was all agreed.’
    ‘They say it’s because of the unpleasantness there has been at the club,’ declared Amelia Erskine, taking a leading role – an unusual event for her.
    ‘Unpleasantness?’ said Lady Fredericks, totally at sea now. ‘What unpleasantness?’
    ‘Practical jokes,’ said Gertie dismissively.
    ‘Tampering with a rapier and then poisoning my husband are hardly practical jokes,’ pointed out Amelia with quiet dignity.
    The wives dismissed this as an irrelevance.
    ‘They twy to stop us coming,’ boomed the deep voice of Juanita Salt, bringing everyone back to the central issue.
    Lady Fredericks frowned. ‘I shall inform Arthur,’ she declared forthrightly. ‘He will tell them how foolish they are being.’
    Three voices enlightened her with glee. ‘He supported them, Alice.’
    In the circumstances, it was entirely understandable that the At Home visit lasted more than the ritual fifteen minutes.
    ‘But Gaylord—’ Gertrude Briton’s china-blue eyes were welling with tears.
    He held up his hand as though her sadness were too muchfor him to bear. ‘Don’t, little puss. It’s best for both of us, don’t you see?’
    ‘But I don’t see why you think Charlie’s responsible for these awful things,’ wailed Gertrude.
    Gaylord swallowed. ‘When, my dear, someone is clearly trying to kill you and you are’ – he paused delicately – ‘he has such an enchanting little wife as you, who else would be trying to kill me? Besides, no one else . . .’
    ‘But my Charlie wouldn’t hurt a fly,’ she pouted.
    ‘Nevertheless, dearest, someone tampered with the rapiers and put poison in my food. In the
club.
’ The horror of this slightly exaggerated statement was lost on Gertrude.
    ‘But I love you,’ she hiccuped.
    The repetition of the word ‘but’ was beginning to irritate Gaylord. He had thought Gertrude a most biddable little thing when she first caught his eye, and so convenient for those afternoon meetings when he knew the Honourable Charles Briton to be ensconced at Plum’s or at Gwynne’s. Recently, however, she had shown a distressing tendency to challenge his every decision,