Free Agatha Raisin and the Murderous Marriage by MC Beaton Page A

cotton print dress despite the chill of the day and had a hard
flat bottom and a hard flat chest. Her brown hair was rigidly permed and her patrician nose looked down at each flower and plant with a faintly patronizing air, as if all had sprung from the earth
without her permission.
    The fat woman waddled away from Sir Desmond and James approached him. ‘I was admiring that fine wisteria you’ve got on the wall over there,’ he said.
    ‘Oh, that.’ Sir Desmond blinked myopically in the direction of the house wall. ‘Very fine in the spring. Masses of blossom.’
    ‘I’m experiencing a bit of difficulty with mine,’ said James. ‘I planted it two years ago but it hasn’t grown very much and has very few blossoms.’
    ‘Where did you get it from?’
    ‘Brakeham’s Nurseries.’
    ‘Them!’ Sir Desmond gave a contemptuous snort. ‘Wouldn’t get anything from there. Hetty, my wife, got given a present of a hydrangea from there. Died after a week. And do
you know why?’ Sir Desmond poked James in the chest with a long finger. ‘No roots.’
    ‘How awful. I’ll give them a clear berth in future.’
    Agatha was approaching to join them. Then she heard Sir Desmond say, ‘Lot of charlatans about. Where are you from?’
    ‘Carsely.’
    ‘Do you know I went to see the gardens there when they were open to the public and some woman had bought everything fully grown from a nursery and tried to pretend she had planted
the lot from seed. Didn’t even know the names of anything.’
    Recognizing a description of herself, Agatha veered off, leaving the conversation to James.
    She approached Lady Derrington instead. ‘Nice garden,’ said Agatha.
    ‘Thank you,’ said Lady Derrington. ‘We have some plants for sale on tables over by the house. Very reasonable prices. And there are tea and cakes. Our housekeeper makes very
good cakes. Just follow the crowd. Why, Angela, darling, how wonderful to see you!’
    She turned away. Agatha looked back at James. He was now deep in conversation with Sir Desmond. Judging they had moved from the subject of that dreadful woman in Carsely, Agatha went to join
them. They were swapping army stories. Agatha fidgeted and stifled a yawn.
    ‘I was just about to take a break and have some tea,’ said Sir Desmond finally. ‘Do join us. The women from the village are quite capable of coping with this crowd.’
    James introduced Agatha as his wife, Mrs Perth. Agatha was surprised that he should maintain that bit of deception, but James did not want Sir Desmond to remember Agatha as the gardening cheat
of Carsely.
    Sir Desmond walked them over to his wife and introduced them. Lady Derrington seemed slightly displeased that two strangers should have been invited for tea. Agatha suspected that she would have
been better pleased if they had paid for it.
    They found themselves in a pleasant drawing-room. The green leaves of the wisteria fluttered and moved outside the windows, dappling the room in a mixture of sunlight and shadow. Two sleepy dogs
rose at their entrance and yawned and stretched before curling down and going to sleep again. Lady Derrington threw a log on the fire and then poured tea. No cakes, noticed Agatha with a beady eye.
Only some rather hard biscuits. She wanted a cigarette but there was no ashtray in sight.
    They answered questions about Carsely and then James leaned back in his chair, stretched his long legs, and said with seeming casualness, ‘My wife and I have just returned from a short
stay at Hunters Fields.’
    Sir Desmond was lifting a cup of tea to his lips. His hand holding the cup paused in midair. ‘What’s that?’ he demanded sharply.
    ‘It’s that health farm,’ said his wife. ‘Horribly pricey. The Pomfrets went there but they’ve got money to burn.’
    ‘But you were there yourself,’ said James. ‘You were both there at the same time as two people we know, Mrs Gore-Appleton and Jimmy Raisin.’
    ‘We have never been there and I have