Free Auntie Mayhem by Mary Daheim Page A

hands clawed at the air and her small chin trembled. If Aunt Pet was a falcon, Dora was a sparrow.
    Noting Claire’s indecision, Judith intervened. “My cousin and I are going for a stroll through the village.” The fib tripped off Judith’s tongue. “We’d be glad to get the biscuits.”
    Dora practically crumpled with relief. “ Could you ? Would you ? I’d be ever so grateful.” A sudden expression of alarm crossed her pinched little face. “But such cheek! You’re Mr. and Mrs. Charles’s guests!”
    â€œIt’s no bother,” Judith assured the maid. “We were just leaving. We’ll be back shortly.”
    Two minutes later, the cousins were downstairs in the entry hall. Claire was still protesting their generous offer. “Besides,” she added, “Auntie really shouldn’t eat sugar biscuits.”
    Renie waved a hand. “Hey, she’s ninety-four. A couple of cookies won’t kill her. Or,” Renie asked, her savoir-faire momentarily shaken, “is she diabetic?”
    â€œNo, no, it’s not that,” Claire answered as the door chimes sounded. “It’s her digestion. She’s supposed to be on a strict, bland diet. Of course she badgers poor Dora to bring her things she shouldn’t eat. Auntie’s quite the scamp.”
    The last words came from over Claire’s shoulder as she hurried to the front door. Judith and Renie held back, waiting for the caller to come in.
    Claire’s reaction, however, wasn’t exactly welcoming. “Oh! Colonel Chelmsford! Whatever are you doing here?”
    Beyond Claire, Judith could make out the figure on the porch. Colonel Chelmsford was wearing a tan Norfolk jacket, brown breeches, brown boots, and held a brown and black checkered snap-brim cap in his hands along with asmall parcel. His luxuriant ginger mustache had traces of silver and his complexion was florid. He looked to be in his late sixties, possibly older, but stood at military attention.
    â€œIt’s Miss Ravenscroft I wish to see,” Colonel Chelmsford said in a gruff voice. “Most urgent.”
    Claire’s hands fluttered in agitation. “Oh! But I think not. Auntie won’t be pleased.”
    â€œBother Auntie!” the colonel bellowed. “The woman hasn’t been pleased in ninety-four years! Come, come, let me pass.”
    â€œBut…” Despite the protest, Claire stepped aside. Colonel Chelmsford marched into the entry hall, then came to a halt in front of the cousins.
    â€œWhat’s this?” he demanded, his hazel eyes hard as agates. “Reinforcements? Stand back, I’m on the move!”
    Obediently, the cousins stepped out of the colonel’s way. He clomped forward, then again came to an abrupt halt. “I say, where are those blasted stairs? I haven’t been in this house since 1955.”
    Hastening to join the colonel, Claire led him toward the main staircase. “This way…I believe the stairs have always been here, though the corridor range in the rear was added around 1785…”
    Left on their own, the cousins exited the house. A moment later, they were following the curving drive that led around the house to the main gate.
    â€œWow!” Renie exclaimed as they caught sight of the formal gardens held in the lap of the hill that sloped toward the river. “What a place! All that art—it must be worth a fortune! Why would they be fussing about opening a B&B? They could sell one of those Titians or Van Dycks and use the money to keep up the house for years.”
    â€œYou’d think so.” Judith tore her eyes away from the neatly ordered rows of red, white, yellow, and purple tulips. “Of course we can’t really judge. A setup like this is completely outside the range of our experience.”
    Renie gave a little shrug as they approached the gatehouse. “True. I don’t suppose we spend more