Free Murder Has No Class by Rebecca Kent Page B

speculating about my intentions.”
    Reggie looked disappointed. “Very well, m’m.”
    To her relief he closed the door and climbed up onto his seat. She’d had to take the maintenance man into her confidence more than once, but only as a last resort, when she was unable to explain her activities. She saw no reason to enlighten him this time, unless it became absolutely necessary.
    The new horse always seemed anxious to be on the move, and at the slightest flick of the reins, lunged into action. The first time or two she had traveled with him, she had been taken unawares and had been thrown back against the back of the seat, dislodging her hat so that it fell over her eyes.
    Most annoying, since she had to reset the pesky thing on her head without the benefit of a mirror. She’d spent one entire afternoon shopping in Witcheston with a ribbon dangling down her back and a hat pin swinging on the end of it. No wonder she’d received so many odd glances.
    Reggie had named the new horse Spirit, a name she had to admit suited his rambunctious nature, but personally she would rather have had a horse with a little less spirit. She missed the steady plodding of Major, who had been retired once Spirit had taken over the reins.
    Watching the fields rush by, Meredith sighed. It seemed that everything nowadays depended on more and more speed. The motorcars that clogged the streets of Witcheston moved so fast these days that she barely had time to cross the road before one was upon her, honking that dreadful horn and spitting out nasty, smelly smoke.
    In no time at all, it seemed, Reggie was heading up the driveway to the grand entrance of the Stalham estate. Meredith gathered up her handbag and prepared herself for the jolt when the carriage halted. Even so, she slid forward and had to right herself before Reggie opened the door.
    “Here we are, m’m,” Reggie sang out, and held out his hand to help her down.
    There was a time when she would have thanked him and dismounted without his aid, but the rapid pace of their journey had made her somewhat unsteady, and she accepted the firm support of his arm.
    “Goodness,” she said, when her feet were solidly planted on the ground, “we certainly kept up a good pace today.”
    “Yes, m’m.” Reggie grinned. “That Spirit really knows how to charge ahead.”
    “Yes, well, I just hope he doesn’t charge us right into a hedge. We were going around the bends a little too fast for comfort.”
    Reggie’s grin widened. “Don’t you worry yourself, m’m. I’ll make sure we stay on the road.”
    “I certainly hope so.” Meredith glanced up at the main doors. “Wait for me here, Reggie. I shan’t be long.”
    As she mounted the steps, a tumult of raucous barking broke out, from what were obviously very large dogs. They kept up the din while she tugged on the bell rope, and didn’t cease their protests until the door opened. A tall, gaunt man stood in the doorway, dressed in a black morning coat and gray striped trousers. His gray hair was swept back from a high forehead, and his nose jutted out at a fierce angle. Dark blue eyes regarded her with just a hint of hostility, beneath sparse eyebrows raised in question.
    This, apparently, was Smithers, the Stalhams’ butler. “Good afternoon,” Meredith said, doing her best not to feel intimidated. After all, the man was nothing more than a servant, though she doubted very much that he’d see it that way.
    Since he seemed disinclined to answer, she said briskly, “My name is Mrs. Llewellyn, and I understand this estate is up for sale. I would be very interested in viewing the property, if I may?”
    Smithers’s nose tilted upward. “You have an appointment?”
    Meredith curbed her resentment. The man knew very well she didn’t have an appointment. He was, however, entitled to ask for one. “I am visiting the area,” she said, placing a pleasant smile on her face. “I happened to hear of the sale, and since I won’t be here