Death by the Book (2 page)

“Oh, no doubt.” Drew looked about the stacks of new books once more. “Now about that new book . . .”

“You know I’m not allowed.”

“But you do have them in, don’t you?”

She tried to look stern. “I’m not supposed to say.”

“But suppose I just happened on a copy.” Drew looked into one of the open boxes. “Perhaps in here.”

She shook her head, and he pointed out another box.

“Here?”

“Certainly not. Those are textbooks.” She snatched up the box and put it on a side table. Then she began unpacking the books, setting them out on a high shelf.

“May I help you with that?”

“Oh, no. I can reach it just fine, thank you.”

“Very well.” He walked round to the front counter where her packing lists were awaiting verification. There was a freshly opened crate just beside it. “Now there’s an interesting possibility. I suppose with something as popular as the books for the Mystery Mavens’ Newsletter, there would be several copies coming in all at once. They wouldn’t be in there, would
they?”

She turned to face him, abandoning the task at hand. “I am absolutely not going to tell you where they are.”

Again she tried to look stern, but she was softening, he could tell. And she hadn’t said the books weren’t in that one.

“No, of course not.” He strolled over to the crate, peering sideways into it.

“Now, Mr. Farthering, if there’s nothing else, you really must let me get on with my inventory. I have to sort through some of the boxes in the storeroom, and if I come back and count the books in that crate and find one missing, I’ll just have to put it on your bill.” She looked at him over her spectacles, her expression stern, but her eyes twinkling. “And you won’t be getting one when I send the rest of them out.”

He made his own expression humble, even abject. “That would be no more than right.”

“Well, then, I must get to my inventory. Have a look round the shop if you like. I’m sure you can show yourself out.”

With that, she gathered up her packing lists and went into the back room.

It was as much as an invitation.

Drew waited just another moment before reaching into the crate. The new book was by Dorothy L. Sayers,
Have His Carcase
. The latest exploits of Lord Peter, no doubt. Delicious.

He slipped a copy into his coat pocket and then, just to make sure, he left in its place money enough to pay for two or three of its kind. And if she added the price of the book to his account on top of it, that would be all right as well.

When he went out into the street, he made sure to give the bell above the door a good jingle so she’d know she could come back to the front of the shop.

He would have doubtless been swaggering on the way home if he had been walking, but since he was behind the wheel, he had to content himself with a certain smugness of expression.

“Well, my fine Miss Parker, you’ll not be getting those dainty little hands on this one before I’ve had a go at it. The further adventures of Lord Peter and Harriet Vane, including the romantic ones, no doubt, and I won’t be giving you so much as a peek at it till I’ve finished the whole thing, bat those lovely blue eyes as you will.”

The scene from earlier in the afternoon tried once more to force its way into his thoughts, but he again drove it off. He would occupy his mind with Detective Lord Peter Wimsey and not solicitor Quinton Montford. No doubt Chief Inspector Birdsong would thank him for it, too.

With a determined smile, he turned toward Farthering Place and then slowed, puzzled at what he saw. Unless he was mistaken, that was Nick standing there at the side of the road, waving his arms like the flagman for a railway, his sandy hair sticking up and his hazel eyes wide. Drew pulled over.

“Nick, old man, what in the world—?”

“I just managed to slip out the back way.” Nick jumped into the car and wiped his sweating face with his handkerchief. “Madeline. She said I had to warn you.”

“What’s happened? Is she all right?”

“No, no, she’s fine,” Nick panted. “Perfectly fine. It’s you she’s worried about.”

Drew let out the air that was pent up in his lungs and put the car back into gear. “Why don’t you tell me what’s going on without all the melodrama?”

“I’ve just had the tongue-lashing of my life, I can tell you that much.”

“Really? Why?”

“Accusations of a rather forceful nature, I must admit, and insinuating all manner of impropriety.”

Drew chuckled. “What exactly have you been up to?”

“Yes, go on and laugh now, but you might want to turn round, you know. Before it’s too late.”

They were at Farthering Place by then, and Drew pulled up at the steps, glad to see his family’s ancestral home was still standing in the grove of oaks at the end of the drive in all her imposing, respectable glory. From what Nick had said, Drew had half expected to find the old manor house nothing but rubble around his feet.

“Hadn’t you better—?”

“Too late,” Nick breathed, nodding toward the formidable middle-aged woman dressed entirely in black, who, despite her cane, came sailing along the garden path round to the front of the house like an ocean liner in open water.

“There you are!” Steely eyes blazing, she pointed one accusing finger at Drew. “Finally man enough to show your face, are you?”

Drew blinked at her. “I beg your pardon?”

“And well you should, young man. Stand to your feet when addressing your elders. Now, where have you been hiding yourself?”

“Hiding?”

“Stand up, I say!”

She thumped her cane against one of the tires. Drew scrambled out of the car, removing his hat and feeling horribly guilty. Guilty of what, he did not know.

“I was just at the bookshop and—”

“A very likely story. Now, what do you have to say for yourself?” She turned her head sideways, peering at him over her wire-rimmed spectacles as if she were some enormous parrot in full mourning.

“I, uh—”

“Yes, of course. There is no excuse you could possibly offer. I’m glad we can agree on that much. I hope you realize that the situation cannot continue as it is.”

“I don’t—”

“Well, I didn’t think you would, but that doesn’t matter.”

“Look here—”

She put up a hand to silence him, looking the perfect image of saintlike patience in the face of great provocation.

“No amount of contrition will be sufficient at this late hour. I have already arranged for a taxi to come take us to the train station and told one of your housemaids to have everything packed up before he gets here. This little episode will soon be nothing more than a shameful memory. For you and for Madeline, I trust.”

“Me and—” Then it all made sense. Drew smiled. “Aunt Ruth, it must be. How lovely to meet you at last.”

“Oh, dear,” Nick murmured, and he slunk out of the car and toward the house.

“Don’t you Aunt Ruth me, young man!” she roared. “I’m not your aunt, and don’t hold your breath waiting for me to be.”

“Again, I beg your pardon.” Hat over his heart and determined to keep hold of his affable demeanor, Drew made a slight bow
in her direction. “Shall we go into the house, Miss Jansen? I’m sure Madeline will be delighted to see you.”

“She has seen me already. And no, she was not delighted.” Aunt Ruth swept up to the top of the steps, then turned to glare at Drew once more. “I will go into the house only because I have never been one to air dirty laundry in public.”

Nick scurried up to the door and opened it for her.

She vouchsafed him a nod of thanks. “I apologize for what I said to you earlier, young man. I had no way of knowing you were not this Farthering fellow, but we sometimes suffer for making poor choices in the company we keep, don’t we? Let that be a lesson to you.”

“Indeed, ma’am. I certainly will.”

With a derisive snort, she sailed into the house.

Drew stood at the foot of the steps for a moment more and then glanced longingly back at the car. It wasn’t too late for a quick getaway.

Nick gave him a half-dazed smile. “Coming inside, old man?”

“Good heavens. No wonder you looked as if you’d been hit by a train.”

Nick laughed, and a touch of color crept back into his face. “I believe the only thing she didn’t accuse me of was sacrificing Christian maidens to my pagan gods out here on the front lawn.”

“Sorry about that. Obviously that was all intended for me. What exactly am I meant to have done?”

“Evidently you’ve led one Miss Madeline Parker astray with your silver tongue and modern ideas, not to mention forever soiling the family honor.”

Drew chuckled. “Oh, is that all.”

“Apparently, it’s enough.”

“Well, that’s easily cleared up. I’ll just explain to her that
Madeline has been living at Rose Cottage since her uncle died. Even the old hens in the village haven’t quite figured out how to be scandalized at that.”

“Explain away, my friend, for all the good it will do you. When the dear auntie came in earlier, she found Madeline sleeping—sleeping, mind you!—on the divan in the library. And she had her shoes off.” Nick grinned. “If that doesn’t tell the whole sordid story, I don’t know what would.”

“But surely Madeline told her—”

“You’ve seen what it’s like to try to get a word in edgeways, haven’t you? I daresay Madeline gave up trying to be heard ages ago.”

“Well, the lady has got to take a breath sometime, hasn’t she? I will just wait for a lull in the storm.”

W
ell, I’ve hunted him down at last.”

Aunt Ruth stormed into the library, and Madeline stood up, her shoes decently on both feet.

“Aunt Ruth—”

“And why didn’t that other boy tell me he isn’t who I thought he was?”

“That’s Nick Dennison. He’s learning to manage the estate. His father is the butler here.”

“With all these people to do his work for him, no wonder this Farthering fellow has time for mischief. He tried to give me some cock-and-bull story about being at a bookstore.” The older woman raised one graying eyebrow. “I can guess the kind of books.”

“If you guess Shakespeare and a lot of the other classics, you’d be right. Drew’s a very well-educated man.”

“Educated in mischief, I’ll be bound.”

Aunt Ruth’s lips were pressed into that tight line Madeline knew so well. Over the years, the expression had etched vertical
creases into Aunt Ruth’s forehead and upper lip, advertising her displeasure with the world and all it had to offer.

“I wish you would just give him a chance. Talk to him for a little while and see. He’s got a lot of good qualities.”

“I suppose he does. Lots of money, fancy friends, a big house, the latest automobile, fashionable clothes and a handsome frame to display them, what else could a girl want?”

“It’s not—”

“Oh, I know. I know.” Aunt Ruth waived one hand in its black glove. “It’s not that way with you. You love him for his warm heart and his generous spirit and his kindly soul. Let me tell you, young lady, in the short time you’ve been here, you know nothing about his heart, spirit, or soul but what he’s wanted you to see. It’s easy for a man like that, one of these men of the world you hear about, to fool an innocent little girl like you. No telling what he’s talked you into already.”

“But Aunt Ruth—”

“Don’t you Aunt Ruth me, miss. Didn’t I see you with my own eyes exhibiting yourself here on this sofa half dressed?”

Madeline bit her lip. “I was just reading a book and fell asleep. Drew wasn’t even here for me to
exhibit myself
to. And I was completely dressed except for my shoes.”

“Well, bare feet are just the beginning if you ask me.”

Madeline fought the urge to scream. “Why don’t you sit down for a while and we can talk about this?”

“There’s nothing to talk about. Go see that that maid has packed all your things. I’ll make sure the cab driver is still outside. He’s driven off with all the luggage, like as not.”

Aunt Ruth bustled out of the room, and Madeline sank down onto the couch and dropped her head into her hands.

“All clear?”

She looked up to see Drew peeking around the door and flung herself into his arms.

“Oh, Drew, I’m so sorry.”

“For what, darling?”

“I don’t know. For what she must have said to you outside.”

He gave her a wink, and there was warmth in his gray eyes. “She is a bit of a pepper pot, isn’t she?”

Madeline smiled in spite of herself and smoothed the dark hair off his forehead. “She really doesn’t mean any harm. She thinks she’s protecting me.”

He squeezed her tightly against him. “That’s my job now, isn’t it?”

“Drew. Drew.” She buried her face against the fresh linen of his shirt and burst into tears. “I don’t want to go home now. I don’t.”

“It’s all right, darling.”

He had such a wonderful voice, soothing and sure, as if he could make anything all right.

“I don’t know what to do.” She lifted her head and smiled again. “I guess I’d better make up my mind one way or other.”

“That’s the preferred method, of course.”

She sat on the sofa and pulled him down beside her. “I can’t believe she’s come all this way. I don’t think she’d ever left Illinois or even Chicago in her life.”

“She seems rather determined nonetheless. It’s good of her to wear mourning for your uncle. I didn’t think they were all that close.”

“They weren’t. She never liked him at all. But she always wears black, at least ever since I’ve been alive. She was engaged to a man who died a few days before their wedding. I suppose she never got over it.”

He looked around the room and then lowered his voice. “You don’t suppose he took the coward’s way out and made away with himself, do you?”

Madeline stifled a laugh. “You are
very
bad. Besides, Aunt Ruth was quite the beauty in her day. I should show you some photographs.”

“So who was he, this chap who died? Must have been quite something.”

“That’s just it. I don’t know anything about him. She’s worn mourning for him ever since he passed away, but she never speaks of him. I mean, except to say how different things would have been if her Bertie had lived. I’d never dare ask her about him.”

Drew frowned. “Just because she’s been unhappy, it doesn’t follow she should want you to be.”

She squeezed his hand. “No, it doesn’t. And I don’t think that’s what she wants. Not really. She just has that way about her. My uncle Cal says she’d scowl at a sunrise and bark at a bluebird. Of course, he doesn’t say it where she can hear him.”

“I daresay.”

He grinned at her with that little spark of mischief in his eyes that she had already come to know so well. Surely even Aunt Ruth couldn’t dislike him for long. In the weeks Madeline had been here in Hampshire, she had seen him with the older ladies in the village—well, with all the women to be honest. He didn’t intentionally flirt, not really, but he was never lacking in charm, charm that was all the more attractive for its artlessness, charm that made them girlish and indulgent whenever he was around.

But Aunt Ruth was right, even though she had only meant to be sarcastic. Madeline did love him for his warm heart and his generous spirit and his kindly soul. She loved his wit and his intelligence, his protectiveness and his coolness through
the worst of situations. She wouldn’t lie to herself, either. She loved the look of him and the sound of him, the touch and the taste and the smell of him. Oh, why did he always have to smell so good? So many men reeked of liquor and cigarettes, but he always smelled like freshly laundered linen, new books, and tea and honey.

She was unable to resist pressing her face against his neck and breathing in his clean, masculine scent. He did nothing more than slip one arm around her waist and lay his cheek against her hair, but she felt that instant electricity between them, that quickening in her blood that made her want to kick off caution and restraint like a pair of too-tight shoes.

But that wasn’t going to happen. They’d already talked about having no regrets between them and being careful to stay out of situations that might make it too easy to slip.

She pressed a little closer, breathed a little more deeply. It wasn’t going to happen, but it would be easy, oh, so easy—

“Madeline!”

Madeline shoved herself away from Drew, and he sprang to his feet.

“Exactly what I suspected.” Nostrils flaring, eyes snapping, Aunt Ruth stormed into the room, the picture of delighted righteous indignation. “Get up this minute, young lady. The sooner we’re away from here, the better.”

Madeline stood, anger, embarrassment, and irritation fighting for supremacy inside her.

“I beg your pardon, Miss Jansen, and with all due respect, but Madeline is of age.” Despite the touch of color in his face, Drew managed to keep his tone and his temper cool. “She ought to be able to make such decisions for herself, don’t you think?”

Aunt Ruth snorted. “She never could make a sound decision.
And how could she be expected to? She may be twenty-two, but she’s really just a child. How else could she have been so easily seduced into staying on here so long?”

Drew’s tolerant smile tightened. “Seduced? Now, really—”

“She was raised up to be a good girl. I knew it was a mistake letting her tramp all over creation with a couple of flibbertigibbets for even a few weeks. Now they’re who knows where and she goes and gets ideas in her head.”

“Carrie and Muriel are back in Chicago now, Aunt Ruth. I wrote you about it. I couldn’t just leave with everything that was happening here.” A little tendril of grief tightened around Madeline’s heart. “And then there was the funeral.”

“You should have come home. I don’t care what was happening.” Aunt Ruth shook her finger in Madeline’s face. “You listen to me, my fine lady. You may have your uncle’s money now to do with as you please and no one to answer to, but it will do you little good if you lose your precious soul in the bargain.”

Madeline merely looked down at her folded hands and said nothing. It was always this way. The more she tried to get Aunt Ruth to understand, the worse the situation became.

“You mistake my intentions, ma’am,” Drew said. “I have made Madeline an honorable proposal of marriage.”

“Hogwash.”

Drew blinked. “I assure you—”

“If your intentions were anything but low down, you’d have asked permission from her family.”

“And I would have, the moment she accepted me.”

“Bah. A gentleman asks permission first.”

“You’re perfectly right, and for that I do apologize. But with everything that happened here when she arrived, I thought it
would be best to have her answer before I presumed to contact you in America.”

“Presumption it would have been.” Aunt Ruth’s eyes flashed. “And is still. How long have you known each other? A month now?”

“Nearly two,” Madeline blurted, and then she wilted under her aunt’s glare.

“Two whole months, is it? Well, why have you waited so long? You could have saved yourself the trouble and moved in the moment you stepped onshore.”

“Please, Aunt Ruth, I’m trying to do the right thing. That’s why I haven’t given him an answer yet. I thought if we waited a while, to get to know each other better, and—”

“Playing house in your little love nest the whole time, of course.”

“No.”

Madeline said nothing else in protest, but her face was hot, and mortified tears had sprung to her eyes. What must Drew think? Of her and her family? But if a sharp retort leapt to Drew’s tongue, he kept it firmly subdued.

“You should congratulate yourself, ma’am, on a job well done.” Smiling, Drew put his arm around Madeline. “As you say, you raised her to be a good girl, and she is just that. Through everything that’s happened, she’s conducted herself with courage and clear-headedness and absolute propriety. You’ve fashioned her into a young lady any man would be honored to have as his wife.”

Dear Drew. Of course he’d use honey to catch Aunt Ruth. Madeline squeezed his hand, her eyes glowing, but her aunt merely crossed her arms over her broad bosom, peering at him again over her spectacles.

“I may have been born at night, young man, but it wasn’t last night. Though I see how an innocent girl could be taken in by that glib tongue. Well, your foreign ways are no match for honest American truth, Mr. Farthering, and if Madeline is old enough to be in such a fix, she’s old enough to hear it. I hope and trust that, as you say, she is a good girl. Yet whatever she has or hasn’t done, she’s coming back home with me and no more nonsense about it. I won’t have her staying here for you to play upon her sweet, easily led nature.”

He glanced at Madeline, and she could see him holding back a chuckle. Sweet, to be sure, the gleam in his eyes said, but easily led?

Aunt Ruth jerked her head toward the door. “Come along, Madeline. I’m sure that lazy girl has your things packed by now. The cab is waiting.”

“No.” Madeline tightened her hold on Drew’s hand, but she didn’t raise her eyes.

Aunt Ruth pursed her lips and glared at Drew. “Don’t be stubborn, Madeline. We don’t have time for it. Get up.”

“I’m not going.” Madeline lifted her head, her mouth set in a firm line. “I’m staying here.”

“Darling.” Drew pressed her hand to his lips. “I’m so glad. I can inquire into getting a special license—”

“I didn’t say I’d marry you, either.” She hoped her expression was cool and imperious, despite the tremor in her voice. “I’m not going to be rushed into or out of any decision as important as this one.”

Drew kissed her hand again, a mingling of pride and disappointment in his eyes. “Nor should you be, darling. I’ve told you before, I want you to be sure of me. As sure as I am of you.”

“Madeline Felicity Parker, if you think for one minute—”

This time Madeline looked the older woman in the eye. “I’m not going, Aunt Ruth.”

Her hand trembled a bit in Drew’s, but she didn’t look away.

Aunt Ruth threatened, cajoled, warned, and pled, but it was all to no avail. Madeline wasn’t going home. Not yet.

“Very well. You’ve taken the bit in your teeth. I suppose there’s nothing else but to let you run with it.” The older woman strode out of the parlor and, seeing Nick on the stairs, snapped her fingers at him as if he were the bellboy at New York’s gleaming new Waldorf Astoria. “You there. Boy.”

Nick came down with an obliging bow. “May I be of service, ma’am?”

“There is a taxicab waiting out front with our luggage. Tell the maid that Miss Parker will not be returning to America after all, and have her things returned to the cottage.”

“At once, ma’am.”

Madeline hurried over to her aunt and took her arm. “I know you’re mad at me, but—”

“And,” Aunt Ruth told Nick, “have them take mine there, too.”

Madeline glanced, wide-eyed, at Drew and then back at her aunt. “You’re . . . you’re staying?”

Drew swallowed audibly. “Here?”

“I realize I can’t force Madeline to come back home. Well, I don’t suppose you can force me to leave, either.” Aunt Ruth gave him a poisonous smile. “Unless you want to charge me with trespassing and have your police drag me off to whatever sort of prison you have in your town. Perhaps you people are used to that sort of scandal and wouldn’t even notice.”

Madeline glanced at Drew again. “No, of course he wouldn’t do that, Aunt Ruth. But do you have clothes and everything for
a stay? Won’t Uncle Calvin and Aunt Emily be expecting you back?”

Aunt Ruth made a dismissive little hissing sound. “Em will do just fine as she is, and Calvin’s her husband, not mine. She can see to him, too.”