Death Among Rubies Read Online Free PDF Page B

before. Handsome new redbrick buildings were replacing the old wooden ones. Mallow, however, was unimpressed. Born and raised in London, she found every other town in England second-best. Who knew what services were available in a small place like this , she wondered, especially at this late hour?
    “Are we to be met by a motorcar or carriage from the house, my lady?” she asked.
    “I imagine things are run very strictly at a great estate like the Eyrie, Mallow, so I’m sure we’ll be met. But perhaps you can find some porters?”
    Mallow was excellent with porters, and a few minutes later returned with two, leading them like a colonel with his troops. Fortunately, coming up behind them was a chauffeur.
    “Mrs. Blake sent me to meet you.” He bowed briefly to Gwen. “Welcome home, Miss Kestrel. I will have your luggage brought up by wagon shortly, but you ladies may join me now in the motorcar.”
    Frances loved motorcars and was thrilled when her brother traded in the family coach for one of these new technological marvels. Mallow, however, as much as she liked train travel, distrusted motorcars. Gentlemen and ladies should be traveling by coach with a team of strong grey horses.
    Frances gave the Kestrel car an admiring look. She had heard about this—the remarkable new car from Rolls-Royce.
    “This is the Silver Ghost, isn’t it?” asked Frances.
    “Ah . . . Yes, my lady,” said the astonished chauffeur. He had driven many ladies, but none had any interest in motorcars.
    “My understanding is that it has a six-cylinder, 7036 cc engine. Is that correct? I’ve been told that it’s almost silent, hence the name ‘ghost.’”
    Frances relished the look on the chauffeur’s face, and Mallow took pleasure in watching her ladyship amaze him. Lady Frances was special.
    The chauffeur roused himself from his stupor, helped the women into the car, and started it up. Frances was pleased to discover it was indeed a quiet engine, as they drove out of town to the Kestrel estates.
    The car’s headlights lit up an elaborate iron gate that had been forged more than a century ago, and opened onto a long tree-lined drive, the entranceway to Kestrel’s Eyrie. At the first sight of the house, brightly lit, Frances and Tommie forgot their patrician upbringing, and Mallow forgot her servant’s training, and cried out. The house seemed to rise from the road in all its Tudor splendor—welcoming, but still ancient and strong in a way the later Georgian manors could never match.
    “It is something, isn’t it?” said Gwen. “Everyone is stunned the first time they see the Eyrie.” But her tone was more sad than proud.
    Mallow continued to be dumbstruck by the house, but Frances cast a practiced eye on the grounds. Even by nothing more than the lights from the car and manor house, she could tell the lawn was well-tended, and properly pruned trees dotted the parkland. Signs that someone was overseeing the estate with a sharp eye.
    The motorcar had barely stopped when two footmen emerged from the front door to greet them. Following at a more sedate pace was a tall woman dressed for a formal party. She looked tobe in her fifties, and Frances saw a little gray among the auburn of her hair. A welcoming smile softened her strong cheekbones and chin.
    Gwen was out of the car first, and greeted her aunt with a hug. “So good to see you again, dear. It’s been too long. And your friends are welcome, too.”
    “Aunt Phoebe, these are my very great friends from my suffrage club. This is Miss Thomasina Calvin. She and I work together on so many projects and she’s my dearest companion. And this is Lady Frances Ffolkes, who is absolutely the cleverest girl you ever met. This is Mrs. Phoebe Blake, my aunt.”
    “I know you have other guests. We hope we’re not imposing,” said Frances.
    “Nonsense. I’m glad you could be here to offer companionship for Gwen. And as you can see, there is no lack of room in this