Grave Consequences Read Online Free PDF Page A

in with a tray full of sandwiches; his rough bearing and coarse demeanor stood out in this place of delicacy and refinement like a pig in a party dress, and yet he seemed to feel right at home in the house. Perhaps he was a sort of general dogsbody as well as driver?
    Jeremy picked up one of the sandwiches, peeked under the bread hopefully, sighed in disappointment. “Perhaps cheese and pickle, just once, Palmer? Just for me?”
    Palmer stood impassively, his eyes fixed on the ceiling.
    “Palmer always makes cucumber,” his lordship explained, “no matter how much I tell him I’d much rather have ham or cheese. They’re very nice, though; please have one.”
    My stomach was just beginning to remind me that it was well past lunchtime and so I decided I’d better take him upon the offer. Jeremy turned to get me a small plate. While I still had one hand free, I automatically flipped my saucer over to examine its base.
    “I’m pretty sure it’s real, Emma,” Dora said.
    It wasn’t until she’d opened her mouth that I realized my faux pas and blushed violently. I looked up in horror, first at Dora, who was positively delighted, and then at Jeremy, who had returned with my plate and was staring curiously at me.
    “Uh, I…of course I know it’s…er.” I took a deep breath and tried to stop stammering. I will not apologize, I thought fiercely, I will not! I addressed Jeremy. “It’s just this terrible habit I have of looking for the maker’s marks on the bottom of dishes and things. Archaeologists learn so much about where and when the wares were made from the markings that I’m afraid I’m always embarrassing myself that way. I’m just happy that I didn’t tip the cup over while it was full.” I shrugged and smiled.
    Jeremy was seriousness itself. “Well, if it’s marks you’re interested in, marks you shall have. I’ve a whole pantry full of ’em.”
    I began to blush again, but then realized he wasn’t needling me when he continued.
    “I’m afraid it’s my fault you’re here,” he explained. “Dora knows I collect the little bits of things—pottery, glass, bones—that pop up when I’m gardening. I stash ’em in shoe boxes in my pantry. I mean, they belong with the house, don’t they? I won’t chuck them just because they were in my way.” He handed me my plate, and I nodded my thanks. “Plenty of little marks on them. Perhaps sometime you’d stop back and have a look at them, tell me about whether I should hang onto them or no.”
    “I’d be happy to.” I bit into a sandwich, pleased with myself. I surreptitiously gave Dora a little “so there” look, and she rolled her eyes back at me. “You should meet my friend, Jane Compton. It’s her project I’ll be working on at the abbey ruins, and I’m sure she’d be happy to show youaround the site, if you’re interested. And,” I continued, somewhat boldly, “I’m sure she’d be very interested to see your paintings of Marchester—they’d be incredibly informative about the way the abbey’s changed through time.”
    “Well then, she must come and see them.” Jeremy took a sip of tea and looked thoughtful. “Jane Compton? Isn’t she the one always causing all sorts of rumpus in town?”
    I almost choked. “I beg your pardon?”
    “It’s in all the papers. Never seen so many people get so worked up over a little patch of damp ground, unless you consider Belgium during the war, of course.”
    I managed to swallow the rest of my tea, in spite of that last remark.
    “Oh, she’s got everyone simmering,” Jeremy said. “I’m sure she’s very nice, sterling, even, but how that little thing managed to annoy the town fathers and the shopping center folks who want to develop the waterfront property—what’s that chappie’s name, Palmer?”
    “Whiting, sir. An ’orrible man, if I may say so.”
    “Nonsense, the man’s ambitious, is all; a bit rough about the edges, but no worse than that. As I was saying, how she