Murder at Teatime Read Online Free PDF Page B

Well-said.”
    “Would you gentlemen mind terribly if we excused ourselves for a moment,” asked Kitty after they had toasted Felix’s observation. “I’d like to give Charlotte a tour of the herb garden before the other guests arrive.”
    “By all means,” said Thornhill. “Speaking of herbs, my niece Frances, who will be along shortly, has asked me to invite you, Miss Graham, to an herb luncheon tomorrow. Our cook, Grace Harris, likes to experiment with herb recipes. She’ll be trying out some new dishes on us.”
    “I’d be delighted,” said Charlotte. “Thank you.”
    “Meanwhile Frances is planning a little celebration for us this evening. Some of her pagan rites. I’m sure you know all about it, Kitty.”
    “Yes,” said Kitty, her eyes sparkling. “In observation of the summer solstice. It’s today, you know. We celebrate six festivals a season.” She counted them off: “May Day; Midsummer, to celebrate the longest day of the year; Lammas Day—that’s on August first, to celebrate the beginning of the harvest; St. Fiacre’s Day on August thirtieth, to celebrate the patron saint of gardeners; Michaelmas on September twenty-ninth, to celebrate the end of the harvest; and All Saints’ Eve which is the same as Halloween.”
    So the Midsummer Festival was Kitty’s “something special,” thought Charlotte. She wondered what she was letting herself in for.
    Leaving the men to their book talk, Charlotte and Kitty entered the garden, which was set in a protected area between the barn and the house, on the site of an old apple orchard. The gnarled trunks of the old apple trees studded the herb beds, creating the impression of a fairy tale garden.
    Ledge House was a popular stop on the garden club tour circuit, Kitty explained. During the season, groups came out a couple of times a week, combining a climb up the Ledges with a visit to the herb garden.
    “We’ll begin with the colonial gardens, and work our way back,” she continued eagerly, leading Charlotte down a gravel path that ran through the center of the garden. “I’ll give you the same spiel I give the other visitors. Fran lets me give the garden tour when she’s busy.”
    Charlotte nodded. Kitty was never more vivacious than when she was in the grip of a new enthusiasm, and the herb bug seemed to have bitten her especially hard.
    “We have a total of thirteen gardens, each with its own theme,” Kitty said. “We also have fields across the road where we grow herbs in larger quantities, and we have several growers in the area who supply us with herbs. We ship our seeds, plants, and herb products all over the country.”
    They were approaching a garden laid out in the form of a wheel, with brick paths forming the spokes. In the center stood a tall cross—twenty feet or more in height. The crosspiece was gaily decorated with a wreath of dried herbs and colored streamers that waved in the breeze.
    “The maypole,” explained Kitty, in answer to Charlotte’s mystified stare. “It’s a pagan fertility symbol, celebrating the renewed fertility of nature. The custom comes from the phallic festivals of ancient Egypt and India. Did you know that phallos means pole?”
    Charlotte raised an eyebrow.
    “Fran’s is a standing maypole,” she continued. “It stays up all year, to symbolize immortality.”
    Kitty led her through the gardens, each of which bore a signpost giving the garden’s theme. Each garden also had an ornament that provided the focal point for the plantings: a wooden shrine, a birdbath, a sundial. Charlotte leaned over to smell the herb that surrounded a straw bee skep.
    “Horehound,” explained Kitty. “Used by the colonials to relieve coughs.”
    Leaving the colonial garden, they headed back toward the long garden paralleling the barn, where Kitty led her through the Shakespeare garden, ornamented with a bust of the bard; and the saints’ garden, ornamented with a statue of St. Francis. At the third garden, she