The Mysterious Affair at Castaway House Read Online Free PDF

its elegantly twisting staircase, oblong sash windows and dark polished floorboards, fitted me to a T.
    I went to the window and looked out at the garden several storeys below. It was agreeably long and broad, with paved walkways that led off into hedged arbours. At the back I could see an ornamental pond bordered with wooden recliners and, in one corner of the garden, a vine-covered stone summerhouse. Directly below me were a glass-roofed conservatory and a terrace containing several wrought-iron chairs and a table.
    As I watched, I noticed Alec appear on one of the paved walkways. He was trudging along, hands in pockets, and seemed to be lost in thought. I leaned against the window and watched him, mellow with affection. I felt I had never really got to know him properly; perhaps this summer, I would.
    Outside my door I heard a clatter and a muttered sigh. I pulled it open and saw a young girl with her head bowed, holding a tray upon which was slopping a quantity of tea.
    ‘I’m sorry, sir,’ she said in a voice barely above a whisper. ‘I’ll get you some more right away.’
    ‘It’s quite all right.’ I took the tray from her, at which she flinched, and set it down on the dresser. A flannel had been laid out for me, and I used that to mop up the tea, lifting the little pot and the china cup and saucer. ‘There you go, no harm done.’
    Her chin was still stuck firmly to her chest. ‘Thank you, sir. You’re very kind, sir,’ she whispered again.
    I laughed. ‘Let’s not make a mountain out of a molehill, eh? What’s your name?’
    Her eyes darted left and right as if seeking some sort of escape. Her hair, tucked under its mob cap, appeared to be the colour of straw. ‘Agnes, sir. I’ve only just been made parlourmaid, what with I was under-housemaid before, and I ain’t that used to the trays, see …’ She trailed to a halt, as if realizing she had said several sentences too many.
    ‘Well, pleased to meet you, Agnes. My name’s Carver. I’m Mr Bray’s cousin; I’ll be staying here for the summer.’
    ‘Yes, sir.’ Infinitesimally, she edged backwards to the door.
    I felt thoroughly awkward now, as if I’d pinned her up against the wardrobe and attempted to ravish her. ‘Well … er … I thought perhaps you didn’t know.’
    ‘No, sir. Is that all, sir?’
    She barely waited for my nod before she vanished from the door. I sighed, and was about to dismiss her from my mind when, quite without warning, I found myself out in the corridor, calling, ‘Listen, Agnes.’
    She turned back in her hurry along the landing, looking rather like a sparrow trapped in a house. ‘Yes, sir?’
    I smiled. ‘I’m sure you’ll get used to everything in no time.’
    She breathed, waiting for my next command, and when none came she allowed a nod of her head. ‘Thank you, sir,’ she whispered, and disappeared out of sight. I shook my head and poured a cup of tea. I could never quite get the hang of the whole servant etiquette thing; they seemed to take it as a personal insult if you tried to be too civil to them. Then again, the girl Agnes looked as if she’d be scared of her own shadow.
    I drank my tea, unpacked and visited the bathroom. I washed my face in hot water, a little unnerved by the dreadful clanking noise this unleashed from the geyser. As I still had some time, I went back to the bedroom, pulled the chair up before the mirror and attempted a quick little self-portrait. I liked to think my skills were coming along somewhat, but all the same, when I had finished and compared the picture with the reflection before me, I wondered who it was I’d actually drawn. Determined not to let the failure of the sketch bring me down, I folded it away to look at later, and decided to walk down through the house to meet Alec.
    I was reaching the first-floor landing, thinking only of what dinner at eight might consist, when the drawing-room door opened and a woman stepped out; the woman, presumably, whose marriage