The Winter Garden Mystery Read Online Free PDF

commanded harshly.
    â€œNo, it’s not the sort of thing Town and Country subscribers want to read about,” said Daisy with regret. “I’m sure I’ll find heaps to say without it.”
    â€œI have ordered Sir Reginald’s secretary to give you every assistance. I suppose it will not take you more than a day, two at most, to gather material for your article. Naturally you may ring Mr. Goodman up on the telephone after you return to town, should you have any further questions.”
    Neatly dished, Daisy had to admit. She had been jolly well and truly given the raspberry. On the other hand, she had abso-bally-lutely no desire to accept Lady Valeria’s reluctant hospitality any longer than she needed.
    She smiled at her hostess and murmured, “Too kind.”
    Lady Valeria looked disconcerted. Honours even, thought Daisy, and awaited the next thrust with interest.
    She was rescued from the fray, at least temporarily, by the arrival
of a small, chubby gentleman in an old-fashioned crimson velvet smoking-jacket.
    â€œOh, there you are, Reggie,” said Lady Valeria. “Why on earth aren’t you wearing a dinner-jacket?”
    Sir Reginald looked down at himself in vague surprise. “Your pardon, my dear. I was thinking about clover and quite forgot we have a guest.” He smiled at Daisy. “Won’t you … .”
    â€œWhat do I pay your valet for?” thundered his wife.
    â€œHe has a bad cold,” said the baronet placidly. “I sent him back to bed this morning and told him to stay there until he feels better. Won’t you? …”
    â€œI have told you before, Reginald, that nothing good ever came of cosseting the servants.”
    â€œI’m sure you are right, my dear, but I didn’t want to catch his cold and perhaps give it to young Goodman. Now, won’t you introduce me to our guest?”
    â€œMiss Dalrymple, my husband, Sir Reginald. Miss Dalrymple is a magazine writer.”
    â€œWelcome to Occles Hall, Miss Dalrymple. May I pour you a glass of sherry?” His eyes, as blue as Sebastian’s, twinkled mischievously. “I’m afraid we haven’t got the ingredients for these American cocktails you modern young ladies favour.”
    â€œThank you, Sir Reginald, I shall be perfectly happy with sherry.”
    â€œI should hope so,” snorted Lady Valeria, not quite sotto voce.
    He poured three glasses of sherry. As he handed Daisy hers, he said, “You are Edward Dalrymple’s daughter? I regret to say I didn’t know your father well, but he once gave me some sound advice about Holsteins. Very sound. A sad loss to agriculture. You were at school with Bobbie, were you not?”
    â€œYes, but she’s two years older and frightfully good at games. I’m a hopeless duffer so I was utterly in awe of her.”
    â€œAh, but I gather the positions are reversed now that you are an independent woman, earning your own way by your pen. I am delighted that you have chosen Occles Hall to write about. May I hope
you will spare a sentence or two for my dairy?”
    â€œWhat piffle, Reggie. Miss Dalrymple’s article will be about the Hall and the village.”
    â€œI shouldn’t dream of leaving out the dairy, Sir Reginald. I consider it a patriotic duty to support British agriculture. You will be kind enough to show me around yourself, won’t you?”
    Lady Valeria turned as purple as her frock and choked on a sip of sherry.
    Bobbie and Ben Goodman came in together. Lady Valeria glanced with obvious dissatisfaction from her daughter to Daisy and back. Daisy was sorry she had worn the rose charmeuse, which made Bobbie’s olive sack look drabber and less becoming than ever.
    On the other hand, she was glad to see that Mr. Goodman dined with the family. She wouldn’t be the only outsider among the Parslows, and besides, from what she had seen of him, she liked him.
    â€œMr.