Read 02 Murder at the Mansion for Free Online

let’s go to your cottage. I’ll make you a nice cup of tea and perhaps some sandwiches. I’m sure you haven’t eaten anything yet.”
    “That would be wonderful, Philippa.”
    “And you can tell me all about it.”
    The church of Upton St. Mary was the centerpiece of the small village, with a size far larger than its small congregation required and a spire that reached higher than any other point for miles around. It was a Gothic building, constructed from large, grey slabs of stone that had braved centuries of England’s most turbulent weather with stalwart stoicism. Its arched windows contained some of the most intricate and awe-inspiring stained glass in South West England, and just beneath its heavenward spire, sat a huge bell, as big as any man, with a tone so rich and powerful, it could be heard in fields far beyond Upton St. Mary’s borders.
    Annabelle would still sometimes gaze at the imperious structure and the equally impressive oak trees that framed it. She often wondered how many generations of people had gathered there, how many children had been raised in its vast shadow, and what an important part it had played in the lives of Upton St. Mary’s humble, but no less complex, history. To one side of the church, curving all the way to the back, lay the extensive cemetery with its gravel path weaving between the tombstones. There were benches along the path, where those of a more peaceful disposition would rest in order to contemplate the solemn surroundings. On the other side of the church, among orchids and well-maintained flowers, many of which had grown from buds and cuttings gifted by enthusiastic gardeners in the village, sat the white-walled cottage that Annabelle called home.
    It was a small abode, with red window and door frames and a thatched roof that, despite requiring plenty of maintenance, Annabelle adored so much she had squealed with delight when learning this would be her place of residence. She had wasted no time at all in turning the wonderfully twee cottage into her own and had cultivated a surrounding garden that, though it couldn’t compete with the best of Upton St. Mary’s, was a source of great pride.
    Both within and without, the home soon became a testament to the humor, care, and diligence of its owner. Cheerful, ceramic gnomes stood proudly among the Bellflowers, Sweet Williams, and Hollyhocks that distinguished it as a traditionally English garden. Beside this, a well-maintained cherry orchard complemented Annabelle’s colorful flowers perfectly and was the site of her beehive, which she tended daily.
    Inside the charming little cottage, gaudy knick-knacks and souvenirs sat atop handmade shelves and dressers alongside her religious iconography. One needed only a brief glance at the soft, inviting sofa and matching armchairs with their colorful, wool-textured cushions, to find evidence of the Reverend’s open, humorous personality and deep love of her home. Her extensive book collection, covering almost an entire wall of the living room, was a constant surprise to newcomers, who found it difficult to believe the energetic, ever-moving Vicar was capable of sitting in one place long enough to read a book. While there wasn’t much room to entertain, Annabelle loved the intimate, cozy warmth of her little house by the church, as did her frequent visitors, who weren’t deterred in the slightest by its somewhat limited space.
    As she went through to the kitchen, Annabelle was pleased to discover that Philippa had prepared a pot of hot tea and numerous sandwiches for her on the table. Annabelle’s focus, however, went first to the cupcakes that Philippa had brought with her.
    “Sit down, Vicar. You could do with a rest.”
    “Thank you ever so much, Philippa. It’s been a terribly eventful morning.”
    “Whatever happened?” asked Philippa, pouring the tea as the Vicar bit into a sandwich with zeal. Annabelle’s mother had always told her sandwiches before cake, and she