Read Murder in Abbot's Folly for Free Online Page B

bear the thought of being questioned. It was time to find Luke, and quickly. ‘Will you be OK?’ she asked Peter.
    â€˜You mean OK with Elena?’ he queried drily. ‘Yes, Georgia, I will be. We were married for over twenty years. I can manage an hour or two more of her company.’
    â€˜If it’s only that,’ she replied without thinking. She could have kicked herself, as he looked at her steadily, almost reproachfully.
    â€˜I know there’s something on her mind, Georgia. I suspect she wants to come home.’
    Her mouth went dry as the shock bore into her. ‘To Haden Shaw?’
    â€˜To Kent at least. How would you feel about that?’
    â€˜Numb.’
    He sighed. ‘Go and find Luke, Georgia.’
    He was obviously gently reminding her that she had a partner and that he was a grown man with his own decisions to take. ‘Damn, damn, damn,’ she said softly to herself. All this and fingerprints as well. She brightly excused herself to Elena and hurried away back to the mass of people surging around bookstalls, Georgian flower stalls, stalls where one could sign up for everything under the sun.
    But there was no Luke to be seen. With lunchtime fast approaching she made her way to the two catering tents. Still feeling somewhat sick, she decided that a cold drink would be a good idea. One tent was offering snacks, advertising Jane Austen’s toasted cheese and other delicacies. The other one went further with a Jane Austen buffet. Both had bars, so she chose the latter. The Jane Austen wines she would leave until Luke appeared, but a barley water seemed a good idea. She remembered too late that Elena used to make her drink it when she was a child, but luckily it still proved comforting, and she found herself a seat near the entrance to watch the crowds go by. By now it seemed normal to see people wandering around in Regency dress – or near equivalent – and she felt more relaxed about her own modest contribution, even though many far more sophisticated outfits were whisking past her.
    At last she spotted Luke, looking rather dashing in his outgrown tailcoat. He was not alone, however. To her surprise she could see Luke’s son Mark together with his American wife, Jill, and baby Rosa. They had moved back from the States to a Victorian terraced house in Canterbury in March, three months after Rosa had been born. Georgia got on well with Mark, but Jill was harder to fathom out. After Washington DC she might be having a hard time adjusting to Kentish life, but if so she gave no sign of it, and she had brushed aside Georgia’s well-intentioned efforts to help. Seven-month-old Rosa was a delight, although Georgia was not sure she liked the title step-grandmother – especially as she was still clinging to her own thirties and certainly did not rank as highly in the pecking order as Jill’s own formidable all-singing, all-dancing, infuriatingly capable mother, Pat. The Incomparable Pat had only just flown back to the States after a month’s stay.
    Today, Jill could pass for one of Mr Bingley’s haughty sisters, Georgia decided, taking advantage of her as yet unnoticed position to cast a critical eye on her new family. Mark was a younger edition of Luke, Jill was moving as gracefully as if born into the Regency ton , and in her pushchair Rosa seemed to be enjoying her brush with history. For a moment Georgia thought of the child she would never have herself, then firmly disciplined herself. That disappointment was in the past. Think ahead.
    â€˜Hi!’ she called, walking over to join them.
    â€˜Look who I ran into,’ Luke said, obviously delighted. ‘Serendipity, eh?’
    In the crush Georgia saw that he was with a larger group than she had realized. There were two youngish men with him – one in his early thirties with black curly hair and lively eyes, who introduced himself as Jake Halliday; the other, who looked a year or