instead. That’s why I’m working here. I moved back to Bringham to help out Monica. She wanted to keep the business going for her sons, but it’s too much on her own, and that useless mechanic…” she paused. “Fred! Customer’s waiting for the Fiat!” For a septuagenarian, Ida still had fine voice projection.
“Coming!” a voice called from outside.
“Thanks,” Elizabeth said to Ida. “Sorry again if I said the wrong thing.” Ida smiled and waved it off, and Elizabeth went out into the June sunshine with Fred.
The car was a zippy little compact with a hatchback that might well come in handy. After listening patiently to Fred demonstrating windshield wipers and automatic windows, Elizabeth drove off. Following Fred’s sketchy directions, she headed back toward Bringham.
As the car pulled out of sight, Ida reached for the phone, punching in the numbers with a shaky finger. “Emily Reade. It’s important.” While she waited to be transferred, her free hand tapped on the counter. This was bad news. Why did these darn Americans have to keep on turning up and causing trouble? Not that this one had done anything yet, but Ida trusted her instincts, and her instincts sensed upheaval and disharmony.
“Emily,” she all but snapped when Emily finally answered. “We have to meet. Soon. Very soon. I’ve just spoken to the woman who bought Orchard House. She’s a friend of Dixie’s and knows far too much. Dixie told her about the house, her aunts, and I don’t know what else! Even dropped hints about us! Too darn nosy for her own good. We have to do something. We can’t risk any more trouble.”
Emily was not about to argue. They both knew she’d kept her job in the bank by a slender chance. “Better warn Mildred then,” she replied. “We’ll meet at my house tomorrow after I get home. Six o’clock. Will you tell her?”
After Emily rang off, Ida dialed another number and caught Mildred Rowan at home. “Mildred,” Ida said, her voice shakier than ever. “We’ve run into a snag.”
Chapter 2
When Elizabeth waved from the open door of the little office, Antonia took it as ‘All’s well,’ waved back, and drove down the lane. Elizabeth seemed set, and no doubt, would have a nice time chatting witchy stuff to Ida. The thought didn’t give Antonia as much of the creeps as it would most of the colony, or at least the newer members. She remembered the days when the old religion still held sway in the woods and around isolated campfires. Still, she wondered how Tom, raised when witches were publicly tried and burned, quite handled getting intimate with one. Not that it was any of her business really, but one couldn’t help thinking about it.
Still, if Gwyltha as leader of the colony accepted Elizabeth, who was she to question it? Besides, she liked Elizabeth and needed her skills to get set up, and the prospect of working closely with someone and not having constantly to conceal her nature was more than welcome.
And meanwhile…
Antonia covered the few miles from the Collins’s in Horsley to the outskirts of Bringham in a short time. After pulling to the side of the lane to consult Dixie’s lists and maps, she drove through the village, turned right at the church, took the next left, and parked in front of a modern house. The vast Victorian rectory that had housed former vicars and their offspring and servants was now an old people’s home. The current incumbent had far more modest and vastly more comfortable surroundings.
A glance at the immaculate rose beds and lush hanging baskets showed someone in the house was a very eager gardener—or they hired one. Might be handy to get the name and add it to her list. They’d need help with the wilderness around Orchard House. The lawn cutting service didn’t extend to weeding or pruning.
Hoping someone would be in—it was the vicarage after all—Antonia rang the bell.
The genteel ding-dong-ding of the chiming doorbell was drowned out by what sounded like the baying of a wolfhound. The gray shape that appeared through the reeded glass in the front door pretty much confirmed it.
“Hush, Pansy! Hush!” a woman’s voice called, and as the dog quieted, the door was opened by a fresh-faced young woman. “Yes? Can I help you?”
“I was hoping so, but is this an inconvenient time?”
“No worse than any other. I’m afraid Mum’s out if you wanted her.”
“If your mother’s the vicar’s wife, yes. I had hoped to speak to her. I just moved into the village. My name’s Antonia Stonewright.
“Oh! You bought Orchard House and are turning it into a B and B.” She gave the dog a yank back as it tried to sniff at Antonia. “Behave yourself, Pansy!” She looked back up and smiled, “Sorry. Excuse my manners.” She held out her free hand. “I’m Judy Abbott. Dad’s the vicar here, and I just got down from Uni. Come in.”
Antonia stepped over the threshold. Pansy decided she was persona definitely grata and started sniffling and licking her hands.
“Want a cup of tea?” Judy asked as she led the way back to a large kitchen filled with sunshine and overlooking a back garden every bit as immaculate as the front. “Oh, Pansy, leave her alone!” Judy gave the dog a gentle nudge, and then Antonia noticed that Pansy wasn’t merely large and fat, she was expecting. After Emily this morning, Bringham appeared to be a font of fecundity.
Pansy lumbered her bulk into a vast dog bed and, after turning around several times and scratching the pillow, settled, but kept her eyes on Antonia.
It was a darn good thing animals didn’t really react to vampires the way they did in some fanciful fiction. “She’s a beautiful dog,” Antonia said. “My father had several wolfhounds.”
“Several?” Judy looked around from filling the kettle. “I hope you had a bigger house than this one!”
It had been a hall: vast, draughty, dark, and large enough to sleep a hundred men. “It was.”
Judy plugged in the kettle and reached for the teapot. Antonia would have sighed if she still could. Another cup of tea! Better get used to swallowing them if she planned on knocking on doors. After all, at her age, she could ingest gallons of tea without ill effect. She hoped. “Mum should be back soon,” Judy said. “If you want to wait, that’s fine, or if I can help…” She walked over to the table and cleared away a heap of sewing and a workbasket. When the kettle boiled, she took two mugs from a row hanging beneath the countertop. “Tea bags alright?”
“Perfect.” The mugs caught Antonia’s eye—souvenirs of the London Dungeon and the All England Tennis and Croquet Club just didn’t seem to mesh exactly. But who knew how mortals viewed these things?
Judy filled each mug and swirled the tea bags around. “So you need help? About the Bed and Breakfast? If you need staff, Mum can spread the word, but an ad in the local paper might get better results.” She squeezed out the bags, added milk without asking, and handed Antonia the London Dungeon mug. “Sugar?” She put a small pottery bowl of sugar on the table.
“No, thanks.” The tea was hot, so it had better sit. Swallowing boiling liquid tended to get noticed. “Actually, it’s not a B and B. I’m opening a small art gallery and craft center. We plan to open in September and be in full swing for Christmas. What I was hoping was your mother might be able to help me find someone. I was given a name, but can’t find him in the phone book.”
“Maybe
