The 99-year-old Earl of Middlemop has had his future cruelly snatched from him.
Who could have poisoned the richest man in Wessex? The answer lies within the walls of Gripedown Hall where family secrets and bitter rivalries prevail.
The Earl’s family call in senior sleuths Churchill and Pemberley. Their investigation is complicated by an altered will and contested parentage. Perhaps the butler has answers? A bungled attempt to retrieve his secret letters leads to the two old ladies being thrown off the case.
Churchill and Pemberley can’t possibly let their hard work go to waste. With nothing left to lose, they turn to an old enemy for help…
The Poisoned Peer is available as ebook and paperback. Free to read with Kindle Unlimited.
Book 1: Tragedy at Piddleton Hotel
Book 2: Murder in Cold Mud
Book 3: Puzzle in Poppleford Wood
Book 4: Trouble in the Churchyard
Book 5: Wheels of Peril
Book 6: The Poisoned Peer
Book 7: Fiasco at the Jam Factory
Book 8: Disaster at the Christmas Dinner
Read an excerpt from The Poisoned Peer
“I adore iced fancies but they have one drawback,” proclaimed Mrs Churchill to her assistant, Miss Pemberley, as they sat in a corner of the tea rooms.
“And what may that be?”
“They’re too small.” Churchill wiped her mouth with her serviette. “Shall we order another plateful?”
“Not for me thank you, I’m quite full up.”
“How so? They barely touched the sides!”
“I only have a small stomach.”
“Not much smaller than…” Churchill glanced down at her large bosom and decided against continuing the subject. “They’ve changed the tablecloths in here,” she commented, glancing around at the pink gingham. “And the new curtains are pretty.” The floral drapes in the bow window were patterned in pale blue and pink.
“By all means order another plate of iced fancies, Mrs Churchill, don’t let me stop you,” said Pemberley, “but I shall take myself off for a walk, it’s a lovely afternoon.” She brushed the crumbs off her plate onto the floor where her scruffy little dog, Oswald, enthusiastically licked them up.
Churchill glanced at her own empty plate, then at the sunny high street beyond the window.
“I suppose you’re right, Pembers, conventional wisdom would dictate that a stroll in the outdoors is better for the body and mind than a second plate of cakes. I can’t say I fully agree with that but I suppose there’s no harm in moving about a bit.” She summoned the waitress to pay for the bill.
“Shall we take the long route back to the office?” suggested Pemberley as the two ladies stepped out onto the cobbled high street with Oswald at their heels.
“What’s wrong with the short route? I’ve just eaten all those iced fancies.”
“You told me they didn’t touch the sides.”
“They didn’t. But they’re sitting rather heavily at the bottom. How long is the long route, exactly?”
“Just to the top of the high street and then down onto the riverside path, it will bring us out at the bottom of the high street and we can walk up from there to the office.”
“It’s not called the long route for nothing then.”
“It won’t take more than fifteen minutes, Mrs Churchill. You’ll feel like you’ve had a proper trek once you’ve done it.”
“Well if you insist. It will give me a chance to tell you about my new friend.”
“Do you need a new one?”
“No, I don’t need one. I have plenty of friends already but there’s always room for more.”
“And who is it?”
“Tryphena Ridley-Balls. We have a great deal in common.”
“Oh, the Ridley-Balls.”
“You’ve heard of them?”
“Yes, they own Gripedown Hall. The estate is enormous.”
“Tryphena doesn’t like to brag about it.”
“But she’s clearly mentioned it to you.”
“She has, but only in the most discreet tones. The upper-classes don’t like to boast.”
“Her father must be the Earl of Middlemop then.”
“He certainly is. Old aristocracy too, not one of those new-fangled Earls who made his fortune from liver pills or jam or something or other.”
“He must be getting on a bit.”
“Tryphena tells me that he’s ninety-nine years of age.”
“What an achievement.”
“It is rather, isn’t it?”
“I’m sure I heard somewhere that he’s the richest man in Dorset.”
“Wessex, actually.”
“Tryphena told you that?”
“Yes, but she wasn’t boasting. It was merely mentioned in passing.”
“It sounds very much like boasting to me, I don’t know how someone manages to slip into the conversation that their father is the richest man in Wessex without boasting.”
“Well, when you meet Tryphena, you’ll understand how. She’s extremely modest.”
“Will I have to meet her?”
“She’s a good friend of mine, Pembers, the likelihood of your paths crossing is rather high.”
“Oh.”
“Don’t look so downcast, you’ll adore her. She’s what I’d describe as the ‘life and soul’.”
“I’m not very good with people who are the life and soul. They’re often tiresome.”
“There is nothing tiresome about Tryphena, Pembers. Like you, she’s never married so you’ll have a lot in common.”
“Because we’ve never married?”
“She is a wonderful creature.”
“Oswald’s a wonderful creature.” She paused to watch him sniff at a bicycle propped up outside the pharmacy.
“Yes he is,” agreed Churchill. The two ladies continued on their way.
“I prefer animals to people,” said Pemberley.
“Well animals are rather lovely, but you can’t have a conversation with them.”
“I disagree.”
Churchill resisted the urge to argue. “Well, back to Tryphena Ridley-Balls. I met her in that pleasant ladies’ outfitters in Dorchester, the one by the pricey jewellers. I was in there browsing the skirts when I overheard a well-spoken voice asking a shop assistant about Harris tweed. At that very moment I knew that she was my sort of person and I inserted myself into the conversation.”
“Because of the Harris tweed?”
“Of course! You know that I’m never seen out of it.”
“Did you mention the Outer Hebrides by any chance?”
“Naturally.”
“And you said that what was good enough for the Other Hebrideans was good enough for you.”
“That’s right, Pembers! Are you sure you weren’t there yourself?”
“Quite sure.”
“Oh dear, I do hope that my conversation isn’t that predictable. I worry now that I repeat myself a little too much. It’s a sign of someone who’s under-educated isn’t it? They fail to furnish their brains with new information and instead merely repeat the same old stories. I’m concerned now that I’m the same. That doesn’t bode well for my friendship with Tryphena, she’ll soon tire of it.”
“Only Tryphena?”
“What do you mean?”
“Oh look at that!” exclaimed Pemberley, pointing to their right. “A new shop!”
The two ladies stopped by the store which was painted a pleasing shade of lavender. Churchill felt an uncomfortable twinge as she observed the sewing machines in the window. Alongside them sat a well-arranged display of colourful ribbons, buttons, cotton reels and pretty pin cushions.
“Oh goodness, do you see what sort of shop this is, Pembers?”
“A sewing shop,” said Pemberley.
“Not just a sewing shop. A haberdasher’s!”
“Just like Mrs Thonnings’ shop.”
“Exactly like Mrs Thonnings’ shop! But do we need another haberdashery here in Compton Poppleford? I can’t imagine there would be enough customers. Oh golly, I wonder what Mrs Thonnings makes of it all.”
Churchill thought of her friend and shook her head in lamentation, Mrs Thonnings’ shop seemed decidedly tired and shabby when compared to the attractive emporium which sat before them.
A large lady with a head of thick, golden hair stepped out of the doorway. She wore scarlet lipstick and a matching scarlet scarf.
“You two ladies can’t resist a browse I see!” Her voice was loud and cheery.
“Good morning,” said Churchill. “I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Mrs Churchill and this is Miss Pemberley.”
“Good morning ladies, I’m Mrs Bouton and I’ve brought buttons and bows to Compton Poppleford!”
“So I see.” Churchill glanced up at the name of the shop and saw that it was elegantly named ‘Boutons et Rubans’. “Are you aware there’s already a shop selling buttons and bows?” she asked.
“Oh yes, that old place in the middle of the high street. Been there years I hear. Terribly old-fashioned.”
“It belongs to our good friend Mrs Thonnings.”
“Does it indeed? Well please don’t take offence, Mrs Churchill, I’m merely stating my opinion.”
“I think Mrs Thonnings would be terribly offended if she heard your opinion.”
“I’m sure she would but the place is out-of-date, I maintain that whether or not she’s your friend, Mrs Churchill. Your friend can refresh and update it of course, there’s nothing preventing her from doing that.”
“I imagine not. Have you lived in Compton Poppleford long?”
“No, not long. A few weeks. Everyone here seems perfectly delightful.”
“They are, on the whole. Although they may be less than delightful if they hear you calling them old-fashioned.”
“I call a spade a spade, Mrs Churchill. People will soon learn that about me.”
***
“What an abrasive lady,” commented Pemberley as the two ladies continued on their way to the riverside path. They reached a row of little cottages with flowers blooming in window boxes. “I can’t imagine her making many friends in the village.”
“I don’t think she’s here to make friends, Pembers. She’s clearly a lady of business. People aren’t interested in friendships when they’re being business-like. Now whatever you do, don’t mention the new haberdashery shop to Mrs Thonnings.”
“Surely she’s seen it?”
“We don’t know whether she has or not. If she hasn’t then I certainly don’t want to be the one breaking the news to her, it will result in a terrible outpouring of anguish and upset. You’ve seen how much nicer Mrs Bouton’s shop is than Mrs Thonnings’ place, it even has a fancy French name. Quite pretentious if you ask me, but it will certainly attract the aspirational customer. People are often drawn to places with French names in an attempt to appear sophisticated, don’t you find? Anyway, we must remain shtum on the matter when we next see Mrs Thonnings, just in case she isn’t aware of the new shop yet.”
“Well here she is now.”
“Oh golly really?”