The Villa of Death: A Mystery Featuring Daphne du Maurier (Daphne du Maurier Mysteries) by Joanna Challis

clear that she adored her brother, Dean. I wished I had a brother. How my father would have delighted to have had a son.
    As we turned the corner to go upstairs after breakfast, a commotion occurred in the foyer. Rosalie Grimshaw and her maid … flinging her luggage out of the door. I thought she’d care more for her fine things, but no, she intended to make a point. She wanted everyone to know she was leaving the house because of Ellen.
    A mild frown passed Sophie’s face. Was it embarrassment?
    “Do stay, Rosalie,” she addressed her cousin. “Where are you going to go?”
    “Anywhere but here,” came the sharp retort, those fierce blue eyes detecting me. “Tell Ellen I’ll see her in court after Daddy’s will is read.”
    A car’s engine started up outside and I peeked through the window. Cousin Jack sorted out Rosalie’s luggage before jumping in the front seat to drive. Rosalie and her maid climbed in, Rosalie tossing her red scarf behind her neck as they hurtled down the drive.
    “What a relief.” My mother echoed the sentiments of all remaining guests. “Poor Ellen doesn’t need trouble like that. It’s enough to grieve and look after Charlotte.”
    “Didn’t Rosalie’s mother come over from America? Perhaps Rosalie is going to stay with her?”
    “Probably,” my father snorted. “I don’t like to say it, especially not with Ellen around, but she’s going to have a fight on her hands.”
    “You mean about the money?”
    “The money. It’s always about the money.”
    “Do you think she caused a scene because she actually truly believes Ellen killed her father? Or because she fears the sudden loss of her inheritance?”
    “The suddenness of her father’s death has put her in shock,” my father said in the privacy of our rooms. “Unfortunately, if her mother has anything to do with it, she’ll use the poor girl.”
    I gaped at him. “It’s not an idle threat then? How can she take Ellen to court?”
    “Oh, she’ll make a noise. An unpleasant noise.”
    “Poor Ellen,” sighed my mother. “But surely, Rosalie’s father would have left her something? Someone should tell the poor girl it simply isn’t worth making a big fight over.”
    “When there’s millions at stake, yes, there is,” Sir Gerald overruled. “Yes, there is.”

 
    CHAPTER SIX
    “So she’s left?”
    “Yes, she’s gone. Jack took her. Where do you think they’ve gone? Back to the city?”
    “Her mother’s in London,” Ellen replied, pausing to open the old rusty gate at the start of the medieval pleasure garden.
    I’d persuaded Ellen to seek some fresh air and the trip did us both good. “My goodness, Ellen, you’ve been busy!” I gazed around in wonder at the vast changes. Once a labyrinth of overgrown hedges and weeds, it now housed a series of gardens, mostly rectangular with one large oval garden in the center.
    “Harry and I worked together on this,” Ellen said, guiding me through. “We’ve incorporated some Renaissance features but I wanted a structured wildness to remain as in the medieval era. That’s where I got the idea for the walled garden and gazebo.”
    I stopped to admire the pond in the oval garden brimming with all kinds of pink and yellow flowers.
    “Yellow is happy so I wanted lots of yellow flowers.” A sad smile turned up the corners of her lips. “My mother also liked yellow roses. If you remember, she had a rosebush by the stables.”
    “Yes, I remember. What happened to it?”
    “There was a fire. We managed to put it out and repair the stables, but there was no hope for the garden. And it was in an odd place.”
    “Very odd,” I agreed. “It’s nice you have the yellow roses growing here along the wall.”
    “I knew you’d love the walled garden. There’s also a hidden seat in the middle there. It’s an ideal place to spend an afternoon reading a book.”
    “You shouldn’t give me ideas,” I warned. “You mightn’t see me for month.”
    “Oh,