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

anticipated such a quick departure from Thornleigh. No time to see to my hair or dress. Not that I cared for the major’s good opinion but I had intended to go properly dressed. As it stood, I’d simply thrown on a nondescript day gown and my hair lacked luster. It needed a good wash after the wedding-hair arrangement which left it positively coarse and wiry. I’d pulled it back into a severe knot at the nape of my neck and Jeanne said I looked like a governess.
    Governess or no, I accepted the colonel’s offer. He preferred an open motorcar and to drive himself. I sat in the rear with his wife who frowned at her husband’s desire for speed.
    “Oh Leopold, you’re such a child!”
    His grin broadened in the side mirror. “Daphne doesn’t mind, does she?”
    “No,” I shouted back, “but if I had a hat I might.”
    He laughed at this and I begged him to slow down when we neared the township. There were so many interesting cottages dotted alongside the beautiful countryside. My heart ached to live here, to breathe in the lavender fields each day, to own my own rose garden, to live in a house as grand as Thornleigh. But my heart belonged in Cornwall.
    “How will you get home, my dear?” the colonel’s wife asked when we motored into the village.
    “Oh, don’t worry about me. I’ll find my way.”
    I reassured them both, waving them off as my feet landed on the cobbles outside Jamaica Inn. Blushing scarlet as I caught a glimpse of myself, I hurried inside the reflector doors and marched straight up to the lady at the reception desk.
    “Hello, would you please tell Major Browning he has a visitor?”
    The lady eyed me suspiciously. What did an unaccompanied young lady want with Major Browning, her demeanor insinuated. I refused to give her the satisfaction, drumming my fingers on the desk instead.
    “Ye can tell him yeself,” she eventually snarled. “Room two, upstairs on the left.”
    “Thank you.” I smiled serenely.
    I half expected her to say he was out, dining with his fiancée or touring the countryside. She must have known he had a fiancée and that was why she was curious as to my visit. No doubt she’d ask him upon his return and I wondered what answer he would give. “Oh, she’s a friend.” “Oh, she’s my cousin.” “Oh, she’s the love of my life I have recently betrayed by my engagement to Lady Lara Fane.”
    Room two beckoned. Scraping my fist across the wooden door, I glanced around, glad nobody had seen me, though I could hear the maids downstairs whispering.
    “One minute,” said the voice inside and I cringed.
    I almost darted back down the stairs. Coward, coward, I told myself. Remember why you’ve come. Remember.
    His face gleamed behind the opening door. Half undressed and halfway through his shaving routine, he invited me inside. If I hadn’t blushed because of his deshabille, I might have insisted he see me downstairs.
    I tried not to look at him as he floated around the room, happy and relaxed at his leisure. He continued shaving. “I am most privileged to receive you this morning.”
    “I am here on Ellen’s behalf.” I got to the point.
    “Ah.” He scraped a spot on the left side of his face.
    “She’ll see you.”
    He paused, glancing at me through the mirror. “That’s good.”
    “Come to the house at three o’clock this afternoon. Good day.”
    I hastened to the door but he caught my hand.
    “Where are you going so early? Won’t you at least share my breakfast with me?”
    Share his breakfast with him? “Share your breakfast with you,” I echoed in utter disbelief. “ Share your breakfast with you? ”
    “No need to reiterate the invitation,” he joked, toweling dry his face. “Here.” He brought the chair from the window to sit opposite his tiny breakfast table. “That’s nice and cozy, isn’t it? Coffee or tea? No, you take your coffee black and strong in the mornings.”
    That he’d remembered this minor detail only served to increase my