Read 02 Murder at the Mansion Online
Authors: Alison Golden,Jamie Vougeot
MURDER AT THE MANSION
ALISON GOLDEN
&
Jamie Vougeot
ALSO BY ALISON GOLDEN
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Text copyright © 2015 Alison Golden
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
Published by Mesa Verde Publishing
P.O. Box 1002
San Carlos, CA 94070
Edited by
Marjorie Kramer
“The greatest gift is a passion for reading.”
Elizabeth Hardwick
TABLE OF CONTENTS
REVEREND ANNABELLE DIXON WILL RETURN…
MURDER AT THE MANSION
A Reverend Annabelle Dixon Cozy Mystery
Reverend Annabelle Dixon is the charming, slightly gauche, very tall, thirty-something vicar of St. Mary’s Church located in the picturesque village of Upton St. Mary in Cornwall, England. Recently appointed to her rural church position, Annabelle is beloved by her parishioners for dispensing good advice and godly wisdom with humor and charm while zipping her Mini Cooper around the country lanes and attempting to build a relationship with her church cat, Biscuit, who, quite frankly, couldn’t care less.
Trouble arises when Annabelle faithfully welcomes a new resident to her quaint parish. Her visit to the latest newcomer, Sir John Cartwright, is two-fold: to greet him and to dispel rumors of shady doings at the manor. This time, however, instead of tea and cakes, Annabelle is served a heaping plate of murder and a fine helping of handsome Inspector Mike Nicholls!
Filled with laugh-out-loud moments and cake and pastry recipes, this humorous, cozy mystery is an excellent introduction to the Reverend Annabelle Dixon series.
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CHAPTER 1
THE ONLY THING Annabelle didn’t like about driving her royal blue Mini Cooper was that she couldn’t see how pretty it looked against the lush English countryside. In her mind, the various green hues of the fields, trees, and hedgerows provided the perfect backdrop for her petite blue bullet of a car. She would always picture herself zooming along like an actor in a lavishly produced, British television drama with an audience of millions. Happy ending guaranteed.
Annabelle loved driving. She loved driving almost as much as she loved cakes, and that was saying something. Annabelle’s enthusiasm for sugary treats was as well-known in the village of Upton St. Mary as was her easy-going yet steadfast character. Going for a spin in her Mini with its go-faster stripes followed by a cup of tea and a slice of cake was her idea of a perfect summer’s afternoon.
She whipped the terrier-like motor through the gentle inclines of the Cornish countryside and found it impossible not to smile. Upton St. Mary was very much the kind of village in which people often smiled for no apparent reason. She was coming up to her third year as vicar of the small but dedicated community, yet the elegantly built stone walls, the unfurling landscape of green hills, and stout trees still took her breath away.
Though she had grown up in the hustle and bustle of working-class London, daughter of a street-savvy cabbie and a friendly but reserved cleaning lady, she had always dreamed of finding some grand version of idyllic peace. A place filled with beauty, calm, and goodness. After her troublesome teens, her soul found it in the glow of the Lord, and her body found it in this quaint little village tucked into a beautiful corner of the county of Cornwall, at the very end of England. Even the frequent rains and chilly winters couldn’t spoil this very British Garden of Eden for her.
The villagers themselves, though many had spent their entire lives here, were just as appreciative of Upton St. Mary as their entranced Reverend. Many of their pastimes and traditions involved enjoying the good-naturedness of their neighbors and their delightfully well maintained cottages. Residents also loved nothing more than an open-air crafts fair or competition in which the patient, studious members of the community could display their talents in gardening, knitting, pottery, and – frequently to Annabelle’s delight – baking. Much attention and discourse was directed at every local issue in the name of retaining the village’s rustic charm. Whether it was a problematic pothole or a controversial building extension, the traditional and proud villagers had very strong opinions and voiced them at every opportunity.
The strictly-held traditions of the village, coupled with the speed at which gossip traveled through the close-knit community, meant that Annabelle’s introduction as vicar had been greeted with reticence by some and concern by others. “A female vicar? In Upton St. Mary? What on earth will we do!?” said one particularly worrisome voice. “It’s a slippery slope. Today a female vicar, tomorrow the tea shop will convert to a coffee bar!” said another.
But Annabelle was not the type to be fazed. Though her tall frame and somewhat large figure gave her an ungainly and jovial air, her dedication to church matters was unparalleled. She dealt out sermons with devotion and strokes of well-appointed humor and galvanized more than a few reluctant churchgoers to participate with her abundant, positive energy. She was never too busy to lend a hand here or an ear there. Her willingness to strap on her wellies and get stuck in with the farmers just as easily as she could comfortably chat with the ladies of the tea shop, navigating discussions with decorum and grace, was irresistible. She quickly became the presence villagers wanted at their bedside when ill and the first port of call when a village-wide dispute needed to be resolved fairly and with tact.