By Nancy Atherton
Cozy lovers' favourite otherworldly detective cracks a vintage country-house case.
In Atherton's 16th secret, Lori Shepherd returns from Down lower than to her common lifestyles within the village of Finch. yet Lori's common speedy turns into whatever yet.
Her debonair spouse's father has moved to city and is renovating Fairworth condo, a grand property within reach. William Sr. expects a quiet, small-town existence, yet one of the spinsters vying for his consciousness, shifty servants, and the invention of a mysterious portray of a genealogy in Fairworth's attic, he discovers that lifestyles in Finch is whatever yet quiet. On best of all of it, Lori and William are embroiled in a case of deception and fake id through considered one of Finch's personal. It's not anything the plucky Lori can't deal with, yet as soon as issues get really unusual at Fairworth-moving furnishings, unusual sounds, and mysterious visitors-she calls on Aunt Dimity for her otherworldly counsel and uncovers the shadowy prior underneath the estate's terrific floor.
Nancy Atherton's titles proceed to please fanatics who eagerly count on every one new publication. Her most modern will draw cheers and convey new readers to this fascinating sequence.
Read or Download Aunt Dimity and the Family Tree (Aunt Dimity, Book 16) PDF
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Extra info for Aunt Dimity and the Family Tree (Aunt Dimity, Book 16)
28 I thought that in one of his pictures the idea was a little clearer, although I myself could not understand it. I have remembered that picture because it caused me to tremble as I looked at it. It showed a very long passage, with low walls, smooth and white. The background suggested that the passage was very far below the surface of the earth, but there was no way out of it that I could see. No lamps were shown, nor any other artifical light; but the whole scene was bathed in a flood of bright light.
It was now midnight, and I had reached the eleventh row — the last row — of stones. In a few minutes only a single stone remained to be fitted in. I struggled with its weight. I placed it partly in position. But now there came from inside a low laugh that made the hairs stand on my head. It was followed by a sad voice, which I could hardly recognize as that of Fortunato. The voice said:'Ha! ha! ha! — a very good joke — an excellent joke. We shall have a good laugh about it — he! he! he! ' I said.
In the end I gave up my attempts to solve the mystery of my anxiety. I left the lake, and went on to the house. The owner of the property, Roderick Usher, had been one of the closest of my childhood friends, but some years had passed since our last meeting. He had recently sent me a very urgent invitation to visit him — had begged me, in fact, to stay with him for several weeks. He wrote that he was suffering from a severe illness, a mental disorder. My companionship, he thought, would cheer him, and bring calm to his troubled thoughts.