Chapter Two
‘She’s dead. My lady’s dead.’ Dahlia Sullivan, Sophia Egerton’s aged housekeeper, stumbled into the kitchen, where the rest of the family sat around the table eating breakfast.
Eric Chambers carefully replaced his coffee cup in its saucer before he stood up. ‘Dead? You’re sure?’
‘Of course I’m sure,’ the housekeeper snapped, her tone sharp and only just this side of what was permissible in an old family retainer. Dahlia had been with Sophia for years, and gradually, over the years, the friendship had strengthened. Both women were failed actresses. Dahlia had come to work for Sophia as a temporary measure between acting jobs. That had been half a century ago. There had been no more acting jobs. Not for Dahlia, anyway, though Sophia’s rich and indulgent husband had been happy
