English Trifle Read online

  Praise for Lemon Tart

  The Reviews Are In—and They Are Delicious!

  “I couldn’t put it down! I love, love, love this book. Sadie is more lovable than Regan Reilly, Goldy Bear, and James Qwilleran—all rolled together!”

  — Whit Larson, http://www.MormonMomCast.com “Lemon Tart was delicious! Sadie’s curiosity, determination, and good old-fashioned pluck made her one of the most delightful characters I’ve ever met in a book. Finding that all my guesses about whodunit were wrong made for an exciting and clever ending to a satisfying mystery.”

  — Julie Wright, author of My Not-So-Fairy-Tale Life, http://www

  .juliewright.com “Josi Kilpack’s new book Lemon Tart takes everything I love about a culinary mystery—the food, the humor, the intrigue—and blends it all at high speed with a dash of spice in the form of our main character, Sadie. A must-read for those who enjoy well-crafted mysteries.”

  — Tristi Pinkston, http://www.tristipinkston.blogspot.com “Mystery-lovers will be entranced with Josi Kilpack’s cozy mystery, Lemon Tart. Amateur sleuth/busybody neighbor Sadie Hoffmiller is funny, quirky, and just the person to uncover the right clues and get her neighborhood back to normal. With a little romance and a lot of yummy baking, I had fun trying to guess whodunit until the very end.”

  — H. B. Moore, award-winning author of the Out of Jerusalem series and Abinadi, http://www.mywriterslair.blogspot.com “Lemon Tart is an absolutely scrumptious culinary mystery. It not only kept me guessing, but also had my taste buds demanding I make the included recipes. I’m very excited about this new series by Josi S. Kilpack!”

  — T. Danyelle Ferguson, http://www.queenoftheclan.blogspot.com

  Other Books by Josi S. Kilpack

  ~

  Her Good Name

  Sheep’s Clothing

  Unsung Lullaby

  Culinary Mysteries Lemon Tart

  Devil’s Food Cake (to be released Spring 2010)

  English Trifle

  A Culinary Mystery

  Josi S. Kilpack

  To my Breanna—Thank you for being you and blessing my life every day. Love ya, Babe.

  © 2009 Josi S. Kilpack

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without permission in writing from the publisher, Deseret Book Company, >P. O. Box 30178, Salt Lake City, Utah 84130. This work is not an official publication of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. The views expressed herein are the responsibility of the author and do not necessarily represent the position of the Church or of Deseret Book Company.

  All characters in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Deseret Book is a registered trademark of Deseret Book Company.

  Visit us at DeseretBook.com Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Kilpack, Josi S.

  English trifle / Josi S. Kilpack.

  p. cm.

  ISBN 978-1-60641-121-6 (paperbound) 1. Cooks—Fiction. 2. Mothers and daughters—Fiction. 3. Manors—Fiction. >4. Murder—Investigation—Fiction. 5. England—Fiction. I. Title.

  PS3561.I412E54 2009

  813’.54—dc22

  2009007829

  Printed in the United States of America Sheridan Books, Chelsea, MI

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Sneak peek of Devil’s Food Cake

  Chapter 1

  ~

  Is it just me or does it feel like the staff wants us to leave?” Sadie Hoffmiller asked after the door of the sitting room shut behind them.

  “It’s just you, Mom.” Breanna sat on one of the damask-covered settees and kicked out one leg so that she slumped into the seat. She managed to look perfectly bohemian in the elegant room. “They’re probably anxious to get back to their regular routine.”

  “Hmmm, maybe,” Sadie replied, but she wasn’t convinced. If not for the fact that Breanna had a lot to deal with right now, Sadie would have tried to dissect the situation a little more; however, she could sense that with their departure only minutes away, her daughter was on overload. Sadie didn’t want to add to her stress.

  Instead, she sat down across from Breanna as if being in the sitting room of an English estate was an everyday occurrence instead of an unforeseen shift in Breanna’s possible future. That Breanna hadn’t known Liam was heir apparent to an earldom when she fell in love with him hadn’t made the adjustment any easier, but it had become the reason they’d come to England in the first place. Liam’s father—William Everet Martin Jr., ninth Earl of Garnett—had been ill for several months and Liam needed to see to some matters of the estate, necessitating he travel to England a week before Christmas. Sadie and Breanna had been invited to join him between Christmas and New Year’s, while Breanna was out of school, in order to meet the earl and tour the country of Liam’s birth. They’d spent one night at Southgate before leaving to see nearly everything else in England, returning only the night before last. Sadie couldn’t imagine how they’d have thrown off the staff’s routine when they’d been at the estate for such a short time. “It just seems to me that they’re in a hurry for us to go back home.”

  “Well, they’ve got their hands full with the earl. I’m sure having guests—and foreign guests at that—is nothing more than an irritation.”

  Liam had had an extra week to adjust to his father’s declining health, but admitted that he hadn’t even recognized his father; he’d aged tremendously in the four years since Liam had seen him in person. Breanna suggested they forgo the sightseeing, but Liam assured them that the earl wouldn’t want them to spend the week hovering when there was nothing any of them could do.

  “Is Liam okay?” Sadie asked. She’d seen very little of him since their return to the estate. Once Liam’s father passed on, Liam would inherit the title of earl, and the weight of the impending responsibility sat heavily on his shoulders now that the fun portion of the trip was over. He’d spent nearly every moment either at his father’s bedside or in the library, poring over the history and accounts of the earldom, wanting to learn all he could before he returned to his other life in Portland, Oregon, where he supervised the bat exhibit at the Washington Park Zoo.

  Breanna looked at her hands in her lap. She was wearing a T-shirt that said Keep It Clean, Keep It Green. “I don’t know,” she said qui
etly. “He’s not sure when he’ll be able to come back home. If he could, I’m sure he’d stay here.”

  Sadie wasn’t so sure he couldn’t stay—he was going to be an earl after all; why worry about something as inconsequential as his job? “It must be hard to leave with his dad still so sick,” Sadie said sympathetically. Both of Sadie’s parents were gone now, and losing them had been second in heartache only to her husband’s premature death almost twenty years ago. Nothing quite compared to losing people close to you even if, like Liam and his father, there had been half a world between you for most of your life.

  Breanna let out a breath and nodded.

  “And how about you?” Sadie asked, peering at her daughter in the hopes of reading her expression should she choose not to be forthcoming. “How do you feel about leaving?”

  Breanna flicked her green eyes up to meet her mother’s, then stared back into her lap. She shrugged one shoulder like a thirteen-year-old girl, instead of a twenty-four-year-old woman facing the decision of a lifetime. Would she one day marry Liam and live the rest of her life as the Countess of Garnett? It was a subject she’d avoided talking about. For Breanna—earthy, easygoing, and hardworking—to consider living a life full of social functions, obligatory friendships, and a lifestyle disproportionate to that of her neighbors, would be difficult. Her world was nothing like this one. For a moment Sadie thought her daughter might be ready to discuss it now that the visit was almost behind them, but then Breanna’s face broke into a smile. “Let’s see,” she said, a tease in her voice. “How do I feel about leaving?” She tapped her chin with feigned consternation. “I simply can’t wait to eat a freaking Ho Ho.”

  “A Ho Ho?” Sadie said, pulling back in pure disgust. “We’ve been surrounded by the finest of English cuisine for the last week and you want a Ho Ho?”

  “The very words English cuisine are pretty much an oxymoron. It’s bland, it’s weird—mushrooms for breakfast? Come on! They served pigeons for dinner at that one place in York, Mom. Can you honestly tell me that a Big Mac isn’t screaming your name about now?”

  “Those were Cornish hens,” Sadie reprimanded. “And they were delicious. The rosemary sauce was nothing short of amazing.”

  Breanna waved her hand, as if unwilling to even consider the possibility. “Hostess and McDonald’s are not multibillion dollar companies for no reason.” Breanna smiled as if she’d won the argument. “Oh, I liked the English trifle from the other night—that was delicious.”

  Sadie couldn’t help but smile at the memory. She made the layered dessert every Christmas, but had never had it with real ladyfingers and custard pudding made from scratch. “It was excellent, wasn’t it?” She couldn’t wait to go home and make it herself to see if she could match Mrs. Land’s. Now that she’d actually had real English trifle, she knew what to shoot for.

  Breanna nodded as the door opened. Sadie straightened in her chair, all things forgiven and all senses on alert because there was food on the tray! Scones, clotted cream, strawberry jam, and tea, to be exact—a cream tea, for which Devonshire was famous. The scones—pronounced so that scone rhymed with the word gone—were not the deep-fried American kind, rather they were like a sweet biscuit that fairly melted in your mouth. Grant, the butler, placed the tea tray on a small table. “Your final tea,” he said as he righted the tea cups on the saucers. “As soon as you finish here, you’ll be on your way to Heathrow. Your bags are being loaded as we speak.”

  Aha, more proof that the staff was practically pushing them out the door. Their flight didn’t leave until ten o’clock tonight—nearly seven hours from now—and it was only three hours to London. Why the rush? But she simply smiled at the man, watching his expression carefully.

  “We can pour,” Sadie said when he reached for the teapot. It felt funny to be waited on all the time and she took every opportunity to be self-sufficient. “And I hope the driver is okay to wait for a little while; we’d hate to rush.” She thought she caught a flicker of irritation in Grant’s expression, but he nodded his head and took a step backward toward the door, as professional as ever.

  “Of course,” he said. “I’ll let the driver know he can turn off the engine.”

  Grant nodded once more when he reached the door, reminded them to ring the bell by the fireplace if they needed assistance, and then left the room. As soon as he was gone, Sadie leaned forward. “They weren’t even going to shut off the engine,” she said smugly. “They’d probably send us out there with Dixie cups and the scones wrapped in a napkin if they could.”

  “Mom, please,” Breanna said, reaching for her scone. “Can we just enjoy these last few minutes?”

  Oh, fine, Sadie said to herself. She was willing to put off nearly anything when there was food in need of savoring. She picked up, split, and jammed a scone before topping it with a dollop of clotted cream.

  “Are you sure you want to bother with the scone at all?” Sadie asked, raising her eyebrows toward the treat in her daughter’s hand. “Seeing as how these scones aren’t loaded with trans fats or preservatives? I mean, they don’t even have any artificial coloring, for goodness’ sake.”

  “The scones,” Breanna said, pronouncing the word like an American, “I like. But that cream stuff is nasty.”

  “That cream stuff is called clotted cream,” Sadie corrected as she put the halves of her scone back together, making a sandwich—which was how the English ate their scones. “And Devon is famous for it.”

  Breanna looked up and lifted her eyebrows. “The very words clotted cream make my point: it even sounds gross. And talk about unhealthy—it’s like pure butterfat.”

  “And what do you think butter is made of?” Sadie asked, but then she promptly ignored her daughter’s reply, putting up her hand to block any further complaints as she took her first bite, allowing the cool cream, sweet jam, and smooth scone to combine perfectly in her mouth. She chewed slowly and carefully, savoring every moment. When she opened her eyes, Breanna was grinning at her.

  “You’re such a food junkie,” Breanna said.

  “Agreed,” Sadie said before taking another bite.

  It was several minutes before she finished a second scone, set down her cup of tea—peppermint, since she thought real tea tasted like wet socks—and let out a satisfied breath. “Our last tea in England,” she said sadly. “And I never did wrestle the scone recipe away from Mrs. Land.”

  “Whatever,” Breanna said dismissively. “You’ll go home, spend two weeks baking scone recipes you find online and end up with a recipe that blows Mrs. Land’s out of the water. You can call them ‘Sadie’s Scrumptulicious Scones’ or ‘Scones to Die For’ or something like that.”

  Sadie cocked her head and smiled at the compliment. “You know me too well.”

  Breanna nodded and leaned back in her seat. She looked at her watch—a waterproof, multifunctioning black monstrosity that was as feminine as a chainsaw. “Where’s Liam?” she asked.

  Sadie shrugged. He’d texted Breanna, telling them to wait for him in the sitting room, but that had been nearly fifteen minutes ago. Sadie eyed the two scones they’d left for him and wondered if he’d notice if she ate one. Would he even have time to eat both scones with the staff in such a hurry to be done with them? And yet, when she’d put on her jeans this morning she found them a bit harder to button up than they’d been when she had arrived. At fifty-six years old she no longer had the metabolism of her youth and needed to have limits. But it was so hard! And how often was she going to have a cream tea in Devonshire? Sadie gave in and grabbed a third scone. Breanna didn’t seem to notice, so Sadie quickly prepared it and then savored every bite. When it was gone, the last scone called to her, but this time she ignored it. She couldn’t eat all of Liam’s scones.

  In order to distract herself from that last baked confection, she reviewed all the amazing things they’d done and seen that week. She and Breanna had made a list on the airplane from the U.S. and had diligently sought out things from some
of their favorite books and movies set in England. They’d toured Tintagel, the ruins of King Arthur’s castle in Cornwall, Ascot where Eliza Doolittle attended the races in My Fair Lady, Alnwick Castle in Northumberland which was used as Hogwarts in the Harry Potter movies, and they even took the Jack the Ripper tour in London—creepy. Sadie felt sure they’d gotten everything on the list, but reviewed it in her mind one last time, mostly to keep herself from the final scone. Instantly, she sat up.

  “We need to take a turn about the room,” she said excitedly. She didn’t wait for an answer, instead she moved to her daughter’s side and pulled her to her feet.

  “What?” Breanna asked, looking at her strangely as she stumbled to get her balance, nearly dropping the scone in her hand as she did so.

  Sadie was already tugging her toward the perimeter of the room. “Remember? It was on our list—taking a turn around the room like Miss Bingley and Elizabeth in Pride and Prejudice.” She waved her hand through the air in a regal fashion. “I’ll be Caroline Bingley and you can be Elizabeth—although with your bad attitude, maybe you should be Caroline.”

  “I don’t remember us assigning characters when we put it on the list,” Breanna said before taking a bite of her scone.

  Sadie gave her a dirty look, ignoring the commentary. Breanna shook her head but fell into step beside her mother, standing nearly five inches taller than Sadie thanks to the genetics she’d inherited from her birth parents. They walked slowly, scanning the collection of paintings and antique furniture on the interior wall as they made their way toward the far end of the long, narrow room. They’d been in this room twice before, but hadn’t inspected it too closely. It was only fitting that doing so should be part of their final moments at Southgate estate.

  When they neared the far wall, they turned and found themselves looking out the window furthest from the door. It was one of three floor-to-ceiling windows covered in elaborate folds of the same fabric used on the settees she and Breanna had been sitting on earlier. It had rained off and on all week, and had just started to sprinkle again, giving the view of the garden a watery look. Breanna popped the last of her scone in her mouth.