by Nancy Warren
Contents
Introduction
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
A Note from Nancy
Lace and Lies
Also by Nancy Warren
About the Author
Introduction
What if the fortune teller at the local village fair is a witch? And all her fortunes come true—even when she foresees a death...
When Lucy Swift’s cousin Violet decides to take over as the fortune teller at Moreton-under-Wychwood’s annual summer fête, Lucy thinks being her assistant will be a fun way to spend a Saturday. That is, until someone’s murdered, and the locals turn on Violet who foresaw the death.
To save her, Lucy and her band of undead amateur sleuths have to find out what’s really going on in this charming Cotswolds village. What better way than to offer knitting classes? No one has to know that the teacher is a vampire.
But uncovering the dark secrets under the postcard-prettiness will bring great danger to Lucy and those she loves.
Fair Isle and Fortunes can be read as a stand-alone mystery in this best-selling series. There's no violence or gore, just a good, clean mystery, with a lot of fun, a crazy-smart cat, tangled knitting, and a few laughs.
The best way to keep up with new releases and special offers is to join Nancy’s newsletter at nancywarren.net.
Praise for the Vampire Knitting Club series
"THE VAMPIRE KNITTING CLUB is a delightful paranormal cozy mystery perfectly set in a knitting shop in Oxford, England. With intrepid, late blooming, amateur sleuth, Lucy Swift, and a cast of truly unforgettable characters, this mystery delivers all the goods. It's clever and funny, with plot twists galore and one very savvy cat! I highly recommend this sparkling addition to the cozy mystery genre."
Jenn McKinlay, NYT Bestselling Author
“This was such a well written, fun story that I couldn’t put it down.”
Diana
“Fun and fantastic read”
Deborah
Chapter 1
The village fête at Moreton-Under-Wychwood was the highlight of the social calendar in that small Cotswold village—at least for most villagers. For the coven, of course, the solstice events that took place at the nearby standing stones took precedence.
The community fair drew locals, families and fairgoers from miles around. I’d never been to a village fête before, so I was excited when my cousin Violet suggested I accompany her.
“I’m going to be telling fortunes, and I’ll need someone to show people in and take the money.” She grinned, flipping her black hair over her shoulder so the stripe of bright pink and purple fluttered like a banner. “You can be my assistant for a change.”
“Do you make much money telling fortunes?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never done it before. The fortunes used to be told by Madame Tatania, who was really Elsie Thompkins and whose husband runs a local pub. But Elsie’s in Dublin with her daughter, who’s having a baby, so they need a new fortune-teller.”
“What fun. Do you have any experience?”
Violet raised her brows and put her hands on her hips. “Lucy, I’m a witch. I think that qualifies me quite nicely. You can watch and learn.” Vi had an annoying way of always reminding me she’d been a practicing witch longer than I had, though after February’s disaster of the love potions, I didn’t know how she had the nerve to pull the superior witch act with me.
Still, I was enjoying getting to know the countryside around my Oxford shop, and it would be fun to spend a Saturday at a village fair. I still had to run Cardinal Woolsey’s yarn and knitting shop, though, so I asked Violet what she thought I might do for an assistant. Truth was, I’d had some bad luck with assistants. If they didn’t turn out to be murderers or soul-sucking demons, they had a tendency to leave. I didn’t think I was a bad employer, more that I couldn’t seem to choose the kind of people who stayed.
I’d had the same problem with the men in my life. At least, the mortal ones. Rafe Crosyer, the five-hundred-year-old vampire, would stick around forever. Literally. The trouble with our relationship was that I wouldn’t. It sounded romantic to think of letting him turn me so we could live together forever, but the reality, as I knew from daily experience, was that living forever wasn’t as thrilling as you might think. Mortals that vampires cared about died. They couldn’t live for too long in one place, or people became suspicious that they weren’t aging, so they had to move every generation or so.
However, the biggest issue I saw was boredom. The vampires living in the tunnels under my Oxford shop all had more money than they could ever spend—Einstein was right about the power of time and compound interest. They’d seen and done pretty much everything, and they no longer needed to hunt thanks to blood banks and modern technology.
They were rich, strong and bored. Also, in Rafe’s case, bossy and controlling. I knew he meant well and had my safety in mind, but I was an independent woman of the modern age. When he was growing up, women were the property of their menfolk. He tried to keep up with the times, but we butted heads more often than I’d have liked.
However, even knowing all that, I was incredibly drawn to Rafe. He was gorgeous, sexy and smart. Him being a controlling know-it-all wouldn’t have been so bad if he hadn’t, in fact, known just about everything. At least I had him beat on modern culture, and some of the most fun we had was seeing movies that he’d been too snobbish to bother with.
Since Violet was supposed to be my assistant, I thought it was only fair she should come up with her Saturday replacement. Especially if she was going to drag me away from the shop, too. She wrinkled her nose. “What about Alice? Don’t you think she owes us a favor after we made Charlie fall in love with her?”
I could not believe that Violet was suggesting Alice owed us anything after her beloved had nearly ended up in jail for murder. Still, Alice was such a nice person, she might actually do it, if she wasn’t already committed to working in the bookstore across the street on Saturday.
“I really need to hire another proper assistant.” We both glanced toward the front window where I had taped a Help Wanted notice. I’d had the paper laminated, as I seemed to put it in the window so often.
I’d put another notice up at the local grocers, but so far there hadn’t been any takers. The trouble was, a warm and cozy wool shop in Oxford was a wonderful place to work in the cold weather, but, as I was learning, it wasn’t so exciting when the weather turned warm. When I walked around Oxford and saw the flowers blooming, sending their scent into the air, and felt the sun on my face, I didn’t relish being cooped up with woolen goods all day. I suspected that most people who might like a part-time job at Cardinal Woolsey’s felt the same way.
However, I needed to find a reliable assistant and soon.
At that moment I heard noises in the back room of my shop, which suggested we had visitors. Sure enough, after surreptitiously peeping from behind the curtain, two of my favorite vampires, Sylvia and my grandmother, walked into the shop.
Sylvia beame
d at us. “We were just getting ready for bed, and we thought we might do some knitting first. I’m completely out of the purple cashmere yarn.”
Gran came behind her. “And I was thinking I might crochet you a nice lace tablecloth, Lucy. It would be lovely on the dining table upstairs.”
I couldn’t believe my ears. “You want to crochet a tablecloth? Won’t that take forever?” The minute I said the words, I could’ve bitten my tongue. She sighed and said, “I hope so.”
Ouch. To cover my blunder I rushed forward and said, “This ecru cotton is new. I think it would give a look of antique lace.”
She brightened immediately. Gran always loved to stay on top of new products in the store she used to own. “It’s lovely, dear.” She picked up one of the balls and turned it over in her hands. “Who’s the supplier?” Then of course we had to talk about sales and the latest stock. It was nice to be able to discuss business with the woman who used to own the shop.
I sighed. “My biggest problem right now is that I need an assistant. Violet wants me to go to the village fête at Moreton-Under-Wychwood on Saturday, but I don’t think I can go. I’ve got no one to watch Cardinal Woolsey’s.”
She and Sylvia looked each other. “We’ll do it.”
I telegraphed distress to Sylvia. Gran could not be seen in public. She tended to forget that a lot of the people who shopped here used to be her customers. Finding Gran alive after they had cried at her funeral would not be conducive to good business.
Sylvia understood my dilemma immediately and said, “But, Agnes, have you forgotten? You’re going to Dublin this weekend. You and Mabel.”
Gran’s forehead creased in puzzlement. “Dublin? Did I know about this?”
Since Gran could be a bit forgetful, Sylvia took shameless advantage. “Of course you did. You’re meeting up with Mary and Sheila, those lovely women we met last time we were there.”
She explained to me and Violet, “Mary owns a lovely old manor house in the country about an hour outside of Dublin. Agnes and Mabel are going to spend the whole weekend doing crafts.” As my grandmother was still looking confused, she said, “Agnes, why don’t you take along some of this lovely cotton and demonstrate to everyone how to make lace? I’ll bet some of them don’t know how.”
Gran brightened immediately. “What a good idea. I do miss teaching my classes.”
When they’d gathered their supplies, Sylvia came close to me and whispered, “Now I’ve got to scramble about and put together a crafts weekend in Dublin. And talk Mabel into going.”
I thanked her in an equally soft voice. Then she said, “Why don’t you ask Clara to run the shop for you? She’s very good. So long as she naps the night before, she should be all right for the day.”
I agreed that this was a good idea, but I still felt I needed a proper assistant. One who wasn’t going to yawn all through the day.
Even Nyx, my black cat familiar, wasn’t lazing about in the front window as often as she had during the cold weather. She came and went from an open window during the night, and often when I got up the next morning she still hadn’t returned home. She came back when she felt like it, and if she was bored or lonely, I would hear her meowing through the door that connected the shop and my upstairs flat.
I’d let her in and she’d yawn, do a circle of the shop making sure no mice had snuck in when she wasn’t on patrol, and then, job done, she’d jump into the front window and curl up in the sun.
Since I needed to get out and get some sun myself, I walked across the street and up the block to Frogg’s Books, hoping to talk Alice into watching the shop for the day. She was an excellent knitter and had taught a few beginner classes. I’d barely had a moment to feel the warm sun on my face and my bare arms when I saw Scarlett Baker and her friend Polly walking toward me. They were both students at Cardinal College, which was on the same street as my shop. We’d become friendly during a recent college production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream. The production had been fraught with disaster but, surprisingly, that had brought us closer.
They both waved to me, and Scarlett said, “Lucy! Don’t tell me you’re leaving? We were coming to see you.”
I stood in the middle of the sidewalk and waited for them to reach me. Polly said, “We were coming into your shop. Scarlett’s teaching me how to knit. I’m trying to quit smoking, you see, and I must have something to do with my hands.”
Scarlett looked at her with affection. “The not smoking’s also making her grumpy, and I’m hoping knitting will be a soothing activity.”
I was very pleased Polly was quitting smoking, of course, but even more pleased to discover that Scarlett could knit. “How come you never told me you could knit?”
She shook her head. “We were so busy with the play, I never really thought about it. I’ve been knitting since I was a child. It was only when Polly was desperately looking for something else to do with her hands—”
“Other than using them to open packets of sweets and crisps,” Polly interjected. “I was getting so fat.”
“I thought of knitting. Polly loves it, and it’s something we can do together during boring lectures or while watching the telly.”
Naturally, I was always delighted to bring more customers into my shop, but I was even more thrilled at the possibility that a local university student might be interested in a part-time job. I asked Scarlett on the spot if I could hire her, explaining that I needed a second assistant mainly for Saturdays and the odd extra shift at a mutually convenient time.
They looked at each other and burst out laughing. “I’ve been wanting to get a part-time job. Polly told me I should ask you, but I was too shy.”
Now it was my turn to laugh. “Perfect. You’re hired.”
“That’s it? That’s the entire job interview?”
Now that she mentioned it, I was a very lax employer. No wonder I kept losing my assistants. Scarlett was an actress who liked drama, but I also knew that she was cheerful, gorgeous, and good with people.
When you’ve been through a frightening experience with someone, you get to know them, and Scarlett was a good person. “Let’s try it and see how it goes. Perhaps you can start a week from Saturday? If you come in a bit early, I’ll explain how the till works and so on.”
“That’s fantastic,” they both said at once.
I couldn’t believe how easy this had been. I felt so magnanimous, I told them that as a signing bonus, I’d give them both the employee discount on whatever they bought.
It didn’t solve the problem of this Saturday, but I was fairly certain Mabel and Clara would cover for me for the one day I was at the fair.
It was only one day, after all. So long as they were well fed, how much damage could a pair of vampires do in one day?
Chapter 2
When I inherited Cardinal Woolsey’s and the flat above it, I also reluctantly ended up with Gran’s tiny Ford. I’d grown up in the States, and learned to drive there, but I was getting better at driving on the wrong side of the road so long as I didn’t let my thoughts wander. On that Saturday morning in early June, I drove carefully from Oxford to Moreton-Under-Wychwood, a small town about ten miles away. I pulled the tiny old car into the Pig and Plough pub’s parking lot, which had been given over for the day to patrons of the village fête. Fortunately, the weather had blessed the event. It was sunny with only a few clouds in the sky, just enough to give it atmosphere.
The village green was normally nothing more than a huge round grass field with a stream running through it. A few ancient trees, a mostly blank community noticeboard and a couple of benches were the main features. However, the small town had grown around the village green. The church, first built in the middle ages, was directly across the street, with its equally ancient graveyard. Cottages and houses built in honey-colored Cotswold stone ringed the green. They were from different eras, though the most modern was probably Victorian. There was a pub, where I’d just parked, a coffee shop, a post office and a co-op gr
ocery store. Today, the village green was crowded with tents and people, games and food trucks and children running about laughing.
I liked to dress in hand-knitted sweaters whenever possible as a way of always advertising Cardinal Woolsey’s. I thought of myself as a walking sandwich board when I was out, but it was a warm day, and I couldn’t stand the thought of a thick jumper, so I’d thrown a white cashmere pashmina over a black T-shirt. Since I was going to be an assistant to a fortune-teller, I thought the shawl added more glamor than a cardigan.
I passed a stall draped with bunting of the British flag selling delicious-smelling pies, another where children were having their faces painted, and a booth where you had to throw balls and try to knock pins down in order to win a prize. Across the way, I could see a Punch and Judy show setting up.
I walked over the ancient wooden bridge that crossed a small stream. An old pump was beside it, and a tourist information sign that explained this was where the whole village used to come for water. I always loved these little glimpses into history.
The tents were all similar, white with red stripes down them, which added to the atmosphere of joyousness in the air. I decided to take a complete turn and look at all the booths before beginning my shift with Violet who, I was fairly certain, would be a tough taskmaster.
A band was warming up. At least, I hoped the discordant sounds meant they were warming up. They were down at one end of the village green beside where an archery club was setting up. I’d done some archery back at summer camp and thought, if I got a break, I might try my hand.