Read Online Anne Perry's Christmas Mysteries: Two Holiday Novels by Anne Perry - Free Book Online

concern to him.”
    So they had entertained a mere acquaintance in Maude’s place!
    “I thought perhaps he was a relative,” Grandmama murmured.
    Arthur smiled at her. “Not at all. A business acquaintance.” He sounded tired, a strain in his voice, a kind of bitter humor. “Sent actually to assess whether I should be offered a peerage or not. See if I am suitable.”
    “Of course you are suitable!” Bedelia said sharply. “It is a formality. And I daresay he was pleased to get out of the city and visit us for a day or two. Cities are so…grubby when it snows.”
    “It isn’t snowing,” he pointed out.
    She ignored him. “At least his visit was not marred by tragedy.”
    “Or anything else,” Clara added quietly.
    “I think it will snow,” Agnes offered, glancing toward the curtained windows. “The wind has changed and the clouds were very heavy before sunset.”
    Grandmama was delighted. Snow might mean she could not leave tomorrow, if it were sufficiently deep. “Oh dear,” she said with pretended anxiety. “I did not notice. I do hope I am not imposing on you?”
    “Not in the slightest,” Bedelia assured her. “You say you were a friend of Maude’s, even on so short an acquaintance. How could you not be welcome?”
    “Of course,” Agnes agreed again, echoing Bedelia. “You said Maude spoke to you a great deal? We saw her so little, perhaps it would not be too distressing if we were to ask you what she told you of her…travels?” She looked hastily at Bedelia. “That is…if it is seemly to discuss! I do not wish to embarrass you in any way at all.”
    What on earth was Agnes imagining? Orgies around the campfire?
    “Perhaps…another time,” Arthur said shakily, his voice hoarse. “If indeed it does snow, you may be here with us long enough to…” He trailed off.
    “Quite,” Bedelia agreed, without looking at him.
    Zachary apologized. “We are all overwrought,” he explained. “This is so unexpected. We hardly know how to…believe it.”
    “We had no idea at all that she was ill.” Randolph spoke for the first time since Grandmama had come into the room. “She seemed so…so very alive…indestructible.”
    “You no more than met her, my dear,” Bedelia said coolly.
    Grandmama turned to her in surprise.
    “Maude left before my son was born,” Bedelia explained, as if an intrusive question had been asked. “I think you do not really understand what an…an extraordinary woman she was.” Her use of the word extraordinary covered a multitude of possibilities, most of them unpleasant.
    Grandmama did not reply. She must detect! The room was stiff with emotion. Grief, envy, anger, above all fear. Did she detect the odor of scandal? For heaven’s sake, she was not achieving much! She had no proof that it had been murder, only a certainty in her own suspicious mind.
    “No,” she said softly. “Of course I didn’t know how extraordinary she was. I spoke with her and listened to her memories and feelings, so very intense, a woman of remarkable observation and understanding. But as you say, it was only a short time. I have no right to speak as if I knew her as you must have, who grew up with her.” She let the irony of the forty-year gap hang in the air. “I imagine when she was abroad she wrote wonderful letters?”
    There was an uncomfortable silence, eloquent in itself. So Maude had not written to them in the passionate and lyrical way she had spoken at St. Mary. Or she had, and for some reason they chose to ignore it.
    She plowed on, determined to stir up something that might be of meaning. “She had traveled as very few people, men or women, can have done. A collection of her letters would be of interest to many who do not have such opportunities. Or such remarkable courage. It would be a fitting monument to her, do you not think?”
    Agnes drew in her breath with a gasp, and looked at Bedelia. She seemed helpless to answer without her approval. A lifetime habit forged