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Authors: Georgette Heyer
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in the paper. I couldn't believe it at first, not till I saw the address, and even then I couldn't seem to take it in, could I, Ned?'
'It was surely quite unexpected?' he said, his quiet voice in somewhat striking contrast to his wife's shrill tones.
This civil question had the effect of causing Miss Matthews to break into a torrent of words. Gregory Matthews' constitution, his disregard of his health, the duck he had eaten at his last meal, Mrs Lupton's spite, and the scandal of a post-mortem were all crammed higgledy-piggledy into one speech.
'I am exceedingly sorry! I had no idea!' Mr Rumbold said. 'Of course it must be most unpleasant for you all.'
'Why, whatever can have made Mrs Lupton go and say a thing like that?' wondered Mrs Rumbold. 'As though anyone would want to murder Mr Matthews! No, really, I do call it downright spiteful, don't you, Ned?'
'I expect she was upset,' he answered.
'So were we all, but we didn't say he'd been poisoned!' retorted Miss Matthews. 'I wished very much that you had been here to advise me. I shall always feel that something ought to have been done to stop it, no matter what anyone says!'
He smiled a little. 'I'm afraid you wouldn't have been able to stop it,' he replied. 'And after all, if there is any feeling of suspicion you'd rather have it put to rest, wouldn't you?'
'Yes, if it is put to rest,' agreed Miss Matthews. 'But it's my belief that as soon as you start stirring things up something shocking is bound to be discovered where you least expect it'
'The idea that Gregory was poisoned is merely absurd,' said Mrs Matthews. 'Of that I am convinced.'
'Yes, I daresay you are, but you know very well Guy had been quarrelling with him, not to mention Stella.'
The effect of this speech was to turn Mrs Matthews from a Christian woman into something more nearly resembling a tigress at bay. There was even something faintly suggestive of a feline crouch in the way she leaned forward in her chair, with her hands gripping the arms of it. 'Perhaps you would like to explain what you mean by that, Harriet?' she said in a low, menacing voice. 'Please do so! And remember that you are speaking of My Children!'
Miss Matthews quailed, as well she might, and said tearfully that she meant nothing at all.
'Ah!' said Mrs Matthews, relaxing her taut muscles. 'I am glad of that, Harriet.'
Under her delicate make-up she was quite pale. Guy leaned over the back of her chair, and grinned down at her. 'Attaboy, ma!' he said approvingly.
She put up her hand to clasp his, but said only: 'Please don't use that vulgar expression, dear. You know I dislike it.
'I'm sure,' said Miss Matthews, groping in her pocket for her handkerchief, 'you needn't turn on me, Zoë! Nobody could be fonder of Guy than I am—and of Stella too, of course. I was only thinking how it would look to an outsider.'
Mrs Matthews recovered her poise. 'Don't let us say any more about it. You naturally cannot be expected to understand a mother's feelings.' She turned to Mrs Rumbold, and said graciously: 'And has your stay at the seaside done you good, Mrs Rumbold?'
'Oh, I'm splendid, thanks!' replied Mrs Rumbold. 'It was only Ned who would have it I needed a change of air.' She threw him a warm look as she spoke, and added: 'You wouldn't believe the way he spoils me, that man!'
Mrs Matthews smiled politely, but made no remark. Miss Matthews, with a glance of hatred cast in her direction, asked Mr Rumbold to come and look at the plumb ago, and bore him off in triumph to the conservatory. She was a keen horticulturist, and soon became torn between a desire to talk solely of her troubles and an even stronger desire to compare notes with him on the progress of their respective rarities. She contrived in the end to do both, but became somewhat muddled, and kept on handing him earthy pots of flowers (which he could have looked at just as easily without having to hold them) with a slightly inconsequent recommendation to him to Look at
'It was surely quite unexpected?' he said, his quiet voice in somewhat striking contrast to his wife's shrill tones.
This civil question had the effect of causing Miss Matthews to break into a torrent of words. Gregory Matthews' constitution, his disregard of his health, the duck he had eaten at his last meal, Mrs Lupton's spite, and the scandal of a post-mortem were all crammed higgledy-piggledy into one speech.
'I am exceedingly sorry! I had no idea!' Mr Rumbold said. 'Of course it must be most unpleasant for you all.'
'Why, whatever can have made Mrs Lupton go and say a thing like that?' wondered Mrs Rumbold. 'As though anyone would want to murder Mr Matthews! No, really, I do call it downright spiteful, don't you, Ned?'
'I expect she was upset,' he answered.
'So were we all, but we didn't say he'd been poisoned!' retorted Miss Matthews. 'I wished very much that you had been here to advise me. I shall always feel that something ought to have been done to stop it, no matter what anyone says!'
He smiled a little. 'I'm afraid you wouldn't have been able to stop it,' he replied. 'And after all, if there is any feeling of suspicion you'd rather have it put to rest, wouldn't you?'
'Yes, if it is put to rest,' agreed Miss Matthews. 'But it's my belief that as soon as you start stirring things up something shocking is bound to be discovered where you least expect it'
'The idea that Gregory was poisoned is merely absurd,' said Mrs Matthews. 'Of that I am convinced.'
'Yes, I daresay you are, but you know very well Guy had been quarrelling with him, not to mention Stella.'
The effect of this speech was to turn Mrs Matthews from a Christian woman into something more nearly resembling a tigress at bay. There was even something faintly suggestive of a feline crouch in the way she leaned forward in her chair, with her hands gripping the arms of it. 'Perhaps you would like to explain what you mean by that, Harriet?' she said in a low, menacing voice. 'Please do so! And remember that you are speaking of My Children!'
Miss Matthews quailed, as well she might, and said tearfully that she meant nothing at all.
'Ah!' said Mrs Matthews, relaxing her taut muscles. 'I am glad of that, Harriet.'
Under her delicate make-up she was quite pale. Guy leaned over the back of her chair, and grinned down at her. 'Attaboy, ma!' he said approvingly.
She put up her hand to clasp his, but said only: 'Please don't use that vulgar expression, dear. You know I dislike it.
'I'm sure,' said Miss Matthews, groping in her pocket for her handkerchief, 'you needn't turn on me, Zoë! Nobody could be fonder of Guy than I am—and of Stella too, of course. I was only thinking how it would look to an outsider.'
Mrs Matthews recovered her poise. 'Don't let us say any more about it. You naturally cannot be expected to understand a mother's feelings.' She turned to Mrs Rumbold, and said graciously: 'And has your stay at the seaside done you good, Mrs Rumbold?'
'Oh, I'm splendid, thanks!' replied Mrs Rumbold. 'It was only Ned who would have it I needed a change of air.' She threw him a warm look as she spoke, and added: 'You wouldn't believe the way he spoils me, that man!'
Mrs Matthews smiled politely, but made no remark. Miss Matthews, with a glance of hatred cast in her direction, asked Mr Rumbold to come and look at the plumb ago, and bore him off in triumph to the conservatory. She was a keen horticulturist, and soon became torn between a desire to talk solely of her troubles and an even stronger desire to compare notes with him on the progress of their respective rarities. She contrived in the end to do both, but became somewhat muddled, and kept on handing him earthy pots of flowers (which he could have looked at just as easily without having to hold them) with a slightly inconsequent recommendation to him to Look at
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