Read Online Grave Mistake by Ngaio Marsh - Free Book Online Page A

promptings, sets you against Gideon. He’s intelligent, eminently presentable, obviously rich—”
    “Yes, and where does it come from?”
    “—and, which is the only basically important bit, he seems to be a young man of good character and in love with Prue.”
    “John Swingletree’s devoted to her. Utterly devoted. And she was—” Sybil boggled for a moment and then said loudly, “she was getting to be very fond of him.”
    “The Lord Swingletree, would that be?”
    “Yes, it would and you needn’t say it like that.”
    “I’m not saying it like anything. Syb, they’re over there waiting to come to you. Do be kind. You won’t get anywhere by being anything else.”
    “She’s under age.”
    “I think she’ll wait until she’s not or else do a bunk. Really.”
    Sybil was silent for a moment and then said: “Do you know what I think? I think it’s a put-up job between him and his father. They want to get their hands on Quintern.”
    “Oh, my
dear
old Syb!”
    “All right. You wait. Just you wait.”
    This was said with all her old vigour and obstinacy and yet with a very slight drag, a kind of flatness in her utterance. Was it because of this that Verity had the impression that Sybil did not really mind all that much about her daughter’s engagement? There was an extraordinary suggestion of hesitancy and yet of suppressed excitement — almost of jubilation.
    The pampered little hand she raised to her sunglasses quivered. It removed the glasses and for Verity the afternoon turned cold.
    Sybil’s face was blankly smooth as if it had been ironed. It had no expression. Her great china-blue eyes really might have been those of a doll.
    “All right,” she said. “On your own head be it. Let them come. I won’t make scenes. But I warn you I’ll never come round. Never.”
    A sudden wave of compassion visited Verity.
    “Would you rather wait a bit?” she asked. “How are you, Syb? You haven’t told me. Are you better?”
    “Much, much better. Basil Schramm is fantastic. I’ve never had a doctor like him. Truly. He so
understands
. I expect,” Sybil’s voice luxuriated, “he’ll be livid when he hears about this visit. He won’t let me be upset. I told him about Charmless Claude and he said I must on no account see him. He’s given orders. Verry, he’s quite fantastic,” said Sybil. The warmth of these eulogies found no complementary expression in her face or voice. She wandered on, gossiping about Schramm and her treatment and his nurse. Sister Jackson, who, she said complacently, resented his taking so much trouble over her. “My dear,” said Sybil, “jealous! Don’t you worry, I’ve got that one buttoned up.”
    “Well,” Verity said, swallowing her disquietude, “perhaps you’d better let me tell these two that you’ll see Prue by herself for a moment. How would that be?”
    “I’ll see them both,” said Sybil. “Now.”
    “Shall I fetch them, then?”
    “Can’t you just wave?” she asked fretfully.
    As there seemed to be nothing else for it, Verity walked into the sunlight and waved. Prunella’s hand answered from the car. She got out, followed by Gideon, and they came quickly across the lawn. Verity knew Sybil would be on the watch for any signs of a conference however brief and waited instead of going to meet them. When they came up with her she said under her breath: “It’s tricky. Don’t upset her.”
    Prunella broke into a run. She knelt by her mother and looked into her face. There was a moment’s hesitation and then she kissed her.
    “Darling Mummy,” she said.
    Verity turned to the car.
    There she sat and watched the group of three under the orange canopy. They might have been placed there for a painter like Troy Alleyn. The afternoon light, broken and diffused, made nebulous figures of them so that they seemed to shimmer and swim a little. Sybil had put her sunglasses on again so perhaps, thought Verity, Prue won’t notice anything.
    Now Gideon had