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Authors: Beth Andrews
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a quarrel, precisely,’ Lydia said. In fact, they had barely exchanged enough words for it to qualify as a genuine quarrel. But certainly their hitherto placid relationship had taken an unexpected and inexplic able detour.
* * * *
Later that evening, after Monsieur d’Almain had deposited them ceremoniously at their door, Lydia heard even more disturbing tidings. She could see that her aunt was more than ordinarily nervous. Normally as silent as a preacher on a Monday morning, she had been peculiarly garrulous on the ride home. She chattered away about the difficulties of preserving blackberries, and the shocking way Mrs McBride’s maidservant had behaved: a litany of trivial detail which bewildered the Frenchman as much as it did Lydia.
‘What on earth is wrong, Aunt Camilla?’ Lydia exclaimed as soon as the front door closed behind them.
‘Oh Lydia!’ To her consternation, the elder woman burst into tears. ‘I would like to strangle Mrs Wardle- Penfield.’
‘You would have to join a very long queue,’ her niece commented. ‘But what, in particular, has she done?’
‘You know how she was certain that Monsieur d’Almain was somehow connected with the death of that poor man in the woods?’
‘Yes,’ Lydia answered grimly.
‘Well,’ Camilla sniffed loudly, ‘she must have told everyone her suspicions, because they were all looking at him and whispering tonight. It was terrible!’
Lydia could have kicked herself. She had been so preoc cupied, especially after her exchange with John, that she had not been as observant as usual. How could she have missed something so important? Now that she cast back in her mind, she had noticed that there was a great deal of talk tonight and some sly looks cast in the direction of her aunt and the Frenchman. She had put it down to specula tion concerning their attachment, but it seemed that she was mistaken.
‘I am so sorry, dearest.’ What could she say to comfort the wretched woman?
‘If he should be arrested, I shall die!’
This dramatic pronouncement was not as effective as Camilla might have hoped. Histrionics were entirely wasted upon her niece. However, it did provoke her to reply with some asperity that she could not imagine why anyone would arrest the man.
‘There is no indication that he was involved in Mr Cole’s murder.’
‘You do not know the inhabitants of Diddlington.’ Her aunt shook her head sadly. ‘At least two people gave him the cut direct tonight. He will cease to be invited anywhere ... he will be forced to leave the village in disgrace....’
Lydia considered the matter, and realized that her aunt could well be right. Even if Monsieur d’Almain were never charged with the murder, a cloud of suspicion would surround him as long as the true murderer was not appre hended. And, with all due respect to John’s father, Lydia was inclined to think that Mrs Wardle-Penfield had formed a fairly accurate opinion of his abilities. He was not the man for this job.
‘We must do something,’ she said aloud, more to herself than to her aunt.
‘What can we do?’ was the plaintive response. ‘What can anyone do?’
‘I will speak to John.’
‘But you have quarrelled with John,’ Camilla pointed out.
‘I will make it up with him.’ Lydia shrugged carelessly. ‘It was no great matter.’
‘That is not what you said earlier.’
‘In such a case as this,’ her niece said grandly, ‘one must put aside petty differences for the sake of a higher cause.’
Chapter Nine
ADVENTURE AT LAST
In pursuit of this ‘higher cause’, Lydia scribbled a note to young Mr Savidge the next morning and enlisted the help of Charity to deliver it. The poor maid thought it monstrously romantic, and set out with the precious billet as soon as her duties allowed. The response was gratifyingly prompt. Indeed, he instructed the maid to wait while he penned his own lines. K nowing that Lydia and her auint were engaged to attend a musicale
* * * *
Later that evening, after Monsieur d’Almain had deposited them ceremoniously at their door, Lydia heard even more disturbing tidings. She could see that her aunt was more than ordinarily nervous. Normally as silent as a preacher on a Monday morning, she had been peculiarly garrulous on the ride home. She chattered away about the difficulties of preserving blackberries, and the shocking way Mrs McBride’s maidservant had behaved: a litany of trivial detail which bewildered the Frenchman as much as it did Lydia.
‘What on earth is wrong, Aunt Camilla?’ Lydia exclaimed as soon as the front door closed behind them.
‘Oh Lydia!’ To her consternation, the elder woman burst into tears. ‘I would like to strangle Mrs Wardle- Penfield.’
‘You would have to join a very long queue,’ her niece commented. ‘But what, in particular, has she done?’
‘You know how she was certain that Monsieur d’Almain was somehow connected with the death of that poor man in the woods?’
‘Yes,’ Lydia answered grimly.
‘Well,’ Camilla sniffed loudly, ‘she must have told everyone her suspicions, because they were all looking at him and whispering tonight. It was terrible!’
Lydia could have kicked herself. She had been so preoc cupied, especially after her exchange with John, that she had not been as observant as usual. How could she have missed something so important? Now that she cast back in her mind, she had noticed that there was a great deal of talk tonight and some sly looks cast in the direction of her aunt and the Frenchman. She had put it down to specula tion concerning their attachment, but it seemed that she was mistaken.
‘I am so sorry, dearest.’ What could she say to comfort the wretched woman?
‘If he should be arrested, I shall die!’
This dramatic pronouncement was not as effective as Camilla might have hoped. Histrionics were entirely wasted upon her niece. However, it did provoke her to reply with some asperity that she could not imagine why anyone would arrest the man.
‘There is no indication that he was involved in Mr Cole’s murder.’
‘You do not know the inhabitants of Diddlington.’ Her aunt shook her head sadly. ‘At least two people gave him the cut direct tonight. He will cease to be invited anywhere ... he will be forced to leave the village in disgrace....’
Lydia considered the matter, and realized that her aunt could well be right. Even if Monsieur d’Almain were never charged with the murder, a cloud of suspicion would surround him as long as the true murderer was not appre hended. And, with all due respect to John’s father, Lydia was inclined to think that Mrs Wardle-Penfield had formed a fairly accurate opinion of his abilities. He was not the man for this job.
‘We must do something,’ she said aloud, more to herself than to her aunt.
‘What can we do?’ was the plaintive response. ‘What can anyone do?’
‘I will speak to John.’
‘But you have quarrelled with John,’ Camilla pointed out.
‘I will make it up with him.’ Lydia shrugged carelessly. ‘It was no great matter.’
‘That is not what you said earlier.’
‘In such a case as this,’ her niece said grandly, ‘one must put aside petty differences for the sake of a higher cause.’
Chapter Nine
ADVENTURE AT LAST
In pursuit of this ‘higher cause’, Lydia scribbled a note to young Mr Savidge the next morning and enlisted the help of Charity to deliver it. The poor maid thought it monstrously romantic, and set out with the precious billet as soon as her duties allowed. The response was gratifyingly prompt. Indeed, he instructed the maid to wait while he penned his own lines. K nowing that Lydia and her auint were engaged to attend a musicale
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