Read Online Hobby of Murder by E.X. Ferrars - Free Book Online Page B

was what suited him best. Yet he found the tench excellent, the venison, not one of his favourite dishes, more appetizing than he had expected, and a minute portion of partridge just manageable. He skipped the raspberry tarts and waited for the fruit, the fine selection of which looked very tempting. He drank Madeira, something he seldom did, but which he found that in the circumstances he quite enjoyed, and with some curiosity he watched the other people at the table to see how they were faring. Most of them were managing rather better than he was, the vicar, in fact, made a very hearty meal of it, and perhaps, Andrew thought, might have been happier in the eighteenth century than most of the other people there.
    He saw that Luke Singleton was very quiet. He talked only a little to either of his neighbours. Yet when he talkedto Felicity a sudden smile of great charm would light up his pale, stern face. Talking to the Inspector it was more likely to remain tight and expressionless. Andrew recognized that when he chose, he could become surprisingly handsome. His features, in their sharp way, were good and all that they needed was some animation to make him no doubt attractive to women. He had at least been able to take Ernest Audley’s wife away from him. As far as Andrew had seen, neither he nor Audley had taken any notice of one another. He had either recognized Eleanor Clancy or had been introduced to her, for occasionally he responded when she talked to him with determination across the Inspector, nodding at what she said if he did not go quite so far as to answer it, and once or twice giving her the benefit of his charming smile.
    Brian Singleton appeared to be in extremely good spirits, chatting mostly to Mollie and ignoring a small, fidgety man who was on the other side of him. It was as he watched Brian and Mollie that what was surely an absurd yet still a disturbing thought came into Andrew’s mind. It was simply that they always seemed so relaxed, so contented, one might almost say so happy in one another’s company. Thinking back, he realized that it had always been so when he had seen them together, though at the time he had paid it no attention. And probably there was no reason why he should do so now. Yet all of a sudden he remembered with a slight shock how strangely Mollie had blushed when he had praised her embroidery.
    He had taken it at the time as merely a sign that perhaps she did not get as much praise for her work as was due to her from Ian, whose interests were all outdoor ones, and who perhaps thought embroidery an uninteresting, female sort of occupation. But later Andrew had heard that all Mollie’s designs had been supplied by Brian, taken from photographs from the electron microscope at the Institute.It had not meant anything to Andrew at the time, but now the memory of the strange brightness of her face when he spoke of her designs thrust itself into his mind and in spite of himself took on a possibly distressing meaning. For it would distress him if it should turn out that her marriage to Ian was not a satisfactory one. Andrew liked people to be happily married.
    But how stupid he was being, perhaps just because of the Madeira and the heavy food and the noise that engulfed him in the room, and a story that Mrs Delano was telling him about the pregnancy of her cleaning woman, such a nice, quiet respectable young woman, who would shortly have to give up her work, leaving Mrs Delano with no help in the house.
    ‘And that, at my age, is a serious matter,’ she said. ‘I’ve very kind neighbours who I’m sure will help me, but I don’t like to impose on people, just because I’m old. Already my shopping is often done for me. Do you know Mr Singleton? Brian Singleton, the brother of the author. He generally drives me once a week into Rockford to the supermarket and pushes my trolley round for me inside and brings me home again. He’s so kind and good-natured. I often wonder why he’s never