Read Online Murder on the Marmora by Conrad Allen - Free Book Online
Authors: Conrad Allen
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“We’ve been cooped up in here far too long.”
“There’s so much to
see
, Mother, and we’re missing it all.”
“Not if you look through the porthole in your cabin,” said the Princess Royal.
Maud pouted. “That’s not the same.”
The two daughters were pretty girls but they had inherited too many of their mother’s features to be judged truly beautiful. They had long, pale faces and large eyes. At seventeen, Alexandra had already acquired something of her mother’s dignity and solemnity. Three years younger, Maud was still excitable. She turned to her father as a court of appeal.
“May we go on deck soon?” she pleaded.
“Of course,” he said with an indulgent smile, “but only when we are all ready to venture out. We are not ordinary passengers, Maud. We cannot go wandering about the vessel at will. Decorum has to be observed. As soon as we step outside our cabins, every eye will be upon us. That imposes responsibilities.”
“I know, Father.”
“Then curb your impatience. We’ll go out as a family.”
Maud nodded obediently. “May we get down from the table?”
“If you’ve had enough breakfast.”
“Thank you, Father,” said Alexandra.
“We’ll call you in due course,” promised Fife.
“Clean your teeth then look for some warm clothing,” their mother advised. “It will be quite chilly on deck at this time of year.”
“Yes, Mother,” said Maud.
The two girls got down from the table and went into their own cabin. Princess Louise watched them go. Fife drained the last of his coffee and addressed himself to the small pile of correspondence at his elbow.
“I’m not sure that I’m ready for a stroll just yet,” Louise said.
“You must have a morning constitutional, my dear.”
“Later on, perhaps.”
“We can’t keep the girls waiting too long,” he said, reading an invitation card before setting it aside, “or we’ll have mutiny on our hands.”
“Maud seems to think that we’re on the royal yacht, where she can go on deck whenever she chooses. We’re only four amonghundreds of passengers this time. The rules have changed.”
“I think that our daughters appreciate that, Louise.”
“I hope so.” She glanced at the little pile of envelopes. “Anything interesting?”
“Invitations, for the most part,” he said, glancing at a note on P and O stationery. “This one is from Sir Marcus Arundel, suggesting that we might join them in their cabin for drinks one evening.”
“Oh dear!”
“We have to be sociable, Louise.”
“Yes,” she sighed resignedly. “I suppose so.”
“You’re becoming too reclusive, my dear. If we’re not careful, we’ll end up being called ‘the Hermits of Mar Lodge.’ ”
“I love Mar Lodge. It’s so wonderfully private.”
“Almost as private as you,” he teased before slitting open another envelope. “Ah, yet one more invitation. Lord Wilmshurst’s son.”
“Do we know him?”
“No,” he replied, “but I was closely acquainted with his father at one time. Lord Wilmshurst was the best shot I’ve ever seen. And he had an extraordinary fund of sporting anecdotes. Interesting to see if the son takes after his father.”
“I don’t share your passion for anecdotes.”
“This young fellow won’t bore you with anything like that, Louise.”
“How do you know?”
“Because he and his wife are on honeymoon.”
She was startled. “Honeymoon? Yet they seek the company of others?”
“Mr. Wilmshurst sounds like a gregarious bridegroom. He doesn’t just want us there for drinks; he’s suggesting that we dine with them.” Fife saw the mild disapproval in her face. “Don’t worry,” he said. “I won’t commit us to a meal until I’ve had a chance to meet the chap. But I do owe it to his father to be congenial.Besides, the girls will expect some company while we’re aboard. It’s such an agreeable way to pass the time.”
After speaking to Roland Pountney for two minutes, Genevieve
“There’s so much to
see
, Mother, and we’re missing it all.”
“Not if you look through the porthole in your cabin,” said the Princess Royal.
Maud pouted. “That’s not the same.”
The two daughters were pretty girls but they had inherited too many of their mother’s features to be judged truly beautiful. They had long, pale faces and large eyes. At seventeen, Alexandra had already acquired something of her mother’s dignity and solemnity. Three years younger, Maud was still excitable. She turned to her father as a court of appeal.
“May we go on deck soon?” she pleaded.
“Of course,” he said with an indulgent smile, “but only when we are all ready to venture out. We are not ordinary passengers, Maud. We cannot go wandering about the vessel at will. Decorum has to be observed. As soon as we step outside our cabins, every eye will be upon us. That imposes responsibilities.”
“I know, Father.”
“Then curb your impatience. We’ll go out as a family.”
Maud nodded obediently. “May we get down from the table?”
“If you’ve had enough breakfast.”
“Thank you, Father,” said Alexandra.
“We’ll call you in due course,” promised Fife.
“Clean your teeth then look for some warm clothing,” their mother advised. “It will be quite chilly on deck at this time of year.”
“Yes, Mother,” said Maud.
The two girls got down from the table and went into their own cabin. Princess Louise watched them go. Fife drained the last of his coffee and addressed himself to the small pile of correspondence at his elbow.
“I’m not sure that I’m ready for a stroll just yet,” Louise said.
“You must have a morning constitutional, my dear.”
“Later on, perhaps.”
“We can’t keep the girls waiting too long,” he said, reading an invitation card before setting it aside, “or we’ll have mutiny on our hands.”
“Maud seems to think that we’re on the royal yacht, where she can go on deck whenever she chooses. We’re only four amonghundreds of passengers this time. The rules have changed.”
“I think that our daughters appreciate that, Louise.”
“I hope so.” She glanced at the little pile of envelopes. “Anything interesting?”
“Invitations, for the most part,” he said, glancing at a note on P and O stationery. “This one is from Sir Marcus Arundel, suggesting that we might join them in their cabin for drinks one evening.”
“Oh dear!”
“We have to be sociable, Louise.”
“Yes,” she sighed resignedly. “I suppose so.”
“You’re becoming too reclusive, my dear. If we’re not careful, we’ll end up being called ‘the Hermits of Mar Lodge.’ ”
“I love Mar Lodge. It’s so wonderfully private.”
“Almost as private as you,” he teased before slitting open another envelope. “Ah, yet one more invitation. Lord Wilmshurst’s son.”
“Do we know him?”
“No,” he replied, “but I was closely acquainted with his father at one time. Lord Wilmshurst was the best shot I’ve ever seen. And he had an extraordinary fund of sporting anecdotes. Interesting to see if the son takes after his father.”
“I don’t share your passion for anecdotes.”
“This young fellow won’t bore you with anything like that, Louise.”
“How do you know?”
“Because he and his wife are on honeymoon.”
She was startled. “Honeymoon? Yet they seek the company of others?”
“Mr. Wilmshurst sounds like a gregarious bridegroom. He doesn’t just want us there for drinks; he’s suggesting that we dine with them.” Fife saw the mild disapproval in her face. “Don’t worry,” he said. “I won’t commit us to a meal until I’ve had a chance to meet the chap. But I do owe it to his father to be congenial.Besides, the girls will expect some company while we’re aboard. It’s such an agreeable way to pass the time.”
After speaking to Roland Pountney for two minutes, Genevieve
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