Read Online The Imbroglio at the Villa Pozzi (An Angela Marchmont Mystery Book 6) by Clara Benson - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Clara Benson
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black clouds had begun to move across the sky in sharp contrast to the blazing sunshine of only an hour earlier, and the atmosphere was starting to feel close and stifling, even outside.
‘I’m glad I got back when I did,’ remarked Elsa. ‘It looks as though it’s going to rain soon.’ And indeed, as she spoke the first fat drops of a summer downpour began to land spat on the canopy above their heads. Their drinks arrived and they sat comfortably under the shelter and prepared to enjoy the sight of everyone else getting wet but themselves.
The shower soon eased off but the clouds did not dissipate and the weather looked set to be dull and overcast for the rest of the evening. Angela saw two people she recognized, and watched as Christopher and Francis trooped dejectedly along the lake-front, having presumably given up any attempt to paint the sunset for that day.
‘Do you think it will be like this tomorrow?’ said Elsa. ‘It won’t be much of a picnic if it is.’
‘Who knows?’ said Mr. Morandi. ‘The weather is very changeable at this time of year, but I hope it will be fine.’
He then got up and went off to harangue the waiting-staff, as dinner-time was approaching, and Angela said to Elsa:
‘By the way, I’ve made us an appointment to sit for Mrs. Quinn tomorrow morning. I hope you’re still keen.’
‘Am I!’ said Elsa. ‘I wouldn’t miss it for the world. What are you going to ask her?’
‘I’m not sure,’ said Angela. ‘I haven’t quite decided yet.’
‘You said something about inventing a dead husband. Presumably that means your husband is still alive,’ said Elsa.
‘He was alive and well the last time I saw him, but that was quite a long time ago,’ said Angela. ‘We’re separated, I’m afraid,’ she explained as she saw her friend’s curious look, ‘but as a general rule I try not to bring it up in conversation, since people can be rather tiresome on the subject.’
‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ said Elsa sincerely. ‘Well then, let’s forget the live one and think up a really good dead one for you.’
Angela laughed and agreed, grateful for her friend’s tact in not inquiring further.
‘But we must come up with something convincing,’ she said. ‘I’ve the feeling that Mrs. Quinn isn’t so easily taken in.’
‘Yes, and that daughter of hers too,’ said Elsa. ‘She makes one quite uncomfortable with that way she has of making one feel as though she’s staring into one’s very soul. Do you suppose she really does have second sight?’
‘We’ll soon find out,’ said Angela.
They put their heads together, and after rejecting several tales about buried treasure and missing heirs as being anything from somewhat unconvincing to plain absurd, they finally agreed to tell Mrs. Quinn that Angela’s husband had died suddenly while she was away with friends, and that Angela had always felt guilty about her absence and wanted to be sure that he did not think too hardly of her.
‘There, that will do nicely,’ said Elsa. ‘It has the ring of truth about it and won’t require you to tell too many lies.’
‘True enough. And what shall you say?’ said Angela.
‘Well, what I’d really like to do is give Tom a piece of my mind for being stupid enough to go up in that plane of his during a storm, but I shan’t. Instead I shall put on my saddest widowly face and say merely that I want to be sure he is well and that the children send their love.’
She assumed a doleful expression, then giggled mischievously.
‘I think this might turn out to be rather good fun,’ she said.
EIGHT
The next morning Angela threw open the doors to her balcony and discovered that the weather was once again fine and sunny, although grey clouds hung over the mountains on the other side of the lake, away in the distance. Angela squinted at them and hoped they would dissipate soon rather than drifting across to spoil the picnic, which Mr. Sheridan had confirmed was to take
‘I’m glad I got back when I did,’ remarked Elsa. ‘It looks as though it’s going to rain soon.’ And indeed, as she spoke the first fat drops of a summer downpour began to land spat on the canopy above their heads. Their drinks arrived and they sat comfortably under the shelter and prepared to enjoy the sight of everyone else getting wet but themselves.
The shower soon eased off but the clouds did not dissipate and the weather looked set to be dull and overcast for the rest of the evening. Angela saw two people she recognized, and watched as Christopher and Francis trooped dejectedly along the lake-front, having presumably given up any attempt to paint the sunset for that day.
‘Do you think it will be like this tomorrow?’ said Elsa. ‘It won’t be much of a picnic if it is.’
‘Who knows?’ said Mr. Morandi. ‘The weather is very changeable at this time of year, but I hope it will be fine.’
He then got up and went off to harangue the waiting-staff, as dinner-time was approaching, and Angela said to Elsa:
‘By the way, I’ve made us an appointment to sit for Mrs. Quinn tomorrow morning. I hope you’re still keen.’
‘Am I!’ said Elsa. ‘I wouldn’t miss it for the world. What are you going to ask her?’
‘I’m not sure,’ said Angela. ‘I haven’t quite decided yet.’
‘You said something about inventing a dead husband. Presumably that means your husband is still alive,’ said Elsa.
‘He was alive and well the last time I saw him, but that was quite a long time ago,’ said Angela. ‘We’re separated, I’m afraid,’ she explained as she saw her friend’s curious look, ‘but as a general rule I try not to bring it up in conversation, since people can be rather tiresome on the subject.’
‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ said Elsa sincerely. ‘Well then, let’s forget the live one and think up a really good dead one for you.’
Angela laughed and agreed, grateful for her friend’s tact in not inquiring further.
‘But we must come up with something convincing,’ she said. ‘I’ve the feeling that Mrs. Quinn isn’t so easily taken in.’
‘Yes, and that daughter of hers too,’ said Elsa. ‘She makes one quite uncomfortable with that way she has of making one feel as though she’s staring into one’s very soul. Do you suppose she really does have second sight?’
‘We’ll soon find out,’ said Angela.
They put their heads together, and after rejecting several tales about buried treasure and missing heirs as being anything from somewhat unconvincing to plain absurd, they finally agreed to tell Mrs. Quinn that Angela’s husband had died suddenly while she was away with friends, and that Angela had always felt guilty about her absence and wanted to be sure that he did not think too hardly of her.
‘There, that will do nicely,’ said Elsa. ‘It has the ring of truth about it and won’t require you to tell too many lies.’
‘True enough. And what shall you say?’ said Angela.
‘Well, what I’d really like to do is give Tom a piece of my mind for being stupid enough to go up in that plane of his during a storm, but I shan’t. Instead I shall put on my saddest widowly face and say merely that I want to be sure he is well and that the children send their love.’
She assumed a doleful expression, then giggled mischievously.
‘I think this might turn out to be rather good fun,’ she said.
EIGHT
The next morning Angela threw open the doors to her balcony and discovered that the weather was once again fine and sunny, although grey clouds hung over the mountains on the other side of the lake, away in the distance. Angela squinted at them and hoped they would dissipate soon rather than drifting across to spoil the picnic, which Mr. Sheridan had confirmed was to take
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