Read Online The Imbroglio at the Villa Pozzi (An Angela Marchmont Mystery Book 6) by Clara Benson - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Clara Benson
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place that afternoon. There was to be a little group of them, and Angela was rather looking forward to seeing the Villa Pozzi and its grounds, of which she had heard so much.
After breakfast, Angela and Mrs. Peters returned to Angela’s room and waited with some trepidation for the arrival of the Quinns. Although they had been laughing about it the day before, both were feeling slightly nervous, and Angela in particular was worrying that they would spot her lies immediately and that she would be exposed as a fraud—which would be ironic in the circumstances, she thought with a wry smile.
At ten o’clock prompt, Mrs. and Miss Quinn knocked on Angela’s bedroom door and were admitted.
‘Here we are, as promised,’ said Mrs. Quinn, as cheery as ever, while Asphodel Quinn stood by, a silent presence in a dark and heavy worsted frock. ‘And good morning, Mrs. Peters. Are you joining our sitting today?’
‘Yes, if you don’t mind,’ said Elsa.
‘Oh, there’s no problem at all,’ said Mrs. Quinn. ‘Four is a nice, convenient number.’ She looked about her. ‘Now, we’ll need a table,’ she said. ‘A round one would be best.’
‘What about this one here?’ said Angela, indicating a little table which stood to one side of the window.
‘It’s a bit small,’ said Mrs. Quinn, regarding it with her head on one side, ‘but since there’s nothing else it will have to do.’
She carefully put down the bag she had brought with her, pulled the table away from the window and into the middle of the room and then set out three chairs around it.
‘There are no more chairs, so one of us will have to sit on the bed, I’m afraid,’ she said.
‘I’ll do that,’ said Asphodel.
Mrs. Quinn now busied herself about the room. First she closed the curtains and switched on the lamp, then she delved into her bag and brought out several candles, which she placed here and there and then lit. The room immediately seemed smaller and stuffier, and it began to feel rather warm.
‘Does Mr. Ainsley know you’re doing this, Mrs. Marchmont?’ Mrs. Quinn said as she worked. ‘I gather he and his wife are friends of yours.’
Angela started guiltily at her words, but luckily neither of the Quinns was looking in her direction.
‘I haven’t mentioned it,’ she lied. ‘Why do you ask?’
‘No particular reason,’ said Mrs. Quinn blandly, ‘except that we’re not exactly favourites of the reverend, are we, Saph?’
Miss Quinn gave a short laugh.
‘You might say that,’ she said.
‘No,’ went on Mrs. Quinn. ‘He doesn’t hold with the Art, and he’s taken very much against us since we came, although it’s not as though I’ve done anything to interfere with him. As a matter of fact I understand he’s been spreading all sorts of rumours about us in the town—which I call uncharitable, as I’ve never said a bad word about him. I’m a good Christian woman, I am, and I do my best to love my neighbour, even if he doesn’t think much of me.’ She straightened up and looked about her with satisfaction. ‘Now, then, that ought to do the trick,’ she said. ‘For my part I’d happily let the light and the fresh air in but the spirit guides don’t like it, you see, and they’re the ones in charge so we have to go along with it.’
‘What is your spirit guide’s name?’ asked Elsa, who had been watching the proceedings with interest.
‘Thutmose. He’s an Ancient Egyptian,’ replied Mrs. Quinn. She saw Mrs. Peters’ sceptical look and said amiably, ‘Yes, dear, they so often are, aren’t they? It’s a bit hackneyed, I know, but that’s what he told me and I can’t prove otherwise so I don’t bother arguing with him. Now then, shall we sit? Mrs. Marchmont, it will be best if you and Mrs. Peters sit opposite each other.’
Angela and Elsa glanced at one another and sat gingerly in the chairs indicated, and Mrs. Quinn burrowed in her bag once again and brought out an object, at which they gazed
After breakfast, Angela and Mrs. Peters returned to Angela’s room and waited with some trepidation for the arrival of the Quinns. Although they had been laughing about it the day before, both were feeling slightly nervous, and Angela in particular was worrying that they would spot her lies immediately and that she would be exposed as a fraud—which would be ironic in the circumstances, she thought with a wry smile.
At ten o’clock prompt, Mrs. and Miss Quinn knocked on Angela’s bedroom door and were admitted.
‘Here we are, as promised,’ said Mrs. Quinn, as cheery as ever, while Asphodel Quinn stood by, a silent presence in a dark and heavy worsted frock. ‘And good morning, Mrs. Peters. Are you joining our sitting today?’
‘Yes, if you don’t mind,’ said Elsa.
‘Oh, there’s no problem at all,’ said Mrs. Quinn. ‘Four is a nice, convenient number.’ She looked about her. ‘Now, we’ll need a table,’ she said. ‘A round one would be best.’
‘What about this one here?’ said Angela, indicating a little table which stood to one side of the window.
‘It’s a bit small,’ said Mrs. Quinn, regarding it with her head on one side, ‘but since there’s nothing else it will have to do.’
She carefully put down the bag she had brought with her, pulled the table away from the window and into the middle of the room and then set out three chairs around it.
‘There are no more chairs, so one of us will have to sit on the bed, I’m afraid,’ she said.
‘I’ll do that,’ said Asphodel.
Mrs. Quinn now busied herself about the room. First she closed the curtains and switched on the lamp, then she delved into her bag and brought out several candles, which she placed here and there and then lit. The room immediately seemed smaller and stuffier, and it began to feel rather warm.
‘Does Mr. Ainsley know you’re doing this, Mrs. Marchmont?’ Mrs. Quinn said as she worked. ‘I gather he and his wife are friends of yours.’
Angela started guiltily at her words, but luckily neither of the Quinns was looking in her direction.
‘I haven’t mentioned it,’ she lied. ‘Why do you ask?’
‘No particular reason,’ said Mrs. Quinn blandly, ‘except that we’re not exactly favourites of the reverend, are we, Saph?’
Miss Quinn gave a short laugh.
‘You might say that,’ she said.
‘No,’ went on Mrs. Quinn. ‘He doesn’t hold with the Art, and he’s taken very much against us since we came, although it’s not as though I’ve done anything to interfere with him. As a matter of fact I understand he’s been spreading all sorts of rumours about us in the town—which I call uncharitable, as I’ve never said a bad word about him. I’m a good Christian woman, I am, and I do my best to love my neighbour, even if he doesn’t think much of me.’ She straightened up and looked about her with satisfaction. ‘Now, then, that ought to do the trick,’ she said. ‘For my part I’d happily let the light and the fresh air in but the spirit guides don’t like it, you see, and they’re the ones in charge so we have to go along with it.’
‘What is your spirit guide’s name?’ asked Elsa, who had been watching the proceedings with interest.
‘Thutmose. He’s an Ancient Egyptian,’ replied Mrs. Quinn. She saw Mrs. Peters’ sceptical look and said amiably, ‘Yes, dear, they so often are, aren’t they? It’s a bit hackneyed, I know, but that’s what he told me and I can’t prove otherwise so I don’t bother arguing with him. Now then, shall we sit? Mrs. Marchmont, it will be best if you and Mrs. Peters sit opposite each other.’
Angela and Elsa glanced at one another and sat gingerly in the chairs indicated, and Mrs. Quinn burrowed in her bag once again and brought out an object, at which they gazed
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