Read Online Vanishing Point by Patricia Wentworth - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Patricia Wentworth
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be able to turn to something pretty for the only girl, little Josephine—and I suppose I shall have to stop calling her that soon, for she will be six next birthday. I have just made her a twin set, and I thought this bright wool would make her a really charming hood and scarf. The spring winds are so treacherous. Do you knit, may I ask?”
Miss Crewe’s “No” did not trouble itself to be polite, and Mrs. Merridew, colouring, interposed with the first thing that came into her head.
“That nice-looking man who is staying at the Holly Tree, Mr. Lester—is he an old friend of yours, Lydia?”
Miss Crewe’s eyebrows had a natural arch. Thirty years ago they had been very effective in conjunction with a pair of fine grey eyes. The lids were puckered now, and the eyes had sunk. They looked coldly as she said,
“My dear Marian!”
“Oh, isn’t he?”
In her most disdainful voice Miss Crewe said,
“Is he giving out that he is? If so—”
“Oh, no—of course not! I haven’t really had any talk with him, but he was most polite when I dropped one of my parcels yesterday getting off the Melbury bus—such nice manners, and such a pleasant voice. And after hearing from Mrs. Stubbs that he was a nephew of old Dr. Lester’s and seeing him about with Rosamond—”
She had blundered on, but at this point she could no longer be unaware that she was saying quite the wrong thing. It was not really possible for Lydia Crewe to draw herself up—her back was already as straight as a ramrod—but she did manage somehow to produce an effect of added rigidity.
“What do you mean by ‘about with Rosamond’? Rather an odd expression, it seems to me. She has had one or two business conversations with him on Jenny’s behalf, I believe. The silly child scribbles. A lot of nonsense, I daresay, but it has helped to keep her amused. Mr. Lester belongs to a publishing firm, and it seems Jenny sent him some of her rubbish. I am told it has become the fashion to publish the writings of children and of uneducated persons. Another symptom of modern decadence!”
Mrs. Merridew beamed.
“Is Jenny really going to have something published? How exciting for her!”
Miss Crewe had removed her gloves before partaking of Florrie’s scones. Her impatient gesture set the colours flashing in the crowded rings. Miss Silver reflected that it could not be good for the settings to be worn really jostling one another in such a manner. Such fine stones too—diamond, emerald, sapphire, ruby. And very much better kept than was often the case with the rings which elderly ladies wore.
The impatience was not in gesture alone. It was in Miss Crewe’s voice as she said,
“Certainly not! Even if it were proposed, I shouldn’t allow it! Mr. Lester appears to have enough sense to agree that she is too young, but he seems to think that there might be a prospect later on, and he has been advising her as to what she should read. She should, of course, be at school. Her education has been disastrously interrupted, and Rosamond spoils her in a ridiculous manner, but the very first moment she can be packed off I shall certainly see that it is done.”
Mrs. Merridew gave a little gasp of dismay.
“Rosamond won’t like that at all!” she said with more truth than tact.
Miss Crewe began to put on her gloves—black kid, very old and rubbed. The flashing rings were swallowed up, the fingers stroked down over them.
“Rosamond will do as she is told,” said Lydia Crewe.
Mrs. Merridew evaded the issue. It was sometimes exceedingly difficult not to quarrel with Lydia, and it wasn’t any good, besides being so awkward in a village. She pulled down the old grey and black checked shirt which was rather too tight and had an embarrassing tendency to ride up and said,
“Dr. Lester was always so kind, and very clever too. I was so glad to hear that he keeps well.”
Lydia Crewe gave a short unpleasant laugh.
“I thought you said you had no conversation
Miss Crewe’s “No” did not trouble itself to be polite, and Mrs. Merridew, colouring, interposed with the first thing that came into her head.
“That nice-looking man who is staying at the Holly Tree, Mr. Lester—is he an old friend of yours, Lydia?”
Miss Crewe’s eyebrows had a natural arch. Thirty years ago they had been very effective in conjunction with a pair of fine grey eyes. The lids were puckered now, and the eyes had sunk. They looked coldly as she said,
“My dear Marian!”
“Oh, isn’t he?”
In her most disdainful voice Miss Crewe said,
“Is he giving out that he is? If so—”
“Oh, no—of course not! I haven’t really had any talk with him, but he was most polite when I dropped one of my parcels yesterday getting off the Melbury bus—such nice manners, and such a pleasant voice. And after hearing from Mrs. Stubbs that he was a nephew of old Dr. Lester’s and seeing him about with Rosamond—”
She had blundered on, but at this point she could no longer be unaware that she was saying quite the wrong thing. It was not really possible for Lydia Crewe to draw herself up—her back was already as straight as a ramrod—but she did manage somehow to produce an effect of added rigidity.
“What do you mean by ‘about with Rosamond’? Rather an odd expression, it seems to me. She has had one or two business conversations with him on Jenny’s behalf, I believe. The silly child scribbles. A lot of nonsense, I daresay, but it has helped to keep her amused. Mr. Lester belongs to a publishing firm, and it seems Jenny sent him some of her rubbish. I am told it has become the fashion to publish the writings of children and of uneducated persons. Another symptom of modern decadence!”
Mrs. Merridew beamed.
“Is Jenny really going to have something published? How exciting for her!”
Miss Crewe had removed her gloves before partaking of Florrie’s scones. Her impatient gesture set the colours flashing in the crowded rings. Miss Silver reflected that it could not be good for the settings to be worn really jostling one another in such a manner. Such fine stones too—diamond, emerald, sapphire, ruby. And very much better kept than was often the case with the rings which elderly ladies wore.
The impatience was not in gesture alone. It was in Miss Crewe’s voice as she said,
“Certainly not! Even if it were proposed, I shouldn’t allow it! Mr. Lester appears to have enough sense to agree that she is too young, but he seems to think that there might be a prospect later on, and he has been advising her as to what she should read. She should, of course, be at school. Her education has been disastrously interrupted, and Rosamond spoils her in a ridiculous manner, but the very first moment she can be packed off I shall certainly see that it is done.”
Mrs. Merridew gave a little gasp of dismay.
“Rosamond won’t like that at all!” she said with more truth than tact.
Miss Crewe began to put on her gloves—black kid, very old and rubbed. The flashing rings were swallowed up, the fingers stroked down over them.
“Rosamond will do as she is told,” said Lydia Crewe.
Mrs. Merridew evaded the issue. It was sometimes exceedingly difficult not to quarrel with Lydia, and it wasn’t any good, besides being so awkward in a village. She pulled down the old grey and black checked shirt which was rather too tight and had an embarrassing tendency to ride up and said,
“Dr. Lester was always so kind, and very clever too. I was so glad to hear that he keeps well.”
Lydia Crewe gave a short unpleasant laugh.
“I thought you said you had no conversation
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