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Authors: Dorothy Cannell
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plots are woven to lead readers astray . . . making us think we’ve figured out what’s going on and then springing a throat-gripping surprise at the end. What if both Betty and I have got it wrong? What if it isn’t Nanny Pierce who wants us out of Cragstone, but someone else who resents our moving in? Like Mr. Scrimshank, who’s a walking creep show. Just wait till you meet him!” She gave Mrs. Malloy a pitying look. “Perhaps he’s madly, obsessively in love with Lady Fiona and thinks that if we are forced out no one else will dare buy the place and she’ll get it back for next to nothing.”
“Or could the prankster be Mrs. Cake, the devoted cook?” I was compelled to suggest. “I know you’re fond of her, Ariel, but she’d need to appear likable and trustworthy in order for her scheme to work, wouldn’t she?”
“I suppose. This is why I need you, Ellie—and I suppose Mrs. Malloy as well, seeing that her sister lives in Milton Moor—to come home with me and help me solve the mystery.”
“Well, now, that does seem a solution.” Far from sounding vexed at Ariel’s begrudging inclusion of her, Mrs. Malloy beamed like a little girl on discovering she has sprouted a head of curls as a reward for eating her vegetables.
“There’s a problem,” I said. “Your dad and Betty have made it clear by not letting the family know where they live that they wish, at least for the time being, to be left alone. So I can’t imagine they will welcome a visit, particularly when they don’t know me, let alone Mrs. Malloy.”
“I know. That’s why I didn’t tell them I was coming here. But if you take me back they’ll have to ask you to stay for lunch, at least. Dad might even want to, if Ben came too. I know it wouldn’t have been easy if the children were at home, but with them being at their grandparents’ it’s not a problem.”
“Ariel, Ben has his restaurant, and he wants to put in a lot of hours this week on the cookery book he’s starting.”
“Then we’ll just have to come up with a way to get Betty to decide she wants you to stay for a few days. It’s a pity you can’t sprain your ankle, but I suppose with Mrs. Cake already having done that it would seem too much of a bad thing and you’d be shoved hobbling out the door.” Ariel wrinkled her brow. “If only I could think of something really great to do for Betty to put her in a good mood.”
My spirits would improve, I thought, if Ben were to walk into the room before Tom or Betty rang, wanting to know why I hadn’t called back to let them know the reason for Ariel’s mad escapade. These were his relatives, not mine. The first thing I would do would be to whisk him away and ask if there had ever been the least suspicion that the car accident that killed Tom’s wife might not have been an accident. During the course ofAriel’s account, the nasty suspicion had crept into my mind that he of all people might be the one most likely to play games with Betty’s mind in the hope that she would react in the approved gothic fashion, by casting herself off the battlements. I didn’t want to think this. Tom was a cousin, and so far as I knew murder did not run in Ben’s family. What I would not contemplate was that Ariel might be a child of devious intent, equal to the evil little stepdaughter in
The Hidden Forest
.
Some hopes are answered. Footsteps in the hall. I excused myself to Mrs. Malloy and Ariel, along with Tobias, whom I dislodged from my lap, and hurried from the room. Ben was in the hall, taking off his raincoat. It was one of those moments that crop up sometimes, even after all our years together, when time turns back to front and I seem to be seeing him for the first time, awed by his dramatic good looks and the energy he generates with an economy of movement. And this time there was the wonderful comfort of his arms, held open to gather me close.
“I left Freddy at the Dark Horse for someone else to bring home,” he
“Or could the prankster be Mrs. Cake, the devoted cook?” I was compelled to suggest. “I know you’re fond of her, Ariel, but she’d need to appear likable and trustworthy in order for her scheme to work, wouldn’t she?”
“I suppose. This is why I need you, Ellie—and I suppose Mrs. Malloy as well, seeing that her sister lives in Milton Moor—to come home with me and help me solve the mystery.”
“Well, now, that does seem a solution.” Far from sounding vexed at Ariel’s begrudging inclusion of her, Mrs. Malloy beamed like a little girl on discovering she has sprouted a head of curls as a reward for eating her vegetables.
“There’s a problem,” I said. “Your dad and Betty have made it clear by not letting the family know where they live that they wish, at least for the time being, to be left alone. So I can’t imagine they will welcome a visit, particularly when they don’t know me, let alone Mrs. Malloy.”
“I know. That’s why I didn’t tell them I was coming here. But if you take me back they’ll have to ask you to stay for lunch, at least. Dad might even want to, if Ben came too. I know it wouldn’t have been easy if the children were at home, but with them being at their grandparents’ it’s not a problem.”
“Ariel, Ben has his restaurant, and he wants to put in a lot of hours this week on the cookery book he’s starting.”
“Then we’ll just have to come up with a way to get Betty to decide she wants you to stay for a few days. It’s a pity you can’t sprain your ankle, but I suppose with Mrs. Cake already having done that it would seem too much of a bad thing and you’d be shoved hobbling out the door.” Ariel wrinkled her brow. “If only I could think of something really great to do for Betty to put her in a good mood.”
My spirits would improve, I thought, if Ben were to walk into the room before Tom or Betty rang, wanting to know why I hadn’t called back to let them know the reason for Ariel’s mad escapade. These were his relatives, not mine. The first thing I would do would be to whisk him away and ask if there had ever been the least suspicion that the car accident that killed Tom’s wife might not have been an accident. During the course ofAriel’s account, the nasty suspicion had crept into my mind that he of all people might be the one most likely to play games with Betty’s mind in the hope that she would react in the approved gothic fashion, by casting herself off the battlements. I didn’t want to think this. Tom was a cousin, and so far as I knew murder did not run in Ben’s family. What I would not contemplate was that Ariel might be a child of devious intent, equal to the evil little stepdaughter in
The Hidden Forest
.
Some hopes are answered. Footsteps in the hall. I excused myself to Mrs. Malloy and Ariel, along with Tobias, whom I dislodged from my lap, and hurried from the room. Ben was in the hall, taking off his raincoat. It was one of those moments that crop up sometimes, even after all our years together, when time turns back to front and I seem to be seeing him for the first time, awed by his dramatic good looks and the energy he generates with an economy of movement. And this time there was the wonderful comfort of his arms, held open to gather me close.
“I left Freddy at the Dark Horse for someone else to bring home,” he
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