Anne Perry s Christmas Mysteries Page 0,34

when there is so very much of it."

Mrs. Dowson smiled. "It pleases me, too," she agreed, conducting the way into a small but very pretty sitting room. It was low-ceilinged, with furniture covered in floral chintz, and a fire burning in the hearth. She rang the bell, and when the maid came, requested tea and tarts.

"Now, my dear," she said when they were seated, "what is the trouble with poor Agnes now? I imagine it is Agnes, is it not?"

How interesting, Grandmama thought. Aloud she said, "I am afraid it is all of them. Did you ever know the third sister, Miss Maude Barrington?"

Something hardened in Mrs. Dowson's face, and her eyes were chill. "I did. But if you have come to say something uncomplimentary about her, I would thank you not to. I know she was a little unruly, and perhaps she threw herself too fully into things, but she had a good heart, and it was all very long ago. I think one should take one's victories very lightly, and one's losses with silence and dignity, do you not agree, Mrs. Ellison?"

How curious! Not at all what Grandmama had expected. Mrs. Dowson's eyes might be bright and cold, but they kindled a sudden new warmth in Grandmama's mind.

"Indeed I do," she said heartily. "That is one of the reasons I felt an affection for Maude the moment I met her. It is one of the great sadnesses of my life that I knew her such a very short time."

"I beg your pardon?" Mrs. Dowson said huskily, her face now filled with alarm.

Even a week ago Grandmama would have made a condescending reply to that. Now all she wanted to do was find some kinder way of telling the news.

"I am so sorry. Maude arrived home from abroad and because of other family commitments at her sister's house, she came and stayed with her cousin, Mr. Joshua Fielding, who is also a relative of mine, hence my presence there. Maude died, quite peacefully in her sleep, three days ago." She saw the undisguised pain in the old lady's face. "I felt so very grieved I chose to take the news to her family in person, rather than merely send some written message," she concluded, "which is how I come to be still staying with them now. I am doing what little I can to help."

"Oh, dear," Mrs. Dowson said, shaking her head a little. "I assumed it was no more than another of Agnes's chills, or whatever it is she has. How stupid of me. One should not assume. This is a deep loss." Suddenly the tears filled her eyes. "I'm so sorry," she apologized.

Grandmama did not find it absurd that after forty years Mrs. Dowson should still grieve so keenly. Time does not cloud certain memories. Bright days from youth, laughter and friendship can remain.

But crass as it seemed, it was also an opportunity that she could not afford to ignore. "Did you know her well, before she left to travel abroad?" she asked.

"Oh yes," Mrs. Dowson smiled. "I knew all the girls then. My husband was a curate, just young in his ministry. Very earnest, you know, as dedicated men can be. I rather think Maude overwhelmed him. She was so fierce in her love for Arthur Harcourt. And of course Arthur was quite the dashing young man-about-town. He was extraordinarily handsome, and he knew it. But he could hardly fail to. If he'd crooked a finger at any of the girls in the south of England they'd have followed him. I might have myself, if I'd thought he meant it. But I was never very pretty, and I was happy enough with Walter. He was genuine. I rather thought Arthur wasn't."

"Sincere? Was he simply playing with Maude?"

Suddenly Grandmama's liking for Arthur Harcourt evaporated as if she had torn the smiling mask off and seen rotten flesh underneath.

"Oh no," Mrs. Dowson said quickly. "That was where Walter and I disagreed. He thought Arthur loved Bedelia. He called them a perfect match. Something of an idealist, my husband. Thought beauty was bone deep, not just a chance of coloring and half an inch here and there, and of course confidence. Self-belief, you know? Imagine how the map of the world might have been changed if Cleopatra's nose had been half an inch longer! Then Caesar might not have fallen in love with her, or Mark Anthony either."

Grandmama was carried along in a hurricane of thought.

"I'm so sorry," Mrs.