Page 26 of Death at the Dower House
“That was your own fault, Pippa,” Christopher said. He isn’t one to pull punches when he thinks I need to hear something. “When he went outside, you were on good terms. By the time he got back, you had worked yourself up over his supposed lack of respect for women.”
“He doesn’t…”
“He respected you,” Christopher said. “That’s all you need concern yourself with. Crispin’s other habits are his own.”
I supposed that was true. “He just bothers me. A lot.”
“I know, Pippa. For what it’s worth, you bother him, too.”
“I’m sure I do.” At least that was something I could take pleasure in. If he got on my nerves, I knew I got on his equally. “Thank you for walking me up, Christopher.”
“It was my pleasure, as always. Are you all right now?”
“I was all right down there,” I said. “But you’re right, I should go to bed. I think the incident with Marsden upset me more than it should have.” On top of everything else that had happened to annoy me. “Hopefully, after some sleep, I won’t want to murder St George when I see him tomorrow morning. Or Marsden, either.”
“I’ll see you at breakfast, then.” He dropped a kiss on my temple. “Sleep well, Pippa. And lock your door, in case Lord Geoffrey gets ideas about coming upstairs.”
“I don’t see how I can,” I protested, “when I’m sharing with Constance and she isn’t up yet.”
We both eyed the door, which had a big, old-fashioned, iron skeleton key sticking out of the keyhole.
“I can lock the door from the outside,” Christopher suggested, “and bring the key downstairs and give it to Constance.”
I eyed him. “You’d come and rescue me if there was a fire, wouldn’t you?”
“Of course I would. So would Francis. So would Crispin.”
I nodded. And it says something about how rattled I still felt that I would rather be locked in with no way out than risk someone else—specifically Lord Geoffrey—making his way into my room while I was asleep. “Yes. Please do that. Just let me visit the lavatory and brush my teeth first.”
“Take your time,” Christopher said and leaned against the wall. “When I’m up here, I’m not down there dancing with one of them.”
He smiled brightly. I scurried across the hall and then back two minutes later. “I’m ready.”
“Then I’ll see you in the morning, Pippa. And don’t worry, no one’s going to get in. If Constance won’t take the key, I’ll come back myself, and spend the time with you until she gets here.”
“That’d be one in the eye for Marsden, wouldn’t it?” I shook my head. “I know I’m being a ninny, Christopher…”
“You’re not a ninny,” Christopher said. “Marsden was being objectionable, and you have every right to be upset. Just because you’re a thoroughly modern girl in 1926, doesn’t mean anyone has the right to touch you without your permission. Now go to bed before I become cross with you. Good night, Pippa.”
“Good night, Christopher,” I said, and waited for the sound of the key in the lock before I removed the apple green dress and my underthings and crawled into the bed. We hadn’t discussed which side Constance preferred to sleep on—she might be a bed-hog who preferred the middle, and if so, I assumed I’d find out—but if she didn’t like me being on the right, she could tell me to move. I dropped my head on the pillow and closed my eyes.
The key in the door woke me a bit later, but it was only Constance. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
I raised myself up on my elbows. “I’m the one who should be sorry. I’m not usually such a goose.”
She didn’t say anything for a few minutes, just busied herself taking off her dress and hanging it in the wardrobe before rolling down her stockings.
“It was Lord Geoffrey,” she said eventually, without looking at me, “wasn’t it?”
I nodded, although I didn’t think she could see me in the darkness of the room, so I said, “Yes. He put his knee against mine, and then his whole leg against mine, and then he put his hand on my knee and moved it up my leg under my skirt…”
“He does those kinds of things,” Constance said. “And because he’s a viscount, everyone lets him get away with it.”
I had let him get away with it, too, which was galling. “Perhaps I should have made a bigger fuss.”
“It wouldn’t have mattered.” She pulled the counterpane back on the other side of the bed. “He knows he’s not supposed to. He does it anyway. And everyone else knows he’s doing it and doesn’t say anything.”
She crawled under the blankets and let them flop back down.
