Page 6 of Lies in Little Sutherland
No, it hadn’t been.“Good thing that they’re both dead now.”
Christopher bit back a snort of laughter.“Yes, a very good thing.Just don’t let Constance hear you say that.”
No, I wouldn’t.Iris Peckham had always loved Constance’s brother Gilbert, not to mention her ward, the fair Johanna, more than she cared for Constance, but she had still been Constance’s mother.
“As far as Crispin is concerned…” Christopher went on.
I made a face.“He wouldn’t throw Laetitia over even if I did declare love and devotion.The fact that I wouldn’t be happy living in squalor on the Continent has always been an excuse.I grew up in a flat on the Continent, and he knows it.It would be nothing new to me.He’s the one who doesn’t want to give up the title and money.”
I waited for Christopher to dispute that, and when he didn’t, I added, “Besides, he has tied himself to Laetitia now, and he’s not the type to go back on his word.They’re engaged, and he’ll see it through to the bitter end, I imagine.If nothing else, he has that going for him.”
“Not sure that’s to his credit,” Christopher muttered as we came to a stop outside my bedroom door.“Integrity is well and good, but if it ties him down to a lifetime of misery…”
“Then he’ll have no one but himself to blame.”I reached for the handle.“But I don’t think he’ll be miserable.They rub along well enough.He might not ever achieve happiness, but between the title and money, and a wife who adores him and will let him get away with murder, and all the many women out there who’ll be happy to distract him… I think he’ll manage to survive well enough.”
“Cynical,” Christopher allowed, “but probably true.”
I nodded and pushed the door open.“Are you coming in?”
“I don’t think I had better.You want to leave early, you said?I should try to get some sleep.”
He glanced over his shoulder at the two closed doors across the hall.“Those are Laetitia’s and Geoffrey’s rooms, correct?Better make sure you lock your door so his lordship can’t come in.”
“He wouldn’t dare,” I said.“Besides, haven’t you noticed how subdued he is?He didn’t try to feel me up even once.Didn’t even try to undress me with his eyes, as the novels put it.”
Christopher nodded.“I did notice.But that doesn’t mean that he’ll continue to behave once the lights are out.Just lock your door, Pippa.”
“Of course I’ll lock my door,” I said.“I’ll even keep a handy blunt instrument on my bedside table with which to brain him, should he be careless enough to try to enter.A nice, heavy torch, perhaps.Will that suit?”
Christopher allowed that it would suit admirably, and then we parted ways for the evening.I went into my room, and he ambled the quarter mile or so into the east wing, to where his own room was located.I changed out of my velvet frock and into pyjamas and a robe, and then, of course, I had to visit the lavatory to wash my face and brush my teeth before bed.I was surprised that Christopher hadn’t insisted on sticking around so he could protect me on the way there and back.
It turned out to be unnecessary.I saw no one; it was still early, and everyone else was downstairs in the drawing room, enjoying themselves.I could hear their voices, and the music from the gramophone, waft up the stairwell from below.Safely back in my room, I turned the key in the lock before taking the key all the way out of the door and putting it on the bedside table, clear on the other side of the room.I’ve read enough murder mysteries to know that a sheet of paper under the door and a nail file in the keyhole can be enough to drag the key out into the corridor from whence it can be used to get inside, and I wasn’t taking any chances.After that, I hefted the torch on the bedside table to make certain it was heavy enough to crack someone’s skull should the need arise, before I crawled into bed and read until my eyes got heavy.
No one disturbed my slumber that night.There were no furtive knocks on the door, nor did anyone surreptitiously try the doorknob.Or if they did, I was asleep and didn’t notice.The torch went unused, and when I woke up in the morning, the key was still on the bedside table and the door was locked.
I restored everything to where it should be, and brushed my teeth and fluffed my hair and headed downstairs for breakfast, after a quick knock on Constance’s door to let her know that I was up and that I expected to get going as soon as she and Francis—and of course Christopher—were ready.
I was the first one in the breakfast room.Or the first of the family, at any rate.Breakfast was served, so the servants were up already, of course.I filled a plate with buttered toast and grabbed a boiled egg and took a seat.
Christopher dragged himself in five minutes later, decked out in gray flannel bags and a jumper, and dropped down on the seat across from me with his plate of kippers and fried eggs.“Morning, Pippa.”
“Good morning,” I said, with a searching look across the table.“You’re looking a bit peaky, Christopher.I thought you’d be more rested.Did something happen?”
His eyes were heavy and the corners of his mouth drooped.
“Nothing out of the ordinary,” Christopher said as he dug his fork into the eggs.“Crispin knocked on my door and wanted to talk.”
I opened my mouth to ask what Crispin had felt the need to discuss so late at night, and then closed it again when I realized it was most likely my own “I do.”
“And then everyone else came upstairs,” Christopher added, aggrieved, “and voices, and doors slamming, and even the sound of a motorcar outside—Crispin going for a drive to fend off his bad mood, I suppose, unless Geoffrey was tired of pretending to be a good boy and decided to go to the village for a drink and a grope…”
Yes, that would be in character.He had done it before.Both here and at Beckwith Place, if memory served.
“He’s back and safe, I hope?”I didn’t like Geoffrey, but at the same time I didn’t want anything to happen to him.Certainly not while he was visiting the Astleys, where we might be held responsible for his wellbeing.
“I have no idea,” Christopher said.“I haven’t been out to the garage this morning, so I don’t know if whoever left has come back.When Francis and Constance are ready to go, we’ll see whether all the motorcars are there.”
He scooped up a forkful of kipper and conveyed it to his mouth.
