Sad Cypress. Agatha Christie

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      Roddy said:

      ‘Why can’t the nurse read to her?’

      Elinor said with a smile:

      ‘Nurse O’Brien’s got a brogue you can cut with a knife! I don’t wonder Aunt Laura prefers Mary.’

      Roddy walked rapidly and nervously up and down the room for a minute or two. Then he said:

      ‘You know, Elinor, I believe we ought to go down.’

      Elinor said with a slight recoil:

      ‘Because of this—?’

      ‘No, no—not at all. Oh, damn it all, one must be honest, yes! Foul as that communication is, there may be some truth behind it. I mean, the old girl is pretty ill—’

      ‘Yes, Roddy.’

      He looked at her with his charming smile—admitting the fallibility of human nature. He said:

      ‘And the money does matter—to you and me, Elinor.’

      She admitted it quickly.

      ‘Oh, it does.’

      He said seriously:

      ‘It’s not that I’m mercenary. But, after all, Aunt Laura herself has said over and over again that you and I are her only family ties. You’re her own niece, her brother’s child, and I’m her husband’s nephew. She’s always given us to understand that at her death all she’s got would come to one or other—or more probably both—of us. And—and it’s a pretty large sum, Elinor.’

      ‘Yes,’ said Elinor thoughtfully. ‘It must be.’

      ‘It’s no joke keeping up Hunterbury.’ He paused. ‘Uncle Henry was what you’d call, I suppose, comfortably off when he met your Aunt Laura. But she was an heiress. She and your father were both left very wealthy. Pity your father speculated and lost most of his.’

      Elinor sighed.

      ‘Poor Father never had much business sense. He got very worried over things before he died.’

      ‘Yes, your Aunt Laura had a much better head than he had. She married Uncle Henry and they bought Hunterbury, and she told me the other day that she’d been exceedingly lucky always in her investments. Practically nothing had slumped.’

      ‘Uncle Henry left all he had to her when he died, didn’t he?’

      Roddy nodded.

      ‘Yes, tragic his dying so soon. And she’s never married again. Faithful old bean. And she’s always been very good to us. She’s treated me as if I was her nephew by blood. If I’ve been in a hole she’s helped me out; luckily I haven’t done that too often!’

      ‘She’s been awfully generous to me, too,’ said Elinor gratefully.

      Roddy nodded.

      ‘Aunt Laura,’ he said, ‘is a brick. But, you know, Elinor, perhaps without meaning to do so, you and I live pretty extravagantly, considering what our means really are!’

      She said ruefully:

      ‘I suppose we do… Everything costs so much—clothes and one’s face—and just silly things like cinemas and cocktails—and even gramophone records!’

      Roddy said:

      ‘Darling, you are one of the lilies of the field, aren’t you? You toil not, neither do you spin!’

      Elinor said:

      ‘Do you think I ought to, Roddy?’

      He shook his head.

      ‘I like you as you are: delicate and aloof and ironical. I’d hate you to go all earnest. I’m only saying that if it weren’t for Aunt Laura you probably would be working at some grim job.’

      He went on:

      ‘The same with me. I’ve got a job, of sorts. Being with Lewis & Hume is not too arduous. It suits me. I preserve my self-respect by having a job; but—mark this—but I don’t worry about the future because of my expectations—from Aunt Laura.’

      Elinor said:

      ‘We sound rather like human leeches!’

      ‘Nonsense! We’ve been given to understand that some day we shall have money—that’s all. Naturally, that fact influences our conduct.’

      Elinor said thoughtfully:

      ‘Aunt Laura has never told us definitely just how she has left her money?’

      Roddy said:

      ‘That doesn’t matter! In all probability she’s divided it between us; but if that isn’t so—if she’s left all of it or most of it to you as her own flesh and blood—why, then, darling, I shall share in it, because I’m going to marry you—and if the old pet thinks the majority should go to me as the male representative of the Welmans, that’s still all right, because you’re marrying me.’

      He grinned at her affectionately. He said:

      ‘Lucky we happen to love each other. You do love me, don’t you, Elinor?’

      ‘Yes.’

      She said it coldly, almost primly.

      ‘Yes!’ Roddy mimicked her. ‘You’re adorable, Elinor. That little air of yours—aloof—untouchable—la Princesse Lointaine. It’s that quality of yours that made me love you, I believe.’

      Elinor caught her breath. She said, ‘Is it?’

      ‘Yes.’ He frowned. ‘Some women are so—oh, I don’t know—so damned possessive—so—so dog-like and devoted—their emotions slopping all over the place! I’d hate that. With you I never know—I’m never sure—any minute you might turn round in that cool, detached way of yours and say you’d changed your mind—quite coolly, like that—without batting an eyelash! You’re a fascinating creature, Elinor. You’re like a work of art—so—so—finished!’

      He went on:

      ‘You know, I think ours will be the perfect marriage… We both love each other enough and not too much. We’re good friends. We’ve got a lot of tastes in common. We know each other through and through. We’ve all the advantages of cousinship without the disadvantages of blood relationship. I shall never get tired of you, because you’re such an elusive creature. You may get tired of me, though. I’m such an ordinary sort of chap—’

      Elinor shook her head. She said:

      ‘I shan’t get tired of you, Roddy—never.’

      ‘My sweet!’

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