3-Book Victorian Crime Collection: Death at Dawn, Death of a Dancer, A Corpse in Shining Armour. Caro Peacock
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СКАЧАТЬ when things are not well with her. Have you a brother, Miss Lock?’

      ‘Yes.’

      I looked up at him and away again.

      ‘You’ll understand what I mean, then. I hope I’m wrong, but I sense Celia may be contemplating a step that might be very harmful for her.’

      ‘Harmful?’

      ‘A young woman’s reputation is easily harmed. My sister is the most warm-hearted girl in the world but, to be frank, without much forethought.’

      ‘Then I’ll be frank as well,’ I said. I looked him in the eyes now, not even trying to talk like a governess but doing my best for both of them. ‘The most important decision a woman makes is who she’ll marry. Shouldn’t she follow her own wishes?’

      ‘It’s not always as simple as that, is it, Miss Lock? Especially when families of some note are involved.’

      I was on the point of replying sharply that note or no note, it made no difference to the heart. What silenced me was the thought that he might be thinking of his own mother who had married once for love and once for money. He let the silence draw out for a while.

      ‘I’m not asking you to betray a confidence, Miss Lock. I can only hope if you knew that Celia were on the point of doing something really unwise, you’d give a hint to me. In that case, I might be able to convince her to draw back before things went too far and came to other ears.’

      The meaning was plain – Sir Herbert’s ears.

      ‘I understand.’

      ‘You’ll keep that in mind, Miss Lock?’

      ‘Yes. Yes, I shall.’

      He stood up, gave me a brief nod as if something important had been agreed and walked away through the gap in the hedge.

       CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

      I waited in the summerhouse until I thought family and guests would be dressing for dinner, then slipped in at the side entrance and returned to my copying. Near midnight, Mrs Quivering found me there and insisted I must go to bed. Crotchets and quavers danced behind my eyes all night and by six o’clock in the morning I was back at work. Mrs Quivering rewarded me with a cup of chocolate and warm sweet rolls for breakfast.

      ‘Just like Lady Mandeville has. Shall we be ready in time? The musicians are supposed to be arriving by midday.’

      Soon after midday, she put her head round the door.

      ‘They’ve arrived and they’re eating. Then they want to start rehearsing in the damask drawing room.’

      ‘I’m just finishing. I’ll take them in.’

      There was still a page of the second trumpet part to do, but in my experience, musicians were not readily torn away from free food. I finished the page, blotted it and carried the whole pile of parts to the damask drawing room. It was one of the largest and most pleasant rooms in the house, with wide windows looking on to the terrace, white-painted wall panels, blue damask curtains and upholstery and a beautiful plaster ceiling with a design of musical instruments and swags of olive leaves against a pale blue background. When I arrived servants were putting out rows of chairs on the blue-and-gold carpet and the musicians were trickling in with music stands and cases. I asked a flautist where I might find their director.

      ‘Just coming in, ma’am.’

      A dapper little figure came through the doorway, dark hair shining in the sun like a cap of patent leather.

      ‘Mr Suter,’ the flautist started saying, ‘there’s a lady –’

      But he got no further because Daniel Suter and I were embracing like long-lost sister and brother and my carefully copied parts had gone flying all over the carpet. Indecorous, certainly, and goodness knows what Mrs Quivering would have said, but he had been part of my life as long as I could remember and dearer to me than almost all of my relatives by blood.

      ‘What a miracle,’ I said, when I got my breath back. ‘What a coincidence.’

      ‘Miraculous I may be, child, but I disdain mere coincidence. Kennedy gave me your message two days ago. I’d been in France until then.’

      ‘But how did you manage to be here with the orchestra?’

      ‘An acquaintance of mine had accepted, but was more than happy to pass on the honour when I helped him to three days of more congenial work.’ Then his smile faded. ‘Forgive me child, running on like this. Your father …’

      ‘I want so much to talk to you.’

      ‘And I to you, child. But what are you doing here?’

      I knelt down and began gathering the scattered parts.

      ‘I’m the governess.’

      ‘Why in the world?’

      ‘I can’t tell you now. May we meet later?’

      ‘Later, when I’ve come all this way to find you? Not at all.’

      ‘But your rehearsal …’

      I handed him the score. He looked through the first few pages, eyebrows raised. They were fine, expressive eyebrows. Some people joked that he could direct an orchestra with them alone. They came together as his forehead pinched in artistic pain, rose again in amusement as he flipped to the last few pages.

      ‘Ah, child, the sacrifice I have made for you.’ He called out a name and tossed the score across the room to one of the other musicians, who caught it neatly. ‘Take them through it,’ he said. ‘I don’t suppose you’ll encounter anything you haven’t met a hundred times before. Sir Herbert informs me that he has no liking for pianissimo – or indeed any other fancy foreign issimo – so kindly keep that in mind.’

      The other musician smiled, clearly used to Daniel. He took the rest of the parts from me and dumped them on the pianoforte.

      ‘Now, my dear lady, let us wander in the garden.’

      ‘People might see us.’

      ‘Am I such a disgrace?’

      ‘Guests, I mean. Governesses do not mix with them.’

      ‘Judging from what I’ve seen and heard of Sir Herbert, you may be wise in scorning his guests.’

      ‘Please be serious. I should be dismissed if I were seen walking with you.’

      ‘Where is the spirit of Figaro? But very well, we shall hide ourselves among the vegetables.’

      ‘Vegetables?’

      ‘There must surely be an honest vegetable garden where guests don’t go.’

      Half a dozen gardeners were at work behind the warm brick walls when we got there, СКАЧАТЬ