The Villa in Italy: Escape to the Italian sun with this captivating, page-turning mystery. Elizabeth Edmondson
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СКАЧАТЬ MALASPINA.

      ‘What is it?’ said Jessica. ‘Bad news?’

      ‘No,’ said Delia, passing her the letter.

      ‘Who’s this Beatrice Malaspina? Was she your godmother or something?’

      ‘I have no idea. I’ve never heard of her.’

      They stared at one another. ‘How odd,’ said Jessica. ‘And yet she must have left you a legacy of some kind, otherwise why the letter? What do they say—please call at their office at your earliest convenience? How exciting. Get changed, and off you go.’

      Delia had no intention of going to the offices of Winthrop, Winthrop & Jarvis, of Lincoln’s Inn Fields, and she said so. Jessica took no notice, and half an hour later Delia found herself sitting in a cab, wrapped up in a scarlet coat, ‘Like a matador’s cape,’ Jessica said, ‘but perfect for keeping out the cold,’ with a headscarf wound round her head.

      Jessica had insisted on her taking a cab. ‘Walk, with that cough? Certainly not, and mind you come back by taxi, as soon as ever you can; don’t you see that I shall be dying of curiosity to know what it’s all about?’

      Delia climbed the steep, ill-lit stairs which led to the sombre chambers of Winthrop, Winthrop & Jarvis, where the clerk eyed her with disfavour.

      ‘There’s no need to look at me like that,’ Delia said. ‘I’ve come to see Mr Winthrop. Tell him I’m here, please. Miss Vaughan. No, I don’t have an appointment, but I’m sure he’ll see me.’

      ‘I’m not sure whether—’

      ‘Just tell him I’m here.’

      Reluctantly, the clerk disappeared through a dark door, to return in a few moments and, even more reluctantly, show her into the handsome panelled room which was the lair of Josiah Winthrop, senior partner of the firm.

      Mr Winthrop greeted Delia with a formal, chilly courtesy that made her indignant. He was not a man ever to show much warmth, but he had known her since she was a child and there was no need to treat her as though she were one of his criminal clients. Bother him, Delia said inwardly; I know he wishes I weren’t here at all, but he could try to hide the fact.

      ‘Okay,’ she said deliberately, and watched him wince at the slang, so out of place in these surroundings where every word was weighed and considered. She took off her headscarf and shook her dark hair loose before sitting down on the hard wooden chair with arms that Mr Winthrop had moved forward for her. An uncomfortable chair, which ensured that undesirable clients didn’t outstay their welcome.

      ‘Spit it out,’ she said. ‘Who is this Beatrice Malaspina, and what has she to do with me?’

       THREE

      Jessica listened with rapt attention as Delia reported on her visit to the lawyers. Delia was sitting on the piano stool, while Jessica stretched out on the sofa, Harry curled up beside her.

      ‘So this lawyer is claiming they don’t know anything about her? But they’re representing her, they must know,’ Jessica said.

      ‘I don’t believe they do. I could tell from Mr Winthrop’s expression that he thinks it’s all most irregular. Mind you, he’s hardly a talkative man at the best of times; he’s the sort of lawyer who says as little as possible, as though every word came at a cost. Apparently, the instructions were from a firm of Italian lawyers, and they’re simply handling the English end.’

      ‘Are you sure there isn’t some connection with your family? After all, Winthrop is your father’s lawyer, isn’t he? And they’re a stuffy firm. Look how they’ve treated me; they won’t represent anybody who walks in off the street.’

      ‘I asked him, but he merely looked even more thin-lipped and said that his firm handled the affairs and estates of a great many clients. Which is true enough.’

      ‘Are you going to ask your parents if they know who Beatrice Malaspina was? Or have ever heard of the Villa Dante?’

      ‘No. Mother won’t have known her—she hates all foreigners. And you know how things are between my father and me. We haven’t spoken for over a year, and I’m not going to get in touch with him about this.’

      ‘It’s about time your pa faced facts and realised you’ve chosen your career, and are doing very well at it, and he’s not going to be able to drag you into the family firm, however much he wants to.’

      ‘Father never sees what he doesn’t want to. Anyhow, if he got wind of a will, he’d winkle the facts out of Winthrop and the Italian lawyers, or get his horribly efficient hornrimmed secretary to do it for him. Then, if he knew I was thinking of going to Italy, he’d want to organise it all. Aeroplane? Far too expensive; he’d have all the continental timetables out, to look up the cheapest possible route, and I’d end up trundling across the Alps on some old bus.’

      Lord Saltford’s thriftiness was too notorious for Jessica to be able to argue with Delia about that.

      ‘And he’s never mentioned any Beatrice anybody. I don’t see any reason why he should know her.’

      ‘Maybe it’s all a trick, to lure you away. Perhaps the oh-so-respectable Mr Winthrop is a secret white slave trader?’

      ‘What, and I’ll find myself being shipped out to Buenos Aires in a crate? Oh, very likely!’

      Jessica fiddled with a cushion tassel.

      ‘Are you really thinking of going to Italy? Will you follow the instructions in Beatrice Malaspina’s will, and go to this Villa Dante?’

      ‘I don’t know,’ said Delia. ‘It’s tempting, and I have to say I am curious about the whole thing.’

      ‘Perhaps she’s left you the house, the Villa Dante, and a fortune.’

      ‘Italians leave property to their families, always. Maybe a piece of jewellery, a brooch or a ring. Only why? Why me?’

      ‘And why make you go all the way to Italy for a brooch? No, whoever she was, and why ever she wanted you to go to Italy, it must be important. And the only way you’ll find out is by going. Would you ever forgive yourself if you passed on this?’

      ‘Mr Winthrop doesn’t like all the mystery, I could tell; he looked as though he had a bad smell under his long nose.’

      Jessica sat up. ‘Why don’t we go together? It would suit me to go abroad, and it would do you good to get away from this dreadful, everlasting fog and rain and wind.’ She paused. ‘No, I suppose you can’t really spare the time. You’re hardly ever able to get away, what with rehearsals and performances and so on. That’s what having a successful career is all about.’

      Delia dropped her hands on to the keys of the piano, picking out the notes of ‘Twinkle, twinkle, little star’ with two fingers, then weaving an ornate variation as she spoke. ‘As it happens, I’m thinking of taking a bit of time off. I’m not due to start rehearsals for a few weeks. Everything’s rather in the air at the moment,’ she added. ‘With this cough of mine. And СКАЧАТЬ