A Corpse in Shining Armour Read Online Free PDF Page B

mine,
     an aristocratic young married woman whom I didn’t care for greatly, who had decided that my efforts weren’t on a par with
     her genius. I’d heard she’d found herself a professor instead. She now intended to delight the world with a soirée of Chopin
     and Miss Liberty Lane was cordially invited. I didn’t much look forward to it, but my career as an investigator was not so
     secure that I could ignore an event which might provide rich pupils.
    When I got home after returning Rancie to the stables I warmed a pan of water for a good all-over wash, then dressed in my
     new ribbed silk, the colour of bluebells. It had two rows of lace down the bodice and wonderful sleeves that puffed out from
     shoulder to elbow, then came tight to the wrist with a row of three silk-covered buttons. It was a struggle doing up the buttons
     on the right sleeve with my left hand, even with the help of a button-hook, but when I looked in the mirror I knew it had
     been worth it. The event was in Knightsbridge and I’d decided to walk there across the park to save a cab fare, so I tucked
     a cloth into my reticule to give my shoes a surreptitious wipe before I faced the front door and footman.
    My former pupil hadn’t improved greatly as a pianist, only added a layer of affectation to her modest competence. I sat there
     in her over-decorated drawing room on an uncomfortable gilt chair, wishing I hadn’t come. Then, in a pause between nocturnes,
     a woman’s voice hissed from the row behind.
    ‘Elizabeth.’
    It seemed to be directed at me, even though it wasn’t my name. I ignored it. It came again, more urgently, actually in a note’s
     rest in the music. I turned round and saw a face I’d never expected to see again. A lovely face, framed in red-gold hair dressed
     with a rope of creamy pearls, a little fuller than when I’d last seen it two years ago, cheeks soft as peaches. Celia. When
     she saw she had my attention, she beckoned and flicked her eyes towards the room next door. She thought we should get up there
     and then, in mid-nocturne, and go and talk. She always had been impatient. I put a finger to my lips, tried to sign wait and
     turned round, but I could feel her eyes on the back of my neck, hear the silk hiss of her dress as she fidgeted.
    I sat oblivious of the music, hurled back suddenly to a time I revisited as seldom as possible. Celia and I belonged in different
     worlds. She had a rich husband who adored her, a London house and a country estate. She was as good natured as a child and
     just as self-centred, without a thought in her lovely head about society, art, politics or anything outside her own circle.
     In spite of that, and even after a gap of two years, there was something that bound us as closely as sisters. I’d met her
     at the lowest point in my life, a few hours after I learned my father had been murdered, and she’d been kind. The events of
     the weeks that followed had deprived her, too, of people she’d loved. I’d played a part in that. I knew I wasn’t to blame.
     Or if there had been any blame at all, I’d cancelled the debt by helping her elope to a marriage that even London gossip admitted
     had become a by-word for happiness. I’d been pleased when I heard that. If I’d wanted to meet her again, it could have been
     arranged easily enough, but I was scared of the feelings that meeting her might bring back. There was no help for it now,
     though. When the music finished at last, she was waiting at the end of my row.
    ‘Elizabeth! I don’t believe it.’
    She’d first known me under an assumed name, and although I’d told her my real one she’d never managed to remember it. The
     soft lisp was still there in her voice, the grace in the way she moved. She was wearing pale apricot silk with a wide sash
     in a darker tone. A triple necklace of pearls and diamonds gleamed against her skin. She put her hand on my arm, laughing
     at the wonder of it.
    ‘Where have you been?