Appointed to Die Read Online Free PDF Page B

right – they won’t like it. Change is not very high on the agenda at Malbury. I’ll have to take my time and approach it in the right way.’ He paused at the mouth of the cloister. ‘You can only get to my house through this cloister entrance.’ By now night had fallen in earnest and it was truly dark; they paused at the sight of the medieval cloister, arched and vaulted, shimmering greyly in the moonlight. ‘Actually, they say that the cloister is haunted. I’ve never seen him myself, but I’ve talked to people who swear they’ve seen Brother Thomas, gliding along with his head in his hands. Literally, I mean. Looking for St Malo’s head.’
    Lucy shivered. ‘I can just about believe it, seeing it like this. The poor man – what a waste.’
    Taking her arm, Jeremy guided her out of the cloister and around to his door. ‘Come on in. I think we could do with a brandy.’
    * * *
    The sitting room was well furnished and cosy, Lucy noted approvingly. There were books everywhere, and a great number of records as well, ranged on shelves along two walls. Through a half-open set of double doors Lucy could see another room, dominated by a grand piano. ‘Do you play, then?’ she asked as he fetched the glasses and decanter.
    â€˜Actually, I play the cello.’
    â€˜Shades of Barchester,’ she smiled. ‘Mr Harding and his cello. How lovely.’
    â€˜Do you play the piano?’ He handed her a brandy snifter, returning her smile.
    â€˜I used to. I haven’t played for years – my house in London is too small for a piano.’
    â€˜Ah, well. We must try some duets some time.’
    â€˜I’m sure I wouldn’t be good enough.’
    â€˜I’ll be the judge of that.’ Jeremy’s smile faded suddenly, replaced by a thoughtful look, not without pain. ‘My wife and I . . . we used to play together often. That’s one thing I really miss.’
    â€˜How . . . how long has it been?’ Lucy wasn’t sure whether it was something Jeremy would want to talk about, but he was the one who had brought it up.
    â€˜Over a year now.’ Looking down into his brandy, Jeremy went on after a moment. ‘Cancer, it was. Rather protracted, and very painful. After she died, I . . . well, I didn’t want to live in London any longer. There just didn’t seem to be any point in all the rat race. So I sold up and came here. It was a good move. I like it here. The cathedral fascinates me – all that history. It’s a bit of a dog’s breakfast, architecturally, I know, but I love the building anyway. And by and large, I like the people.’ With an effort, he shook himself out of his reflective mood and turned to her with a smile. ‘Speaking of the people, what do you think of us all? After the dinner party?’
    Lucy laughed. ‘Well, that’s certainly putting me on the spot!’ She took a sip of her brandy. ‘Collectively or individually?’
    â€˜Either. Both.’
    He waited, so she tried to formulate her thoughts. ‘It’s an amazingly insular community, isn’t it? Sheltered, almost self-contained.’
    â€˜Very. You might even say incestuous.’
    â€˜It was odd about Canon Brydges-ffrench. He seemed very well this afternoon.’
    â€˜Canon Brydges-ffrench is a bit odd,’ Jeremy grinned. ‘He has an utterly perverse antiquarian mind. You know the sort I mean – adores crossword puzzles and obscure theological riddles. He was a chorister here himself, back in the thirties. And if he had his way, we’d all do things exactly the way they were done then.’
    â€˜Sounds a bit regressive. This music festival . . .’
    â€˜All his idea, of course. He’s never been able to stand being excluded from the Three Choirs Festival.’
    â€˜Really?’
    Jeremy quirked his eyebrows. ‘Hereford, Worcester, and Gloucester –