Hidden in the Heart Read Online Free PDF Page A

pitifully. ‘I never thought—’
    ‘I think,’ Lydia said decisively, ‘that you had best have a seat on the sofa, Aunt. You have had a shock.’
    The sisters smiled kindly upon their neighbor, pleased with their share in her discomfort.
    ‘Perhaps some negus,’ Miss Digweed offered helpfully.
    ‘A glass of wine,’ her sister suggested.
    Excusing herself happily from their company, Lydia led her aunt to a corner of the room which was then unoccu pied. Signalling to a servant, she managed to procure a small glass of brandy, which she forced upon her aunt. All this attracted the attention of their hostess, who bore down upon them purposefully.
    ‘What is the matter?’ she demanded, looming over the two seated on the sofa.
    ‘Dear Mrs Wardle-Penfield,’ Aunt Camilla whispered, ‘I had not heard until tonight. I did not know....’
    ‘What are you saying, Camilla?’ the older woman asked, with justifiable irritation.
    ‘We have just been told about the death in Wickham Wood,’ Lydia answered for her.
    ‘Oh, that.’ The murder was dismissed with a slight shrug and a twist of the lips which conveyed the impression that murder was a social solecism of which Mrs Wardle-Penfield definitely did not approve. ‘Some drunken lout, I’ll warrant, who fell and dashed his head against a stone.’
    ‘Does anyone know the identity of the dead ... man?’ Lydia enquired hesitantly.
    ‘I should think not!’ the haughty dame was scandalized at the suggestion. ‘Such persons assuredly do not move in our circles.’
    Having thus distanced herself from anyone who was so ill-bred as to permit himself to be murdered, she returned to the subject of her dear friend’s nerves. Declaring that Aunt Camilla’s constitution was far too delicate, and that it was a wonder she was so well-preserved for her age, she recommended Doctor Humbleby’s Tonic as an unfailing remedy for anyone prone to the vapors. Then, with a bracing pat on the shoulder, she returned to her other guests.
    * * * *
    Miss Denton’s distress, however, had been perceived by at least one interested onlooker. The French gentleman, Monsieur d’Almain, soon made his way over to them. He expressed genuine concern, and his gentleness and soothing murmurs  had a calming effect upon the afflicted lady.
    Perhaps a quarter of an hour passed before her aunt had recovered sufficiently to rejoin the whist players. The company had increased considerably by that time, and there did not appear to be many openings for another partner at any of the tables. Eventually, a place was found for Camilla. However, Lydia was left to her seat against the wall. This was very much to her liking, as she did not relish sharing a table with her aunt. It was much more inter esting to sit quietly and observe the assembled company. It was better for her aunt to be occupied, in any case, so that she did not have an opportunity to dwell upon the tragedy.
    Within a very few minutes, Lydia spied a large head protruding above the others in the room. It was the young gentlemen they had met a few days before: Mr Savidge. Despite his boyish looks, she had learned that he was on the brink of achieving his majority. To her surprise, he soon made his way over to her and established himself on the settee beside her.
    ‘You are not playing, Mr Savidge?’ she asked him, once the obligatory greetings had been dispensed with.
    ‘Don’t like cards,’ he confessed. ‘Waste of time, if you ask me. Prefer the races myself.’
    ‘Do you often visit Lewes?’
    ‘As often as I’m able.’
    ‘I know little about horseflesh,’ Lydia said apologetically. ‘But I must confess that it does sound more entertaining than such an evening as this.’
    ‘It could hardly be less entertaining, could it?’
    His face folded into a mischievous smile which was quite infectious.
    ‘You find life in Diddlington a dead bore?’ she asked him boldly.
    ‘Oh, it’s not so terrible.’ He shrugged philosophically. ‘I