The Incident at Fives Castle (An Angela Marchmont Mystery #5) Read Online Free PDF Page A

fun to be a politician’s wife?’
    Priss glared at her younger sister but did not respond to the needling. Instead, she said, ‘Give me a cigarette, Claude, will you?’ The young man gave her a meaningful look, and she sighed and said sulkily, ‘Oh, very well, I shan’t, then.’
    ‘Good girl,’ he said. ‘You know how the constituents hate to see a woman smoking.’
    ‘The constituents aren’t here, though, are they?’ said Priss. ‘Why should they care what I do at home?’ Before Claude could answer, she tossed her head and entered into determinedly polite conversation with Selma Nash.
    Gertie gave Angela a wink, and Angela wondered what it was all about. For an engaged woman Priss seemed to lack a certain enthusiasm for the state, and even appeared to hold her betrothed in contempt. Had there been a row? She sipped her tea and wondered how the next few days would turn out.
    Lady Strathmerrick seemed to be warming to Angela, now that she had found to her relief that Mrs. Marchmont was not a bright young person who was likely to get up to mischief, but rather an elegant and sophisticated woman close to middle age who was perfectly capable of conversing without using incomprehensible slang. Not only that, she was friends with the American Ambassador and his wife, as well as, apparently, a number of other people of notable importance. That, to Lady Strathmerrick, indicated that Angela was probably All Right, and gave her some cause for relief. She now introduced Angela to Miss Foster, a woman with untidy hair and a vague manner who had once been governess to the children.
    ‘She was no better at controlling them than I was, though,’ said the Countess with some impatience, ‘and so we gave up and sent them to school.’
    ‘I’m afraid that’s true,’ agreed Miss Foster mournfully. ‘I fear I am better suited to the life of a companion than a governess.’
    ‘Not that you’re much company lately,’ said Lady Strathmerrick. ‘If you’d only spend less time on that silly novel of yours, perhaps you’d have more time for me.’
    She spoke carelessly, in the manner of a superior to a dependant, but Miss Foster did not seem to take offence.
    ‘Do you write?’ asked Angela. Miss Foster brightened up.
    ‘Oh, yes,’ she said. ‘Indeed I do. I don’t mean to say that my poor efforts will ever be worth publishing, but I find a great deal of satisfaction in putting pen to paper and expressing my very deepest thoughts. There is something almost sublime in the sound of the syllables of the English language, and I must confess I find it quite thrilling to think that by committing my words to paper, I am giving them something in the nature of immortality. To think that people might read my little stories and poems long after I am gone!’
    ‘You write poetry as well, then?’ said Angela.
    Miss Foster puffed up and preened a little.
    ‘Not to say poetry ,’ she said modestly. ‘I merely dabble in light verse. Perhaps you would like to hear some?’ She glanced towards a large notebook which sat on a nearby table.
    Angela’s attention was just then caught by Gertie, who, unseen by Miss Foster, was shaking her head frantically, eyes wide open in horror.
    ‘Er—’ began Angela.
    She was rescued at that moment by the entrance of a cross-looking girl of eighteen or so, who without waiting for preliminaries said, ‘I say, it’s coming down a blizzard out there. It looks as though we’re going to be snowed in soon. Has everybody arrived now?’
    ‘Oh dear,’ said Lady Strathmerrick. ‘No, we’re still missing Mr. Pilkington-Soames and the Foreign Secretary.’
    ‘And Professor Klausen,’ added Claude Burford smoothly.
    ‘Well, they’d better get a move on,’ said the girl, who Angela guessed to be Clemmie, ‘or they won’t manage it at all. The snow is already three feet thick down in the glen. At this rate, nobody will be able to get here for the dance either.’
    ‘Rubbish,’ said Gertie.