Come Away, Death by Mollie Hardwick

Author:Mollie Hardwick [Hardwick, Mollie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-307-75714-2
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2010-06-30T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 8

The stars were out now. By leaning far out of the galley window, it was possible to see one or two, very far away and dim, because of the lights on earth: of the night sky, one could get no picture. Exactly what Romeo was thinking of when he remarked that the brightness of Juliet’s cheek would shame the stars, as daylight doth a lamp. Or was he? Lazy and well fed, kneeling up at the window, Doran couldn’t be bothered to think it out.

Bill was by the fire she had made in the living room, Grip asleep in his corner with his head under his wing. One of the ancient books was on Bill’s knee—she must get a look at it when she had the chance. But as well as these peaceful companions, who let her search for stars and think random thoughts, she admitted a shadowy third. Someone to clarify her mind.

Dr. Thorndyke was well used to his surroundings, unconcerned that the district was somewhat brighter and cleaner than when the Ratcliff Highway snaked its sinister way past filthy lodging houses where sailors were robbed and murdered, and an anarchist agent carried Death around with him on a barrow in the form of an infected flea circus.

He was there now, his noble profile against the dark sky, the smoke from his expensive cigar twining round them, a cloud of it sometimes blowing into the room on a night breeze.

She wished she could smell its fragrance. A real cigar would smell luscious. But this one was only fueled by fancy, the cigar tip glowing in her mind’s eye …

“This is an odd and unusual evening for you, dear young lady,” he observed.

“Very. I was just wondering why I’m still here.”

“Perhaps,” he suggested delicately, “because of the absence of the other member of the household, the secretive and dubious Miss Haddock.”

“True. I wouldn’t be here if she was. But she won’t be back tonight; I feel sure of that.”

“The nightlife of Brighton offering more attractions? You may well be right. Does she not strike you as extraordinarily callous for one of your merciful sex, and in this day and age?”

“In any day and age I should think she’d be classified as an absolute stinker, a Beast of Belsen. Leaving that poor man without food or comfort, helpless as he is.”

“Do we know the cause of his disability? As a medical man I should be most interested to be told. Obviously not multiple sclerosis, or, I should judge, poliomyelitis.”

“Well, I haven’t asked. One doesn’t.”

“Of course not. But that seems to me only one of the mysteries abounding in this family—if ‘family’ is the appropriate word. Why is Miss Poll so unfeeling towards her uncle? Why does he accept her treatment with such resignation, instead of calling upon outside help, as is his right? Why was that rather large and conspicuous bird not visible when you paid your first visit?”

“Oh. I hadn’t thought. It should have been, shouldn’t it. Bill said a warder from the Tower had brought it.

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