Death in Hellfire by Deryn Lake

Author:Deryn Lake [Lake, Deryn]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3, mobi
Tags: Fiction, Mystery & Detective, General, Mystery
ISBN: 9780753180549
Google: -UpMMAAACAAJ
Amazon: 0749080760
Publisher: Allison and Busby
Published: 2008-03-15T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fifteen

Lady Orpington barely swept Coralie a curtsey, in fact she did not even look at her. John felt rather than saw the actress’s annoyance.

“I must see Charlie,” the girl babbled on. “If he is ill I must go to him.”

“How do you do, Lady Orpington,” Coralie answered icily. “I trust I find you well. I’m afraid my husband is resting at present and cannot be disturbed.”

“But he will see me,” the Countess said. Then, raising her voice, shouted, “Charlie, Charlie, forgive me. I love you. I want to see you, my darling.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” snapped Coralie, losing her temper and her patience simultaneously, “go away, you meddlesome creature. You are welcome to have my husband at any time you wish but not when the poor devil is trying to get some sleep. Now be off with you.”

At that moment, running up the main staircase, clearly alarmed by the shouting, came Dominique. He bowed to Coralie.

“My dear madam, what is happening?”

“The Countess of Orpington is behaving very badly,” said the actress, not mincing her words. “If you could remove her, Monsieur Jean, you would be doing us all a great favour.”

“It will be my pleasure to attempt to do so, madam.” Very gently he took hold of Lady Orpington’s arm. “Would it be possible, my dear lady, to know your first name?” His voice had adopted an almost hypnotic quality, much aided by his wonderful French accent. “That is if you have no objection to telling me.”

She looked at him through tears, though whether they were being wept because of genuine sorrow for her lover or just plain frustration it was difficult to tell.

“It is Arabella,” she replied coldly.

Dominique kissed his fingertips and gave her a deep look. “How charming. What a delight.”

“But only intimate friends use it…”

“Like Charlie,” Coralie interrupted sarcastically.

Lady Orpington gave her a chilly look but made no response.

“Would it also be in order for you to accompany me downstairs,” Dominique continued blandly, “because Sir Francis Dashwood is most anxious for you to rejoin him.”

“I shall go down,” the girl replied with dignity, “because you wish me to and I have no desire to make a scene in a strange house…”

A little late for that, thought John.

“…but I shall return later and look in on the Marquess of Arundel.”

And with that she turned on her heel and stalked downstairs, Dominique following calmly behind her.

Dinner that early evening was one of the most strained occasions that John had ever attended. Little Georgiana was there, her hair flowing round her shoulders like a cascade. She sat in silence, looking at her plate, not catching the eye of any of the adults. Coralie, her mother, sat opposite her, beautiful but drawn, her face almost a mask that even John, who knew her better than any other at the table, could not penetrate. Beside him, wearing one of Lady Dashwood’s gowns which ill became her, was the young Countess of Orpington. She had got a grip on herself and was

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