Murder on Cold Street by Sherry Thomas

Author:Sherry Thomas [Thomas, Sherry]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2020-10-06T00:00:00+00:00

Eleven

Olivia, why do you persist in contorting your hand in that most unattractive manner?” grumbled Lady Holmes. “Do stop.”

Livia, who was trying to work out the stiffness in her fingers, flattened her lips but complied. Or at least she made sure she appeared to by dropping her hands into her lap, so her mother, seated on the other side of the tea table, would not be able to see them beneath the tablecloth.

It was only tea time, but twilight was already fading. These were the darkest days of the year; the sun seemed to barely rise in the sky before fleeing again beneath the horizon. Livia often experienced melancholy and lethargy when she was too long deprived of sunlight. This year the doldrums hadn’t set in yet because she’d had a glorious fortnight in France with Charlotte. And since her return, she had been copying out her story with dogged resolve.

This morning she’d got up early and once again put in long hours at her desk, the reason she’d needed to bend her hand this direction and that to relieve the cramping in her fingers. But at the rate she was going, she’d be done with the task in a day or two, at most. What would she do then? What else did she have to occupy herself?

“My goodness but the world and everything in it is deteriorating at a rapid pace,” said Lady Holmes in disgust, tossing down the newspaper in her hand. “Read it for yourself, Olivia. A Scotland Yard police inspector has murdered two people who worked for his wife.”

Livia had hoped to hide from her mother for the entire duration of her father’s callous absence. But Lady Holmes, bored and restless, needed someone to listen to her at tea. Livia had thought long and hard about pretending to be unwell, but in the end she wasn’t cruel enough to deny her mother half an hour, even if they had never enjoyed being in proximity to each other.

Whereas it had been so wonderfully easy to be in Stephen Marbleton’s company. Charlotte made Livia feel that being herself was enough. Mr. Marbleton made being herself feel glorious.

A nameless distress shadowed her heart at the thought of him.

No, she’d already told herself not to remember him anymore. Their acquaintance had ended. He was probably in bright, warm Andalusia, drinking Spanish wine. Or else on the Côte d’Azur, walking on a long sandy beach with aquamarine waters lapping at his heels. And she . . . she was on a cold, wet island in the North Atlantic, with no prospect of sunshine in the near future.

She grabbed the newspaper—maybe the scandal in London would distract her—and nearly gasped aloud. The murderous policeman was none other than the despicable Inspector Treadles! Why, she couldn’t have come up with a more fitting downfall for him had she been standing behind the Almighty’s heavenly throne, whispering vengeful suggestions.

As she finished the article, however, she frowned. Charlotte wouldn’t be involved in this, would she?

“What?” cried Lady Holmes.

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