The Truth-Seeker's Wife by Ann Granger

Author:Ann Granger
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Canelo
Published: 2021-08-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Ten

Elizabeth Martin Ross

It was as well that I decided to return to the house and not linger on the heath. When I arrived back, it was to find Aunt Parry in some agitation.

‘Thank goodness you have come back, Elizabeth! It was very inconsiderate of you to wander off in that way.’

‘I did not “wander off”!’ I protested. ‘I told you I was going to walk on the heath.’

‘And while you have been gone,’ continued Aunt Parry, ignoring my defence, ‘a message has come from Mrs Beresford at Oakwood House. A groom rode over with it and has just left. We are invited to take tea with her this afternoon. She will send a carriage for us. I have been practising walking with the stick and I am sure my ankle will hold out.’

‘That is kind of her at this time of mourning for her family,’ I said. To be honest, I was surprised. ‘She must be very much occupied with necessary arrangements.’

‘I dare say it is because she is embarrassed,’ retorted Aunt Parry frankly. ‘After all, it was not to become involved in scandal and murder that I came here. But yes, yes, it is good of her. What will you wear, Elizabeth? Mrs Beresford will be in mourning, of course. We must do our best.’

I had feared we might have to travel in the berlin again. But the carriage sent for us that afternoon was a landau with a smart coachman. We were taken in style to Oakwood House. That, and the prospect of an outing, had put Mrs Parry in a very good humour. I, on the other hand, was apprehensive. Mrs Parry could, on occasion, be what is called ‘a loose cannon’.

As expected, Agnes Beresford was in full mourning. She wore a long-sleeved gown of black taffeta, with a ruche at the hem, and a short train, the bodice trimmed with black velvet. On her head was a cap of black lace. The gown and cap must have been in her wardrobe from an earlier sad occasion, or held in reserve against sudden need, because there had been no time, since Sir Henry’s death, to have them made.

Although the death had not actually taken place here, the house itself was also observing conventions. The curtains were drawn; mirrors were veiled. Even the piano was draped in a black shawl. But at least the curtains in the drawing room, into which we were shown, were not fully closed, only partly so. The room was therefore shadowy, but not so gloomy we could not see. Agnes, in her black gown, was of a piece with it. She was very pale. When she stood to greet us, it was as though we had entered the Underworld, to be welcomed in by some antique draped spectre. I couldn’t help but feel embarrassed at being there, although we’d been invited.

‘It is very good of you to ask us to take tea,’ I said awkwardly. ‘Both Mrs Parry and I are deeply conscious of what a sad and difficult time this must be.

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