The Imbroglio at the Villa Pozzi (An Angela Marchmont Mystery Book 6) by Clara Benson

Author:Clara Benson [Benson, Clara]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781326015336
Published: 2014-09-10T00:00:00+00:00

SIXTEEN

The next morning, Angela was just emerging from the post-office when to her surprise she found herself accosted by Asphodel Quinn, who looked as though she had been waiting for Angela to come out.

‘Good morning, Miss Quinn,’ said Angela, but Miss Quinn was not interested in exchanging pleasantries.

‘Mrs. Marchmont, I want to speak to you about this sitting,’ she said all at once.

‘Oh yes?’ said Angela.

‘Yes,’ said Miss Quinn. ‘We’ve agreed to do it but I don’t like it. Why does Mrs. Sheridan want to see us now? What good will it do her?’

‘Well—’ began Angela, nonplussed at the question. Surely a medium ought to know why a potential client might want to hold a séance. That was Miss Quinn’s business, after all. ‘She is very upset and wants to try and communicate with her husband,’ she said eventually.

‘Is that what she told you?’ said Miss Quinn. ‘But why?’

‘Perhaps you ought to ask her that,’ said Angela, ‘but as far as I understand it, she is very worried that she may, through her own actions, have caused Mr. Sheridan to take his own life, and she is seeking reassurance.’

Asphodel considered this for a moment.

‘Yes, that might be true, I suppose,’ she said. ‘But I still don’t like it.’

Angela was starting to feel quite uncomfortable.

‘Might I ask why?’ she said.

‘Because no good can come of it,’ said Asphodel. ‘I’ve the most awful feeling about it.’

‘What sort of feeling?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Miss Quinn. She evidently realized that this was an unsatisfactory answer, for she went on, ‘It’s difficult to describe without sounding ridiculous, but the best I can do is to say it’s a feeling like hardness under softness.’

‘Hardness under softness?’ repeated Angela, none the wiser.

‘Oh, of course it sounds absurd when I put it like that,’ said Miss Quinn. ‘I only wish I were better at explaining things, but unless you see things as I do then it’s hard to make myself understood.’

‘Does the feeling refer to a person or a thing?’ said Angela.

‘A person, I think.’

‘Mr. Sheridan, perhaps?’

‘Perhaps,’ said Miss Quinn. ‘All I know is that someone is going to get into the most terrible trouble if we do the sitting.’

‘Who is going to get into trouble?’ said Angela, thinking unaccountably of pink camellias.

‘I can’t tell you. But it’s someone who doesn’t deserve it.’

‘Oh,’ said Angela, slightly relieved. She was about to say something reassuring, when Miss Quinn grasped her by the arm and looked directly into her eyes.

‘I’m frightened, Mrs. Marchmont,’ she whispered. ‘I’m frightened that something awful will happen, and that I shall be held responsible for it all.’

Angela was quite disturbed by the intensity of her gaze.

‘But why should you be held responsible for anything?’ she said.

Miss Quinn gave a short laugh but did not quite meet her eyes.

‘Oh, come now,’ she said. ‘You must have heard what people are saying about us. Why, it’s all over Stresa. Everyone thinks we had something to do with Mr. Sheridan’s death. They’re saying we drove him to kill himself because he’d left us some money.

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