The Mortal Blow by Elizabeth Bailey

Author:Elizabeth Bailey [Bailey, Elizabeth]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 191302833X
Amazon: B07P5JHQ9V
Publisher: Sapere Books
Published: 2019-04-12T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

Ottilia was not insensitive to her husband’s unusual silence as they were dressing for dinner. The presence of Diplock and Joanie might preclude a discussion of private matters, but Ottilia was accustomed to desultory chat even while the servants were in the room.

Had she made a mistake to wait for Helen Pargeter outside Meg’s room? If she was truthful, she had not wanted to confront the brewing storm. She had told herself it was politic to wait, while the unexpected visitor and Lizzy were in the house, but now the unspoken condemnation was oppressive. There had been no opportunity to air it, Sybilla having heard from Venner of Helen’s presence. She had come down from her sitting-room just as the front door shut behind the visitors and wasted no time.

“Was that Meg’s mother? How did she find out the girl was here?”

Ottilia had personally seen them out and she turned, ushering Sybilla into the parlour. “Mrs Pargeter is her stepmother.” She adroitly avoided the latter question. “It seems she came in secret, without informing the Reverend Pargeter, which I must admit is a relief. I cannot think his intervention would make our task any easier.”

Sybilla was successfully diverted. “She did not tell him the girl is here? What a nuisance. He might have removed her, and welcome. What did this female have to say?”

“She was much shocked, and she is not sure her visit did Meg a great deal of good.”

“Then you have gained nothing by it.”

Ottilia thought otherwise, but it was plain her mother-in-law was in one of her twitty moods, complaining of having agreed to go to a party that evening and declaring she had half a mind to cry off. Her presence kept at bay the subject clearly uppermost in Francis’s mind, as indeed it was in Ottilia’s. He barely glanced at her, his jaw set, and such remarks as he contributed to the conversation were clipped and to the point. If Sybilla noticed it, she made no comment, but Ottilia’s sense of impending thunder increased.

By the time she was ready to go downstairs, she knew she could not endure a dinner laced with tension. Then this party must intervene to keep them in this unsatisfactory state all evening? Unbearable. Dismissing the maid, who retired with the basin of water she had brought, Ottilia waited for her husband’s valet to help him into his evening coat.

She caught Francis’s gaze in the mirror and he turned.

“Don’t wait for me, Ottilia.”

She met his eyes. “I am in no hurry.”

His brows drew together and his regard was measuring, she thought. The use of her full name told its own tale. He turned away.

“That will do, Diplock. Leave us, if you please.”

The valet bowed and withdrew. Ottilia waited only until the door closed behind him before taking a couple of steps towards Francis.

“You are angry with me about Lizzy. I have no excuses, Fan. I should not have involved her. I knew it at the time, I confess.”

A muscle worked in his cheek and she guessed he was holding his temper in with an effort.

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