Who Killed the Curate? by Joan Coggin

Author:Joan Coggin
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Galileo Publishing
Published: 2023-10-10T15:48:03+00:00

CHAPTER 12

ANOTHER dinner party was taking place in Glanville that evening. Over that, too, a cloud lay. In fact, if anything, the cloud was nearer, for Miss Young was under the same roof. As Lupin had prognosticated, she took her meal in her room, but the fact that she was there at all, brooding over her brother’s death and suspecting everyone in Glanville of having encompassed it, cast a gloom and even quenched Mrs. Grey’s usually unfailing good humour.

Dr. and Mrs. Brown, with their son Lancelot, a rather spotty youth with ‘views’ who was home from Cambridge, were in the drawing room when Diana and June arrived.

“Hulloah, Lance,” said June, “a Happy Christmas!”

“How can anyone be happy at a time like this?” demanded Lancelot.

June’s face clouded. “No,” she agreed, “it is dreadfully sad, isn’t it? But I didn’t know you and Charles were ever great friends.”

“I wasn’t thinking about Charles Young,” he admitted. “Though of course I am sorry he is dead. But what is one death among so many?” He accepted a second glass of Mrs. Grey’s excellent sherry and took a long sip. “Do you know how many people are dying of undernourishment at the present minute?” he asked.

“No,” replied June, “and I’d really rather not know, if if’s all the same to you. I am feeling depressed enough as it is, and I don’t see what I could do about it if I did know.”

Meanwhile, Mrs. Brown was grumbling to Mr. Grey. “Where Lancelot gets his views from I don’t know. He wouldn’t come to church today because he says he doesn’t believe in organised Christianity. So rude to the vicar! And I don’t know what the maids thought. Christine was there this morning, of course. The names they have nowadays, too! I wanted to call her by her surname, but it was Brown, which made it all so awkward. But of course, Cook had to stay in as we have our dinner in the middle of the day, and she must have thought it very strange seeing Lance, and the state he leaves his bedroom in, too!”

Miss Gibson and her nephew were announced just then. “I do hope Lance won’t say anything about Christianity,” said Mrs. Brown.

As often occurred at Glanville, there were more women than men at the dinner table. Mrs. Grey was very hospitable and there was plenty to eat and drink, but the conversation was not so plentiful. Everyone tried to avoid talking about Mr. Young, but as everyone was thinking of him, it was difficult to talk of anything else. Everyone, that is, except Lancelot Brown. He was not particularly interested in the death of a curate, but he was very much interested in his own views. He liked the sound of his own voice, and for once he was allowed the pleasure of listening to it, with nothing but a few halfhearted interruptions.

“Tell me about this Lady Lupin,” he asked Diana, next to whom he was sitting.

“Which Lady Lupin?”

“There is only

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