Джорджетт Хейер - Envious Casca

Mrs. Dean, having taken covert stock of Mathilda, said: "Such terrible weather, isn't it? Though I suppose one mustn't complain."

"No," agreed Mathilda, offering her a cigarette. "The weather is about the only seasonable feature confronting us. Will you smoke?"

"I wonder if you will think me very rude if I have one of my own? I always smoke my own brand. One gets into the habit of it, doesn't one?"

"Indeed, yes," said Mathilda, watching her extract an enamelled case from her handbag, and take from it a fat Egyptian cigarette with a gold tip.

"I expect," said Mrs. Dean, "you are all quite disorganised, and no wonder! On Christmas Eve, too! Tell me all about it! You know that Val was only able to give me the barest details."

Luckily for Mathilda, who did not feel equal to obeying this behest, Joseph came down the stairs again ust then, saying that Maud was dressing for church, and would be with them in a few minutes. Mathilda said that she too must get ready for church, and made good her escape. As she rounded the bend in the stairs, she heard Mrs. Dean say in confiding accents: "And now, dear Mr. Herriard, tell me just what happened!"

By the time that Maud, dressed in her outdoor clothes, had come downstairs into the hall, Mrs. Dean had drawn from Joseph an account of Nathaniel's murder, and was looking considerably startled. It was plain that she had not, from Valerie's agitated telephone communication, grasped to what an extent Stephen might be implicated in the crime. She heard Joseph out with the proper expression of horror and sympathy on her face, but behind the conventionality of her speech and bearing a very busy brain was working fast.

"I'm prepared to go to the stake on my conviction that Stephen had nothing whatsoever to do with it!" Joseph told her.

"Of course not," she said mechanically. "What an idea! Still, it's all very dreadful. Really, I had no suspicion! We must just wait and see, mustn't we?"

At this moment Maud appeared from above, descending the stairs in her unhurried way. No greater contrast to Mrs. Dean's somewhat flamboyant smartness could have been found than in Maud's plump, neat figure. She might, in the days of her youth, have adorned the second row of the chorus, but in her sedate middle-age she presented the appearance of a Victorian lady of strict upbringing. There was nothing skittish either in the style or the angle of the high-crowned hat she wore on her head. She carried a Prayer-book in one hand, and an umbrella in the other; and on her feet were a pair of serviceable black walking-shoes, with laces. Mrs. Dean, running experienced eyes over her correctly deduced that the frumpish fur coat, which made her look shorter and fatter than ever, was made of rabbit, dyed to resemble musquash.

"Ah!" cried Joseph, jumping up. "Here is my wife! Maud, this is dear little Valerie's mother!"

Maud tucked her umbrella under one arm, and extended a nerveless hand. "How-do-you-do?" she said, politely unenthusiastic. "I am just on my way to church, but Joseph will see to everything."

Joseph, Mathilda, and Paula had all assumed, on Mrs. Dean's arrival, that Maud would abandon her expedition to church, but Maud, although she listened to their representations, had no such intention. To oseph's plea that she should bear in mind her duties as hostess, she replied that she did not consider herself to be a hostess.

"But, my dear!" expostulated Joseph. "In your position you are the only married lady here, besides its being your home -"

"I have never thought of Lexham as home, Joseph," said Maud matter-of-factly.

Joseph had given it up. Mathilda put the affair on another basis by saying that Maud, as doyenne, could not leave the rest of the party to cope with Mrs. Dean.

Maud said that she did not know what a doyenne was, but she had always made a point of non-interference at Lexham.

"Darling Maud, this isn't a case of interference! Who's going to look after the woman? Show her to her room, and all that sort of thing?"

"I expect Joseph will manage very well," said Maud placidly. "It occurred to me last night that I might have left my book in the morning-room, but when I looked today it wasn't there. So tiresome!"

Mathilda too had given it up, and since, like Maud, she did not consider herself a hostess, she did not volunteer to deputise in the part.

So here was Maud, dressed for church, allowing Mrs. Dean to clasp her unresponsive hand, and saying: "You see, I always go to church on Christmas Day."

"You mustn't dream of letting me upset any of your plans! That I couldn't bear!" said Mrs. Dean.

"Oh no!" replied Maud, taking this for granted.

"I ought to apologise for thrusting myself upon you at such a time," pursued Mrs. Dean. "But I know that you will understand a mother's feelings, dear Mrs. Herriard."

"I haven't any children," Maud said. "I am sure no one minds your being here in the least. It is such a large house: there is always room."

"Ah!" said Mrs. Dean, struggling against the odds. "The joy of always having a room for a friend! How I envy you, living in such a beautiful place!"

"I believe thee house is generally very much admired," said Maud. "I do not care for old houses myself."

There did not seem to be anything to say to this, so Mrs. Dean tried a new form of attack. Lowering her voice, she said: "You must let me tell you how very, very deeply I feel for you in your tragic loss."

The defences remained intact. "It has all been very shocking," said Maud, "but I never cared for my brother in-law, so I do not feel much sense of loss."

Joseph fidgeted uncomfortably, and darted an anguished look of appeal at Mathilda, who had by this time joined Maud. But it was Sturry, entering the hall from the back of the house, who came to the rescue. "The car, madam, is At the Door," he announced.

"Oh!" cried Mrs. Dean. "I wonder what has happened to my car? There is just a suitcase in it, and my hat-box, and dressing-case. Could someone bring them in, do you think?"

"The chauffeur, madam," replied Sturry, contemptuous of overdressed women who expected to see their luggage carried in at the front-door, "drove round to the Back Entrance. Walter has taken up the luggage to the Blue Room, sir," he added, addressing this last remark to Joseph.

Sturry's grand manner, followed so hard upon Maud's damping calm, quite cowed Mrs. Dean. She said Thank you, in a meek voice.

Sturry then moved with a measured tread to the front door, which he opened for Maud and Mathilda, and Joseph unwisely asked him if he had seen Mr. Stephen anywhere.

"Mr. Stephen, sir," said Sturry, in an expressionless voice, "is Knocking the Balls About in the billiardroom."

"Oh tut, tut, tut!" said Joseph involuntarily, and with an apologetic glance towards Mrs. Dean. "These young people are so - so thoughtless! He doesn't mean any harm, you know. He just doesn't always think!"

"Oh, I never mind a little unconventionality!" declared Mrs. Dean, with a wide smile. "I know what an odd, wayward creature Stephen is. Let's go and rout him out, shall we?"

Joseph looked a little dubious, but presumably he thought that Stephen must be accustomed to his future mother-in-law's breezy tactics, for he made no demur, but led the way to the billiard-room.

The Christmas tree, still decked with tinsel, at once caught Mrs. Dean's eye, and she exclaimed at it admiringly before sailing forward to greet Stephen. "My dear boy!" she uttered. "I came as soon as I could!"

Stephen, who was practising nursery-cannons in his shirtsleeves, carefully inspected the disposition of the balls before replying. Having assured himself that they were still lying well, he straightened his back, and said: "So I see. How-do-you-do?"