The Murder of Busy Lizzie

‘She did, and in quite warm terms.’

‘Then what has happened to the correspondence? I was told nothing about your booking, neither (as I told you) has Eliza entered it up. All I can think is that she never received your letter of acceptance.’

‘But she must have done! She confirmed it, I tell you,’ said Marius, pardonably exasperated. ‘She wrote back at once and said that she would be delighted to see me and the children, and that she was sorry my wife could not come with us.’

‘Oh, well, that’s it, then. But what on earth is keeping her on the mainland? She knew all these naturalists had booked in. She must realise that I cannot be expected to cope alone with such an influx.’

‘One would think so. Oh, well, I suppose she will have to leave it now until Wednesday.’

‘Not necessarily. It would not be a difficult passage for a local boatman to make, and we have a working arrangement with Dimbleton.’

‘I see. Well, Miss Crimp, I cannot feel that this has been a very satisfactory conversation. My children and I will be prepared to stay until Wednesday morning, but, if Lizzie has not returned by then, I feel we have no reason to prolong our stay.’

‘Oh, but, Mr Lovelaine, you have made a firm booking for four weeks!’

‘The evidence for which, on your own showing, does not exist.’

‘But I have allocated rooms to you! I have had to refuse other applications!’

‘You cannot have it both ways, Miss Crimp,’ said Marius, returning with her to the outer office. ‘We must both hope that Lizzie will be here by Wednesday, if not before. My only reason for coming here was to see her. If she is not to be seen, well, I shall have carried out my part of the bargain. The rest is up to her.’

‘Tell me, Mr Sebastian,’ said Miss Crimp, when Sebastian claimed the key of his chalet, ‘does your father really intend to cancel his booking if your aunt does not arrive here by the Wednesday boat?’

‘First I’ve heard of it,’ said Sebastian.

‘Well, I have had a conversation with him this morning, and such appears to be his intention. I must point out to you that I need definite assurance as to whether he is or is not staying on. I have already refused applications for accommodation and if his room and your chalet are to be vacated I need to be informed.’

‘Yes, of course, but it’s no business of mine. You don’t expect me to open the subject with him, do you?’ Sebastian stared aggressively at a woman whom, from the outset, he had decided he did not like.

‘I thought, perhaps, over luncheon,’ said Miss Crimp uncertainly, somewhat taken aback by this unexpected attitude in so young a man, ‘you could possibly—’

‘Then you must think again, mustn’t you?’ said Sebastian, smiling unpleasantly at her. At lunch, however, he took it upon himself to broach the subject.

‘What’s this bee in the bonnet Connie Crimp seems to have got hold of, Father?’ he asked.

‘Oh, yes, of course, her name is Constance,’ said his father, ‘but is it quite the thing—?’

‘For me to call her by it? Well, of course, I don’t, to her face. But what is all this about our leaving on Wednesday if Aunt Eliza doesn’t show up?’

‘Well, I should have thought the situation was obvious. We came here to see your aunt. If she does not choose to make herself available to us, I see no point in extending an expensive holiday.’

‘Oh, dear! Just as Maggie and I were beginning to enjoy ourselves so much!’

‘You really like it here?’

‘Oh, yes, Father,’ said Margaret eagerly. ‘We do like it here. We like it very much indeed, and we haven’t explored a quarter of the island yet.’

‘Oh, well, if you like it so much…’

‘Even supposing you decided to leave, father,’ said Sebastian, striking while the iron was hot, ‘couldn’t Maggie and I stay? It will give us the peace and quiet we need to do some holiday reading, and the fact that we’ve got a chalet will give us the privacy we must have.’

‘Well,’ said Marius, ‘that is all very well, but, for my own part, I feel I must make a gesture. It is most remiss of your aunt to absent herself for a whole week of our stay when, in the first place, we should never have come had it not been for her letter. She asked us to come, and now she deserts us in this extraordinary way.’

‘A bit of a score for Boobie if we slink back with that sort of tale,’ said Sebastian. ‘Anyway, you won’t take any steps until Wednesday, will you?’

‘Not unless I decide to hire a boat privately at no doubt an extortionate charge. No, we shall be here until the Wednesday passengers are landed. If your aunt is not among them, we return by that or by Thursday’s vessel. I trust that you will have explored the rest of the island by then.’

‘And if we haven’t?’

‘Time to think of that when the time comes, my boy.’

‘If Aunt Eliza is not on the Wednesday boat, I should imagine you’ll begin to feel a bit worried about her, Father, won’t you?’ said Margaret.

‘Worried?’ said Marius, as though the idea was a strange one. ‘Why should I be worried? She surely will return by the Wednesday boat. If not, there will be a letter. If neither, then I think we shall be fully justified in returning home, booking or no booking. Besides,’ he added, ‘if your aunt had been taken ill or had met with an accident, Miss Crimp would most certainly have been informed by now. Worried?’ He examined the thought and then dismissed it. ‘Oh, nonsense! There is nothing to worry about.’

‘She may have repented of her offer of the olive branch,’ said Sebastian, ‘and be depending on you to do as you have threatened. It seems she’s only got to lie low long enough if she wants to send us packing.’

‘There is no reason to suppose that she has changed her mind, my boy. If she had, she would have written to me long ago. However, we will allow Wednesday to decide the issue for us.’

‘One thing we could find out, if you like, Father,’ said Sebastian. ‘When we were over at the farm on Friday the farmer and his wife weren’t there. Ransome told us that Miss Crimp had sent them over to the mainland to remind Aunt Eliza about the army of bird-watchers and tell her to get back on yesterday’s boat, whatever happened.’

‘Oh, really? They do not seem to have carried out their commission, then.’

‘Would you care to have us go over to the farm and question them, Father?’ asked Margaret.

‘Good heavens, no! As I said before, if your aunt had met with any mishap, we should have been informed by now.’

‘I wonder how long she usually stays away on these jaunts?’ said Sebastian.

An enquiry at the desk elucidated this point.

‘A week and a half at the most, and I only remember that happening once before,’ Miss Crimp replied. ‘On that occasion she had to go to London to see her solicitors and took the opportunity of doing some personal shopping and going to a theatre and so forth. But at that time the hotel was very quiet and she knew that I could cope. This is rather different. Of course I suppose I can hold the fort if I must, but I still think she is being most selfish and inconsiderate. She should have been back long before this.’

For the first time Marius looked concerned as well as indignant.

‘I suppose nothing can have happened to her?’ he said doubtfully.

‘We should have been notified. She had documents in her handbag which would prove her identity if she had met with an accident. Of course she did not want the trouble of accommodating all these naturalists, any more than I did, but she said it would have been foolish to turn away their money. And now she goes off like this and leaves me to manage. I think it is too bad of her!’

‘We heard the hotel was in debt,’ murmured Sebastian, who had accompanied his father to the desk. Miss Crimp caught the murmured words.

‘In debt?’ she said, indignantly. ‘Who has been spreading lies of that sort? The hotel is flourishing.’

‘Well, last night’s fish wasn’t,’ said Sebastian coolly. ‘It hadn’t flourished for quite some considerable time.’

This statement had the most extraordinary effect on Miss Crimp. Her pale eyes widened and she opened and closed her mouth as though she herself was one of the fish in question.

‘You must complain to the head-waiter,’ she said, recovering.