Mingled With Venom

production. A word with Miss Bute, who walked with me over to the car, elicited the address of the hostel at which Miss Aysgarth is staying until a suitable flat can be found for her. I left a message with Miss Bute to the effect that George would be prepared to drive Miss Aysgarth to London if she would care to present herself at nine o’clock at the public house where he is staying. I did not add that I should be making one of the party. It is a very long way from here to London and, as I intend to make a straight run through, there should be plenty of time on the journey for me to find out from Miss Aysgarth all that I want to know.’

‘And that, roughly speaking?’

‘Is her own and the family history, so far as she knows both. What we lack in this case is background knowledge. I am hoping that Miss Aysgarth can supply it.’

‘Can?—or will?’

Dame Beatrice, grinning like an alligator, replied that Time would show. She rose at eight on the following morning, breakfasted while Laura was swimming in the cove, and rang up the public house for George to bring round the car. Antonia was already waiting to be picked up when it got back to the public house and they set off for Exeter as the clock in the bar moved round to nine.

‘Luxury!’ said Antonia, settling herself against the upholstery. ‘Even the Headlands car is not as good as this one, although I don’t often use ours. I go on horseback when I pay visits. I was beginning to think I’d have to sit in front with your driver if I’d had to travel alone. It’s beneath my dignity as an up and coming prima donna to sit with the hired help, as the Americans call it—a much pleasanter term than “servant”, don’t you think—but I can’t bear not talking to somebody when I’m travelling. Have you really got to go to London, or do you want to pump me?’

‘Your perspicacity is only exceeded by your musical talent.’

‘What do you know about my musical talent?’

‘You have just made allusion to it and in the highest terms.’

‘Well, yes, I intend to get to the top. So you want some information, do you? Well, if it’s about the abuela’s death, I don’t have any. I may have my ideas, but there’s no proof.’

‘Is it one of your ideas that the police have arrested the right person?’

‘That fool? Don’t make me laugh. Mags Denham couldn’t have thought out how to kill the abuela if she’d worked at it for ten years. She followed me into that kitchenmaid’s job, you know, and I had to show her the ropes (under Mrs Plack’s eye, of course) before I was dusted off and admitted to the drawing-room, so I know what a moron Mags is. We never got on, not at school and not while I was overseeing her work. Then, of course, she blotted her copybook by giving me lip and had to go.’

‘You informed upon her?’

‘Well, I wasn’t going to stand for cheek from the likes of her. Why should I?’

‘Did you feel remorse when she lost her employment?’

‘I was as sick as mud. I only wanted her to get a good telling-off. I never dreamed of her getting the sack. We working girls don’t go doing that sort of thing to each other.’

Dame Beatrice regarded this as too general a statement to be wholly admissible, but she did not challenge it and for some time nothing more was said as the car went on to Exeter, where the party had lunch.

‘Does he sit down with us?’ whispered Antonia, as George, who had carried a small suitcase into the hotel, appeared in the bar wearing a neat suit and a quiet tie.

‘You will probably find his table-manners superior to our own,’ Dame Beatrice murmured in response, as George came towards them. In the car once more and moving nicely along the A30, Antonia, fortified by the lunchtime drinks from which George had abstained, became loquacious.

‘I suppose you might call mine a success story,’ she said complacently.

‘No doubt,’ Dame Beatrice agreed. ‘Did you find any of Mrs Leyden’s relatives critical when she took you out of the kitchen?’

‘Well, Fiona didn’t take to the idea. Never has. Always finding me little jobs to do to keep me in my place. You know the sort of thing. Trips up and downstairs for little, unnecessary things and errands that Mattie or Redruth Lunn could have done. Anything to remind me of my origins and, of course, I had to muck in. The abuela favoured me quite a bit, but she doted on Fiona and would never side with me against her, although she didn’t like the friendship between her and Maria. Thought they were putting their heads together and trying to steal her power.’

‘I suppose,’ said Dame Beatrice, breaking in, ‘it was her money which was the basis of her power.’

‘Nothing else but. She’d have been a nicer old lady without it, not so autocratic and demanding, if you know what I mean.’

‘I do indeed. I suppose, when the Will is proved, somebody else will be in a position to be authoritative and demanding.’

‘Well, not as much as you might think. We all know what’s in the Will, of course, and I expect they’re all looking forward to the day when the lawyer tells them everything’s O.K. and they can have their money.’

‘So the fortune has been shared out.’

‘Oh, yes, but not equally. On the face of it you would think that Maria is sitting the prettiest. She is to get the house and land and forty per cent of the cash. Against that, she’s buying me a flat so that I can get out of that stinking hostel (really, of course, to get me out of the house so that she and Fiona can have it to themselves now it’s not going to be possible for Fiona to marry Rupert) and there’s also my keep money and my tuition fees.’

‘Oh? And was no provision made for Miss Bute, if Mrs Leyden was so fond of her?’

‘Fiona played her cards wrong and walked out on Mrs Leyden on account they had a tiff. All the same, the abuela relented. Fiona is to get twenty thousand, but she’ll give some of it to Rupert, I expect, to pay him back for keeping her when she walked herself out of the house and went to stay at Seawards.’