At Death's Door Read Online Free Page B

put you in here,” she said. “It was the room your father intended as his study, though I don’t think he ever in fact worked here. He liked a smallish room, with no sort of view—nothing to distract him. He certainly would have had that here.”
    Cordelia looked around. On one wall an enormous book-case contained all the editions—hardback, paperback, foreign—of Benedict Cotterel’s works. The desk was massive, with capacious drawers, and was placed up against a blank wall. The desk calendar was for 1977. Against the wall that had a window in it—a window that looked out only on shrubbery—was a series of cupboards, old and squat.
    â€œNow,” said Caroline briskly, for she felt a certain embarrassment at exposing a father’s secrets to a long-lost daughter, “you’ll soon find there’s very little method. I can only say that mostly you’ll find his collection of letters written to him in this cupboard here. Some pretty well known names corresponded with him, and I suppose your mother’s letters will be among them. His reviews, interviews with him, and so on, you’ll find in these two drawers. But I don’t imagine they’ll be of much interest. The manuscripts and typescripts for all the books up to 1960 were bought by a university in Texas. Those for the later books are in the cupboard over there. People have started sending back either the originals or photocopies of his ownletters, assuming someone, sometime, will do a collected. These we’ve tended to put in the desk drawers, knowing he’ll never use it again. Right? That is only a rough guide. In fact, you’ll find things in all sorts of places.”
    â€œRight . . .” said Cordelia slowly. “I’ll spend the morning finding my way around. You said books after 1960 were all here, so that must mean you have The Vixen ?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œThere are probably things in that that didn’t get into the published text. I know my mother’s lawyers were very active before it came out.”
    â€œVery probably. I remember that Ben had a whale of a time and behaved quite disgracefully. That was soon after we were married, and I was very prim, and probably too easily shocked. . . . But I must say I’ve always thought that book beneath him. Naked, unworthy revenge. I read it again a few years ago, and I still felt the same. I don’t count that as part of his real fictional output.”
    â€œIt’s certainly unlike the others. Because he hadn’t gone in for autobiography before, had he? Or if he had, I didn’t recognize it.”
    â€œNot direct autobiography like that. One or two of his other . . . women friends claimed to recognize themselves, but they were put in plots that had nothing to do with Ben’s own life.”
    â€œAnyway, that’s the book that’s of particular interest to me.”
    â€œOf course it is. Well, I’ll leave you to it.”
    Caroline’s day was low-key but busy. Becky had a fit of petulance and unreasonableness before lunch, as she sometimes did if she was at home and Roderick was not. Roderick was at a day-long conference of local headmasters. Caroline had a lunch of scrambled egg and fruit with Becky and Mrs. Sprigg, and when they had finished, she asked if Ben was up to receiving a visitor.
    â€œWell, he’s a bit drowsy, but it doesn’t make all that much difference, does it? Who is it?”
    â€œHis daughter, actually. Illegitimate. He’s never seen her before. Of course he won’t know who she is.”
    â€œHe won’t, and that’s a fact,” said Mrs. Sprigg. Clearly she was interested and would get a lot more detail out of Caroline before many days were passed.
    Caroline let her go upstairs to the old man, then went to the study, knocked, and put her head around.
    â€œI wondered if you’d like to come up and say