Murder of Gonzago Read Online Free

times.
    ‘Dear lady, there is an odd look about your eyes, which I cannot read,’ he said playfully.
    ‘I’ve only just come back, Ducky.’
    ‘Back? My dear Hortense, you are the most travelled person I have ever known! Back from what distant shores this time, pray?’
    ‘Back from Hertfordshire. Remnant Regis.’
    ‘Ah – Lord Remnant’s final journey. A melancholy occasion. Coronary thrombosis, I believe you said? Suddenly at his residence – they still write that, I’ve noticed. Cherished husband . I never cease to be amazed at the resilience of certain clichés. We all feel blessed to have known him … There is safety in clichés, I suppose … You will give me some tea, Hortense, won’t you?’
    ‘Of course I will, Ducky … The cup that cheereth,’ she murmured ruefully as she left the room.
    They had known each other a number of years. He was a widower, she had never married. Both were in theirmid-sixties. He invariably addressed her as ‘dear lady’. She called him ‘Ducky’. At one time Hortense had imagined the Revd Duckworth was steeling himself to propose to her.
    In the kitchen, as she occupied herself with the tea, she suddenly felt on the verge of tears. I cannot live with so much doubt and fear and with so much intensity, she thought. I must talk – otherwise I will burst.
    It took her a couple of moments to compose herself.
    She re-entered the drawing room and put the tea-tray on the table.
    The Revd Duckworth beamed at her. ‘ Towards a clergyman, common benevolence expresses itself largely through the medium of a cup of tea . I have no idea if this is a quotation or whether I just made it up.’
    ‘Sounds like something out of Trollope,’ she said. ‘Trollope teems with clergymen, doesn’t he? All those bishops and archdeacons and prelates swimming in satins and port.’
    It would help her if she talked. It would blow away the clinging cobwebs of her low and anxious mood. I don’t have to tell him the whole truth, she thought, I cannot possibly tell him what happened exactly, but I will certainly tell him about the bribe.
    ‘Who’s that?’ He was peering at one of the photographs on the wall. He was an old fool but she was fond of him. ‘ Such an innocent face. Something of the lost angel about it. Brings to mind one of our most accomplished choirboys.’
    ‘That’s Stephan. Clarissa’s son.’
    ‘Your great-nephew. Of course. Was he at the funeral?’
    ‘No. He is not at all well.’
    ‘A most impressionable young person, I believe you said? Easily led astray? Short attention span? Undesirable friends?’
    ‘It’s much worse than that, Ducky. I’ve told you.’ She spoke a little impatiently.
    ‘Was it—? Not—?’
    ‘ Yes . He started quite young, at thirteen, I believe. I am afraid they can do very little about it. Poor Clarissa is out of her mind with worry … A mother’s heart—’ Hortense broke off. She took a deep breath. ‘I find myself blaming God.’
    ‘One mustn’t blame God.’
    ‘I do blame God. I am afraid in my very personal hierarchy God does not occupy a front seat. What I actually most believe in is the imponderable perception of God. It is my idea that God is aware of everything but is holding back, doing very little.’
    ‘Dear lady!’
    ‘I am convinced that God leaves us to get on with whatever cards we have been dealt, then sits back and watches us make a spectacle of ourselves … I don’t suppose you encounter such heretical thoughts often, do you? Now, tell me honestly, do you?’
    ‘As a matter of fact I do. More often than you imagine. I myself am not exempt. You’d never believe this, Hortense, but sometimes I question my suitability for the cloth. I catch myself wishing I were a chat-show host, a wedding singer or a champion snooker player.’
    ‘ Vouchsafe, O Lord, to keep us this day from being found out . That’s not in the Bible, Ducky, is it?’
    ‘No.’ He looked at her. ‘I have always regarded you as a woman