The Murder at Sissingham Hall Read Online Free

cousin of course, and remembered vaguely that they had been close as children but had not seen each other since Mrs. Marchmont left England. The waiter drew up a chair for me and I sat down.
    ‘How long were you in America?’ I asked politely.
    ‘Oh, longer than I care to remember! Why, it must be fifteen years, now I think about it,’ she replied. ‘I went out there a year or two before the War. And yet, now I have returned, it seems only yesterday that I left.’
    She told me about her delight in meeting Rosamund again, after so many years apart. As children they had been almost like sisters but circumstances had separated them and she was looking forward to getting reacquainted with her cousin, of whom she spoke with great fondness.
    Mrs. Marchmont seemed to be on the most friendly terms with Bobs, which did not surprise me, as Bobs knew everyone. She had had many interesting experiences in America and made some intelligent observations about how things had changed in England since she left. In this respect, we had much in common, both of us having spent time away from our native land and seeing it for the first time in many years from the perspective of outsiders.
    Mrs. Marchmont did not remain with us for long, as she had an engagement elsewhere. I escorted her to her car.
    ‘It has been very nice to meet you,’ she said, as the car drew up. ‘I look forward to continuing our conversation at Sissingham.’
    I assured her that the feeling was mutual and watched for a moment as the motor pulled away. It struck me that Mrs. Marchmont was very different from her cousin. Then I returned to our table, where Bobs was just lighting up a cigar.
    ‘A fine woman, that,’ he remarked. I could not help but agree with him.
    ‘Rather inscrutable, too, perhaps,’ I said. ‘She appeared to me to be quite unlike the average woman who has an interest only in jewellery and fine dresses. You may think it odd but while we were talking, I had the strangest feeling that she held many secrets and could reveal a great many interesting things if she chose.’
    ‘Yes, she does strike one that way, doesn’t she?’
    ‘Is there a Mr. Marchmont? She didn’t mention him at all.’
    ‘Why, I couldn’t say. I believe there is, or was. A financier, or a captain of industry, or something like that, back in America.’
    ‘From what she said, it sounded as though she and Rosamund were as thick as thieves, once.’
    ‘Yes, that’s true—despite the age difference,’ Bobs said. ‘Angela is rather older than Rosamund, you know. I believe she has always been fiercely protective of Rosamund—especially after the trouble happened with old Hamilton. But Angela’s family weren’t exactly well-to-do either and she had to make her own way in the world, so they parted. She was a secretary to some Duke or other and then took a post with Bernstein, the financier. That’s how she ended up in America. Rosamund was still a child at that time and she stayed in England with her mother and grew up with very little money—but of course you know about all that.’
    I did indeed. When my own father had been ruined, throughout all the misery and difficulties that ensued I had at least felt, for a short time, that Rosamund and I had something in common. But it soon became clear to me that I could not expect her to live in poverty with me. Despite her penniless childhood, Rosamund was not a person whom one associated with saving and scrimping. One could not imagine her cheerfully ordering the cheapest cuts from the butcher, or darning socks, or washing the plates on the maid’s day off. When one pictured Rosamund, it was in a grand, elegant, warm setting, surrounded by brightly burning lights and dressed in glittering array. No, the rough-and-ready life of South Africa, the struggle for existence, the uncertainty of the future—they were not for her.
    ‘Tell me about Sissingham,’ I said. Bobs waved his cigar vaguely.
    ‘Oh, it’s comfortable