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.I wanted to get to know her better, to help her, if I could, and as I watched her straighten Arthur’s tie while patiently explaining every notch in the skyline to Nell, it occurred to me that Gerald was being as big a fool as Bill.16.Big Ben was tolling two o‘clock as we pulled away from number three, Anne Elizabeth Court, and my stomach was growling that it was way past lunchtime.Paul had said that Cloverly House—Uncle Williston’s rest home—was just outside the town of Goudhurst, in Kent, and I didn’t think I’d make it that far on petits fours and watercress sandwiches.For some reason, I was starving.“Is there anything to eat back here, Paul?” I asked, hunting through the concealed compartments that lined the passenger section of the limo.“Just the usual biscuits and mineral water, madam.I could stop at Fortnum’s for a hamper, if you like,” Paul offered.“You can’t be hungry again,” Nell protested as she buckled Bertie and Reginald into the fold-down seat facing us.“You ate more than Arthur.”“Don’t talk to me,” I said.“Talk to my stomach.It’s demanding chow.” I told Paul to forget Fortnum’s and grab a couple of sausages from the next sidewalk vendor he saw.Ten minutes later, as I was greedily wolfing down a pair of plump red puddings and a bag of spectacularly greasy chips, I noticed that Nell was staring intently at my stomach, as though she did mean to address it.“That was a joke,” I pointed out, with some asperity.“Lori,” Nell said thoughtfully, “Paul could drive us back to the cottage, if you like.It might be a good idea to take a day off.You said you were getting fed up with running around.”“Are you kidding?” I cried.“Give up the chase now, when we know so.little? No way.” I ran a finger around the collar of my silk blouse.“Is it hot in here, or is it me?”Nell turned on the air conditioning—to flush out the fumes of my al-fresco luncheon, I suspected, as much as to give me a breath of fresh air—adjusted Reg and Bertie’s seat belt, then sat back.“I think we’ve learned an awful lot,” she commented.I smiled wryly.“That may be, but we don’t know what any of it means.”“True.” Nell nodded judiciously.“I can’t think why William’s gone to see poor, mad Uncle Williston.” She tilted her head to one side and wound a golden curl around her finger.“Unless.”“Unless what?” I asked.“Unless William thinks Uncle Williston knows something about those papers,” Nell replied.“The papers Lucy sent to Aunt Anthea up in Yorkshire.”“Funny about those papers.” I took another bite of red pudding and washed it down with a swig of mineral water.“Odd that they should disappear from London just before William shows up, asking questions.I wonder if the deed to number three is as authentic as Lucy claims?”“Do you think number three, Anne Elizabeth Court, might really belong to William?” Nell asked, her eyes widening.“It wouldn’t be the first time someone had faked a document to get what he—or she—wanted,” I told her.“I run into it once in a while when I’m hunting rare books for Stan Finderman.” I finished the first pudding and started in on the second.“But why would William want Lucy’s building? I don’t know if you’re aware of it, Nell, but my father-in-law isn’t exactly strapped for cash.If he wants an office building in London, he can buy one without blinking.”“Perhaps he doesn’t want just any office building,” Nell suggested.“William’s awfully fond of tradition.He might want Lucy’s building because it’s been in the family for such a long time.”“So he can hand it down to his son?” I snorted derisively.“As if Bill would ever give up his empire in Boston.” I regretted the words the moment they were out, not because I didn’t mean them, but because I hadn’t meant Nell to hear them.She ducked her head and looked quickly out of the window, as though I’d wounded her, and the reproachful glint in Reg’s eyes was enough to make me reach for the telephone.“Speaking of whom,” I said brightly, “I still haven’t returned Bill’s call.I think I’ll do it now.”Nell glanced at me worriedly.“That’s a very good idea.”As I dialed Bill’s number at Little Moose Lake, I steeled myself to perform the role of the patient wife—for Nell’s benefit much more than Bill‘s—but the performance was canceled before it began, because there was no answer.None.Not even a frigid “Good evening” from a snooty servant.Perplexed, I telephoned Bill’s secretary, who’d remained in Boston.He informed me that a potent summer gale had swept inland from the Maine coast, downing power lines and severing communications between certain rural areas and the outside world.He hadn’t heard from Bill all day and had no idea when telephone service would be restored.Nature, it seemed, had joined Fate in a tag-team assault on my marriage.My frustration was leavened by a tiny grain of malicious pleasure at the thought of my city-bred husband roughing it in a Biddiford-infested wilderness.Even as I explained.the situation to Nell, I savored an image of Bill gnawing doggedly on a piece of beef jerky in the dark.It smacked of divine justice.Nell seemed reassured, however, so the exercise hadn’t been entirely in vain.“I liked Lucy, didn’t you?” she asked, returning to what I considered to be a far pleasanter topic.“Very much,” I replied.“I admire her, too.She hasn’t let that creep Douglas get to her, the way he got to Anthea.She’s just starched her upper lip and carried on.” My admiration for Lucy was mingled with a measure of genuine concern.Now that Gerald was gone, she had no one to depend on but two inexperienced younger sisters and that sweet-natured bumbler, Arthur.She was already beginning to fray around the edges.How much longer would it be before she cracked?“I think Julia Louise would be proud of her,” Nell commented.Giving me a sidelong look, she added, “I also think Lucy’s in love with Gerald.”I felt myself blush, but nodded my agreement.“I think you’re right.Wish I knew what he’d done to make her so angry with him.”“There’s that woman he’s seeing at the Flamborough,” Nell reminded me.“Oh, come on, Nell,” I objected.“You’ve met Gerald.Do you really believe he’d choose a little round dumpling of a woman when he could have his pick of the litter? And who in his right mind would have a tawdry love affair at the Flamborough? Arthur said it himself—it’s the kind of place Lucy takes clients to dine.”“Used to take clients to dine,” Nell corrected.“Whatever.I don’t buy it.” I settled back to finish the last of my greasy chips and give the matter some serious consideration.It stood to reason that something was going on between Gerald and the Dumpling, but did it have to be an affair? The Dumpling might as easily be a former colleague.Miss Kingsley and Arthur could have misinterpreted a casual meeting between old friends—Miss Kingsley because of a natural prudishness, and Arthur because his philandering uncle Douglas had predisposed him to see Gerald in the same light.Gerald might even have encouraged the misunderstanding.He could be using the Dumpling as an excuse to keep Lucy at bay [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]