Hidden in the Heart Read Online Free Page A

breathless, the color rising to her cheeks.
    ‘I think, ma’am,’ Mr Savidge said with a smile, ‘that she is referring to the other gentleman.’
    ‘Oh.’
    ‘He was in the seat opposite me on the Mail,’ Lydia informed them hastily. ‘I - well, I could not forget his face.’
    ‘I should think not, indeed!’ John Savidge agreed. ‘With that great big thing stuck in the middle of it.’
    Lydia found it difficult to suppress a fit of giggles at his words, which so exactly corresponded with her own impression. However, while she struggled to retain command of herself, Nose bowed to the other gentleman - Monsieur d’Almain, it would seem - and proceeded along the pavement. At that moment, d’Almain became aware of their presence, doffed his own hat and bowed toward them. He did not attempt to join them, but turned and walked away.
    ‘Not a bad fellow, for a Frenchman,’ Mr Savidge commented. ‘Keeps to himself most of the time, but a real gentleman.’
    ‘Indeed he is,’ Aunt Camilla said, with what Lydia deemed a degree of fervor quite disproportionate to the subject.
    ‘Well, I must be off,’ John said gaily. ‘Good day, ladies.’
    So saying, he entered the inn by which they were passing.
    ‘Who is he?’ Lydia asked when he had left them.
    ‘John?’ Aunt Camilla asked, somewhat distracted.
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘His father owns the inn,’ her aunt explained.
    ‘He seems very pleasant.’
    ‘Most good-natured,’ she agreed, glancing behind them and to the left, where the two gentlemen had so recently been standing. ‘Quite wealthy too. It’s a pity that his family’s fortune is acquired from trade.’
    ‘What fustian!’ Lydia dismissed this social blemish in two disdainful words.
    ‘Perhaps.’
    Lydia eyed her aunt curiously. She was hardly attending to what was being said, lost in a strange reverie. It was not difficult to connect this with the appearance of Monsieur d’Almain.
    Smiling to herself, Lydia considered that her morning had been far more eventful than she had anticipated. She had received an invitation to a card party (even though it was issued by an old harridan), been intro duced to an attractive young gentleman, and discovered what appeared to be a budding romance between her aunt and a mysterious Frenchman. It could not be more promising!
    The countryside was plainly more entertaining than most people guessed. Her visit might be many things, but it would not be dull.
     

Chapter Four
     
BLOODY MURDER
     
    It was the unanimous opinion of all who attended Mrs Wardle-Penfield’s card party that the occasion was a resounding success. Not that Mrs Wardle-Penfield would have tolerated anything else, but this time she did not need to bully anyone into expressing unqualified approval.
    It was not the indifferent skills of the various players which produced such a favorable verdict. Neither whist nor speculation could animate the guests who had antici pated having to endure what could not be cured. The stakes were low, though not so low as the expectations of the select company which gathered in the large drawing-room of Fielding Place on that memorable evening.
    What ensured that nobody departed dissatisfied with their lot was a rumor so incredible and so horrifying that several games were suspended altogether in the recounting of its manifold details. These became so elaborate and were related with such conviction that it was not very long before the truth was lost beneath an avalanche of fancy. For this was no ordinary on-dit involving pilfering by a servant nor the latest escapades of the Carlton House set. Neither was it the far-off rumblings of fear that Bonaparte might have escaped from St Helena to once again wreak havoc on the Continent. This was closer to home - indeed, on their very doorstep. And this was no light matter. It was murder.
    Lydia and Aunt Camilla had no inkling of what awaited them as they prepared for the party. Lydia derived some amusement from her aunt, whose