Hidden in the Heart Read Online Free Page B

nerves were quite overset at the thought that she might commit some dreadful faux pas in the presence of her illustrious hostess. She tweaked every curl in her simple coiffure, smoothed every wrinkle in her wheat-colored satin gown at least a dozen times, and murmured dire prognostications about the weather. It seemed a grim inevitability that the heavens must open at the very moment that they were making their way on foot to their appointed destination. The deluge would cover them with mud from head to foot, making them the laughing stock of the other guests.
    No such terrors dampened the spirits of her niece. Lydia surveyed herself practically in the mirror above the small mantel in the parlor. Her hair curled naturally, so she had little recourse to hot irons. Aside from this boon, there was little remarkable about her appearance. The creamy muslin of her gown made her skin appear rather sallow, and her gloves were a trifle worn, but she was satisfied that most would not notice these defects and, if they did, there was nothing to be done about it in any case. One must be philosophical, after all. It was not as if she were a beauty.
    She expected no heads to turn upon her entrance, unless she tripped over her train.
    As usual, she was correct in her assumption. Entering the abode of which she had heard so much these past three days, they were greeted with gracious condescension by Mrs Wardle-Penfield, and hustled off to a whist table where they were introduced to their partners, the Misses Digweed. These were two middle-aged spinster sisters who resided not far from their own house. It was from the lips of these two garrulous ladies that Lydia and her aunt first heard the news.
    They had been involved in play for several minutes, and Lydia was already learning that her aunt was not the ideal partner. Lydia was an accomplished player who regularly bested Papa, but Camilla seemed doubtful as to what game they were playing. She frequently forgot to follow suit, and it soon became clear that they were almost certainly destined to lose. There was nothing Lydia could do, but sigh softly to herself and accept her fate as gracefully as possible.
    ‘I suppose,’ the younger Miss Digweed said, with an arch look at Aunt Camilla over the top of her cards, ‘that you have heard about the murder, Miss Denton?’
    ‘Murder!’
    Lydia feared that her aunt was going to swoon. She clutched her cards against her breast while something resembling a spasm passed across her face.
    ‘Oh dear!’ the other Miss Digweed cried. ‘It seems that you have not heard.’
    It was an opportunity too enticing to resist. There is nothing so sweet as the pleasure of being the very first to relate bad news to a listener who hangs upon every word. In this case, they were doubly fortunate in having not one but two auditors who received their story with all the wide- eyed attention they could have desired.
    The tale unfolded so rapidly, and with such fluctuations from one Miss Digweed to the other, that Lydia was soon uncertain as to just what had happened - and indeed, whether anything had happened at all.
    ‘A young woman—’ Miss Janet Digweed began.
    ‘No, no,’ Miss Digweed corrected her at once. ‘An old man.’
    ‘In Wickham Wood.’
    ‘Or very near it.’
    ‘Stabbed—’
    ‘Beaten—’
    ‘Found yesterday morning—’
    ‘Evening—’
    ‘By young Tom Fowle—’
    ‘His brother, Jimmy—’
    ‘Dreadful!’
    ‘Horrible!’
    ‘But - but is it certain?’ Aunt Camilla at last halted this interesting narrative. ‘I cannot believe it!’
    ‘Forgive me,’ Lydia cut in, addressing both sisters at once. ‘Who has been killed?’
    The Misses Digweed appeared quite startled. Such a question had apparently never occurred to either of them.
    ‘Well really,’ the elder answered, ‘we do not know.’
    ‘Nobody knows.’
    ‘But someone is certainly dead.’
    ‘It reminds me of the other time,’ Aunt Camilla said, her lips trembling