Behold Here's Poison Read online

  He stretched out his hand to her across the table. ‘Well, that’s a very nice part, anyway.’

  She nodded. ‘Yes, because I hate rows. I should have married you whatever uncle said, but it makes it easier now that he’s dead.’

  Fielding got up, and came round behind her chair. ‘I’m going to ring for Jenner to bring in the next course,’ he said, laying his hands on her shoulders. ‘But first I must kiss you.’

  She raised her face, and as he bent over her put her hand to caress his lean cheek. ‘How many girls have you kissed, like that?’ she asked, when she was able.

  ‘Crowds,’ he said, laughing.

  She smiled, but said seriously: ‘I expect that’s true. You were keen on Betty Mason before you thought of me, weren’t you?’

  ‘Never!’

  ‘Oh, I’m not throwing a jealous fit,’ Stella assured him. ‘You needn’t mind admitting it. I think you’re rather the type that can’t help making love to girls who aren’t actually cross-eyed or hare-lipped. I shall probably have an awful time with you when we’re married.’

  ‘It sounds as though it’s I who will have the awful time,’ he replied teasingly.

  ‘Well, I must say I shouldn’t like it if you got off with anyone else now that you’re engaged to me,’ admitted Stella.

  ‘I’ll watch my step,’ he promised, walking over to the bell and setting his finger on it.

  Jenner’s entrance put an end to the conversation. He brought word of two patients awaiting the doctor in the surgery.

  ‘Who are they?’ asked Fielding.

  ‘Young Jones, sir, and Mrs Thomas about her little girl’s leg.’

  ‘Oh, well, tell them I don’t see patients until two o’clock. Put the clocks back, or something.’

  ‘Very good, sir.’

  ‘Don’t think you’ve got to stay here because of me,’ said Stella. ‘I’m just going anyway.’

  ‘It’s nobody who matters,’ he said lightly.

  Stella looked at him with a hint of austerity in her candid eyes. ‘You don’t only care about the people who matter, do you, Deryk?’

  ‘Of course not, but there’s nothing urgent about these cases. Have some more cream?’

  ‘No, thanks. If it’s Mrs Thomas from North End Cottages I do wish you’d go. She told Aunt Harriet that Minnie dreads having her leg dressed, and I must say I’m not surprised. I hate kids to be scared, don’t you? I used to be at the dentist’s, and he always kept me waiting, which made it worse.’

  He got up, pushing his chair back, and said ruefully: ‘You’re determined to keep my nose to the grindstone, young woman. Shall I ever be allowed to have a meal in peace when we’re married?’

  ‘Yes, lots,’ said Stella, kissing her hand to him.

  She finished her luncheon alone, and strolled back to the Poplars. She noticed as she walked up the drive that the blinds were all down in the front windows, and found, upon entering the house, that this had been brought about by the relentless hand of her aunt Gertrude, who had returned to the Poplars, accompanied this time by her younger daughter, Janet.

  In consequence of the gloom reigning over the library and the dining-room the family had been forced to sit in the drawing-room, a large and cheerless apartment at the back of the house, elegantly but uncomfortably furnished in the style of Louis XV. Mrs Lupton was discussing with her sister what had best be done with Gregory Matthews’ clothing, and Janet, a pale, earnest-looking young woman of five-and-twenty, was trying to be bright and intelligent over her cousin Guy’s sketch of the overmantel for the house in Dorking. Stella paused on the threshold, meditating instant flight, but Guy cast her a supplicating look, and feeling that at least she had enjoyed a very good luncheon while he regaled himself on cold lamb and rice pudding she took pity on him, and advanced into the room. ‘Hullo, Janet!’ she said.

  Mrs Lupton looked up, folding her lips. She was a just woman and she did not blame Stella for being much better-looking than either of her own daughters. She was merely sorry that Stella should ruin her complexion with make-up, and squander her mother’s (or more probably Gregory’s) money on ridiculously unsuitable clothes. ‘Well, Stella?’ she said. ‘And where have you been, may one ask?’

  ‘Out,’ said Stella briefly.

  Mrs Lupton was glad to think that her daughters would never dream of answering her in that rude way. ‘I should have thought you could have stayed at home for one day,’ she remarked. ‘And have you nothing quieter to wear than that frock?’

  ‘No, nothing.’

  ‘You must have a black one.’

  ‘All right,’ said Stella equably. ‘If she happens to think of it, I daresay mother will buy one for me.’

  Mrs Lupton sat very straight in her chair. ‘The least said about your mother’s expedition to town the better,’ she announced.

  Guy looked up, a spark of anger in his eyes. ‘Quite!’ he said with a good deal of emphasis.

  Janet, who hated people to quarrel, hurried into speech. ‘Aunt Zoë has such wonderful taste!’ she said. ‘I’m afraid I never know what to buy, but of course I don’t care for clothes, much. Or jewellery either. Isn’t it funny? Because Agnes –’

  ‘Not funny: tragic,’ said Stella, with a smile that took the sting out of her words. ‘You look heathenish in that hat too.’

  ‘Oh, Stella, you are awful! Do I really?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Guy viciously.

  ‘I know you’re only teasing me, but I don’t care. I think nearly everything is so much more important than mere clothes, don’t you?’

  ‘No,’ said Stella. ‘You can see I don’t.’

  Janet persevered. ‘Oh, I know you only say that! Guy has been showing me a design for an overmantel. I think it’s marvellous. I should never have thought of green marble. I’m not really a bit artistic. You’d shriek if you saw my attempts at drawing! It’s funny, really, because Agnes used to sketch beautifully, and of course she has awfully good taste. By the way, mother rang her up as soon as she heard, and she sent her love, and said to tell you all how sorry she is. She’d have come down, only that Baby’s cutting a tooth, and she doesn’t like to leave him.’

  ‘I shall give that baby an expensive christening present,’ said Guy in a burst of gratitude.

  Janet giggled. ‘You are mad! You know he was christened ages ago, the dear mite! Why, he’s actually six months old now! It doesn’t seem possible, does it?’

  As neither Stella nor Guy could think of anything to say in answer to this a silence fell. Janet broke it, saying in a lowered voice: ‘It’s funny, isn’t it, the way one simply can’t help talking of ordinary, everyday things even when something awful has happened? I suppose it is that one just doesn’t realise it at first.’

  ‘No, I think it is that uncle didn’t really matter to any of us,’ replied Stella thoughtfully.

  ‘Oh, Stella, how can you?’ cried Janet, shocked.

  ‘But it’s perfectly true,’ Stella said, resting her chin in her cupped hands, and wrinkling her brow a little. ‘When he was here he made himself felt because for one thing he was a domestic tyrant, and for another he had a pretty strong personality. But he didn’t matter to us because we didn’t like him.’

  ‘I’m sure I was always very fond of him,’ said Janet primly.

  Another silence fell. Miss Matthews’ voice made itself heard from the other end of the room. ‘All those lovely ivory brushes and things too! With G. M. on the backs, so they won’t be any use to Randall, and it’s obviously meant that Guy should have them. And I do think we ought to give something of Gregory’s to Mr Rumbold.’

  ‘I fail to see what claim Mr Rumbold has on any of Gregory’s possessions,’ said Mrs Lupton.

  ‘Not a claim exactly, but he is such a close friend, and we had him to stay when Mrs Rumbold went to visit her sister. Really quite like one of the family, for I’m sure he treated this house like a second home, playing chess with Gregory, you know. Though I shall always feel it’s a pity he eve