A Death in the Family Read Free Page B

wrapped around them. The tiled floor swam beneath my eyes, and the elegant free-hung staircase that rose around the sides of the room appeared to shiver, becoming a foaming river of marble. There was a particularly fine Persian rug in the middle of the hallway below. It clashed quite horribly with the tiles and, before my bemused eyes, the patterns began to pulse and swirl.
    At that moment it seemed most likely one of two eventualities would occur. I would either shower the hall with the remnants of my breakfast or I would topple forward and decorate it with my brains. Either way I was about to make the most horrid mess, when I became dimly aware of the sound of running feet and a pair of strong arms pulled me back from the brink of disgrace or, indeed, death.
    ‘Good gracious, Holdsworth,’ announced a female, with the voice of one educated at the most exclusive of seminaries, ‘is that wretched woman half-drowning our maids now?’
    I was led gently to a chair at the back of the balcony and, when I demurred due to my wet raiment, was told quite forcibly to sit.
    ‘I believe,’ said Holdsworth, his voice to my ears coming from a long way away, ‘that the new maid has had a difficult journey through the recent storm. Mrs Wilson was most keen that she should clean up the library before supper.’ His tone remained respectful and yet still managed to convey his disapproval. Holdsworth was an excellent butler.
    ‘Damn that woman!’ said my female rescuer. Her language shocked me back to some sense of reality. I took note of her for the first time. I found a tall, red-headed woman with slightly too resolute a jaw to ever be a great beauty, but with the most fascinating of green eyes. I could see little of her dress as she still wore a crimson cape, edged with fur, but I did see the most wonderful of buttoned brown boots that I guessed extended a goodly way over her slender ankles thus keeping out the winter chills. How I longed to be warm, but I too knew my duty.
    ‘There’s a body in the library, miss.’ I felt I should apologise for the vulgarity of the announcement, but there was really no other way to say it.
    As if a bad play Holdsworth and the young lady repeated my statement. It was clear I would have to explain further. ‘I was cleaning the rug in the library, but I kept making it worse.’
    ‘I should think,’ commented the girl.
    I rudely continued. I had to say it all at once or it would never come out. ‘I heard someone coming and stepped into the servants’ passage, but when I did I found the body of a man lying on the ground. He has a knife protruding from his chest.’
    Instead of the cries of horror two serious faces stared down at me. ‘It’s true,’ I pleaded. ‘As God is my witness.’
    Holdsworth frowned and uttered that small cough servants make just before they are about to suggest that one’s understanding of the situation is at fault. But before he could utter any words of butler-ish wisdom, the girl cut him off. ‘Holdsworth, I think you’d better ring for the police.’
    ‘Surely, Miss Richenda, you cannot believe this young woman is correct? She is feverish with cold and hunger.’
    ‘Possibly. But her eyes look clear. I’ve seen a lot of fever and hunger in the shelters, and she looks more shocked to me. Not that meeting Mrs Wilson wouldn’t be a shock to anyone’s system.’ Miss Richenda uttered an unladylike bark of laughter. It was so inappropriate to the circumstances that I felt tears sting my eyes.
    ‘I am sure it will prove to be nothing, miss,’ soothed Holdsworth.
    ‘Let’s find out,’ said Miss Richenda. ‘C’mon, girl, show us where your body is.’
    To my surprise I found my legs were able to function. I tottered ahead. The library was as I had left it with the door to the servants’ passage still open. By the light of the lamps I could make out the shadow of a man’s leg. I turned my face away and pointed. Miss Richenda dived forward into the