Act of Murder Read Free Page B

that what I am? A future source of horrid amusement for the lower
orders?’
    Richard Throstle reached into his pocket and pulled out a small brown bottle.
    ‘What is that?’
    ‘This, my dearest, is a highly recommended potion that has been prepared by a local chemist.’
    ‘But what is it? If it isn’t oil of peppermint –’
    Richard shook his head with a smile. ‘You don’t apply this. You take it. It’s Chlorodyne.’
    She approached him cautiously, gazing down at the brown bottle and the clear liquid it contained as if it were a venomous snake.
    ‘It’s an analgesic. When I described your symptoms the chemist said this would do the trick.’
    She reached out and held the bottle in her hand. Slowly she removed the stopper and lifted it to her nose. ‘Ugh!’ she grimaced, and held it at arm’s length.
    ‘Notwithstanding, dearest, it’s the latest thing. Take it, and your faces will be history.’
    She looked into his eyes. Was there another hint of mockery? Or was it something else? ‘Who was that man you spoke to?’ she asked, delaying the moment in spite of the throbbing in
her face.
    ‘Where?’
    ‘I watched you. I was waiting in agony. As you knew I would be.’
    Richard nodded. ‘Oh, that? He is a board member of the Wigan and District Sunday School Union.’
    She smiled involuntarily.
    ‘He wanted to know if I would be willing to present The Magic Wand at their next gathering.’
    ‘I see.’
    She saw him hold her gaze for a second before continuing.
    ‘I refused, of course.’
    ‘Why?’
    ‘Why? It’s hardly a profitable venture, nor a likely prospect. Sunday afternoon with a gaggle of filthy little miners’ spawn! Besides, it would mean staying here one more
night.’ He gave an impish smile. ‘It might please Saint Edward if I did something virtuous for a change. But it would not please me!’
    ‘Edward is beyond pleasing.’
    Richard laughed. ‘No doubt he’ll be kneeling on some hard wooden board in a windswept old chapel on the moors as we speak.’
    She smiled coquettishly. ‘You make him sound like a . . . a sanctimonious dullard. The very idea!’
    ‘No, really? How very unfraternal of me.’
    ‘He would dearly love to provide some financial support.’
    Richard laughed and threw his head back. ‘And then insist we make nothing but Temperance slides and tales from the Bible! He’d finish with a whole barrage of chromatropes, dazzling
the poor unwashed until they leave the room dizzy and blinded.’
    ‘That’s exactly how they leave his sermons!’ she laughed, her pain temporarily forgotten in her desire to mock her brother. ‘Dizzy with his bluster and blinded by his
righteousness!’
    Richard put his arms around her waist. ‘Forget him, my dear. And amuse yourself with the thought of his outrage if he really knew what we had done.’
    She detached herself and stared down at the threadbare carpet. ‘You know how I feel about that.’
    ‘You forget, my sweet, that you have played a most active part in establishing our . . . shall we say, repertoire of delight? Our very profitable repertoire of delight.’
    Georgina blushed and placed a hand flat against her right cheek.
    He reached out and took the medicine from her left hand, then went over to the basin and poured a small measure into a glass. ‘Come, my dear, I can’t bear to see you in pain any
longer. Swallow this.’
    She moved slowly towards him as if she were walking to a tumbril and took the proffered glass. Its pungent aroma seemed stronger, more volatile, now it was freed from its container, and she
screwed her eyes closed as she raised it to her lips.
    ‘That’s my good girl,’ he said as the liquid went down. ‘And if it makes you feel any better, I will consider the offer from the gentleman representing the Sunday School
Union.’
    She gasped and clutched at her throat. ‘It’s bitter!’ she croaked hoarsely. ‘It’s so very bitter!’ She recoiled in disgust, not only at the vile