The Devil at Archangel Read Free

talk—where there will not be so many memories,
    hein?'
    Christina paused. She could see absolutely no reason why this old
    friend of Aunt Grace should want to talk to her, apart from sheer
    kindness of heart in wishing to comfort her in her bereavement. But
    this she could not quite believe, although she would have been at a
    loss to explain why. The strongest impression she got from Mrs
    Brandon was one of cool self-containment. It was hard to imagine her
    wasting time on meaningless gestures of sympathy. She wondered
    why she had come now instead of for the funeral, l and who had
    informed her of Aunt Grace's death in the I first place. She had had
    the task of passing on the sad news to Aunt Grace's friends and
    acquaintances and she knew quite well she had not written to anyone
    called Brandon. Perhaps Mrs Brandon was here at the auction
    because she I too had wished to buy some last souvenir of her friend,
    but 1 again this seemed to be out of character.

    But why am I saying that? she thought, appalled. I've only just met
    her. She's a stranger to me. I shouldn't be attributing motives or
    anything else to her on first meeting.
    She smiled over-brightly, trying to compensate for her own guilty
    feelings.
    'There is the place where I'm staying,' she said, a trace of doubt
    creeping into her voice. Somehow she could not visualise Marcelle
    Brandon among the faded tapestry covers and mock horse brasses of
    Mrs Thurston's sitting room at the Bay Horse.
    'But that would be ideal,' her visitor said smoothly, scooping up
    Christina's mental arguments and dismissing them before they could
    find utterance. 'Perhaps there might also be some coffee.'
    'I'm not sure about that,' Christina admitted. 'There'll certainly be tea.'
    .
    And tea there was, accompanied by some rather powdery scones.
    Marcelle Brandon appeared to bear up philosophically under this, but
    Christina noticed that she barely touched her cup and merely
    crumbled one of the scones on her plate. Although she had said she
    wanted to talk, she seemed in no hurry to break the silence that had
    sprung up between them. She seemed, Christina thought idly, a
    thousand miles away, her mind fixed on some interior vision, not
    altogether pleasant. Then she reproached herself for an over-active
    imagination. After all, this woman had been a close friend of her
    godmother's. It was natural that she should seem a little withdrawn. It
    could not be a happy experience for her to be here now, knowing that
    they would never meet again.
    She cleared her throat. 'You were very fond of my godmother,
    madame?'

    Mrs Brandon seemed to return with a start to her-present
    surroundings. She lifted one elegantly shaped eyebrow.
    'Naturellement , or I should hardly be here.'
    'No,' Christina flushed slightly. Then she took her courage in both
    hands. 'Forgive me, madame, but I don't really understand why you
    have come.' She swallowed. 'I—I suppose it's none of my business,
    but...'
    But the half-expected snub was not forthcoming. Instead Mrs
    Brandon smiled slightly.
    'Au contraire. It is precisely on your business that I have come. Your
    godmother wrote to me when she first suspected she might be
    seriously ill. She never mentioned this to you? No, I thought not. She
    was concerned as to what I might become of you when she died as she
    was aware that any financial provision she might make in her will
    would in all probability be contested in the courts, and this would 1 be
    both costly and unpleasant for you. Her niece—is it not?—plainly
    resented you already and would have accused you of exerting undue
    influence on your godmother if she had made you a bequest as she
    wished.'
    Christina nodded dully. 'Mrs Webster doesn't like me— not that
    we've met very often. She hardly came near Aunt Grace when she
    was alive ..She paused, aware that she might be giving away too
    much, but Mrs Brandon gave an understanding nod.
    'You are very young, ma chere —Christina, is it not? And you