Black Coffee - Agatha Christie [8]
Lucia caught his arm, with a cry of alarm. ‘No, Richard, you mustn’t. You mustn’t. Don’t do that, I beg you. Don’t do that.’
‘You’re afraid for your lover, are you?’ sneered Richard.
‘He’s not my lover,’ Lucia retorted, fiercely. Richard took her by the shoulders. ‘Perhaps he isn’t – yet,’ he said. ‘Perhaps he –’
Hearing voices outside in the hall, he stopped speaking. Making an effort to control himself, he moved to the fireplace, took out a cigarette-case and lighter, and lit a cigarette. As the door from the hall opened, and the voices grew louder, Lucia moved to the chair Richard had recently vacated, and sat. Her face was white, her hands clasped together in tension.
Miss Amory entered, accompanied by her niece Barbara, an extremely modern young woman of twenty-one. Swinging her handbag, Barbara crossed the room towards her. ‘Hello, Lucia, are you all right now?’ she asked.
Chapter 3
Lucia forced a smile as Barbara Amory approached her. ‘Yes, thank you, darling,’ she replied. ‘I’m perfectly all right. Really.’
Barbara looked down at her cousin’s beautiful, black-haired wife. ‘Not broken any glad tidings to Richard, have you?’ she asked. ‘Is that what it’s all about?’
‘Glad tidings? What glad tidings? I don’t know what you mean,’ protested Lucia.
Barbara clasped her arms together, and made a rocking motion as though cradling a baby. Lucia’s reaction to this pantomime was a sad smile and a shake of the head. Miss Amory, however, collapsed in horror onto a chair. ‘Really, Barbara!’ she admonished.
‘Well,’ said Barbara, ‘accidents will happen, you know.’
Her aunt shook her head vigorously. ‘I cannot think what young girls are coming to, nowadays,’ she announced to no one in particular. ‘In my young days we did not speak flippantly of motherhood, and I would never have allowed –’ She broke off at the sound of the door opening, and looked around in time to see Richard leave the room. ‘You’ve embarrassed Richard,’ she continued, addressing Barbara, ‘and I can’t say I’m at all surprised.’
‘Well, Aunt Caroline,’ Barbara replied, ‘you are a Victorian, you know, born when the old Queen still had a good twenty years of life ahead of her. You’re thoroughly representative of your generation, and I dare say I am of mine.’
‘I’m in no doubt as to which I prefer –’, her aunt began, only to be interrupted by Barbara, who chuckled and said, ‘I think the Victorians were too marvellous. Fancy telling children that babies were found under gooseberry bushes! I think it’s sweet.’
She fumbled in her handbag, found a cigarette and a lighter, and lit the cigarette. She was about to begin speaking again when Miss Amory silenced her with a gesture. ‘Oh, do stop being silly, Barbara. I’m really very worried about this poor child here, and I wish you wouldn’t make fun of me.’
Lucia suddenly broke down and began to weep. Trying to wipe the tears from her eyes, she said between sobs, ‘You are all so good to me. No one was ever kind to me until I came here, until I married Richard. It’s been wonderful to be here with you. I can’t help it, I –’
‘There, there,’ murmured Miss Amory, rising and going to Lucia. She patted her on the shoulder. ‘There, there, my dear. I know what you mean – living abroad all your life – most unsuitable for a young girl. Not a proper kind of upbringing at all, and of course the continentals have some very peculiar ideas about education. There, there.’
Lucia stood up, and looked about her, uncertainly. She allowed Miss Amory to lead her to the settee, and sat at one end while Miss Amory patted cushions around her and then sat next to her. ‘Of course you’re upset, my dear. But you must try to forget about Italy. Although, of course, the dear Italian lakes are quite delightful in the spring, I always think. Very suitable for holidays, but