Cat Among the Pigeons - Agatha Christie [51]
“Excitement,” said Miss Bulstrode warningly, “isn’t always a good foundation for married life. Send Miss Chadwick to me, will you?”
Miss Chadwick bustled in.
“The Emir Ibrahim, Shaista’s uncle, is taking her out tomorrow Chaddy. If he comes himself, tell him she is making good progress.”
“She’s not very bright,” said Miss Chadwick.
“She’s immature intellectually,” agreed Miss Bulstrode. “But she has a remarkably mature mind in other ways. Sometimes, when you talk to her, she might be a woman of twenty-five. I suppose it’s because of the sophisticated life she’s led. Paris, Teheran, Cairo, Istanbul and all the rest of it. In this country we’re inclined to keep our children too young. We account it a merit when we say: ‘She’s still quite a child.’ It isn’t a merit. It’s a grave handicap in life.”
“I don’t know that I quite agree with you there, dear,” said Miss Chadwick. “I’ll go now and tell Shaista about her uncle. You go away for your weekend and don’t worry about anything.”
“Oh! I shan’t,” said Miss Bulstrode. “It’s a good opportunity, really, for leaving Eleanor Vansittart in charge and seeing how she shapes. With you and her in charge nothing’s likely to go wrong.”
“I hope not, indeed. I’ll go and find Shaista.”
Shaista looked surprised and not at all pleased to hear that her uncle had arrived in London.
“He wants to take me out tomorrow?” she grumbled. “But Miss Chadwick, it is all arranged that I go out with Giselle d’Aubray and her mother.”
“I’m afraid you’ll have to do that another time.”
“But I would much rather go out with Giselle,” said Shaista crossly. “My uncle is not at all amusing. He eats and then he grunts and it is all very dull.”
“You mustn’t talk like that. It is impolite,” said Miss Chadwick. “Your uncle is only in England for a week, I understand, and naturally he wants to see you.”
“Perhaps he has arranged a new marriage for me,” said Shaista, her face brightening. “If so, that would be fun.”
“If that is so, he will no doubt tell you so. But you are too young to get married yet awhile. You must first finish your education.”
“Education is very boring,” said Shaista.
II
Sunday morning dawned bright and serene—Miss Shapland had departed soon after Miss Bulstrode on Saturday. Miss Johnson, Miss Rich and Miss Blake left on Sunday morning.
Miss Vansittart, Miss Chadwick, Miss Rowan and Mademoiselle Blanche were left in charge.
“I hope all the girls won’t talk too much,” said Miss Chadwick dubiously. “About poor Miss Springer I mean.”
“Let us hope,” said Eleanor Vansittart, “that the whole affair will soon be forgotten.” She added: “If any parents talk to me about it, I shall discourage them. It will be best, I think, to take quite a firm line.”
The girls went to church at 10 o’clock accompanied by Miss Vansittart and Miss Chadwick. Four girls who were Roman Catholics were escorted by Angèle Blanche to a rival religious establishment. Then, about half past eleven, the cars began to roll into the drive. Miss Vansittart, graceful, poised and dignified, stood in the hall. She greeted mothers smilingly, produced their offspring and adroitly turned aside any unwanted references to the recent tragedy.
“Terrible,” she said, “yes, quite terrible, but, you do understand, we don’t talk about it here. All these young minds—such a pity for them to dwell on it.”
Chaddy was also on the spot greeting old friends among the parents, discussing plans for the holidays and speaking affectionately of the various daughters.
“I do think Aunt Isabel might have come and taken me out,” said Julia who with Jennifer was standing with her nose pressed against the window of one of the classrooms, watching the comings and goings on the drive outside.
“Mummy’s going to take me out next weekend,” said Jennifer. “Daddy’s got some important people coming down this weekend so she couldn’t come today.”
“There goes Shaista,” said Julia, “all togged up for London. Oo-ee! Just look at the heels on her shoes. I bet old Johnson doesn’t like those shoes.”
A liveried chauffeur was opening the door of a