The Adventure of the Christmas Pudding - Agatha Christie [6]
‘It shows a consideration,’ said Poirot, thoughtfully, ‘which seems almost out of character.’
‘Oh, I don’t know. You can have family affections at the same time as wishing to prey on a rich young girl. Sarah will be very rich, you know, not only with what we leave her – and of course that won’t be very much because most of the money goes with the place to Colin, my grandson. But her mother was a very rich woman and Sarah will inherit all her money when she’s twenty-one. She’s only twenty now. No, I do think it was nice of Desmond to mind about his sister. And he didn’t pretend she was anything very wonderful or that. She’s a shorthand typist, I gather – does secretarial work in London. And he’s been as good as his word and does carry up trays to her. Not all the time, of course, but quite often. So I think he has some nice points. But all the same,’ said Mrs Lacey with great decision, ‘I don’t want Sarah to marry him.’
‘From all I have heard and been told,’ said Poirot, ‘that would indeed be a disaster.’
‘Do you think it would be possible for you to help us in any way?’ asked Mrs Lacey.
‘I think it is possible, yes,’ said Hercule Poirot, ‘but I do not wish to promise too much. For the Mr Desmond Lee-Wortleys of this world are clever, Madame. But do not despair. One can, perhaps, do a little something. I shall at any rate put forth my best endeavours, if only in gratitude for your kindness in asking me here for this Christmas festivity.’ He looked round him. ‘And it cannot be so easy these days to have Christmas festivities.’
‘No, indeed,’ Mrs Lacey sighed. She leaned forward. ‘Do you know, M. Poirot, what I really dream of – what I would love to have?’
‘But tell me, Madame.’
‘I simply long to have a small, modern bungalow. No, perhaps not a bungalow exactly, but a small, modern, easy to run house built somewhere in the park here, and live in it with an absolute up-to-date kitchen and no long passages. Everything easy and simple.’
‘It is a very practical idea, Madame.’
‘It’s not practical for me,’ said Mrs Lacey. ‘My husband adores this place. He loves living here. He doesn’t mind being slightly uncomfortable, he doesn’t mind the inconveniences and he would hate, simply hate, to live in a small modern house in the park!’
‘So you sacrifice yourself to his wishes?’
Mrs Lacey drew herself up. ‘I do not consider it a sacrifice, M. Poirot,’ she said. ‘I married my husband with the wish to make him happy. He has been a good husband to me and made me very happy all these years, and I wish to give happiness to him.’
‘So you will continue to live here,’ said Poirot.
‘It’s not really too uncomfortable,’ said Mrs Lacey.
‘No, no,’ said Poirot, hastily. ‘On the contrary, it is most comfortable. Your central heating and your bath water are perfection.’
‘We spent a lot of money on making the house comfortable to live in,’ said Mrs Lacey. ‘We were able to sell some land. Ripe for development, I think they call it. Fortunately right out of sight of the house on the other side of the park. Really rather an ugly bit of ground with no nice view, but we got a very good price for it. So that we have been able to have as many improvements as possible.’
‘But the service, Madame?’
‘Oh, well, that presents less difficulty than you might think. Of course, one cannot expect to be looked after and waited upon as one used to be. Different people come in from the village. Two women in the morning, another two to cook lunch and wash it up, and different ones again in the evening. There are plenty of people who want to come and work for a few hours a day. Of course for Christmas we are very lucky. My dear Mrs Ross