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Sparkling Cyanide. Агата Кристи
Читать онлайн.Название Sparkling Cyanide
Год выпуска 0
isbn 9780007422821
Автор произведения Агата Кристи
Издательство HarperCollins
There were certain interests. Certain families. You had to be sponsored.
He considered marriage. Up to now he had thought very little about the subject. He had a dim picture in the back of his mind of some handsome creature who would stand hand in hand with him sharing his life and his ambitions; who would give him children and to whom he could unburden his thoughts and perplexities. Some woman who felt as he did and who would be eager for his success and proud of him when he achieved it.
Then one day he went to one of the big receptions at Kidderminster House. The Kidderminster connection was the most powerful in England. They were, and always had been, a great political family. Lord Kidderminster, with his little Imperial, his tall, distinguished figure, was known by sight everywhere. Lady Kidderminster’s large rocking-horse face was familiar on public platforms and on committees all over England. They had five daughters, three of them beautiful, and one son still at Eton.
The Kidderminsters made a point of encouraging likely young members of the Party. Hence Farraday’s invitation.
He did not know many people there and he was standing alone near a window about twenty minutes after his arrival. The crowd by the tea table was thinning out and passing into the other rooms when Stephen noticed a tall girl in black standing alone by the table looking for a moment slightly at a loss.
Stephen Farraday had a very good eye for faces. He had picked up that very morning in the Tube a Home Gossip discarded by a woman traveller and glanced over it with slight amusement. There had been a rather smudgy reproduction of Lady Alexandra Hayle, third daughter of the Earl of Kidderminster, and below a gossipy little extract about her—‘… always been of a shy and retiring disposition—devoted to animals—Lady Alexandra has taken a course in Domestic Science as Lady Kidderminster believes in her daughters being thoroughly grounded in all domestic subjects.’
That was Lady Alexandra Hayle standing there, and with the unerring perception of a shy person, Stephen knew that she, too, was shy. The plainest of the five daughters, Alexandra had always suffered under a sense of inferiority. Given the same education and upbringing as her sisters, she had never quite attained their savoir faire, which annoyed her mother considerably. Sandra must make an effort—it was absurd to appear so awkward, so gauche.
Stephen did not know that, but he knew that the girl was ill at ease and unhappy. And suddenly a rush of conviction came to him. This was his chance! ‘Take it, you fool, take it! It’s now or never!’
He crossed the room to the long buffet. Standing beside the girl he picked up a sandwich. Then, turning, and speaking nervously and with an effort (no acting, that—he was nervous!) he said:
‘I say, do you mind if I speak to you? I don’t know many people here and I can see you don’t either. Don’t snub me. As a matter of fact I’m awfully s-s-shy’ (his stammer of years ago came back at a most opportune moment) ‘and—and I think you’re s-s-shy too, aren’t you?’
The girl flushed—her mouth opened. But as he had guessed, she could not say it. Too difficult to find words to say ‘I’m the daughter of the house.’ Instead she admitted quietly:
‘As a matter of fact, I—I am shy. I always have been.’
Stephen went on quickly:
‘It’s a horrible feeling. I don’t know whether one ever gets over it. Sometimes I feel absolutely tongue-tied.’
‘So do I.’
He went on—talking rather quickly, stammering a little—his manner was boyish, appealing. It was a manner that had been natural to him a few years ago and which was now consciously retained and cultivated. It was young, naïve, disarming.
He led the conversation soon to the subject of plays, mentioned one that was running which had attracted a good deal of interest. Sandra had seen it. They discussed it. It had dealt with some point of the social services and they were soon deep in a discussion of these measures.
Stephen did not overdo things. He saw Lady Kidderminster entering the room, her eyes in search of her daughter. It was no part of his plan to be introduced now. He murmured a goodbye.
‘I have enjoyed talking to you. I was simply hating the whole show till I found you. Thank you.’
He left Kidderminster House with a feeling of exhilaration. He had taken his chance. Now to consolidate what he had started.
For several days after that he haunted the neighbourhood of Kidderminster House. Once Sandra came out with one of her sisters. Once she left the house alone, but with a hurried step. He shook his head. That would not do, she was obviously en route to some particular appointment. Then, about a week after the party, his patience was rewarded. She came out one morning with a small black Scottie dog and she turned with a leisurely step in the direction of the park.
Five minutes later, a young man walking rapidly in the opposite direction pulled up short and stopped in front of Sandra. He exclaimed blithely:
‘I say, what luck! I wondered if I’d ever see you again.’
His tone was so delighted that she blushed just a little.
He stooped to the dog.
‘What a jolly little fellow. What’s his name?’
‘MacTavish.’
‘Oh, very Scotch.’
They talked dog for some moments. Then Stephen said, with a trace of embarrassment:
‘I never told you my name the other day. It’s Farraday. Stephen Farraday. I’m an obscure MP.’
He looked inquiringly and saw the colour come up in her cheeks again as she said: ‘I’m Alexandra Hayle.’
He responded to that very well. He might have been back in the OUDS. Surprise, recognition, dismay, embarrassment!
‘Oh, you’re—you’re Lady Alexandra Hayle—you—my goodness! What a stupid fool you must have thought me the other day!’
Her answering move was inevitable. She was bound both by her breeding and her natural kindliness to do all she could to put him at his ease, to reassure him.
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