Death be Not Proud by C F Dunn Page B

at the ankles. The stronger light from the range of windows showed that she must have been in her late eighties, but her eyes made her look much younger. They scrutinized us as we crossed the room towards her.
    â€œMay I introduce my father, Colonel D’Eresby,” I said formally. Her mouth twitched as he held out his hand to her; she shook it lightly.
    â€œWell, well, Hugh, it has been a long time.” Recognition spilled across his face, and it lit in the broadest smile I had seen from him in many years. “Didn’t recognize me at first, did you? Must be something to do with these,” and she pulled at the wrinkled skin that lined her face.
    â€œJoan… I had no idea you were still living here,” he stammered.
    â€œStill living, don’t you mean? And I haven’t seen you for… now, let me see… an outrageously long time. Your mother was still alive then, and you had only been married for a few years. Is this your eldest?” she asked, peering at me.
    â€œNo, Emma is my youngest daughter.”
    â€œWell, well. I can see both your parents in you, my dear, but you look more like your grandmother. How is she, by the way?”
    I was thoroughly confused, but my father seemed to be following the thread.
    â€œShe’s had a stroke, but she’s holding her own. Penny will want to be remembered to you.” He saw the query on my face. “I’m sorry, Joan; Emma – this is Mrs Seaton. This is Mr and Mrs Seaton’s farm, where your grandfather came to recover. It was Mrs Seaton who was your grandmother’s friend, if you remember.”
    â€œ Both of them, my dear; all the families knew each other back then. We had such fun, but that was an age ago.” Her eyes misted fleetingly, then her tone became brisk. “Now, you said you wanted some information on the Lynes family…”
    â€œEmma! You said this was about your research,” my father interjected, his face clouding with displeasure.
    â€œIt is…” I began, already on the defensive, but Mrs Seaton patted the sofa for me to sit beside her while giving my father a stern look.
    â€œBe quiet, Hugh; the girl’s old enough to know what she wants to ask.”
    My father puffed but kept quiet, eyeing the pair of us as if we had just won his favourite marble.
    She neatened her tweed skirt over her knees. “The Lynes – yes. The family’s died out now, of course, and they never lived in this house, but there are still remnants of them in the church – what’s left of it. Is that what you are referring to?”
    â€œI think it must be; I’m afraid I have very little to go on.”
    â€œWell, my dear, my husband was most interested in the history of the area; that’s why he got on so well with your grandfather, of course. My husband was twenty years older than I am – if you are trying to work out the numbers.”
    I smiled sheepishly and tucked my fingers away in my sleeves where they had been secretly adding them up.
    â€œNow, my husband did a great deal of research into the notable families of the area – including the Lynes – who,being a new family as such, proved somewhat elusive to trace. However…” she said as she saw my face fall, “there is a window – and a tomb – commemorating them, if you would like to have a look. Oh, and then, of course, there are the stories .”
    Stories. She could see she had my full attention.
    â€œJust local tittle-tattle, embellished over the years, no doubt, but quite intriguing, nonetheless.”
    Dad’s eyebrows were drawn so close together, barely a millimetre existed between them.
    â€œJoan, I have to tell you – and I’m sorry to have to say this in front of you, Emma – but my daughter has been quite unwell lately. We have been very worried about her.”
    â€œDad – no ,” I moaned.
    Mrs Seaton smiled. “Well, I can see you