The Imbroglio at the Villa Pozzi (An Angela Marchmont Mystery Book 6) by Clara Benson Page A
Authors: Clara Benson
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instead.’
‘I think something about turning to God in times of despair might be more appropriate, in view of what’s happened,’ said Mary soberly.
They left shortly afterwards, and Elsa and Angela decided to remove outside to the terrace since it had turned out to be a beautiful evening, while Mr. Morandi bustled off to see to business.
‘Look, it’s the Quinns,’ said Elsa suddenly, as she caught sight of Mrs. and Miss Quinn sitting at a little table apart, conversing earnestly in low voices. ‘Why, it was only this morning that we were holding that silly séance, but what a lot has happened since then! Do you think we ought to give it another try? We still haven’t talked to the dead, and we invented such a beautiful husband for you it seems a shame to waste him.’
Angela looked across at the Quinns. Mrs. Quinn had a serious expression on her face which was quite unlike her, while Asphodel was looking as pale and gloomy as ever. As she watched, they stood up and walked down the terrace steps and into the garden, presumably on their way home.
‘Wait here,’ said Angela to Elsa, then jumped up and ran after them. She had remembered Miss Quinn’s supposed vision of that morning and was curious to know more about it.
‘Oh, Mrs. Marchmont,’ said Mrs. Quinn in her usual manner as she saw Angela. ‘Isn’t it a pleasant evening after all that horrid rain?’
Angela did not reply, but said to Asphodel, ‘Miss Quinn, what exactly did you see this morning in my room?’
Miss Quinn and her mother glanced at each other and hesitated, and Angela went on, ‘I beg your pardon, I didn’t mean to be quite so blunt, but you’ve no doubt heard about what happened this afternoon at the Villa Pozzi, and I just wondered whether there was any connection between your vision and—what I found.’
It sounded ridiculous even to her own ears, but the Quinns did not seem at all surprised at her question.
‘I knew something had happened,’ said Miss Quinn, ignoring her mother’s warning glance. ‘I knew he was—’ she stopped, unable to go on.
‘You knew he was dead?’ said Angela gently.
Asphodel looked down at the ground and gave the tiniest of nods.
‘I couldn’t see where, or how, but I knew it,’ she said. ‘And it was all my fault, too. I ought to have done more to try and save him. He might still be alive now had I known what to do.’
‘You couldn’t have done anything,’ said Mrs. Quinn.
‘It’s all because of Mrs. Sheridan,’ said Miss Quinn suddenly. ‘I told you I foresaw trouble, didn’t I? And I was right. I only wish I’d known how to put a stop to it before it happened.’
‘Now, there’s nothing you can do for those who are bent on self-destruction,’ said Mrs. Quinn. ‘I’ve told you before you can only show the way. If people choose to ignore you then that’s their own affair.’
‘But it is my fault,’ said Miss Quinn miserably. ‘I sent that letter, and you were right—it only irritated him. I ought to have spoken to him in person instead. Perhaps I might have shown him the danger that lay ahead.’
‘Hush,’ said Mrs. Quinn. ‘It’s too late now, and least said’s soonest mended. You must try and forget that it ever happened. You can’t live other people’s lives for them. I’m only sorry it’s come to this, but it’s best you learn it sooner rather than later or you’ll go through life in agony. Now, let’s go home.’
They went off and Angela returned to her seat to muse on this most interesting and cryptic conversation. Elsa was as mystified as she was, and they spent a few minutes speculating discreetly as to what Mrs. Sheridan might have done to cause her husband to take his own life, but soon gave it up, feeling a little guilty.
Shortly afterwards they were joined by Francis Butler who was alone for once, since his friend was not well and had gone back to their little pensione with the intention of having an early night.
‘Nothing too
‘I think something about turning to God in times of despair might be more appropriate, in view of what’s happened,’ said Mary soberly.
They left shortly afterwards, and Elsa and Angela decided to remove outside to the terrace since it had turned out to be a beautiful evening, while Mr. Morandi bustled off to see to business.
‘Look, it’s the Quinns,’ said Elsa suddenly, as she caught sight of Mrs. and Miss Quinn sitting at a little table apart, conversing earnestly in low voices. ‘Why, it was only this morning that we were holding that silly séance, but what a lot has happened since then! Do you think we ought to give it another try? We still haven’t talked to the dead, and we invented such a beautiful husband for you it seems a shame to waste him.’
Angela looked across at the Quinns. Mrs. Quinn had a serious expression on her face which was quite unlike her, while Asphodel was looking as pale and gloomy as ever. As she watched, they stood up and walked down the terrace steps and into the garden, presumably on their way home.
‘Wait here,’ said Angela to Elsa, then jumped up and ran after them. She had remembered Miss Quinn’s supposed vision of that morning and was curious to know more about it.
‘Oh, Mrs. Marchmont,’ said Mrs. Quinn in her usual manner as she saw Angela. ‘Isn’t it a pleasant evening after all that horrid rain?’
Angela did not reply, but said to Asphodel, ‘Miss Quinn, what exactly did you see this morning in my room?’
Miss Quinn and her mother glanced at each other and hesitated, and Angela went on, ‘I beg your pardon, I didn’t mean to be quite so blunt, but you’ve no doubt heard about what happened this afternoon at the Villa Pozzi, and I just wondered whether there was any connection between your vision and—what I found.’
It sounded ridiculous even to her own ears, but the Quinns did not seem at all surprised at her question.
‘I knew something had happened,’ said Miss Quinn, ignoring her mother’s warning glance. ‘I knew he was—’ she stopped, unable to go on.
‘You knew he was dead?’ said Angela gently.
Asphodel looked down at the ground and gave the tiniest of nods.
‘I couldn’t see where, or how, but I knew it,’ she said. ‘And it was all my fault, too. I ought to have done more to try and save him. He might still be alive now had I known what to do.’
‘You couldn’t have done anything,’ said Mrs. Quinn.
‘It’s all because of Mrs. Sheridan,’ said Miss Quinn suddenly. ‘I told you I foresaw trouble, didn’t I? And I was right. I only wish I’d known how to put a stop to it before it happened.’
‘Now, there’s nothing you can do for those who are bent on self-destruction,’ said Mrs. Quinn. ‘I’ve told you before you can only show the way. If people choose to ignore you then that’s their own affair.’
‘But it is my fault,’ said Miss Quinn miserably. ‘I sent that letter, and you were right—it only irritated him. I ought to have spoken to him in person instead. Perhaps I might have shown him the danger that lay ahead.’
‘Hush,’ said Mrs. Quinn. ‘It’s too late now, and least said’s soonest mended. You must try and forget that it ever happened. You can’t live other people’s lives for them. I’m only sorry it’s come to this, but it’s best you learn it sooner rather than later or you’ll go through life in agony. Now, let’s go home.’
They went off and Angela returned to her seat to muse on this most interesting and cryptic conversation. Elsa was as mystified as she was, and they spent a few minutes speculating discreetly as to what Mrs. Sheridan might have done to cause her husband to take his own life, but soon gave it up, feeling a little guilty.
Shortly afterwards they were joined by Francis Butler who was alone for once, since his friend was not well and had gone back to their little pensione with the intention of having an early night.
‘Nothing too
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