A Christmas Guest by Anne Perry Read Free Book Online Page A

Perhaps one only realizes it when they are gone. The void left behind is greater than one can conceive beforehand.”
    You are overplaying it, Grandmama thought to herself. You wouldn’t even have her in the house! Outwardly she smiled. It was a totally artificial expression.
    â€œYou are very naturally suffering from shock,” she commiserated. “When one’s own generation passes away it is a reminder of mortality, the shadow of death across one’s own path. I remember how I felt when my husband died.” So she did—the most marvelous liberation of her life. Even if she could tell no one, and had to pretend to be devastated, and wear mourning for the rest of her days, like the Queen.
    â€œOh, I am sorry!” Bedelia said quickly. “You poor soul! And now you have come all the way in this weather to bring this news to me personally. And I am sitting here without even offering you tea. My wits are completely scattered. I still have my beloved Arthur, how can I complain of anything? Perhaps poor Maude has gone to a better place. She was never a happy creature. I shall allow that to be my comfort.” She rose to her feet a trifle unsteadily.
    â€œThank you, that is most kind of you,” Grandmama accepted. “I must admit it has been a dreadful day, and I am quite exhausted. I am so glad you have your husband. He will no doubt be a great strength to you. One can be very … alone.”
    Bedelia’s face softened in concern. “I can scarcely imagine it. I have always been so fortunate. This room is a little chill. Would you care to come through to the withdrawing room where it is far warmer? We shall all take tea and consider what must be done. Of course if you prefer to return to St. Mary in the Marsh as soon as possible, we shall understand.”
    â€œThank you,” Grandmama said weakly. “I should be most grateful for as long a rest as I may take, without imposing upon you. And certainly tea would be very welcome.” She also rose to her feet, as unsteadily as she could without risking actually falling over, which would be ridiculous, and only to be resorted to if all else failed.
    Bedelia led the way back across the hall to the withdrawing room, and Grandmama followed, refusing to offer her arm to the younger woman. She must be consistent about her own exhaustion or she might be disbelieved.
    The withdrawing room was spacious also and the warmth from the enormous fire engulfed them both as soon as they entered. There was too much furniture for more modern tastes; carved sideboards, heavily stuffed sofas and chairs with antimacassars on all of them. There were also hard-backed chairs by the walls with fat leather-upholstered seats and slightly bowed legs, and several footstools with tassels around the edges. A brightly colored Turkish rug was worn duller where possibly generations of feet had passed. On the walls were embroidered samplers, paintings of every variety large and small, and several stuffed animals in glass cases, even a case full of butterflies as dry as silk. The colors were mostly hot: golds, browns, and ocher reds. Caroline would have thought it oppressive. Grandmama was annoyed to find it very agreeable, indeed almost familiar.
    The people in it were entirely another matter. She was introduced to them, and Bedelia was obliged to explain her presence to them.
    â€œMy dears.” Everyone turned to her. “This is Mrs. Ellison, who has most graciously come in person rather than send a message to tell us some terrible news.” She turned to Grandmama. “I am certain you would prefer to sit down, perhaps by the fire? May I introduce you to my sister, Mrs. Agnes Sullivan.” She indicated a woman whose superficial resemblance to her was explained by the relationship. They appeared of a similar height, although Mrs. Sullivan did not rise as the three men had done. Her coloring had probably been similar to Bedelia’s in