A Christmas Guest by Anne Perry

there are those I have been acquainted with for years about whom I know far less. I have never made such excellent friends with anyone so rapidly, or with such a natural affection.” That was a monstrous lie—wasn’t it? “I must admit her trust in me was most heartwarming, and that was a great deal the reason why I could not possibly allow anyone else to come to you now,” she hurried on. “I shall never forget Maude, or the confidence she placed in me regarding her life and its meaning.” It was an extraordinary feeling to have made such statements as if they were true, as if she and Maude had become instant and total friends.
    She realized with a flutter of absurdity, even of sweetness, that it was not completely a lie. Maude had told her more of meaning in a couple of days than most of her acquaintances had in years, although not the personal details she implied to her wretched family!
    And grudgingly, like the lancing of a boil, she admitted that she had actually liked Maude, at least more than she had expected to, considering the gross imposition of having her in Caroline’s home for Christmas—uninvited!
    Bedelia stared at her incredulously. “Really? But you knew her for barely a day … or two!”
    â€œBut we had little to do but talk to each other. She was fascinating at the luncheon and dinner table, but even more so when we were out walking, just the two of us. I was very flattered that she should tell me so much. I found myself speaking equally frankly to her, and finding her most gentle and free from critical judgment. It was a quite … quite wonderful experience,” she added too quickly. She said it purely to frighten them into believing she knew something of whoever it was who had murdered Maude, if indeed they had. This was a deviousness added to her new grief. She intended them to think her too desolate to consider the long carriage ride in the dark to go home again!
    She also found, to her dismay, that she wished quite painfully that it were all true. She had not been anything like such friends with Maude. Nor had she confided in her the agonies of her own life, the shame she had carried for years that she had not had the courage to leave her abusive husband and flee abroad as his first wife had done!
    But it was startlingly sweet to think that Maude might have sympathized rather than despising her for a coward, as she despised herself. There would have been nothing in the world more precious than a friend who understood. But that was idiotic! Maude would never have submitted herself to such treatment.
    â€œThen you grieve with us,” Arthur said gently, intruding across her thoughts. “Please feel welcome here, and do not consider the journey back to St. Mary tonight. It will be dark quite soon, and you must be both tired and distressed. I am certain we can supply anything you might need, such as a nightgown and toiletries. And of course we have plenty of room.”
    â€œSince Lord Woollard has left, the guest room is perfectly available,” Clara put in quickly.
    â€œOh yes, the guest who was staying with you before, when poor Maude arrived,” Grandmama noted. “How very kind of you. I really should be most grateful. May I inform my coachman of your generosity, so he can return to St. Mary? It is possible Mr. and Mrs. Fielding may require the coach tomorrow. And of course if they do not hear, they may worry that something has happened to me.”
    â€œNaturally,” Arthur agreed. “Would you care to tell him yourself, or shall I have the butler inform him?”
    â€œThat would be very kind of you,” she accepted. “And ask him to tell Mrs. Fielding of your graciousness, and that I am perfectly well … just … just so grieved.”
    â€œOf course.” Now the die was cast. What on earth was she thinking of? Her stomach lurched and her mouth was dry.
    She sipped the