Silence in Court by Patricia Wentworth Page B

Maquisten is very generous,” said Magda Brayle.
    Dennis laughed.
    â€œShe’s very clever—little sops all round to keep us from hating Carey. I don’t know about Robert, but I got a cheque—quite a nice fat cheque. Carey and I are dining out and doing a show on the strength of it tomorrow.”
    Honor looked under her pale eyelashes at Magda.
    â€œYou didn’t get anything? But of course you’re not one of the family.”
    It was a bald statement of fact without apparent malice. Carey wondered. Could you be so inept as that without meaning anything? She thought she preferred Honor silent, though it got on your nerves a bit.
    If Magda’s feelings were hurt, she did not allow it to appear.
    â€œMrs. Maquisten is always very kind,” she said.
    Carey thought her colour rose a little. Perhaps it was this faint flush that made her suddenly realize that Magda’s looks had possibilities. Her features were good. A little darkening of the eyebrows, a touch of lipstick, some colour in the cheeks, would do wonders for her. She wanted colour. All that starchy whiteness, so becoming to most women, just blotted her out. Colour, and the play of expression—if she had these, she would be a very pretty woman.
    â€œA penny for your thoughts,” said Dennis.
    Carey blushed, and was laughed at.
    Honor disappeared after dinner. Carey and Dennis spent a companionable evening. They had reached the stage of intimacy at which you talk if you want to, and sit silent if you have nothing to say or if what you would like to say is not ready to put into words. She discovered that he sang charmingly to the guitar.
    â€œPity Aunt Honoria doesn’t like music, or I might be able to sing my way into being residuary legatee.”
    Carey sat up straight.
    â€œDon’t any of you ever talk or think of anything but Cousin Honoria’s will?”
    He smiled affably.
    â€œOh, sometimes—just to fill in odd moments.”
    â€œBecause it’s frightfully bad for you, and frightfully boring.”
    He twanged a soft descending arpeggio.
    â€œBoring? Oh, no, darling—we’re passionately interested. It’s the golden link that binds us.”
    â€œThat’s what I mean. It’s horrid, and it’s dull.”
    He shook his head.
    â€œNot dull, my sweet. It combines a really good gamble with the excitement of the chase. There’s only one thing that offers a bigger thrill, and that is making love. Combine the three, and you have the perfect situation.”
    Carey looked at him with an odd little smile.
    â€œYou do like talking nonsense, don’t you?”
    â€œThat’s not nonsense—it’s a profession of faith. And I’m one of those rare people who translates faith into works.”
    â€œI suppose you know what you’re talking about. I don’t.”
    â€œYou will, darling. I’m leading tactfully up to the fact that now you are an heiress I shall probably make love to you.”
    Carey’s chin lifted.
    â€œHow kind!”
    â€œYes, isn’t it? I’m a little handicapped, but I can still put one foot forward, and the wounded hero stunt is said to go down well. If I were to come over faint, would you go down on your knees beside me?”
    â€œNo, I shouldn’t. I should call Magda.”
    â€œA heart of stone! I must think again.”
    â€œI’d much rather you went on singing.”
    Rather to her surprise, he complied, and after a little put down the guitar and took up a book. But when Carey got up to say good-night he reached for his crutch and limped to the door with her. She thought he was going to open it, but he stood there, looking at her and smiling.
    â€œPleasant dreams.”
    â€œThank you.”
    â€œAbout me.”
    â€œI see quite a lot of you in the day.”
    His eyes held a spark of malice.
    â€œThere are several answers to that—but perhaps better not. Kiss me