‘Oh, Peter, no. I didn’t mean that. It’s not as though-It would be different if we had come here in another sort of way-’
“That’s the point. Supposing I’d come here to disport myself with somebody who didn’t matter twopence, I should be feeling a complete wart. Quite unreasonably, I dare say, but I can be just as unreasonable as anyone else, if I put my mind to it. But as things are, no! Nothing that you or I have done is any insult to death-unless you think so. Harriet, I should say, if anything could sweeten the atmosphere that wretched old man left behind him, it would be the feeling we-the feeling I have for you, at any rate, and yours for me if you feel like that. I do assure you, so far as I am concerned, there’s nothing trivial about it.’
‘I know that. You’re absolutely right. I won’t think about it that way any more. Peter-there weren’t-there weren’t rats in the cellar, were there?’
‘No, dearest, no rats. And all quite dry. Just a perfectly good cellar.’
‘I’m glad. I was sort of imagining rats. Not that I suppose it matters very much after one’s dead, but I don’t seem to mind all the rest nearly so much if I don’t have to think of rats. In fact, I don’t mind at all, not now.’
‘We shall have to stick round till after the inquest, I’m afraid, but we could easily get put up somewhere else. That’s one thing I was going to ask you about There’s probably a decent inn at Pagford or Broxford.’
Harriet considered this. ‘No. I don’t care about that. I think I’d rather stay here.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes. It’s our house. It never was his-not really. And I’m not going to let you think there’s any difference between your feelings and mine. That would be worse than rats even.’
‘My dear, I’m not proposing to make staying here a test of your affections. Not love, quoth he, but vanity, sets love a task like that. It’s easy enough for me. I was begotten and born in the bed where twelve generations of my forefathers were born and wedded and died-and some of then made pretty poor ends from the parson’s point of view-so I don’t suffer much from hauntings of that kind. But there’s no reason at all why you shouldn’t feel rather differently.’
‘Don’t say another word about it. We’re going to stay here and exorcise the ghosts. I’d rather.’
‘Well, if you change your mind, tell me,’ he said, still uneasy.
‘I shan’t change my mind. We’d better go down now if you’re ready, because Miss Twitterton ought to get some sleep if she can. Now I come to think of it, she didn’t ask for another bedroom, and it’s her own uncle.’
Country people are very matter-of-fact about life and death. They live so close to reality.’
‘So do your sort of people. It’s my sort that go all sanitary and civilised, and get married in hotels and do their births and deaths in nursing-homes where they give offence to nobody. I say, Peter, do we have to feed all these doctors and superintendents and people? And does Bunter carry on all by himself, or ought I to give him some orders?’
‘Experience has taught me,’ said Peter, as they moved down the stair, ‘that no situation finds Bunter unprepared. That he should have procured The Times this morning by the simple expedient of asking the milkman to request the postmistress to telephone to Broxford and have it handed to the bus-conductor to be dropped at the post-office and brought up by the little girl who delivers the telegrams is a trifling example of his resourceful energy. But he would probably take it as a compliment if you were to refer the difficulty to him and congratulate him when he tells you that everything is provided for.’
I will.’
In the short time that they had been upstairs, Mr Puffett had evidently finished his chimney-sweeping, for the sittingroom had been cleared of dust-sheets and a fire kindled upon the hearth. A table had been drawn out into the centre of the room; on it stood a tray filled with plates and cutlery. Passing through into the passage, Harriet was aware of a good deal of activity in progress. Before the shut door of the cellar stood the uniformed figure of P.C. Sellon, like young Harry with his beaver on, prepared to resist any interference with the execution of his duty. In the kitchen, Mrs Ruddle was cutting sandwiches. In the scullery, Crutchley and Mr Puffett were clearing a quantity of pots and pans and old flower-pots from a long deal dresser, preparatory (as appeared from the presence beside them of a steaming pail) to scrubbing it clean to receive the body of its late owner. In the back door stood Bunter, conducting some kind of financial transaction with two men who seemed to have arrived from nowhere in a motor van. Beyond them could be seen Mr MacBride, strolling about the back-yard; he had the air of inventorying its contents with a view to assessing their value. And at that moment there came a heavy knock on the front door.
‘That’ll be the police,’ said Peter. He went to let them in, and at the same time Bunter finished paying the men, came in, and shut the back door sharply.
‘Oh, Bunter,’ said Harriet, ‘I see you’re giving us something to eat-?’
‘Yes, my lady. I succeeded in intercepting the Home & Colonial and procuring some ham for sandwiches. There is also a portion of the foie gras and the Cheshire cheese which we brought from Town. The draught beer in the cellar being at the moment not readily available, I took the liberty of instructing Mrs Ruddle to fetch a few bottles of Bass from the village. If anything further should be required, there is a jar of caviar in the hamper, but we have no lemons, I am sorry to say.’
‘Oh, I don’t think caviar would strike the right note, Bunter, do you?’
‘No, my lady. The heavy luggage has just arrived, per Carter Paterson; I instructed that it should be deposited in the oil-shed until we had leisure to attend to it.’
‘The luggage! I’d forgotten all about it.’
‘Very naturally, my lady, if I may say so… The scullery,’ went on Bunter, with a touch of hesitation, ‘appeared a more suitable place than the kitchen for-ah-the medical gentlemen to work in.’
‘Certainly,’ said Harriet, with emphasis.
‘Yes, my lady. I inquired of his lordship whether, in view of all the circumstances, he would desire me to order in any coal. He said he would refer the matter to your ladyship.’
‘He has. You can order the coal.’
‘Very good, my lady. I fancy there will be time between lunch and dinner to effect a clearance of the kitchen chimney, provided there is no interference from the police. Would your ladyship wish me to instruct the sweep accordingly?’
‘Yes, please. I don’t know what we should do without your head for detail, Bunter.’
‘I am much obliged to your ladyship.’
The police party had been taken into the sittingroom. Through the half-open door one could hear Peter’s high, fluent voice giving a lucid account of the whole incredible business, with patient pauses for interrogation or to allow a deliberate constabulary pencil to catch up with him.
Harriet sighed angrily. ‘I do wish he hadn’t to be worried like this! It’s too bad.’
‘Yes, my lady.’ Bunter’s face stirred, as though some human emotion were trying to break through. He made no further comment, but something which Harriet recognised as sympathy seemed to waft out of him. She said impulsively: ‘I wonder. Do you think I’m right in ordering the coal?’
It was scarcely fair to push Bunter on to such delicate ground. He remained impassive: ‘It is not for me to say, my lady.’
She was determined not to be beaten. ‘You have known him much longer than I have, Bunter. If his lordship had only himself to consider, do you suppose he would go or stay?’
‘Under those circumstances, my lady, I fancy his lordship would decide to remain.’
‘That’s what I wanted to know. You had better order enough coal for a month.’
‘Certainly, my lady.’