POVERTY'S PRIDE

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

The shadow that always seemed to Rosalind to envelope Cliff House, which, to her mind, represented the oppressive presence of Sir Leopold himself, had deepened since the household had learned of Cynthia’s death, darkened and thickened like a suffocating blanket.

     She had not glimpsed either Pricilla or Melissa, having been forbidden their company, but Linda had told her that the girls had taken their mother’s death very badly, especially Pricilla. Rosalind’s heart ached and felt near to breaking for the girl’s pain. She longed to go to Pricilla and offer her comfort.

    She was thankful therefore when five days after the death Lady Daphne arrived accompanied by her brother Richard Whillowby. Here was someone at last who could help the girls in their grief.

     Sir Leopold had gone to business at Neath as usual as though nothing had happened, leaving Cedric to solemnly greet his wife’s siblings alone. She could tell by the droop of his shoulders that Cedric was ashamed of his father’s callous indifference.

    Watching the arrival from the gallery overlooking the hall, Rosalind was struck by the difference from their last visit, when Lady Daphne had been so bright and voluble. Now she was clothed from head to toe in the deepest black and no sound of her voice could be heard as brother and sister accompanied Cedric into the morning room.

     On the day of her death, five days before, the undertakers had removed Cynthia’s body to their premises at Middleton. There Lady Daphne and Mr Whillowby journeyed later that day to view the remains. Now that her family had finally arrived arrangements could be made for the funeral to take place in two days’ time.

     During their absence at Middleton, Sir Leopold returned to Cliff House and immediately shut himself away in the study as though to avoid their visitors.

    On their return from Middleton her ladyship’s face was white and drawn and Richard Whillowby looked grim and pained.

     While Lady Daphne was taken to her rooms by her lady’s maid to recover from the ordeal, Richard Whillowby was closeted in the morning room with Cedric for some time.

     Rosalind wondered if Cedric would reveal his fears at this time that Cynthia had been murdered. It could only add to their pain, and yet it must be faced.

Richard Whillowby stood before the tall windows of the morning room and stared out, his body erect and stiff-backed. Cedric, sitting awkwardly at the writing bureau regarded his brother-in-law with some nervousness. Should he mention his suspicions regarding Cynthia’s death? In view of his father’s edit, would he be stirring up trouble unnecessarily? Yet he was certain in his own mind that Cynthia had been murdered.

     He was about to speak when Richard turned to face him. Cedric was shocked to see how grim his expression was.

     ‘The village watchman was at pains to speak with me when I went down to the village first thing this morning,’ he said.

     ‘Twm Beynon,’ Cedric said. ‘It was he who found the...Cynthia.’

     ‘Yes, he told me,’ Richard said heavily. ‘He also told me that he is certain Cynthia was deliberately killed.’

     Cedric stood and came to him at the window. ‘It could have been an accident,’ he said, though he knew he sounded doubtful.

     ‘No,’ Richard said firmly. ‘The watchman said it was where the body lay, that aroused his suspicion. She lay well away from the cliff’s bottom, as though she had been forcefully propelled though the air. A fall, or even a jump, would not give that effect.’