ection>E. M. Delafield
The Messalina of the Suburbs
Thriller Based on a True Story From the Renowned Author of The Diary of a Provincial Lady, Thank Heaven Fasting, Faster! Faster! & The Way Things Are
Published by
Books
- Advanced Digital Solutions & High-Quality eBook Formatting -
2017 OK Publishing
ISBN 978-80-272-3190-4
Table of Contents
I
I
DEDICATED
TO
M. P. P.
My Dear Margaret,
We have so often agreed that causes are more interesting than the most dramatic results, that I feel you are the right person to receive the dedication of my story about Elsie Palmer, in which I have tried to reconstruct the psychological developments that led, by inexorable degrees, to the catastrophe of murder. These things are never "bolts from tlie blue" in reality, but merely sensational accessories to the real issue, which lies on that more subtle plane of thought where only personalities are deserving of dissection.
For what it is worth, I offer you an impression of Elsie Palmer's personality.
E. M. D. August, 1923.
Part I
I
"Elsie, I've told you before, I won't have you going with boys."
"I don't, mother."
"Yes, you do. And don't contradict. Surely to goodness you're aware by this time that it's the height of bad manners to contradict. I've taken trouble enough to try and make a lady of you, I'm sure, and now all you can do is to contradict your mother, and spend your time walking the streets with boys."
"Mother, I never."
"Now don't tell lies about it, Elsie. Mother knows perfectly well when you're telling a lie, and you don't take her in by crocodile tears either, my lady. Don't let me have to speak to you again about the same thing, that's all."
Elsie began to cry, automatically and without conviction. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean."
"Yes, you do, miss. I mean Johnnie Osborne, and Johnnie Osborne's brother, and Stanley Begg and the rest of them. Now, no more of it, Elsie. Go and give the girl a hand with washing up the tea-things, and hurry up."
Elsie went away, glad that it was so soon over. Sometimes mother went on for ages. Thank the Lord she was busy to-day, with two new paying guests coming in. As she went past the drawing-room door Elsie looked in.
"Hallo, Little girl!"
"Hallo, Mr. Roberts! Can't stay, I've to go and help the girl wash up or something."
"You've been crying!"
"I haven't, then!" She went further into the room and let him see the downward droop of her pouting mouth and her wet eyelashes. She had not cried hard enough to make her nose turn red.
"I say, what a shame! What have they been doing to
"Oh, nothing. Mother's on the warpath, that's all. It isn't anything."
"How rotten of her! Fancy scolding you! I thought you were always good, Elsie."
"And who said you might call me Elsie, if you'll kindly answer me that, Mister Impertinence?"
She shook her short, bobbing curls at him and laughed, suddenly good-tempered.
"You witch! Elsie, shall you miss me a tiny bit when I'm gone?"
"Oh, you're going, are you?" She pretended to consider. "Let me see, there's a single gentleman coming, who'll have your room, and a married lady and gentleman for the front bedroom. I don't really suppose, Mr. Roberts, there'll be time to miss you much, with the house full like that." She looked innocently up at him.
"Little devil!" he muttered between his teeth, causing her to thrill slightly, although she maintained her pose of artlessness without a visible tremor.
"Who's the bounder who's going to have my room after to-night?"
"Mis-ter Roberts!" She affected a high key of indignation.
