Hercule Poirot’s Christmas. Агата Кристи
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‘As far as money goes, your father is very generous, I admit,’ said Lydia. ‘But in return he expects us to behave like slaves.’
‘Slaves?’
‘That’s the word I used. You are his slave, Alfred. If we have planned to go away and Father suddenly wishes us not to go, you cancel your arrangements and remain without a murmur! If the whim takes him to send us away, we go…We have no lives of our own—no independence.’
Her husband said distressfully:
‘I wish you wouldn’t talk like this, Lydia. It is very ungrateful. My father has done everything for us…’
She bit off a retort that was on her lips. She shrugged those thin, graceful shoulders once more.
Alfred said:
‘You know, Lydia, the old man is very fond of you—’
His wife said clearly and distinctly:
‘I am not at all fond of him.’
‘Lydia, it distresses me to hear you say things like that. It is so unkind—’
‘Perhaps. But sometimes a compulsion comes over one to speak the truth.’
‘If Father guessed—’
‘Your father knows perfectly well that I do not like him! It amuses him, I think.’
‘Really, Lydia, I am sure you are wrong there. He has often told me how charming your manner to him is.’
‘Naturally I’ve always been polite. I always shall be. I’m just letting you know what my real feelings are. I dislike your father, Alfred. I think he is a malicious and tyrannical old man. He bullies you and presumes on your affection for him. You ought to have stood up to him years ago.’
Alfred said sharply:
‘That will do, Lydia. Please don’t say any more.’
She sighed.
‘I’m sorry. Perhaps I was wrong…Let’s talk of our Christmas arrangements. Do you think your brother David will really come?’
‘Why not?’
She shook her head doubtfully.
‘David is—queer. He’s not been inside the house for years, remember. He was so devoted to your mother—he’s got some feeling about this place.’
‘David always got on Father’s nerves,’ said Alfred, ‘with his music and his dreamy ways. Father was, perhaps, a bit hard on him sometimes. But I think David and Hilda will come all right. Christmas time, you know.’
‘Peace and goodwill,’ said Lydia. Her delicate mouth curved ironically. ‘I wonder! George and Magdalene are coming. They said they would probably arrive tomorrow. I’m afraid Magdalene will be frightfully bored.’
Alfred said with some slight annoyance:
‘Why my brother George ever married a girl twenty years younger than himself I can’t think! George was always a fool!’
‘He’s very successful in his career,’ said Lydia. ‘His constituents like him. I believe Magdalene works quite hard politically for him.’
Alfred said slowly:
‘I don’t think I like her very much. She is very good-looking—but I sometimes think she is like one of those beautiful pears one gets—they have a rosy flush and a rather waxen appearance—’ He shook his head.
‘And they’re bad inside?’ said Lydia. ‘How funny you should say that, Alfred!’
‘Why funny?’
She answered:
‘Because—usually—you are such a gentle soul. You hardly ever say an unkind thing about anyone. I get annoyed with you sometimes because you’re not sufficiently—oh, what shall I say?—sufficiently suspicious—not worldly enough!’
Her husband smiled.
‘The world, I always think, is as you yourself make it.’
Lydia said sharply:
‘No! Evil is not only in one’s mind. Evil exists! You seem to have no consciousness of the evil in the world. I have. I can feel it. I’ve always felt it—here in this house—’ She bit her lip and turned away.
Alfred said, ‘Lydia—’
But she raised a quick admonitory hand, her eyes looking past him at something over his shoulder. Alfred turned.
A dark man with a smooth face was standing there deferentially.
Lydia said sharply:
‘What is it, Horbury?’
Horbury’s voice was low, a mere deferential murmur.
‘It’s Mr Lee, madam. He asked me to tell you that there would be two more guests arriving for Christmas, and would you have rooms prepared for them.’
Lydia said, ‘Two more guests?’
Horbury said smoothly, ‘Yes, madam, another gentleman and a young lady.’
Alfred said wonderingly: ‘A young lady?’
‘That’s what Mr Lee said, sir.’
Lydia said quickly:
‘I will go up and see him—’
Horbury made one little step, it was a mere ghost of a movement but it stopped Lydia’s rapid progress automatically.
‘Excuse me, madam, but Mr Lee is having his afternoon sleep. He asked specifically that he should not be disturbed.’
‘I see,’ said Alfred. ‘Of course we won’t disturb him.’
‘Thank you, sir.’ Horbury withdrew.
Lydia said vehemently:
‘How I dislike that man! He creeps about the house like a cat! One never hears him going or coming.’
‘I don’t like him very much either. But he knows his job. It’s not so easy to get a good male nurse attendant. And Father likes him, that’s the main thing.’
‘Yes, that’s the main thing, as you say. Alfred, what is this about a young lady? What young lady?’
Her husband shook his head.
‘I can’t imagine. I can’t even think of anyone it might be likely to be.’
They