Free Sidney Chambers and The Forgiveness of Sins by James Runcie

arrived, were in need of restoration.
    The house had somehow managed to make itself colder than the exterior temperature. Once they had unpacked, they were shown into the drawing-room and asked to wait. Sir Mark would be in shortly for a welcoming drink. The room took up the central part of the rear of the house and looked out on to a large lawn, a formal garden, and a ha-ha that divided the cultivated ground from the fields and farmland beyond. Mature oaks and elms framed the edge of the garden, and the last autumn leaves blew across the grass as the sky darkened into night.
    Sir Mark Kirby-Grey had the air of a preoccupied man who was doing his best and was not prepared to take criticism. Prematurely bald, and smaller than he wanted to be, he wore a bespoke navy suit with one cuff button undone, and he spoke to everyone as if they were employees who fell short. Unused to relaxation or sitting still, he preferred to ‘get on with things’, and his quick, attentive movements were either a sign of shyness and social discomfort or a deliberate attempt to remind people of his influence and importance.
    His wife, Elizabeth, was a watchful woman who wore a high-collared full-sleeved evening dress in black with white lace appliqué over a mesh bodice. Her conversation was filled with self-deprecation (‘I am sure no one would notice if I just disappeared’) despite the fact that her days were filled with running the house and the estate, ordering delicacies from Harrods, typing her husband’s letters and helping out with various charities. She didn’t see too many of her friends because she was so busy and so it was ‘absolute bliss’ that Amanda had agreed to come and stay. Elizabeth had high hopes of her friend ‘making a go of it’ with Henry Richmond ‘despite the recent difficulties’.
    When Sidney enquired as to what had happened to the first Mrs Richmond she replied that it had all been ‘too ghastly to explain’ but that Amanda’s potential beau was a free man and her friend was an independent woman. Although it was unrealistic to hope for children it certainly wasn’t ‘too late for happiness’.
    Asked about her other friends, Elizabeth was equally reticent. She seldom travelled away from home. ‘Mark doesn’t want me to. He says it’s because he needs me so much; and he does like to take care of everything, especially the money side of things. It makes life so much easier. And it isn’t too much of a sacrifice. I love my home.’
    She had a quick smile that soon faded, perhaps worried about being caught out, and Sidney could see that her attentiveness as a hostess included keeping a close eye on her husband’s alcohol consumption. Sir Mark had enjoyed two large whiskies in company before dinner and they were probably not his first of the evening. It was likely that he would be well oiled before the port and cigars.
    Amanda was wearing an evening dress in midnight-blue silk and wondered whether she should change between cocktails and dinner. ‘I am worried this is all a bit too revealing but I suppose a shawl covers a multitude of sins.’
    ‘Hildegard’s noticed that there’s no heating.’
    ‘There never is, darling.’
    She looked magnificent with her hair pinned back to reveal pearl earrings that matched her necklace. She smelled of jasmine, violet and vetiver. It was Je Reviens.
    Henry Richmond was an inoffensively handsome man in his early forties, with thick dark brown hair parted cleanly and, Sidney suspected, held in place with a touch of pomade. His olive skin gave him a continental air, a demeanour enhanced by an over-liberal use of Trumper’s aftershave, but his deep clear voice, confident jawbone and firm handshake were enough to reassure any doubter that he was distinctly English.
    Dr Michael Robinson, with his wife Isabel, had also been invited, together with Major Tom Meynell, of the Royal Artillery, an ebullient widower who was known as ‘Shouty’ to his friends, and Serena