Free The Imbroglio at the Villa Pozzi (An Angela Marchmont Mystery Book 6) by Clara Benson Page B

attention was arrested by a sudden movement and a noise like a groan. They all looked up and saw that Asphodel Quinn had fallen backwards onto the bed and was lying there, rigid, staring at nothing and twitching slightly. Angela and Elsa jumped up, exclaiming in surprise and concern, but before anyone could do anything Mrs. Quinn said comfortably:
    ‘Oh, there’s no need to worry. Just leave her be. She’s having one of her turns. She’ll come out of it in a minute or two.’
    ‘Oughtn’t we to fetch a doctor?’ said Angela. ‘Does she often get these fits?’
    ‘It’s not a fit—at least, not as such,’ said Mrs. Quinn. ‘It’s a vision, or a visitation, or whatever you care to call it. She’ll come to soon enough.’
    They all gazed at the girl, and sure enough, after a short interval she stopped twitching, blinked once or twice and then sat up.
    ‘Too late!’ she cried in distress. ‘Mother, it’s too late! Something has happened, I know it, but what? It was there, just out of reach and I tried and tried to see it but I couldn’t. Oh, why couldn’t I help him?’
    Her face crumpled up and she put her hands to her face and began to weep.
    ‘Are you quite certain?’ said Mrs. Quinn. Under the rouge her face had gone quite pale.
    ‘As certain as I can be,’ said Asphodel. ‘And it’s all my fault.’
    ‘Hush, child, of course it’s not your fault,’ said Mrs. Quinn. ‘You can only help those who choose to listen. The rest is out of our hands.’
    ‘I must go,’ said Asphodel. ‘I can’t stay here a moment longer.’
    ‘Very well, dear,’ said Mrs. Quinn. She turned to Angela. ‘You won’t mind, will you?’ she said. ‘Saph is unwell and I’d better take her home now.’
    ‘Not at all,’ said Angela. ‘Is there anything I can do?’
    ‘That’s kind of you, dear, but no need,’ said Mrs. Quinn. I’ll put her to bed and she’ll be as right as rain by tea-time.’
    Together she and Angela helped Asphodel to her feet while Elsa busied herself extinguishing candles and collecting Mrs. Quinn’s things together. Then the two of them left, the mother clucking anxiously around the daughter.
    ‘Well!’ exclaimed Angela when they had gone and the curtains had been opened again, allowing some light and air back into the room. ‘That was quite an experience. Will Miss Quinn be all right, do you think? Do you suppose she really did see something, or was it all part of the act?’
    ‘The latter, I expect,’ said Elsa doubtfully. ‘It was very convincing if it was, though. What did you think of them?’
    ‘Pretty much the same as I thought before,’ replied Angela. ‘They seem harmless enough. The card-reading might have applied to anybody, and the automatic writing—well, that’s easily done.’
    ‘True, although I almost believed in it for a moment when the planchette started moving the first time.’
    ‘So did I,’ agreed Angela. ‘Now, confess: was it you who wrote that message?’
    ‘Of course not! As a matter of fact I rather thought it was you.’
    ‘I’m afraid I don’t have that kind of facility with language,’ said Angela. ‘As a matter of fact, I rather wonder whether Mrs. Quinn suspected us of being not entirely sincere and decided to play a little joke on us.’
    ‘How very mischievous of her, if she did,’ said Elsa. ‘She’s not at all stupid, is she?’
    ‘No,’ said Angela. ‘I should say that she knows perfectly well what she is about. She is clever enough not to pretend to take it all too seriously, and she has admitted herself that much of her ability is down to common sense—and yet she and her daughter have enough of the other-worldly about them to leave open a tiny chink of uncertainty as to whether it might not all be true.’
    ‘Then you don’t think you can help Mr. Ainsley at all?’ said Elsa.
    ‘No, I don’t,’ said Angela. ‘He hates everything Mrs. Quinn stands for and I believe that is affecting his views of her. There is