Free Guilty Thing Surprised by Ruth Rendell Page B

and got a job, the clever little thing. Have some more Scotch, ducky?’
    ‘No, really. You know, Lionel, if it wasn’t for What’s-her-name upstairs and her predecessors, one would suspect you of—how shall I put it?—a certain ambivalence. Sometimes you’re too epicene for words.’
    Marriott smirked at that, not displeased. ‘I do camp it up rather, don’t I? People are always telling me about it. Just a pose, I assure you. Do let me fill your glass.’
    ‘Oh, all right.’ The water was running out of the bath now and Hypatia’s feet could be heard tapping onthe upper floor. ‘Did the brother and sister meet in London?’
    Marriott lit a Russian cigarette and blew elegant smoke rings. ‘That I wouldn’t know.’ He looked crestfallen. Wexford knew he hated to admit ignorance of any detail of a friend’s private life. ‘I didn’t see either of them again until I heard Quentin had bought the Manor.’ He recharged their glasses and came back to his chair. ‘When we heard the Manor had new people in I naturally got my wife to call. You can imagine my joy when I heard who this Mrs Nightingale was.’
    ‘I’m not sure that I can,’ said Wexford, ‘seeing she was a kid of fifteen and you around thirty when you last met.’
    ‘How you do throw cold water on all one’s impulsive little expressions! I mean, of course, that it was lovely to see someone I used to know, and anyway it was always a pleasure to be with Elizabeth. An absolute beauty, you see, and what style! I love those classic English blondes.’
    ‘You ought to get married again,’ said Wexford.
    Marriott cast a shifty glance upwards and said epigrammatically, ‘A man who marries again doesn’t deserve to lose his first wife.’
    ‘Sometimes,’ said Wexford, ‘you shock me. Talking of marriage, how did the Nightingales get on?’
    ‘They were a very happy couple. If you and your wife never discuss anything but the weather, are waited on hand and foot, are childless and equally cold sexually, what is there to quarrel about?’
    ‘It was like that, was it? And may I ask how you know they were sexually cold?’
    Marriott shifted a little in his seat. ‘Well, you’veonly got to look at Quentin and … You must allow for a little guesswork, Reg.’
    ‘I’ll do the guessing. Let’s get back to those early days, fifteen, sixteen years ago. Was Villiers living here then?’
    ‘No, he turned up a couple of years later. First day of the autumn term it was, and that makes it fourteen years ago almost to the day. We had a couple of newcomers to the staff, a science man and a second-string classics bloke. That was Denys. The Head introduced us veterans and, of course, I was thrilled to see Denys.’
    ‘But naturally,’ said Wexford.
    Marriott gave him an injured look. ‘I thought his behaviour very odd, most peculiar. But then Denys is odd, the complete misanthropist. “What a stroke of luck for you,” I said, “knowing me. I can take you around and introduce you to anyone who is anyone.” You’d have thought he’d have been overjoyed, but not a bit of it. He just gave me one of his sick looks, but I thought I’d better make allowances.’
    ‘Allowances for what?’
    ‘Well, he’s a poet, as you know, and poets are curious creatures. There’s no getting away from it. I see you didn’t know. Oh, dear me, yes. Several very charming little verses of his had appeared in the
New Statesman
by that time, and I’d just read his collection of essays on the Lake Poets. Most scholarly. So, as I say, I made allowances. “Perhaps you’re relying on your sister to give you the entrée,” I said. “Don’t forget she’s new here herself.” “My sister here?” he said, going quite white. “You don’t mean you didn’t know?” I said. “Christ,” he said, “I thought this was the last place she’d want to show her face in.” ’
    ‘But you made sure they got together?’ said Wexford.
    ‘Naturally, my dear. I had Denys and