Free A Dance in Blood Velvet by Freda Warrington Page B

sent me to make sure you were well,” Maud said with her characteristic nervous giggle. “He said you were upset earlier.”
    “He needn’t have done,” said Holly. “I’m perfectly all right.”
    “I’m so sorry about your friends,” said Maud, as if James and Deirdre had merely encountered inclement weather at the seaside.
    “Would you like tea?” said Holly, showing her into the parlour. “There’s some in the pot.”
    Medium height and broad-hipped, Maud was beige from head to foot. Even her hair was the same beige as her cardigan, plain skirt and buttoned shoes. She was in her twenties, unmarried, almost pretty but for protruding blue eyes and overlarge teeth.
    Holly wanted to like her. After all, it wasn’t Maud’s fault she lacked charm, a sense of humour or even natural tact. Everyone was different... Maud unfortunately came across as a flat-footed soul with a streak of cunning, someone who failed to rouse fondness in others and didn’t care. At this moment, however, Holly was perversely glad of her company.
    “Oh, is that a Bible?” Maud exclaimed, reaching for the Book. “I love the Bible, don’t you? It’s such a comfort.”
    Holly swept the Book out of her reach. It was a clammy lead weight against her stomach. “No, it’s one of Ben’s.” She hurried out with the volume and locked it in the study. When she came back, Maud was crying.
    “Are you all right?” said Holly in astonishment.
    “I had a feeling about your friends,” Maud said, sniffing loudly. “I knew something was wrong. I’m psychic, you know, terribly psychic.”
    Holly bit her lip to stem inappropriate laughter. She gave Maud a handkerchief and watched her drying her false tears. Maud often expressed such claims. Although she had only the vaguest knowledge of the Neophytes, she was always angling to join. “I’m psychic, terribly psychic,” she would confide to the bookshop customers. And once she had turned to Holly and asked plaintively, “Why do people call me ‘Miss PTP?’”
    “Thank you, Maud,” said Holly, “for helping to cheer me up.”
    Maud looked at her, her face suddenly frozen. “You are peculiar, Mrs Grey. I don’t mean to offend, but you don’t always behave...”
    “Oh, how should I behave?”
    “Well, you shouldn’t laugh when people have died. And... if I had a husband like Mr Grey, I would never question his judgment.”
    Holly’s mouth fell open. “Did Ben tell you to say that?”
    “Of course not - but men know best, don’t they? Life is happier if we obey them, as we obey God. You look a bit like a witch with your cat, Mrs Grey. It might give some people the impression you aren’t altogether Christian, although I’m sure you are.”
    “Well, that’s no one’s business but mine.” Holly spoke brusquely, too tired to be properly annoyed. “I assure you, there’s nothing amiss between my husband and me.”
    Maud’s stern look softened. Another giggle, a quick dip of her head between her shoulders. “Oh, I know. I spoke out of turn.” Her tone became ingratiating. “I’m sorry.”
    “Go back to work,” Holly said wearily. “Mr Grey needs you more than I do.”
    As she saw Maud out, a flood of unease hit her. She couldn’t grasp the cause, and a moment later it was gone.
    That evening, when Benedict came home, he went into his study and stood resting his hands on the Book’s cover, deep in thought. Holly watched him from the doorway in the dim red-gold light. She said, “Thank you for sending Maud. She was the soul of tact, as always.”
    He winced. “Sorry. I felt bad about walking out when you were upset. Was she awful?”
    “It’s all right. She made me laugh. Miss PTP.”
    “I know she has her quirks, but she is a good worker. She’s envious of you.”
    Holly was mildly shocked by this. “Why? Silly woman. Unless it’s because I’m married to magnificent you , and she isn’t.”
    “Does that mean I’m forgiven?” he said, smiling. “Come