Agatha Raisin and the Murderous Marriage

‘But then,’ she went on, ‘he turned his attentions to Lady Derrington, or the woman who, I now gather, was not Lady Derrington. I fear these health clinics nurture lax morals.’
    ‘Did the police broach the subject of blackmail to you?’ asked James.
    ‘Yes, they did. But as I pointed out, there are still ladies around in these days.’ Miss Purvey’s eyes rested briefly on Agatha, as if dismissing her from the lady class.
    ‘Can you think of anyone he might have been blackmailing?’ Agatha’s voice was thin with dislike.
    ‘I don’t know if he was blackmailing her. But there was a certain Mrs Gloria Comfort. He was all over her. Mrs Gore-Appleton didn’t seem to mind.’
    ‘What was Mrs Gore-Appleton really like?’ asked Agatha. ‘I don’t mean her appearance, but her character.’
    ‘Well, as I said, she was a lady,’ said Miss Purvey reluctantly. Again those eyes fastened on Agatha. ‘And although her clothes were unsuitable, they were very expensive. She was well made-up and quite thin, but very fit.’ So goodbye, Mrs Hardy, thought Agatha, conjuring up a picture of that powerfully built woman. Agatha still nourished hopes that Mrs Hardy would miraculously turn out to be the missing Mrs Gore-Appleton, but then she desperately wanted her cottage back.
    Agatha began to fidget. She now loathed Miss Purvey and felt the small dark living-room claustrophobic.
    But James seemed determined to discuss the matter further, and to Agatha’s dismay accepted an offer of coffee. He followed Miss Purvey into the kitchen to help her. Agatha walked around the room looking at the photographs. They all featured Miss Purvey at various stages of her life. Agatha was surprised to note that as a young woman she had been very pretty. Why hadn’t she married? There were parents and what looked like two brothers. There was a photo of Miss Purvey at her coming-out in the days when debs were still presented at court, so the family must have had money. She could hear the voices from the kitchen and then heard Miss Purvey give a flirtatious laugh. Damn James!
    They returned from the kitchen together, Miss Purvey’s old face slightly pink. To Agatha’s amazement, Miss Purvey’s attitude to her had changed. She pressed Agatha to try her cakes and then chatted about life in the village and the work she was doing for the Women’s Institute. ‘Ladies like us, Mrs Raisin,’ she said, ‘must do our bit.’
    ‘Yes,’ agreed Agatha faintly, wondering what had brought about this change and not knowing that James had whispered to Miss Purvey the lie that Agatha was a niece of the Duke of Devonshire.
    ‘Now although I said Mrs Gore-Appleton was a lady,’ confided Miss Purvey, putting a wrinkled hand on Agatha’s knee, ‘I did get the impression that she had gone to the bad, if you know what I mean. It’s hard to put my finger on it, but there was a raffishness about her, a seediness, and something else . . . I don’t know what, but I was quite frightened of her. As I was telling Mr Lacey, I remember she did begin to talk to me towards the end of my stay. She was talking about money and business and told me she was running a charity. She said that everyone had money worries today and I said I was quite comfortably off, thank you, and she asked me if I would contribute to her charity, but when I heard it was for the homeless, I refused. I said if these people were homeless, then it was their own fault.’
    To Agatha’s relief, James abruptly lost interest in anything further that Miss Purvey might have to say. He put down his cup.
    ‘Thank you for your hospitality. We really must be going.’
    ‘Oh, must you? I could be of help to you, I think.’
    ‘You have already been of great help,’ said James courteously.
    ‘That’s very kind of you,’ Agatha said, getting to her feet and gathering up her handbag and gloves. ‘But I don’t see –’
    ‘My powers of observation,’ she cried. ‘I would make a very good detective. Now, now, Mr Lacey,’ she said roguishly, ‘you have already marked me down as an expert sleuth!’
    ‘Quite,’ he said hastily. He took out a card and gave it to her. ‘If you find anything, I will be at this address.’
    After they had gone, Miss Purvey paced up and down her small cottage living-room. She felt excited, elated. That handsome Mr Lacey had looked at her in such a way! She walked to the window and peered up, rubbing the glass. The mist had taken on a yellowish light