A Death in Two Parts (24 page)

“Not the enemy,” said Patience. “Poor Priss. People are their own punishments really, aren't they? I didn't even make
her admit that it was she who tried to kill Geoffrey when he was leaving the Hall all those years ago, but I suppose, now, it must have been. And of course in a way I had to be grateful to her for that, because it did take the heat off me a bit, granted that I was snug in my cell at the time.”

“Another of her ‘accidents',” said Mark. “But why, Patience?”

“Geoffrey must have asked a question that frightened her. He was a good policeman.”

“I'll take your word for it. No, that's not fair. I know he was: I was scared rigid for my mama, that's why I behaved like such an idiot. Patience—”

“But, Mark,” she interrupted him, as what he had told her gradually sank in. “Do you really mean you have lost your job because of all this? Mary said it was your life; you loved it. What are you going to do now?”

“It was my life,” he said. “That's right. But now I have got a better idea. I was rather thinking—” The phone rang. “Damnation!”

Patience reached to answer it. “Oh, Veronica,” she said. “No, it's all right; Mark's here, eating all my biscuits. No, of course, do. You've got your key, haven't you? No, I promise not to wait up.” She replaced the receiver and smiled at Mark. “Veronica started worrying, too. She's run into a friend in Brighton and they were thinking of going to the cinema tonight, but she wanted to make sure I was all right first, nice child.”

“And you are?”

“And I am.”

He reached across the table to take her hand. “Well, in that case,” he said, “I shall finish my sentence. I was rather
thinking, Patience, of asking you to marry me. We've wasted a lot of time, you and I. Need we waste any more? And don't say, ‘Oh, Mark, this is so sudden', either. It's not sudden at all, and you know it. You should have said yes last time I asked you. You know you should. I sometimes wish I'd done a Lochinvar and carried you off. Or just into bed. But once I knew about my mother, it was hopeless. I was hopeless. Hence the cloak and dagger life. I won't say I've been celibate for your sake, Patience, but I've been faithful to you in my fashion. No serious commitments.
You
are my serious commitment. Always have been, always will. I was in Hong Kong last month when I finally learned of Crankshaw's death. I've been on my way back to you ever since.”

“But we're old, Mark.”

“Nonsense. And anyway, who wants to be old alone? We've probably got thirty years or so yet, you and I, the way things go these days. Let's make the most of them. As for old: come along upstairs, Patience, and I'll show you how old we are.”

“But I haven't said yes.”

“You don't need to. Every beautiful bit of you has been saying yes to me from the moment I walked in at your door yesterday. I like your house, Patience; I've one of my own in the south of France, by the way. Shall we go there for our honeymoon? And talking of honeymoons” – he was on her side of the table now, his arm round her waist – “come along, my love, and God bless that intelligent child, Veronica.”

“I thought it was
her
…” They seemed to be going upstairs.

“That I wanted? You didn't! Oh, what a lovely fool.”

“I wish I was younger.”

“You don't need to be younger. You only need to be you.”

“Oh, Mark!”

“Oh, Patience! But that's not the word! I've been patient long enough.” Their first kiss set something on fire between them and then there was no more talking.

“I didn't know it could be like that,” she said much later.

“I'm glad. It's not been for me either. You must believe that, Patience. Never, in all those lonely years.”

“Oh, I do believe it.” She stirred luxuriously against him. “Such a wasted, sad time, our past. Was I waiting for you always?”

“I like to think so. I used to think of you at the oddest times, Patience. When I was happy, I wasn't happy enough; and when I was afraid, which I often was, the worst of all was the thought of never seeing you again.”

“Oh, Mark!”

“Oh, Patience.” He was smiling down at her now and her limbs turned to water. “Would you think me a heartless monster if I said I was hungry? No lunch, come to think of it.”

“Nor me, what with one thing and another.” She sat up, leaning comfortably against him, as if she had done it all her life. “There's a steak in the deep freeze, I think, and a nice Australian red in the wine rack. Draw the curtains at the front of the house, would you, before you turn the light on? Mrs Vansittart is going to find all this quite exciting enough as it is.”

“God bless her for watching over you. I suppose I could hardly expect a man's dressing gown in this house.” He was pulling on trousers and shirt as he spoke. “Don't put on too many clothes, my love, this is only the intermission.”

* * *

“It feels like Darby and Joan,” She was grilling steak and onions while he tossed the salad.

“Yes, isn't it strange? We could have been doing this for ever.”

But back in bed it did not feel like Darby and Joan at all. Much later, hearing a key in the lock, Patience said, “Goodness, there's Veronica.”

“I like the way you say ‘goodness'. May I borrow your dressing gown, love? I'll deal with Veronica.” He opened the bedroom door and greeted her as she came tiptoeing up the stairs. “Congratulate me,” he said. “Patience and I are engaged to be married.”

“Well, I should hope so,” said Veronica. “I'll make the breakfast, Patience,” she said over his shoulder. “Sleep well, you two.”

“What a nice child.” Mark closed the door on her. “With all the right ideas.”

Over breakfast, the two of them ganged up on Patience. “You can't let Paul Protheroe get away with it,” insisted Veronica, “and go on and rip off other widows and orphans. This time you really have got to go to the police, Patience.”

“Or at least to Mr Jones,” Mark told her. “You have to tell him he's got a spy in his office. Let him decide what to do about it.”

“But I promised Priss I wouldn't tell on her. It's not the police she's afraid of, it's Paul.”

“Then maybe she'd be better off without him,” Mark said. “There must be some way we can work out for you to alert Jones without involving Priss. Let him go to the police. Once they are on to all that fraud, they are bound to sort it, and
Protheroe should go down for a good long sentence. Time for his family to find how pleasant it is not to have him around.”

“I keep thinking about the twins,” Patience said. “And their brilliant careers. Look, why don't we wait and see what Paul says at lunch?”

“Very well,” Mark stood up. “But I'm joining you for lunch, Patience. Everything is different today, thank God. You're not on your own any more.”

“Why, nor am I.” She looked from one to the other. “I've got a whole family. How lucky I am. Ring the Black Stag for me, would you, Veronica, and change my booking from two to three.”

“Right.” She reached for the telephone. “Oh,” she said presently. “Thank you. I'll tell her.” And, replacing the receiver: “A message for you, Patience. Mr Protheroe to say he can't meet you.”

“Is that so?” Mark did not sound entirely surprised. “Pass me the phone, would you, Veronica. What's Protheroe's office number, Patience?” He dialled it. “I bet he's done a runner.”

“I should have thought of that. Goodness, I wonder if he's taken Priss.”

They were silent as Mark conversed briefly with what sounded like a flustered female voice. “Yes.” He hung up. “Chaos in the office, and the staff in tears. You'd better ring Priss at the Thompsons', Patience, and break the news, if necessary. She may need time to consider her position.”

“She may indeed. I don't know what to wish for her.” She paused, phone in hand. “No, she'll be there. I was wondering why Paul bothered to leave the message for me. He knew I'd break it to her, the coward; didn't want to tell her himself.”

She was proved right. Priss had heard nothing and dissolved into hysterical tears at the news, gently broken to her by Patience. “Do nothing. Say nothing,” Patience advised her. “Stay where you are and let the Thompsons look after you. No, of course I won't tell.” She rang off. “So that's that,” she said. “It will unravel by itself now, don't you think, without any intervention from us. Poor Priss; poor twins.”

“Better without him,” said Veronica. “And talking of that, how soon do you want me to move out, Patience?”

“Nonsense,” said Mark, before Patience could speak. “You're our family, Veronica. Besides, who's going to mind the house for us while we are on honeymoon?”

“Just so.” Patience smiled at them both. “I was thinking in the night that we might make a flat for you in the attic, Veronica.”

“Were you so?” asked Mark. And then, as she blushed helplessly: “The really important question, Patience, is what kind of a wedding you want. I hope you were thinking about that too.”

“Well, I was actually. And I know just what I want. A nice old-fashioned church wedding here in Leyning. As quiet as we can make it.”

“Which won't be very,” Mark told her.

“May I look after your trousseau?” asked Veronica.

“And Mrs Vansittart in the front row, of course,” said Mark.

Right on cue, the front door bell rang.

Jane Aiken Hodge
was born in Massachusetts to Pulitzer prize-winning poet, Conrad Aiken, and his first wife, writer Jessie McDonald. Hodge was 3 years old when her family moved to Great Britain, settling in Rye, East Sussex, where her younger sister, Joan, who would become a novelist and a children's writer, was born.
From 1935, Jane Hodge read English at Somerville College, Oxford University, and in 1938 she took a second degree in English at Radcliffe College. She was a civil servant, and also worked for Time magazine, before returning to the UK in 1947. Her works of fiction include historical novels and contemporary detective novels. In 1972 she renounced her United States citizenship and became a British subject.

Discover books by Jane Aiken Hodge published by Bloomsbury Reader at
www.bloomsbury.com/JaneAikenHodge
A Death in Two Parts
Leading Lady
Rebel Heiress
Strangers in Company

This electronic edition published in 2012 by Bloomsbury Reader
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First published in Great Britain 2000, Severn House Publishers Ltd
Copyright © 2000 Jane Aiken Hodge
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eISBN: 9781448209743
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