Darkwater (16 page)

‘And he is looking for a house in which to keep it,’ Amelia exclaimed, unable to keep silent any longer. ‘And in which to live himself, of course. Mr Marsh, if it were to be somewhere in this vicinity I should be delighted—I mean, we shall all be delighted.’

She blushed at her transparency and Adam Marsh smiled.

‘That is charming of you, Miss Amelia.’

It was funny, thought Fanny, that when he looked at Amelia that almost grim expression left him, and he looked light-hearted and gay. He wasn’t summing her up as he was Fanny. But then Amelia needed no summing up. She didn’t look like the daughter of the family one day and a servant the next.

‘Yes, I’m tired of wandering,’ he went on. ‘I intend to settle down. As I told Miss Fanny, I have a great fondness for this part of England. Our meeting has been quite a coincidence, hasn’t it?’

‘A fortunate coincidence, Mr Marsh,’ said Aunt Louisa warmly. ‘I hope we can persuade you to come to some of our gaieties this year. We are giving Amelia a ball later.’

‘And by jove, my brother’s attorney from Shanghai will be here, too,’ said Uncle Edgar. ‘A Mr Hamish Barlow. I don’t suppose you have heard of him?’

Did something flicker in those dark brown eyes? They were unreadable eyes, Fanny had decided from the first. Amelia could get out of her depth in them. So, for that matter, could she.

‘I’m afraid my acquaintance of China is confined mostly to Peking. But I shall be interested in meeting Mr Barlow.’

‘I have suddenly remembered!’ Amelia cried. ‘The other day Robert Hadlow said that Heronshall was going to be put up for sale. Old Mr Farquarson is going to live entirely in London. That’s scarcely ten miles from here. It’s a Georgian house, Mr Marsh, with lovely light rooms. Not nearly so dark and dreary as these.’

‘But this is a beautiful house,’ said Mr Marsh.

Fanny found she couldn’t bear to stay there while Amelia excitedly arranged this stranger’s future. Surely he wouldn’t allow her to do it! Though if he were speaking the truth and wanted to buy a house, Heronshall was eminently suitable. The long windows would display to perfection his collection of Chinese porcelain—if it existed…

She interrupted the conversation, speaking quite calmly.

‘If I may be excused, I would like to return to Marcus.’

‘Certainly, my dear,’ said Uncle Edgar. ‘But don’t make yourself a prisoner in the sickroom. You know there’s no need for that.’

‘Fanny used to think she had a vocation for nursing,’ said Aunt Louisa indulgently. ‘Then later she began to talk of convents. I think she used to imagine she had something of the martyr in her. It’s her Celtic ancestry, I expect.’

‘She’s much too pretty for convents or hospitals,’ Uncle Edgar boomed. ‘And to add to our festive year, Mr Marsh, Fanny has a twenty-first birthday which of course will be suitably celebrated.’

How clever they were, Aunt Louisa suggesting that her tendency to martyrdom made her stay in Marcus’s sickroom and wear her oldest clothes, Uncle Edgar hinting that twenty-one was so much more than the delicious freshness of seventeen.

Or did she imagine these things because she had fallen in love and all her senses were unbearably heightened? She knew she would have to walk a tightrope to achieve happiness. She was more likely to fall and hurt herself irremediably.

She had got out of the room and longed only to escape to the children, now her allies and her uncritical unquestioning friends. With dismay she heard Adam’s voice at the door.

‘I was greatly taken with the children. I promised them to come. Would I be out of place for two minutes in the sickroom?’

‘But how thoughtful of you, Mr Marsh.’ Aunt Louisa’s voice was acquiescent as courtesy demanded, but a little bewildered, a little put out.

‘It may be the measles, Mr Marsh. Pray don’t catch them.’ Amelia laughed, but she was a little put out, too.

Fanny hurried up the stairs, not thinking at all. She didn’t want him in the nursery. He had already been too officious, too overpowering. He made glib explanations and got his own way. He probably broke hearts right and left. She wouldn’t have Nolly and Marcus fretting for him.

‘Miss Fanny!’

They were at the turn of the second flight of stairs. There was no one about. From the nursery Fanny could hear Marcus whimpering.

‘I’ve heard how Ching Mei’s death happened. Is it true?’

She had to turn and look at him.

‘How could it not be?’ she asked slowly.

‘There was no other reason?’

‘Not that I know of. My cousin George—you must have noticed how he is. He hasn’t yet recovered from his war wound. But he has been trained to kill with a sword, not—not with his hands.’

‘Then it was the escaped prisoner?’

‘It must have been. The coroner decided so at the inquest.’ She looked into his intent eyes. ‘Why do you care?’

‘Because I find a mystery provoking. Very provoking.’

‘You are staring at me,’ said Fanny. She put her hands to her hair, an inevitable feminine movement, trying to smooth it. ‘Is there anything wrong?’

‘Everything.’

‘Then you had better go back and talk to my cousin Amelia. She has had time to make her toilette this morning.’

He began to laugh as if her tartness amused him, then stopped, and said thoughtfully, ‘Yes, your cousin Amelia is a delightful creature. I fancy we shall be seeing quite a lot of one another. If I had known I would have come much sooner.’

‘Known what?’

‘Why, that the moors can be so fascinating. Exciting, dark, unpredictable, stormy, tragic, and then warm and glowing like a summer’s day, full of light, innocent, irresistible.’

He was talking of the moors. But he made them sound like a woman.

L
ADY ARABELLA HAD AWOKEN
with a start to the knowledge that something was going on about which she knew nothing. This had happened also the other evening when she had opened her eyes to find Amelia at the window and the room full of cold air. She never had discovered what Amelia had been doing, which was aggravating. She didn’t intend to be left out of what was happening upstairs now, with Nolly laughing hysterically and the sound of a man’s deep voice.

Had Doctor Bates been sent for to examine Marcus? But Doctor Bates was elderly, prime, and serious, and most unlikely to make a child laugh.

Sighing and struggling, Lady Amelia heaved herself out of her low chair, put her cap straight, and waddled off to her vantage point at the head of the stairs. The windowseat was shadowed by the heavy velvet curtains. It was surprising how often she had sat there quietly in her black dress and never been seen, though occasionally a startled maid had dropped what she was carrying and exclaimed in confusion. She had heard many intriguing fragments of conversation from there, and if they hadn’t always been interpreted correctly, that made it all the more interesting. Lady Arabella was all for a little embellishment of the truth.

Her harmless ploy was well-rewarded today, for she had scarcely sat down before the door of the nursery on the second floor opened, and footsteps began to come down the stairs.

Fanny led the way, followed by a stranger, who seemed to be on terms of some intimacy, for he was saying in a low almost conspiratorial voice, ‘I will come again, I hope frequently. I’ve taken a fancy to those children. I shall be interested in their future.’

Fanny, bless the girl, never minced matters.

‘If you have such paternal feelings, Mr Marsh, I wonder that you don’t do better than borrow other people’s children.’

‘Perhaps I intend to.’

Amelia must have been lurking at the bottom of the stairs, for she called in her high assured young voice—now there was someone who was rapidly learning the artifices, the gushings, and the vapourings, that Fanny despised—‘What is it you intend to do, Mr Marsh?’

‘He intends to find a wife,’ Fanny answered.

‘How interesting.’ Amelia’s voice bubbled with interest. ‘We wish you luck, Mr Marsh. Don’t we, Fanny?’

As Lady Arabella had expected, no one noticed her sitting quietly in the shadow, but she was able to take a swift look at Fanny with her geranium-flushed cheeks and ruffled hair—that girl would look beautiful in sackcloth, in childbirth, in extreme old age—and then a much longer one at her companion. She noted the hard chin and the broad clever brow. She also noticed or divined a look of intense speculation in the almost black eyes. This, however, disappeared as the man caught sight of Amelia in the hall below. He paused a moment, looking down with a smile and an unruffled face. He could change his expression like an actor. He was someone to be watched, this young man. Lady Arabella made a sharp guess at his thoughts. Of the two girls, Fanny was the prettier, but Amelia was the richer. The children upstairs? They merely provided an original and convenient excuse for establishing himself in the house. Lady Arabella itched with curiosity. Who was he?

She had to wait until her pre-lunch glass of Madeira before her son-in-law satisfied her curiosity. Edgar, also sipping Madeira, was as anxious to discuss his uninvited guest as Lady Arabella was to hear about him.

‘Well, that’s cleared up the mystery of the man on the train. Fellow’s story seems plausible. With his connections with China, the Chinese amah attracted his attention, naturally enough. Any gentleman would have done what he did.’

‘Even to coming all the way to Devon?’ Lady Arabella murmured.

Edgar paced up and down, reflectively.

‘He seems to want to live in these parts. Call that coincidence, if you like. If he buys a property, we can’t doubt his integrity.’

‘And do you now?’

‘Eh? Doubt a gentleman’s word? I should hope not.’

‘What are you worrying about, Edgar? That he will run off with Fanny?’

‘With Fanny!’

‘Didn’t it occur to you that it might be Fanny who has brought him to these parts?’

It was obvious that such a thought had not occurred to Edgar. His brow cleared. He gave his rumbling chuckle.

‘Well, now, I must have been blind not to see that. Of course, Fanny is an attractive young woman. But I’m afraid this won’t suit my wife and daughter. They plan to lay claim to Mr Marsh. I’ve said they must wait until we know more about the gentleman, but you know what women are. Louisa sees him as an asset to our entertainments this summer, and Amelia’—Edgar shrugged his shoulders with tolerant amusement—‘you may have noticed that what that young lady wants she intends to get.’

‘I’ve noticed,’ said Lady Arabella. ‘I’ve also noticed that Fanny isn’t completely without a will of her own. She hasn’t Amelia’s material assets, of course. That should provide a test to Mr Marsh’s character. The contest should be remarkably interesting, don’t you think?’

‘Remarkably,’ said Edgar shortly.

Lady Arabella watched him beneath her eyelids.

‘I notice you worry less about the young man now you realise his interest is of the heart only.’

Edgar shot her a quick glance.

‘What other object did you imagine he had in coming here?’ Lady Arabella murmured. She waved her small white hands. ‘No, don’t bother to invent an answer, because I know that is all you will do. But I wouldn’t underestimate even this romantically-inclined gentleman.’

‘Wouldn’t you?’ said Edgar sharply.

‘He is strong. Very strong. I feel it. I feel—no, never mind. I can see you despising my old woman fancies. And anyway, as you say, Louisa intends to fête the young man, Amelia intends to pursue him, so even if we think him a menace we’re helpless.’

‘Really, Mamma, you would make a country bumpkin, a clod, into a menace.’ Edgar stared at her angrily, accusingly, ‘You do it to amuse yourself.’

‘Oh, yes, my dear, I make up stories. I turn the frog into the prince and vice versa. It’s a harmless occupation. Like my little forays into local history. By the way, isn’t it strange how that letter that I was telling you about has disappeared, so that neither of us can find it?’

She lifted her eyelids, letting him have her full round innocent gaze. He returned it, puffing his cheeks out in angry frustration.

‘Whatever that letter is, if it exists, it’s nothing to do with me. It’s only against my better judgment I’m making arrangements to buy George a new hunter. Does that satisfy you?’

‘In the meantime,’ said Lady Arabella meekly.

Edgar made his voice genial.

‘What else is it you want, you old witch?’

‘What else? Only George’s happiness. Even to his marrying Fanny, if he insists.’

‘Marrying Fanny!’ Edgar exploded. ‘What poppycock! I’ll never hear of it. Neither will his mother.’

‘Edgar, you’re getting red in the face. Is your health what it should be? I only made this comment now because I don’t think it will do for Fanny and Mr Marsh to form an attachment. George wouldn’t care for it.’

‘George, George, George! Is he to run this house?’

‘One day, we hope.’ The old lady gave Edgar her heavy-lidded glance, a sly secret look she invited him to share. ‘If things go as I suspect they must.’

‘I am the master here!’

Lady Arabella seemed to be falling into one of her sudden naps. She didn’t appear to notice his changed and furious face.

Outside the window, on the sloping lawn, the peacock suddenly set up its harsh penetrating squawking.

Lady Arabella opened her eyes.

‘I have never disputed that, Edgar. But even you won’t live for ever. Though longer than some, perhaps. And if you are the master, could you demonstrate it by finding out why the luncheon gong is two minutes late. I, for one, am famished.’

It was true that Amelia had already set her heart on having as much of Adam Marsh’s company as she could get. Her mother was cautious, pointing out that although Adam seemed a perfect gentleman they didn’t yet know anything about him.

‘Your Papa will make enquiries,’ she reiterated.

‘Oh, Mamma, it’s perfectly plain what he is by his face and his manners. I think it rather impertinent to even suggest investigating him. Anyway, no matter what you might find out, I intend to have him here a great deal.’

‘None of that talk, miss.’

‘He likes me,’ said Amelia. ‘He will help me to forget.’