Dorothy Eden (13 page)

‘Stoke up the fire, Bessie,’ she said, as Bessie’s stout elderly figure appeared. ‘Draw the curtains and shut out the dark.’

‘It is dark and cold, my lady.’

‘Not in here,’ Lady Malvina asserted determinedly. ‘In here we’re safe and warm. Ah, it’s good to be home, Bessie. And with my own family around me again.’

‘Yes, my lady.’ Lady Malvina fancied there was the slightest hesitation in Bessie’s voice. Had there been talking among the servants? Were there suspicions?

But nonsense! How could there be? If she heard so much as a word breathed by any of the servants, out they would go. Didn’t they realise how lucky they were? The new master could have been her cold-fish nephew, Ambrose.

The fire leaped up, and the lighted lamps made the room cosy.

‘Ha!’ said Lady Malvina triumphantly. ‘Now pour me a glass of port, Bessie. And send my grandson in. We’ll have a fine romp. Ask Miss Mildmay to come, too.’

Miss Mildmay was a nice girl, quiet and sympathetic. Her behaviour was impeccable. She was a lady and to be trusted. One couldn’t confide one’s doubts to her, but one could at least have the relief of a little gossip.

A
S THE DAYS WENT
by Sarah began to grow disheartened. She was making discoveries, but not the kind that were of any use to her. For instance, she knew without Lady Malvina’s confidences that Amalie was unhappy. Amalie had at last persuaded Blane to allow her to do a certain amount of refurnishing and there had been a great coming and going of tradesmen, and the place had been littered with expensive materials. She had also had various people to call, and gone calling herself, driven by Soames in the carriage, and too elaborately dressed for the country. But all this merely seemed to tighten her face and make her more moody and sharp in her manner. Something more than a passing quarrel was wrong between her and Blane, but this did not constitute the kind of evidence for which Sarah was looking.

Titus’s conversation was of no help. The past, when he had been called Georgie, had rapidly slipped away from him as he became absorbed in his new surroundings. He scarcely remembered the house in London, let alone his home in the West Indies. He was learning to ride the pony Soames had got for him, and overcoming his timidity. This later fact gave Sarah pleasure, for she was fond of the shy little boy. Whatever she felt about his parents’ duplicity, Titus was innocent. The nursery days with the little boy and the slow good-tempered Eliza had a peaceful quality that contrasted sharply with her turmoil of mind when in the presence of Blane and Amalie.

As far as Blane was concerned, Sarah felt as if she were up against a brick wall. He blandly swept aside all awkward moments by pleading his stupidity and unreliability as a child, and his loss of memory. At other times his knowledge of Mallow Hall and the past seemed too uncannily accurate to be assumed. The only explanation for this was Soames, who was too familiar altogether, always hanging about, his dark foxy face missing nothing.

But even Soames could not have known some of the things Blane seemed to know.

The mystery was baffling, and Sarah, who was not a patient person, had moments of wondering whether to give the whole thing up. But before very long she should hear from Ambrose who must have arrived in Trinidad by now. She found she could scarcely remember Ambrose’s face. Its pale elegance seemed to slip out of her mind each time she thought she had just secured it. This was the most disturbing thing of all.

But after what had seemed an indefinite stalemate, a strange event happened.

It was caused by a letter that arrived for Blane with the post at breakfast. Blane had been grumbling, but only half-heartedly, and he seemed to be in good humour.

‘Fifty yards of silk damask, twenty yards of Swiss muslin, ten yards of French grey taffeta, one hundred yards of bottle-green embossed velvet. Are we setting up a drapery business ? But let’s not worry so long as the local gentry is impressed. I hope you have something more cheerful than bills in your post, Mamma.’

‘I have a letter from my jeweller,’ Lady Malvina answered. ‘He says he still has the pearl necklace I had to sacrifice when your father was being so eccentric about money. I can have it back for the sum he paid me. I must say I think that exceedingly honest of him.’

‘How much was the sum?’ Amalie asked suspiciously.

‘Only five hundred pounds. Only a trifle compared with all those fabulous materials you are getting, my dear. A hundred yards of embossed velvet. Tch, tch!’

‘The materials are for the house. Which we all share,’ Amalie said pointedly.

‘I’m a little sentimental about the old familiar ones which I chose myself. And I’m superstitious about green.’

‘Be quiet!’ Blane’s voice was startling. He had a letter in his hand. He seemed very disturbed. ‘All that chitter-chatter about curtains.’

‘What is it, Blane? Bad news?’ asked his mother apprehensively.

Amalie half stood up.

‘Blane—’

Their tension, Sarah realised, was never very far below the surface. One unexpected incident, and they were on their guard. Wasn’t that a sign of guilt if anything was?

‘Yes, I have some news.’ He spoke in an undertone, and did not add whether the news were good or bad. For a crazy moment Sarah wondered if the letter were from Ambrose.

‘I’ll have to go to London.’ He sprang up, as if he were going to call for Soames immediately.

‘Not this minute!’ Amalie exclaimed.

‘Later today. By the afternoon train.’

‘Blane, what is this unexpected news?’ demanded Lady Malvina testily. ‘Aren’t we to be permitted to know?’

Blane had recovered his poise. His eyes were sparkling now. He was a man to enjoy a fight.

So there must still be something to fight over, Sarah reflected. Whatever that letter had contained was not yet a defeat.

It was Amalie who could not hide her alarm. She had become very pale, and when Blane left the room she hurried after him to talk to him privately.

Sarah longed to follow.

‘Will you excuse me, Lady Malvina? I must go up to the schoolroom.’

But Lady Malvina clutched her hand.

‘What was in that letter, do you think? Something’s upset my son.’

‘I expect some business affair, Lady Malvina.’

Beside herself with frustration, Sarah made another move to go but the old lady gripped hard.

‘It was more than business. Because it affected Amalie, too. Didn’t you see the way she looked? Oh dear, I hope nothing’s gone wrong.’

It was too late now. Amalie and Blane would be shut in the study beyond overhearing. Sarah swallowed her disappointment.

‘What do you mean would go wrong, Lady Malvina?’

‘Oh, things, things.’ Lady Malvina at last released Sarah’s hand, and picking up her cup nervously swallowed all her coffee. She sucked her lips and looked about her with her vague worried gaze. ‘I tell you, Miss Mildmay, I’m never easy about my son. He’s been so undisciplined and unpredictable. One always lives on tenterhooks with him. Well, can’t you see how his wife is?’ she added irritably. ‘And now I’ll be bound he’ll go off to London without telling anyone why he’s going. That letter may even have been perfectly harmless and he’s trumping up an excuse to get away for a while. He’s always so restless.’

‘If that’s the case, he acted very well,’ Sarah could not help commenting.

‘Oh, acting. He would find that a very trifling difficulty.’

Lady Malvina drummed on the table with her fingers, then, with her usual optimism, suddenly brightened and exclaimed, ‘At least there’s one good thing. If Blane’s in London he can redeem my pearls.’

Amalie had come back quietly into the room and heard the last words. A flash of vicious anger crossed her face.

‘There will be no time for that, I’m afraid. Blane has important business.’

Lady Malvina pouted.

‘What sort of business?’ she asked waspishly.

‘I don’t know. My husband doesn’t worry me with business details.’

‘Amalie!’ Lady Malvina’s voice held apprehension again. ‘It isn’t anything to do with the case?’

‘Of course not. You must realise that’s finished and done with. Miss Mildmay, isn’t it time for Titus’s lesson?’

Sarah had never found it so difficult to reply meekly. Why should she obey this shallow petulant and at this moment very disturbed woman? Indeed, disturbed was too mild a word. Frightened was a more accurate one.

The mysterious thing that Blane, after a startled moment, intended to meet with his familiar confident arrogance had frightened his wife very much. She was not going to have an easy moment while her husband was in London.

If it came to that, neither was Sarah. For already curiosity was bedevilling her. Somehow she had to get her hands on that very interesting letter.

After turning over every method in her mind, she decided quite simply to imitate Blane himself, and behave with his superb confidence. She would go into the study at the time the maids usually cleaned it, and simply say she had been sent by the master to get something out of his desk.

Indeed, the method was successful enough, as Betsey and the other maid took little notice of her. The catch was that the letter did not appear to be there. Blane must be carrying it about in his pocket. It must be as important as her own diary which she never let out of her possession, carrying it in her reticule all the time.

It seemed she was to remain in ignorance. This was intolerable. What would Ambrose have done? He certainly would not have let an opportunity like this slip by. He would have determined to find out who was meeting Blane, and why.

He would have followed Blane to London…

I
T WAS LATE THE
next day when Sarah rang the bell at the servants’ entrance to the house in South Kensington. She had her face well muffled in a woollen scarf. The story of the agonising toothache which required immediate attention by her own dentist in London had to be told convincingly here, also.

Lucy opened the door and gave a little cry.

‘Lawks! Is it you, Miss Mildmay?’

‘Yes, Lucy. I had to come to London to see the dentist.’

‘Oh, miss! Had you the toothache bad?’ Lucy peered sympathetically.

‘I had, but it’s getting better now. I’ll be all right after a night’s rest.’

‘And me keeping you on the doorstep,’ Lucy exclaimed. ‘Come right in. There’s only me and Mrs Robbins here. And such a fuss when the master arrived yesterday. Mrs Robbins had been—you know—’ Lucy giggled. ‘But she covered it up wonderful. You’d never know she’d had a glass. It was the shock, she said, pulled her together.’

Following Lucy into the warm kitchen, Sarah said, ‘Is the master here now?’

‘Yes, he’s waiting for someone, but no one’s come. Right bad-tempered he’s been. Saying why should he come to town on a wild goose chase, and things like that. Will you take a cup of something hot, Miss Mildmay? You look fair frozen;’

Sarah let the scarf drop from her face. Presently she would wash off the rouge which gave her the appearance of a high fever. Everyone, she was sure, had been quite taken in with her story of a night of pain and the necessity to see her own dentist in London immediately. They had not even fussed about her travelling alone. Amalie was certainly not going to sacrifice one of her maids to accompany a mere governess, and anyway a lady suffering from severe toothache was not likely to be molested.

She had had a qualm about leaving Titus, however. She had never meant to allow herself to grow fond of her enemies’ child, but the little boy’s dependence on her was having an inevitable effect. She was becoming fond of him, and delighted about his growing assurance and happiness. This latter, however, was still only on the surface. Underneath he still had some deep insecurity.

‘Are you going for ever, Miss Mildmay?’

‘Titus, you silly little creature! Of course not. I’ll be back tomorrow or the next day.’

His large eyes were full of uncertainty and distrust. He didn’t attempt to embrace her. He merely stood there, a little boy in a red velvet jacket, too old and too wise, looking at her with his distrustful eyes.

‘Who will teach me my letters?’

‘You can have a holiday until I come back. Eliza will take care of you, and Soames will take you riding.’

‘What if the mouse—’ He stopped, not meaning to have exposed his private fear.

‘What mouse, Titus darling?’

‘The one I hear in the night,’ he answered in a rush.

‘But not every night, Titus. Only once when you called me.’

‘It comes out of the fireplace. It’s very large. I think it means to eat me.’

‘Titus! You’re making that up to keep me here.’

The little boy shook his head stubbornly. How did she know what night fears he had? He apparently only called to her in an extremity.

Sarah knelt to put her arms round him.

‘I’ll tell Eliza to sleep in the nursery with you, and always leave your light burning. Come now. Surely you’ll be all right for two nights while I get my tooth fixed.’

‘Is it very sore?’

‘Indeed it is, or I wouldn’t be going.’

He touched her face gently.

‘Promise to come back.’

Sarah had left in foolish tears, but this served to give proof of her assumed illness. Even Amalie who looked to be in some kind of secret anguish herself, expressed wishes for Sarah’s quick recovery.

Lady Malvina pressed some money into her hand to pay her railway fare, and that was the last straw. Although she suffered no physical pain, Sarah felt that mentally she was a good companion for the sly-faced Soames who drove her to Yarby to catch the train.

‘Don’t worry, Miss Mildmay. I’ll keep an eye on the boy, and other things,’ he said insufferably.

What ‘other’ things did he mean? Was there a veiled threat in that remark? Whatever it might have been, it served to bring back Sarah’s resolution, and she didn’t weaken again.

She was here in the London house, and in time, for apparently Blane had not yet accomplished the purpose for which he had come to town. He was expecting a caller, the writer of that letter, no doubt. It simply remained now for her to keep her eyes and her ears wide open.