Dorothy Eden (17 page)

‘And did you hear anything, Eliza?’ Sarah asked calmly. ‘This crying, for instance.’

‘I didn’t until Titus called me, and then I thought I did. A sort of wild cry.’ Eliza shivered involuntarily, her round rosy face a little pale.

‘What time was this?’

‘Lawks, I don’t know. In the small hours. It was ever so creepy.’

‘Was it a windy night?’

‘I didn’t notice. Yes, I did,’ Eliza amended excitedly, ‘because the curtain was blowing, and the night light had gone out. Don’t tell the mistress, Miss Mildmay, but we was that scared I took Titus into my bed.’

‘That seems to be the most sensible thing you did do, Eliza. I expect the wind was rattling a loose shutter or a drain pipe.’

Eliza nodded in nervous agreement.

‘I expect so, miss. It just seems scary in the middle of the night. I don’t think I could have stayed here if you hadn’t come back.’

‘I can’t stop Titus having nightmares,’ Sarah said. ‘But I don’t think he’ll have any more. Will you, my darling? Tonight you shall have hot milk after you’ve gone to bed, and you’ll sleep so soundly you won’t hear a thing.’

‘Will you be here?’ the child whispered.

‘Of course I’ll be here. And Papa’s home, too. I think he has a present for you.’

You will go back to Mallow because of Titus!
It had been difficult to make herself meekly obey that autocratic voice. Especially after the episode of the diamond necklace last evening, when she had wanted to burst out with the truth, to declare that she had far more right to the family diamonds than ever Amalie would have. And again this morning in the train, when, in unavoidable intimacy with Blane in the small smoky compartment, he had decided to ask her a series of searching questions about her family and her childhood. It had seemed as if he were turning the tables on her, becoming the investigator himself. But if he had suspicions of her he hid them beneath this lazy inquisitiveness and never again allowed his anger to show. She flattered herself that she had emerged from the ordeal of the questionnaire as successfully as he had emerged from the courtroom a month ago. He learned only that she had had the education and upbringing of a girl of the upper classes, until her father had died leaving little provision for his widow and family. She had even begun to enjoy herself, chattering innocently about seaside holidays, and happy nursery days, until she was afraid her secret amusement must have made her eyes twinkle too much. For he gazed at her with the most uninhibited interest. It was only when he said critically,

‘But you’ve left out all the ruffled bits of your life, Miss Mildmay. Surely it’s not all a calm stream? Or is life like that for well-born young ladies?’ that she realised he knew exactly what she was doing and was laughing at her.

‘I’m not well-born,’ she said shortly. ‘And I hardly think you would call my present status a particularly halcyon one.’

‘It will end,’ he murmured. ‘It will end.’

Sarah had a fervent wish that it could end at that moment, for she had the uneasy feeling that in this cat and mouse game, he was the much superior cat. She would like to have stepped out of the train at Yarby and said haughtily, ‘Now I am returning at once to London.’

For she had a sudden intense apprehension as to what would happen in the next few weeks. She was getting too involved. Ambrose surely had never expected her to get emotionally involved like this.

But now she was back, and watching the tremulous happiness in Titus’s sensitive face she knew that she had to stay here until the end. Whatever the end might be…

She would have preferred to have made her injury an excuse for not going down to dinner that night. But she had not seen Blane and Amalie since that moment of their greeting, and she had a feverish unhappy desire to observe their manner at dinner. Would any comment be made on the failure of the mysterious Sammie to materialise, and would she get a clue as to why Amalie had sent for Blane to return? Most of all, would Amalie have lost that pinched look and appear happy at last?

As she was dressing Lady Malvina came in in her unceremonious way. She was elaborately dressed, and wore pearls, obviously the ones Blane had brought home, for she kept fingering them with satisfaction.

‘Well, Miss Mildmay, we thought you’d run off. If governesses ever do run off. I suppose the poor things are driven to it sometimes.’

‘Perhaps you’ve heard of my unfortunate accident, Lady Malvina.’

‘Oh, yes, I heard of it. And between you and me, my daughter-in-law doesn’t think a lot of it.’

‘I didn’t try to fall, Lady Malvina.’

‘Well, I believe she thinks you did.’ Lady Malvina gave her deep malicious chuckle. ‘Have you never met a jealous woman, Miss Mildmay?’

‘But she’s not jealous of me!’ Sarah gasped.

‘She’s the sort who’s jealous of everybody and everything. Have you never looked at your face in the mirror, girl? If you’d like my opinion, you’re a great deal prettier than that foreign-looking creature. Heigh ho! I suppose I shouldn’t talk like this. But I confess I have little in common with my son’s wife. Why she must take to her bed like a sick cat when her husband’s away for a couple of nights, I don’t know.’

‘Did she do that, Lady Malvina?’

‘Apart from playing the grand lady at a tea party, yes. Someone told her my nephew Ambrose had gone to the West Indies, and that seemed to alarm her.’

Sarah spoke carefully. ‘Why should it do that?’

‘I haven’t the least idea. After all, my son is my son, and Ambrose can’t disprove flesh and blood.’ Lady Malvina’s voice had grown loud and belligerent. ‘I might have known he wouldn’t be a good loser. Blane says he’ll fall in love with a Spanish beauty and stay in Trinidad. But my son forgets all men aren’t hot-blooded like him. For my part, I can’t see Ambrose falling in love with anybody.’

‘Perhaps you don’t know your nephew very well, Lady Malvina. Oh, dear! Now I’ve torn my dress.’

In her anger at not being able to defend Ambrose more openly, Sarah had snatched at her dinner gown and caught it in the wardrobe door. There was only a small rent, but it was serious, for she had only one other dinner gown, and no prospect of getting more.

‘Don’t worry, my dear. We have a sewing woman now. A Mrs Stone. She’ll mend that for you in a moment. You’ll find her upstairs in Bella’s room.’

‘The haunted room!’

Lady Malvina waved her fan.

‘My dear, I’m sure the room isn’t haunted. It’s merely a foolish reference that stuck. And unless the other servants have told Mrs Stone, she doesn’t know the room’s history. She’s a harmless creature. Looks half starved, poor thing. Run up and have a word with her. By the way, the boy missed you, Miss Mildmay. He was exceedingly naughty.’

‘He had nightmares again,’ said Sarah flatly. ‘He said someone walked about his room. I don’t suppose you did that, Lady Malvina?’

‘After he was asleep? Good gracious, no. I suppose he heard that woman walking about overhead.’

‘He said someone blew out his light. But that might have been the wind.’

Lady Malvina’s eyes seemed to protrude more than usual. The tip of her tongue flicked over her lips.

‘That’s absurd. Who would go into his room at night? Who would have designs on a child?’

‘Are you suggesting someone may have designs on Titus?’ Sarah gasped.

The old lady made an impatient sound.

‘I’m suggesting no such thing. What an idea! The only person who would stand to benefit from Titus’s absence would be Ambrose, and he’s in the West Indies.’ She paused. ‘What are we talking about, Miss Mildmay?’

‘I don’t know,’ Sarah confessed. But it was impossible not to be unaware of Lady Malvina’s uneasiness. ‘Lady Malvina—’

‘Yes, my dear. Speak up.’

‘You are sure—’ Looking into the suddenly forlorn old face, Sarah could say no more. She found she didn’t want Lady Malvina to put her uncertainty into words. For some complex reason she didn’t want the words spoken.

‘You are sure this woman will sew my dress?’ she asked hurriedly. ‘I’ll go up to her now.’

‘Yes, you’d better hurry. The gong will be going shortly. Well, it will be nice to have someone at the dinner table this evening. We’ll have a cheerful time. No more glooms.’

Sarah limped up the stairs, and tapped at Mrs Stone’s door. A rather sulky voice bade her come in. The woman sitting at the table spread with sewing materials was exactly as Lady Malvina had described her, thin and nondescript, though had she been a little plumper her face would have had a certain rather common prettiness. It did have, however, a strange air of anticipation, as if she had expected her visitor to be someone else.

‘Mrs Stone? I’m Miss Mildmay. Lady Malvina said you would be kind enough to do this small piece of sewing for me. See, I tore my gown. It caught on the wardrobe handle.’

‘All right. Put it down. When do you want it?’

‘For dinner this evening, if possible. In half an hour?’

The woman’s pale lively eyes slid over Sarah with a rather unpleasant knowing look.

‘So you’re the young lady who got delayed in London;’ she said. Her voice was conversational. It was only her expression that had the hint of insolence.

Sarah ignored the remark, and said haughtily,

‘Will you bring the dress to my room when you’ve finished? I still find the stairs very difficult.’

‘Very well. If you want it so quick, I’d better start it.’

Sarah had no desire to linger. The woman was an unlikeable type, and it was not wise to talk too much to the servants. But something made her pause and say, ‘I hope you enjoy being here, Mrs Stone.’

‘It’s well enough. But I don’t intend to stay long. Between you and me, I don’t care for her ladyship.’

‘Then what brought you here?’ Sarah was interested against her will. She could imagine how patronising and dictatorial Amalie had been. This woman was not without wits. She must have decided at once that Amalie was no more a lady than she was.

‘Have to keep myself since I lost my husband,’ the woman replied laconically. ‘I heard there were new folks at Mallow, so I came. But I shan’t stay long. Just time enough to put a bit

Eliza, giving Titus his bath in the tub by the nursery fire, had her brief comment to make about the new employee.

‘She’s a bit above herself, that one. You want to hear Betsey on Mrs la-di-dah Stone. She won’t last long.’

‘What will happen to her?’ Titus asked interestedly.

‘I expect she’ll go the way she came, on her two feet.’

‘That will be enough, Eliza,’ said Sarah. ‘It’s time Titus was in bed.’

She waited the half hour for Mrs Stone to return her dress, and when it didn’t come sighed and contemplated another painful climb up the stairs to the third floor. There was only fifteen minutes left before dinner. One might have guessed the woman wouldn’t keep her word.

When she knocked at the door this time there was no answer. After waiting a moment she opened it and looked in. The lamp was burning on the table, and her dress was spread out, the needle and cotton still in it. But there was no sign of Mrs Stone.

How exasperating! Where was the woman? She must have gone down to the kitchen to gossip. Or perhaps Amalie had rung for her. Anyway, there was no time to wait. She would have to finish the sewing herself. It seemed to be nearly done.

But it was not done particularly neatly. Sarah looked in some astonishment at the cobbled stitches. She wasn’t brilliant at needlework herself, but she would have considered that kind of stitching quite clumsy and inferior.

Either Mrs Stone was a hoax and would be quickly found out, which was probably why she indicated she would not be staying long, or she had not considered the governess’s work worth bothering about.

Exclaiming impatiently, Sarah swiftly finished the task herself and hurried away. She scarcely need bother to say thank you.

Late as she was going down, Amalie and Blane were later. Lady Malvina grumbled loudly at their unpunctuality.

‘I want my dinner. This is very thoughtless. I thought we were all going to be gay and cheerful tonight. But I get bad-tempered if I have to wait for my food. Oh, here’s Blane at last. And just about time, my boy. Where’s Amalie?’

‘Amalie isn’t coming down. She isn’t feeling well.’

Lady Malvina gave an exclamation of disgust.

‘Again! What’s wrong with the woman? Whatever made you marry a delicate wife?’

‘She isn’t delicate, Mamma. She got caught in the rain out riding this afternoon. I think she has a chill. Well, what are we waiting for?’

His face was frowning and impatient. He hadn’t given Sarah even a glance. However he might defend his wife, it was clear that he was upset about something. Amalie’s chill was an excuse. They must have quarrelled again, and he was making no effort to conceal his own bad temper. This was the man she had caught a glimpse of in London, consumed with dark silent anger, a formidable enemy.

Lady Malvina pouted over her soup.

‘Well, I did think we’d have a little gaiety tonight. This house is like a tomb.’

‘Be thankful you’re in it at all, Mamma,’ Blane answered curtly.

His hair, Sarah noticed, was shining in the lamplight. It had recently been wet and the moisture still clung. Either he had just bathed or just come in out of the rain. But he had not said that he, too, had been riding. He had indicated that Amalie had been alone.

‘Well, Miss Mildmay, where’s your appetite? You haven’t caught a chill, too?’

Sarah winced at Lady Malvina’s raucous voice. She bent her head over her soup, but not before Blane’s moody glance had caught her.

‘Toothache again, Miss Mildmay?’

The sarcasm brought the colour to her cheeks. But she answered composedly,

‘Only a little remaining tenderness, Lord Mallow.’

‘Then take your time. No one’s hurrying you.’

That remark might have meant anything. One might have imagined him impatiently solicitous of her trifling ailments. But the letter from Aunt Adelaide the next day proved otherwise.

M
Y DEAR SARAH
,

Why did that fellow calling himself Lord Mallow come snooping here to enquire into your testimonials? He got nothing from me, I assure you. I suggested it was a little late in the day to make these enquiries since he had already employed you, and I understood that you had been with the family for several weeks. He made no explanations
—
he would not
—
he is much too sure of himself. He merely sat in my drawing-room and smiled at me with I must say a rather devastating but
quite untrustworthy
charm, and admitted that you seemed to be an excellent governess, if a little unorthodox. Had you been unorthodox while in my employ? I admit that I enjoyed myself enormously inventing two daughters now at school in Paris who owed a great deal to your charming influence. I emphasised that his son could not be more fortunate in having you with him, and that if he were wise he would see that you remained until the boy is old enough to go to school. He agreed with all this. Indeed, he agreed that you were charming, if unpredictable. Then he took his departure, having discovered nothing he did not know already.