Dorothy Eden (28 page)

‘Blane!’ whispered Sarah, groping for the rickety wooden stairs.

Someone struck a match. The frail light shone for the merest moment on Soames, hanging exhaustedly to the bell rope. Then it flickered out, and that deadly little picture, too, might have been imagined.

Blane sprang up the stairs, stumbling and blundering.

After a long time, his footsteps began to descend slowly and heavily.

‘I’ve got Titus,’ he said tiredly. ‘He’s quite unhurt. Are you there, Sarah? Can you take him? He’s still asleep.’

It was Soames then who struck matches and for a moment his long narrow face hung over the sleeping child.

‘He’s all right, I tell you, Soames. He was lying on the floor—as you assumed.’

That was all. In that moment Sarah knew the glimpse of Soames still holding the bell rope, and the last terrible echoes dying away, was something that would be pushed into the back of all their memories. It would never be spoken of.

As Sarah took the sleeping child there was a bustle at the front door, and alarmed voices.

‘What’s going on here? We heard the bell? Is there trouble?’

It was the vicar and his wife who had hurried across the field in some perturbation. The vicar carried a carriage lamp, and the scene was at last lit up, Soames with his face shining pallidly, Sarah dishevelled and shocked, and Titus wrapped in his warm coat asleep with his head on her shoulder. Blane’s face had its carven look, his eyes hollowed, his nose too long and large.

He spoke in a remote voice, ‘I’m afraid there’s been an accident. My wife was in the belfry. In the dark she must have stumbled against the bell. It swung back—as you heard.’

‘Good God! We must get help. The poor lady! Is she badly hurt?’

‘I’m afraid it’s too late.’

‘Oh, my dear boy!’

‘I’m sorry, vicar. She was always highly emotional and unpredictable. That poor woman accidentally drowned preyed on her mind. She seems to have had a brainstorm. We followed her—but too late.’

The vicar bowed his head.

‘She came to my church for comfort.’

‘It was a beautiful church, vicar.’

‘It
is
a beautiful church. It understands death as well as life.’

Blane lifted his haggard eyes.

‘And the little lad is safe,’ said the vicar’s wife comfortingly. She took Sarah’s arm. ‘My husband will know what to do here. We’ll take the boy across to the house. What a good thing he’s sleeping. He’ll never know anything of this.’

Those comforting words were still in Sarah’s head as later they rode wearily home. They had resisted efforts to have them stay at the vicarage all night. His mother would be desperately anxious, Blane said. She was dearly devoted to her grandson.

Soames carried Titus on the saddle in front of him, tenderly and possessively. Nobody spoke much, until Soames turned to say,

‘This will blow over, sir.’ It was significant that he no longer called Blane ‘my lord’. ‘It’ll cause talk, but there’s always been talk about Mallow when the master’s home.’

‘You have the master in your arms,’ Blane said briefly.

For a moment, in the moonlight, the two men’s eyes met. Then Soames nodded.

‘You can trust me, sir.’

‘I know it, Soames. I apologise for ever thinking otherwise. You’d have died for that boy, wouldn’t you?’

‘As I would have for his father and his grandfather.’

‘Then make a man of him. Lady Malvina will help you. Now ride on. I want to talk to Miss Mildmay.’

Yet he didn’t speak at once, and when he did it was to say,

‘I’m going away as soon as Amalie’s funeral is over. I’ll never come back again.’

‘You’re—giving up?’

‘No, I’ve merely done what I set out to do.’

‘You mean to get Mallow for your son?’

‘Not my son. Blane Mallow’s son.’

‘So you never were Blane!’

‘No. I’m merely the younger son of another English family who also set out to make his life at sea. I’m also a wanderer. But I’m not Blane Mallow. Any more than you were Lady Mallow with the diamonds round your neck.’

Had he read her thoughts then? Of course he had. He was far more subtle and clever even than she had guessed.

‘Blane was my friend,’ he went on. ‘We’d sailed together many times. He once saved my life. When I couldn’t save his, after our ship went down in a cyclone, I promised him to do all I could for his son. “Get Mallow for him,” he said. And I promised. It was his last moment of consciousness, and I didn’t know myself that I would ever reach land alive. But I promised.’

‘And did that mean you had to impersonate him?’ Sarah flashed.

‘It did, because I discovered that what should have been perfectly simple wasn’t simple at all. You see Titus—and I can trust you, Sarah—is certainly Blane’s son, but he’s not legitimate.’

Sarah stared. ‘Then Blane really was married to that awful woman, Mrs Stone!’

‘To Sammie. Samantha. Whatever her last name was. Yes, Blane was married to her. But she’d left him years ago, deserted him, or he her, I’m not sure which, and he genuinely thought her dead when he married Amalie. However, she wasn’t. They heard of her some time later, but hoped there’d be no trouble. Amalie had her marriage certificate and her baby. She didn’t expect trouble because Blane was still the ne’er-do-well sailor Sammie had left. And Sammie knew nothing of the Mallow inheritance. The newspaper advertisements hadn’t reached her at that time—at least, that’s what we know now. Then she’d disappeared again, and perhaps really was dead.’

‘Why couldn’t Amalie have brought Titus home and made the claim by herself?’ Sarah demanded.

‘She hadn’t the courage. She knew her marriage was bigamous. She needed support. It was she who noticed how much I resembled Blane, and since we’d lately spent ten days floating on a spar in the Caribbean I’d heard every detail Blane could remember of his childhood, some related in delirium. You might have called it lucky for me. One way and another, I was pretty well equipped to make the attempt. It was easy enough to acquire a scar beneath my ear. In fact, I had one already that only needed a little improving on. It fooled the doctors.’

‘And you enjoyed doing all this!’

At her accusing tone he gave his amused smile.

‘I enjoy a challenge as much as you do, Sarah.’

‘You didn’t happen to think that you were depriving Blane’s cousin Ambrose of his inheritance?’

‘Ambrose could look after himself. Titus was only a child.’

‘So you had it all your own way. Lady Malvina was so delighted to have her son home that she shut her eyes to trouble, and Soames had this obsession about Titus, the true heir, and willingly committed perjury. They simply carried you through. What about the other man, Thomas Whitehouse?’

Blane grinned. ‘Amalie’s father, with his English name. Faithful Thomas. He liked his daughter being a lady. He was quite prepared to swear he had always known me as Blane Mallow.’

‘You’re incorrigible!’ Sarah exclaimed. ‘You did have it all your own way.’

‘No. You’re wrong. It was far from that. You forget Amalie. And I completely underestimated her.’

Sarah looked at the bleak outline of his face;

‘She fell in love with you.’

‘Passionately. Embarrassingly. She drove me into every corner. She was shameless. She hadn’t had an English upbringing, of course. She hadn’t your courtesy or self-discipline, or the modesty of an English woman. I confess I’d never expected to have to rely on locked doors. The plan had been that I was to stay here long enough to establish Titus and her, and then go back to sea, and this time get completely lost. But Amalie began to make scenes. She refused to entertain the thought of my leaving.’

Blane shrugged wearily.

‘Then you came, and I, I confess, lost my head. I saw you standing in the hall looking furious with everybody because Titus was unhappy. You’d had the intelligence to see that at once. I liked the way you so firmly took his side. I liked the way you looked. You were so full of spirit and indignation and tenderness. I recognised you at once. You were the kind of woman I had always looked for. So there it was. Your arrival was unconventional, everything about your behaviour was suspicious, but so was my situation, Amalie’s, everyone’s in that house. I overlooked what your coming would do to Amalie, who was already jealous and difficult. I simply recognised that here in this queer business was something for me. So I determined you were to stay.’

Sarah’s voice was unsteady.

‘And it was worse than you had expected?’

‘Oh, much worse. You know that yourself. But it’s all over now.’ He took a backward glance at the church tower dissolving into the night sky. ‘But I never meant to bring her to this.’

‘She was the kind to destroy herself.’

‘Or others. Yes. You’re right.’ After a little while he added, ‘I’ll leave when the funeral’s over. It will be perfectly easy. Everyone will think I have a broken heart. Titus will be all right. His grandmother will bring him up. She’ll always know him as Blane’s son. You and Soames, and Thomas Whitehouse, who would never betray his grandson, and I are the only living people to know the truth.’

‘How are you so sure I’m to be trusted?’ Sarah asked in a low voice.

‘I have no doubt of it.’

‘Where shall you go?’

‘Who knows? The Caribbean, the South Seas. I’m a wanderer. I should have gone crazy with boredom, leading this kind of life for too long.’

They were riding up the long curving drive, the house standing pale and elegant across the meadow.

‘It’s a beautiful place,’ Sarah said wistfully.

His voice was sharp with surprise. ‘Don’t tell me you had ambitions, too!’

‘Let’s call them dreams.’

She slid off her horse at the door. She could scarcely stand for weariness.

Blane said again sharply, ‘What is this, Sarah? Had you some claim to this place?’

The great door was flung open before Sarah could answer. Lady Malvina stood there, swaying slightly, her arms outstretched.

‘Blane, have you brought him back? Where’s my grandson?’

‘He’s here, Mamma. Soames has him. He’s perfectly safe.’

‘Oh, thank God! Thank God! Ambrose and I heard the horses.’

‘Ambrose!’ exclaimed Sarah.

Even before she saw Ambrose’s lean self-possessed figure in the background she was aware of Blane’s inquisitive eyes on her. His face was hard with suspicion.

Ambrose came forward quickly to greet her. He obviously intended to make no secret now of their relationship.

‘My dear Sarah!’ He took her hand and kissed it tenderly.

‘You two appear to be old friends,’ Blane’s voice came with detached interest. ‘Or should I say, more than friends?’

‘Miss Mildmay! What is this Ambrose has been telling me?’ Lady Malvina demanded. ‘How long have you known each other?’

Ambrose answered for her. ‘Sarah is my fiancée.’

Sarah withdrew her hand.

‘We can talk later. At present Titus must be got to bed. Fortunately he’s been asleep almost all the time. He knows nothing.’

‘Nothing of what?’ The fear was naked in Lady Malvina’s eyes. ‘Ambrose has been driving me mad with questions, and now you make these strange statements. Where’s Amalie?’

‘Lord Mallow will tell you. Lady Malvina.’

Sarah went to take Titus from Soames. She caught the look of cunning triumph in the man’s eyes. He had stared at Ambrose with defiance and dislike. So that was another thing that had been in his mind. He had not wanted Ambrose to be master here. Their dislike had been mutual.

‘Blane, what is this?’ Lady Malvina was insisting.

‘Amalie has had an accident, Mamma.’

The bleak words told her everything.

‘Not dead?’

‘I fear so.’

Lady Malvina clutched her throat. ‘Do you want to tell me how?’

‘Not now, Mamma. It was the result of her brainstorm.’

‘It was more than a brainstorm, running off with Titus like that. I believe she was quite mad. Thank heaven Titus is safe. Blane, my poor boy! You look quite exhausted;’

‘I’m all right, Mamma. Shall we talk about this in the morning?’

‘No,’ interposed Ambrose. ‘It must be talked of now. You can’t make these extraordinary statements and not explains them. What has happened to Amalie? How did she have this brainstorm? Sarah, give that child to Betsey. She’s perfectly able to put him to bed.’

Sarah obeyed, handing the child to the elderly servant. Titus stirred for the first time. His heavy eyes lifted. ‘Grandmamma?’ Then he was asleep again.

‘The little love,’ said Lady Malvina unsteadily. ‘Now come into the library and we’ll have this out once and for all. But Ambrose, I ask you to have some delicacy, if you’re capable of it. Remember that Blane has just lost his wife.’

‘If she was his wife.’

‘Oh, I know you have this fantastic story about Samantha and tombstones and suchlike, but we really can’t believe them at this hour of night.’

‘Sarah must know the truth by now,’ Ambrose said pointedly. ‘You’ve been putting two and two together, haven’t you, my dearest? Tell me what opinion you have formed. Is this man Blane Mallow? Was Amalie his wife? Is that boy just carried upstairs his son? Come, you don’t need to be afraid any longer to tell what you know. I’m here to protect you. We’re simply fighting for our rights.’

Blane had not spoken. He stood negligently leaning against the mantelpiece. His gleaming eyes were fixed on Sarah. His expression told her nothing. She looked from him to Ambrose. She had thought she loved Ambrose, she reflected in astonishment. He was so handsome, so elegant and cultured, so sure of himself. He had represented a kind of life she had thought immensely desirable.

But she had not realised he was so cold. His eyes were the colour of the lake water,

‘Ambrose went to the West Indies to discover all these things,’ Lady Malvina said. ‘But he seems to have failed. He has no proof of anything. And he a barrister, too, with a trained legal mind. But Miss Mildmay, is it really true that you’re his fiancée? How could you be so deceitful?’

Sarah didn’t enjoy meeting the hurt old eyes. Suddenly Blane answered for her.

‘The Mallow diamonds suited her very well. And I grant you, she loves this house. Everyone has ambitions, Mamma. Why shouldn’t Miss Mildmay?’