Dorothy Eden (9 page)

One would have thought he was nervous. Not of the still refreshingly new mode of transport, but of his eventual arrival.

The canary in its cage remained silent, but Lady Malvina talked incessantly. After an hour had gone by she produced the hamper Mrs Robbins had packed, and distributed sandwiches and cold chicken. She also, while Amalie was dozing, persuaded Titus to drink a little out of her glass of port.

‘It will put some colour in his cheeks,’ she said, and Amalie woke up and exclaimed,

‘Mamma, how can you be so foolish! Now he’ll be ill. Miss Mildmay, couldn’t you have had more sense?’

‘I’m sorry,’ Sarah murmured meekly. How did a servant oppose this preposterous and determined old lady? She felt her first flash of sympathy for the departed Annie.

Sure enough, an hour later Titus was sick, and his father exclaimed in irritation,

‘When you know the boy’s a bad traveller, why do you give him things to eat?’

‘Or drink,’ Amalie finished crossly. ‘You must blame your mother.’

Lady Malvina, who had eaten well and partaken liberally of the port herself, nodded amiably.

‘Oh, yes. I’m a foolish old woman. But the boy’s got to grow. He’s got to be built up. He’s only half the size you were at that age, Blanc.’

Titus, shivering a little on Sarah’s lap, curled up and presently went to sleep. Sarah was aware, for the first time that day, of Blane’s gaze on her. She had said nothing during the whole episode, merely cleaned the child up and comforted him. She had been comforting herself that journeys like this would not be undertaken every day, so surely she could endure this one well enough. Probably at this moment Ambrose was much more uncomfortable tossing on a stormy sea.

‘I’ve told you not to spoil the boy,’ Blane said in his abrupt voice.

Sarah wondered indignantly if the poor baby, sick and tired, was expected to sit upright in his corner for the entire journey.

She raised her eyes innocently and said,

‘I won’t spoil him, Lord Mallow. Indeed, I don’t think he’s at all spoilt. He’s over-excited and bewildered by his new environment.’ Her voice was gentle and uncensorious. Was she being a little too rash? ‘But I did wonder last night why he asked me to call him Georgie. Is that a pet name?’

Amalie’s eyes flickered slightly. But Blane’s were level and composed.

‘His baby name, yes. But he’s old enough to be called Titus now. I hope you will do so, Miss Mildmay. The boy’s no longer a baby.’

‘You never told me that, Blane,’ Lady Malvina said in her rich drowsy voice. ‘Had you just that moment begun to call him Titus?’

‘Which
moment, Mamma?’

‘Why, when you appeared in my hall that day.’

‘Of course not. We’d been doing so for months. Good heavens, what a trifle to argue about. The child’s name is Titus Blane George Mallow. And I don’t want him pampered.’

For the first time Amalie spoke vaguely in Sarah’s defence.

‘Being a bad traveller doesn’t consist of being pampered. But this settles it. We don’t travel any further today. We spend the night at Yarby.’

‘Don’t be absurd! Soames is meeting us with the carriage.’

‘Then he can be put up for the night, or return again in the morning. I, for one, don’t intend to arrive at Mallow completely exhausted.’

Blane made an impatient exclamation. His gaze went over the compartment of women with scarcely concealed contempt. He looked as if he would have liked to be rid of them all and travel unshackled.

‘Lady Malvina, wouldn’t you prefer to spend the night in a comfortable inn?’ Amalie appealed. ‘You don’t want to jolt all those miles in the dark.’

‘I certainly don’t,’ Lady Malvina agreed. ‘I want a good fire and a comfortable bed. I’m not as young as I was. And Titus shouldn’t be over-taxed. Yes, Blane, I think we’d make a much more impressive arrival fresh and tidy in the morning.’

Blane shrugged.

‘Very well. As you wish. I’ll arrange for rooms at the George. If they can accommodate such a large party.’

‘Don’t be silly, Blane. You must remember Tom Mercer. He’d never turn anyone from Mallow away. And he’ll be overjoyed to see you.’

But again Sarah caught the flicker of uncertainty in Lady Malvina’s eyes. She wondered how she could be present at Blane’s meeting with Tom Mercer, and knew at once that it would be impossible.

When they arrived Soames, a dark little man with a narrow face, was waiting with the carriage, and in this they drove the short distance to the George where the ladies were ordered to wait while arrangements for accommodation were being made.

Whether Tom Mercer had recognised Blane at once, Sarah was not to know. But at least he acknowledged the importance of the arrivals by coming out to greet them with genuine pleasure.

‘Well, Tom,’ said Lady Malvina in her penetrating voice, ‘do you recognise my scallawag son? Do you remember letting him drink too much ale when he was a schoolboy, and him coming home rolling drunk?’

‘That I do, my lady,’ said Tom. ‘But if I may say so, Master Blane was not a lad you could say no to.’

Lady Malvina chuckled reminiscently.

‘No, I grant you that.’ Strangely enough, there was little mirth in her eyes.

‘If you’d gossip a little less, Mamma, and come inside,’ Blane said. ‘Rooms are being got ready, and there’s tea in the parlour.’ His voice was calm. He gave no sign of gratitude to Lady Malvina for putting memories into his mind—or were those memories there already? If not, the man was a fine actor.

But then one knew he was. He had fooled a judge and an English jury. It would not be difficult to fool a village innkeeper.

Early dusk was falling, and it was a relief not to have the long journey to Mallow that evening. Sarah found she was to share a room with Titus, Lady Malvina had the adjoining one, and Amalie and Blane had the large double chamber at the head of the stairs. Bessie was called on to do some quick unpacking and attendance on the ladies, and then was dispatched to her own quarters somewhere downstairs.

Sarah put Titus to bed immediately where, worn out with the day’s excitements, he at once fell asleep. Already, in twenty-four hours, she had settled herself into the part she was to play, and was able quite meekly to offer her services to Lady Malvina or Amalie.

Lady Malvina, seated comfortably before a fire, her bonnet replaced by a lace cap, the canary cage at her side, said,

‘Thank you, my dear. How kind. But I don’t intend to dress this evening. I shall have a tray sent up here. How’s the boy?’

‘Asleep, Lady Malvina.’

‘Good. But he’ll have to get more stamina, as my son says. By the way, you didn’t notice—’ Her cheeks puffed in and out.

Then she sank back, changing her mind, deflated.

‘Didn’t notice what, Lady Malvina?’ Sarah asked.

‘No matter. I was just over curious. A great many people, I’ve discovered, have short memories for faces. It’s absurd that my son has had to be humiliated like this, establishing his identity.’

‘You mean, did the landlord know him?’ Sarah said boldly.

‘But he must have, because we have all the attention, as usual. And tomorrow we’ll be safely at Mallow. Ha-a!’ She gave a great sigh. ‘I must buy some more jewels. I like jewels. My husband got a little eccentric for some time before his death. He became most parsimonious with money. I had to sell my pearls. Sacrifice them to that hungry man of mine in Bond Street. But now he can get me some more. Yes, pearls. They’re the kindest to ageing throats.’

‘It has been quite a change of fortune for you, hasn’t it, Lady Malvina?’

The old lady shot Sarah a quick suspicious glance. But her love of a sympathetic listener got the better of discretion.

‘Yes, it has. Couldn’t imagine my nephew Ambrose buying me jewels. He’s a cold fish.’

‘Cold?’

‘You know what I mean. Careful, self-contained, minds about gossip, hates to be embarrassed. Correct. That’s the word. I’d have embarrassed him greatly, but Blane’s like myself. Doesn’t give a brass farthing for what people say. Walks the earth like a lord. That’s what I like.’

Sarah bit her lip. She didn’t enjoy the old lady’s ability to put people into words so effectively, whether the words were true or not. And of course they were not. She had left out all Ambrose’s fine points, his honour and courtesy, his cultured mind, his gentleness. Blane would not know what to be gentle was.

‘Tell me about your son when he was a boy, Lady Malvina. Was he like Titus?’

‘In looks, yes. But that’s all. He was twice the boy Titus is, sturdy, not afraid of anything or anybody, rode almost before he walked, did everything. But difficult and hot-tempered. That’s how he came to quarrel with his father. It was all or nothing with Blane. He had his own way or walked out.’

‘Do you think he’s still like that?’

‘Oh, no. He’s grown up. He’s an adult. I’m exceedingly proud of him. Exceedingly. But that was strange, Miss Mildmay, wasn’t it? The boy wanting to be called Georgie. But he really is Titus on his birth certificate. I’ve seen it. It was one of the exhibits at court. So don’t get any odd ideas in your head.’

‘But why should I, Lady Malvina?’ Sarah enquired innocently.

‘Yes, why should you? I’ve been asked so many questions lately, that I’ve got a phobia about it. I think everybody is suspicious, even harmless old Tom Mercer.’

(And if their suspicions were proved correct you wouldn’t get those pearls, Sarah thought. Or have a grandson to pamper, or plenty of servants to bring you your port and your good food.)

‘It’s been a difficult time for you, Lady Malvina,’ she murmured.

‘Yes, it has. But now all is well, and I’d like a glass of port before my supper. Would you ring the bell, there’s a good girl. I can see I’m going to grow quite fond of you, Miss Mildmay. You’re intelligent as well as attractive. But I wouldn’t let my daughter-in-law see too much of either of those qualities. She’s suspicious, too.’

Sarah left the room to the accompaniment of Lady Malvina’s deep malicious chuckle. So chat was another thing. She was not over-fond of her daughter-in-law.

Sarah had scarcely gone back to her room before Amalie tapped at the door and came in.

She had made a complete new
toilette,
and wore one of her taffeta dinner gowns, cut low so that her narrow sloping shoulders were shown off. A Paisley shawl, a mere gesture towards the chilly evening, hung negligently over her arms. The colour in her thin cheeks was high and her eyes brilliant.

‘How is my son, Miss Mildmay?’

‘He’s asleep, Lady Mallow. I scarcely like to wake him for supper.’

‘I shouldn’t. By the way, my mother-in-law isn’t going down, so my husband and I will also dine in our room. Perhaps you’d make what arrangements you care to for yourself. Tomorrow we’ll all be settled normally, I hope.’

‘Thank you, Lady Mallow.’

‘I’d recommend an early night. We’ll be starting at the crack of dawn, if I know my husband.’

She went out leaving a trail of scent behind her. She had not smiled, but she had been almost human. Almost, Sarah thought, conspiratorial. As if something she had planned had worked out very well. There had been an excitement about her that had included Sarah in it. She had not been like that this morning, so it could not have been caused by the triumph of going to Mallow Hall as the new mistress.

Surely it was not because tonight, there could be no locked door between herself and her husband!

But that must be it. For it was Amalie who had insisted on breaking the journey, knowing that as a matter of course she and Blane would share a room. And she was the only one who had thought it necessary to dress—and to dress as if for a party.

It was the dinner in the privacy of their firelit room that she was thinking of. When the servant would retire, the door would be shut, and there would be the chance of a reconciliation over whatever their quarrel had been.

Sarah would not allow herself to waste time thinking of their two heads close together in the firelight. She spent an unhappy few minutes at the window looking out into the dark night, and remembering Ambrose’s face as it had been when she had last seen it, pale and dedicated. That was all that mattered to her. She must not get embroiled emotionally in other people’s lives. If Blane chose to quarrel with or be reconciled with his wife, it was nothing to do with her.

She made another note in her diary.
Lady M. extravagant
—
must have squandered a great amount of money and was embarrassed by debts when husband died. Looks to Blane to buy her the new jewels she loves. Goes on being determined to think Blane her son when all the time she is uncertain and a little frightened. Wondering what situation she has got into. Did Tom Mercer recognise Blane at once?

Here Sarah paused, then made another cryptic note:
I think Amalie uncertain of her husband’s love. Blane obviously has always been and probably still is a philanderer.

Then she scratched out the last sentence vigorously. For this man was
not
Blane, and no one knew whether he were a philanderer or not. Except, perhaps, Amalie.

Determined to find out something about Tom Mercer at least, Sarah went downstairs. She asked for her supper to be served in the parlour, and sat down to wait. To walk boldly into the bar seeking Tom Mercer would be too odd a thing even for her to do.

Luck was with her, however, for Tom himself carried in the tray.

‘We’re short of help tonight, with so many unexpected guests. Hope this is to your liking, ma’am.’

‘Thank you,’ said Sarah. ‘I expect it was a great surprise for you to see Lord Mallow.’

‘It was that. I’d heard he was coming any day, but I didn’t expect him unannounced like this.’

‘And would you have known him anywhere?’ Sarah asked, her eyes downcast.

‘Well, ma’am, speaking fairly, I can’t say that I would have. It’s twenty years, after all, and him only a lad when he left. But he’s got that same proud look about him, if you know what I mean. That lad, he would do what he willed. Only a schoolboy, and he could carry his liquor like an old timer. And as for the ma—’ The man stopped in mid-sentence. He had been going to say too much, and something not complimentary. Something about maids? And there was Amalie upstairs, silk-gowned and perfumed, on the ground of Blane’s old conquests. If he were Blane…