Pursuit of a Parcel (15 page)

Lady Maddox advanced with dignity. She was tall. She had what is politely described as a presence. Her fur coat resembled those you see illustrated in catalogues and wonder why anyone had enough money to buy them. Of course Cousin Mervyn was frightfully rich—

By the time she reached them Antony and Delia had stepped apart, but it was quite hopeless to suppose that she had not seen them locked in one another's arms. There are things you can explain away, and there are things you can't. When you cannot possibly explain something, it is better to ignore it. Delia kissed her Cousin Leonora, who turned a frosty cheek and then put up a lorgnette and trained it on Antony. When Delia had murmured his name, Lady Maddox made a very slight inclination of her head and, linking her arm in Delia's, walked up the steps and into the house.

“My dear child! What are you doing here all alone? I have only just heard of Philip Merridew's accident.”

“He was bombed,” said Delia, putting up a smoke-screen.

It was disregarded.

“That doesn't matter in the least. He is not here, and you should not be here. I shall take you back with me after lunch. Who did you say that young man was?”

“Antony Rossiter. Uncle Philip was his guardian. He's been here always. You must have heard of him.”

The lorgnette came up again. The lenses made Cousin Leonora's eyes look quite incredibly sharp and hard. “My dear Delia! You're not going to tell me he's staying here!”

Delia was aware that her colour was flaming, but she was not going to deny Antony. She said in her clearest voice,

“No, he isn't. But we're engaged.”

“With Philip Merridew's consent?”

Really Cousin Leonora had a most unpleasant voice.

“It's only just happened. He's been too ill for us to tell him. He loves Antony. He'll be most awfully pleased.”

Lady Maddox emitted a sound expressive of contemptuous dissent. “And your other guardian—it did not occur to you to consult your Cousin Mervyn and myself?”

It hadn't, and Delia said so.

“I should like to go upstairs,” said Lady Maddox. Her tone suggested forcible self-control.

By the time she arrived in Delia's bedroom a change appeared to have come over her. She removed the coat and a kind of fur turban, dabbed at her immaculate permanent wave, and turned a smiling countenance. Ginger hair, presence, and all, she was a handsome woman when she smiled.

“Well, my dear, he's quite a nice-looking young man, but we won't talk about getting engaged. That's what I always said to my girls—‘Run round with all the boys you want to and have a good time, but when it comes to getting married, well, that's a serious affair.' And I was brought up to believe that it was a family affair, and not just a personal one. With your looks and your money, Delia, you can do a great deal better than this young Rossiter. Lewis West was immensely struck with you at Bronwen's wedding. I thought you hardly realized it at the time—and one is so taken up at a daughter's wedding—but I saw him last week and he asked after you in the most particular way and said if he got his leave in November, would I ask you down? He really didn't attempt to conceal how much he was interested.”

Delia cast back her mind and tried to disentangle Lewis West from the crowd at Bronwen's wedding.… Rather a plain, silent young man with doggy eyes and a knack of being always at one's elbow—She must have looked blank, because Cousin Leonora was saying with an edge on her voice,

“Really,
Delia! Don't you ever notice anything? Most girls would give their eyes to have Lewis notice
them,
and you be have as if you didn't even remember him!”

“I didn't at first,” said Delia, “but I do now. There were such a lot of people at the wedding. He was nice.”

The last sentence slipped out. She bit her tongue too late. He
was
nice, but how fatal to tell the truth if it was going to encourage Cousin Leonora.

“Nice!”
said Lady Maddox in an exasperated voice. “He'll be Duke of Westchester when his uncle dies, and that may be at any time now! Do you mean to tell me you didn't even realize that? I can tell you, you're a very lucky girl. He's never taken any notice of anyone before. And as steady as a rock—quite taken up with housing, and social welfare, and all that kind of thing until the war—and I must say the Army has brisked him up quite a lot. I can't think of anyone who would make you a better husband.”

Delia began to laugh. She couldn't help it. Poor Lewis West! And he'd probably never thought of her at all. She laughed, and she said,

“Why, I don't even know him, Cousin Leonora. And I'm going to marry Antony.…”

It was not until the lunch bell rang that Lady Maddox descended or permitted Delia to descend. On any other occasion the time would have passed pleasantly enough. Lady Maddox was a fond grandmother. She had snapshots of Dilys' boy and Enid's twins—all three plump, pleasant babies. If it hadn't been for the thought of Antony champing downstairs, Delia would have taken a more whole-hearted interest. There was also all manner of family gossip. What Cousin Leonora didn't know about her relations could be put on the point of a needle. Serena Luton was engaged. George Fotheringay—very old family, but no money. Old Cousin Harcourt had been snatched from a marriage with his nurse at
positively
the eleventh hour—“A most determined red-haired woman. The poor old man was quite terrified of her. He is ninety-odd, but it cost the family five hundred down to get rid of her. If he'd been five years younger they'd have had to double it, but they threatened to dispute any will and bring an action for undue influence, so she caved in. Actually, I believe, nothing could have stopped her getting whatever it is widows get under the new law, but mercifully she didn't know that.”

The tale went on. Tiger Beauchamp had got the Distinguished Flying Cross, and one of Great-aunt Harriet's gardeners had been given the George Medal—“Something to do with removing a bomb, but Aunt Harriet says he's such a stupid boy, she doesn't suppose for a minute he knew that it might go off. He's the one with freckles and a grin. Your Cousin Mervyn has taken in forty secondary schoolboys and four masters at Plas-y-Maddox. I can't think what the carpets will be like. I must say they are very well behaved and no trouble at all. I expected the staff to give notice, but mercifully they didn't, and then I found out that Mervyn had raised all their wages. Without one word to me, and quite obstinate when I spoke to him about it.”

Delia wanted to laugh about Cousin Mervyn being obstinate. So frightfully good for Cousin Leonora. She wondered why he didn't do it oftener. He had put down his foot about the girls' names. His family might spring from the soil, whilst the Lutons went back a thousand years, but his eldest girl would get his mother's name, and the other two would be called after his grandmother and the little sister who had died when she was ten years old and whom he never forgot. If there had been a son he would have been Gwilym, but there was no son to carry on the name of the grandfather who had driven a pick in a Welsh mine and conducted a prize-winning choir. His business was sacrosanct. Once, and once only, had Leonora attempted to interfere.

No one knew quite what had happened, but she never did it again. For the rest, he was a little, dark, wiry Welshman with a fine baritone voice, and he still liked singing hymns on Sunday evening.

It was one of the nicer things about Cousin Leonora that she let him do it, except when there was a very unsuitable house-party and the girls went on strike.

Lunch was not all that Delia had fondly hoped it was going to be. Instead of talking to Antony she had to listen to Lady Maddox. So had Antony, who couldn't be expected to feel even a remote interest in the probable condition of Plas-y-Maddox after housing evacuees in bulk. Interest or no, the subject served until it was succeeded by the full history of a dispute with the local council.

They took coffee in the drawing-room. It had been obvious to Antony from the word go that he was not going to be allowed to see Delia alone. He could, of course, have walked her out of the room, but Lady Maddox was quite capable of walking after them. There was also the impressive fact that if Philip Merridew was to die, Lord Maddox would be Delia's sole guardian for the next two years. Besides, it is a mistake to quarrel with your wife's relations if you can possibly help it. He exerted himself to charm Lady Maddox, and succeeded in raising the social atmosphere quite sensibly above freezing point.

At half past two he rose to go. Delia cast him a despairing look. He shook hands with Lady Maddox.

“I really came down to discuss a small business matter with Delia. It's about a parcel which my brother sent me, and which she has very kindly been taking care of. Will you excuse me if I just ask her about it?”

Lady Maddox inclined her head.

“Certainly. It is not, I imagine, a private matter.”

The unregenerate man in Antony would have liked to say, “Yes, it is, and be damned to you!” He curbed the base instinct, murmured “Oh, no,” and turned to Delia.

“Did Cornelius come down?”

“Yes, he did.”

Delia was feeling quite sick with disappointment. Antony had only kissed her once—they had a million things to say. How could she tell him about the parcel with Cousin Leonora listening to every word? She was in despair. It just couldn't be done.

Antony's eyes seemed to be saying “Buck up!” but it was no use. His voice said quite cheerfully,

“Did he want you to go to the bank and get the parcel out?”

“Yes, he did. And when I said you were coming down, he said he couldn't wait.”

“Oh, he did, did he? What time was that?”

Delia said, “A quarter to ten,” and saw his face change and become alert and interested.

“How sudden of him! After all, the bank wouldn't be open till ten o'clock. It sounds almost as if he didn't want to see me.”

“He didn't—he said so.”

He paused for a moment, then said, “Well, well—” and held out his hand.

“Goodbye, my dear—take care of yourself.”

He was gone, and Delia could have cried with pure rage. Instead she had to gird herself in defence of her liberties, which, it now became plain, were being threatened in a most menacing fashion.

It was quite impossible according to Cousin Leonora that she should remain in her present unchaperoned position—“Quite out of the question.” And when Lady Maddox said “Quite out of the question,” it made the words sound as if they were spelled in capitals at least two feet high. Unfortunately, owing to the influx of secondary schoolboys—and staff—Plas-y-Maddox would really be hardly suitable. “In fact, for all I know, your Cousin Mervyn may have doubled the number by now—he is in that kind of mood. But perhaps Cousin Emilia—”

Delia shuddered to her very core. Cousin Emilia was Cousin Leonora's eldest unmarried sister. She lived a hundred miles from anywhere, and always kept a young guest from feeling bored by setting her to darn the sheets and pillowcases of an outworn day. If she wished to escape Cousin Emilia she must fight.

The conflict was just beginning to die down, when Parker came respectfully into the room.

“If you please, Miss Delia, Mrs. Parker wished me to ask if you would see her for a moment.”

The interruption was really not unwelcome to either of the protagonists. Lady Maddox had been astonished at the quality of Delia's defence. Having been forced to a compromise, she welcomed the break. Delia provided her with the
Times,
and followed Parker across the hall and through the green baize door which led to the kitchen wing.

At the end of the passage the door to the pantry stood ajar. Delia entered, heard it close behind her, and for the second time that day ran into Antony's arms. They hugged each other like a couple of children—a radiant little girl Delia, and a mischievous schoolboy Antony. And then grown-up lovers again—and held one another and kissed, but not for long.

“Angel, we must be quick, or she'll track you down. I say, darling, she's grim! She's not going to drag you away and herd you with the schoolboys, is she?”

Delia gave a soft, breathless laugh.

“She isn't sure if there are enough beds, because there might be more coming and Cousin Mervyn won't listen to reason. And she wanted me to go to Cousin Emilia in the wilds and darn all the ancestral linen—you have to if you go there, and if you don't do it nicely you have to unpick it and do it again—but I've fought her off, and I'm to have Simmy here instead.”

“Who's Simmy?”

“Miss Simcox. She was the girls' governess—Dilys and Enid and Bronwen, you know—and she's rather a pet, so I don't mind. Anyhow, anything is better than Cousin Leonora snatching me away and worrying the life out of me about marrying Lewis.”

“What!”

Delia rubbed her cheek against his softly.

“She wants me to marry Lewis West because he's going to be a duke.”

“My sweet, you'd make a very pretty duchess.”

“I should make a perfectly idiotic duchess.” Her voice breathed heartfelt conviction. “Look here, let me tell you about the parcel quick. Mr. Holt brought it down here and gave it to me after having his house burgled like I told you. Well, I was having the work-party, and I think somebody followed him down and looked in through the study window—I could see the mark of his boots there next morning. And I think he didn't see my face, only the top of my head and the colour of my dress, but I think he saw me go out of the room with the parcel. And you know Miss Murdle—you know how maddening she is about copying me—well, she had on the green dress she'd made to be like mine, and—oh,
darling,
they found her in the lane down by her cottage with her work-bag all turned out.”

“Dead?”