Aunt Winifred stood outside.
‘Richard, I’m extremely worried. That telephone call this afternoon, had it anything to do with Clare?’
He said patiently: ‘No, Aunt Winifred. It was just a business matter. I told you, remember?’
‘You weren’t hiding anything? I suddenly wondered.’
She stared at him anxiously, a bunched, shrivelled old lady, her white hair flattened into what looked to him like a string bag. He said: ‘I give you my word it had nothing to do with Clare. Now how about going back to bed?’
‘It’s so hard to sleep. Clare used to bring me hot milk.’ And hated the job, he remembered, and his aunt’s complaints about skim. Unwillingly, he offered to get her some hot milk himself.
‘No, thank you!’ Her tone implied grave doubts of any milk heated by Richard.
He steered her along to her room and gently pushed her in. As he closed the door he saw that Violet had come onto the gallery. With unwonted humour, she whispered: ‘Now I know who my rival is.’
‘Do go to bed,’ he implored her.
‘But Richard—!’
Jane came out of her bathroom, gave them one look and then scuttled into her bedroom.
‘Please, Violet!’ he said, then seized her by the shoulders and pushed her towards her room.
‘But I’m on my way to the bathroom,’ she wailed. He dived into his room recalling he’d once heard Jane tell Merry the hall was like the setting of some old French farce … all those bedroom doors. But Aunt Winifred’s mental state was scarcely funny; nor was his own situation much of a joke.
He woke next morning convinced that a difficult day lay ahead of him; not that he didn’t quite look forward to it.
Violet, he suspected, would have renewed her attack during their shared washing-up after breakfast, had not Jane been around unusually late; she had been given the day off from work to drive up to London and do some shopping. By the time she left, after ten, he was safely settled with Aunt Winifred in the hall. Violet was there too, reading the morning paper. He had never before seen a woman read a paper lying flat on her back with the paper held above her.
The telephone rang and he went to the study to answer. The call proved to be from London; some woman wanted Jane, and wanted her badly. The agitated, hard-to-hear voice said: ‘I know she’ll be at the school where she works but I must please be given its telephone number. This is a matter of the utmost urgency.’
He explained the position about Jane. ‘And when she gets to London I’ve no idea where she’s going.’
‘Oh, dear, this is dreadful. Are you one of Clare Carrington’s brothers? I know she has some.’
‘I’m her elder brother. Who is it speaking?’
‘Miss Gifford, of the Gifford Emplacement Bureau. I obtained a post for your sister – in the best possible faith, I assure you—’
He interrupted. ‘Is something wrong?’
‘I’m afraid so, Mr Carrington. And I fear it’s serious.’
‘Is Clare ill?’
‘No, no …’
There was a silence so long that he asked if she was still there. Then she spoke again, sounding even more agitated.
‘I’m wondering what I ought to do. I see no course but to speak frankly.’
He had never heard anyone speak less frankly, but some facts did gradually emerge. Hearing of a possible job for Clare, she had that morning tried to ring her up. ‘She wasn’t there, Mr Carrington, but I did have a word with the late Mr Rowley’s nurse. Of course it’s extremely difficult for her as she’s being most generously pensioned by Mr Charles Rowley and she said she thought the world of him. And she likes Clare so much – though that was really her reason for speaking, not that she did speak, well, at all openly. Indeed, she said repeatedly how unwilling she was to say anything – just as I am, now ….’
Richard thought this double unwillingness to communicate would have been completely successful but for the conversation he’d had with Jane a week before. As it was, he soon had no difficulty in guessing that the top-hatted, black-moustached menace had materialized. He then cut through Miss Gifford’s monologue by saying satirically: ‘Do I take it my sister’s facing a fate worse than death?’
‘Oh, come, that’s a little old-fashioned, surely?’
Slightly irritated, he said: ‘Anyway, I think you’re imagining things. My sister’s not the kind of girl—’
‘But of course she’s not – that’s the whole point. And I thought I was imagining things, only a week ago. But one really must face facts. Clare shows no sign of wanting any more work. And she goes out with Mr Charles Rowley – to matinees, one understands, which is unobjectionable, and I’m glad to say she’s in the hotel every night and Mr Charles Rowley isn’t, so Nurse feels sure that up to now there hasn’t been anything, well, serious. But she’s leaving today, Mr Carrington. I mean, the nurse is.’
‘I’ll ring Clare up,’ said Richard.
‘She won’t be back till six, the nurse said. After the matinee.’
‘Well, I’ll ring her then.’
‘Couldn’t you see her? Couldn’t you be there when she gets back? I was going to ask Jane to, but a brother would have far more authority. The nurse, in spite of her loyalty for which I respect her, made it perfectly clear that once she was out of the way … well….’
‘Did she say so in so many words?’ asked Richard.
‘Oh, no, Mr Carrington. One couldn’t expect it. And you mustn’t, please, disclose that she said anything – or that I have. Indeed, I’m not at all sure my dear mother would have.’
Faced with another woman not saying anything, Richard hastily thanked Miss Gifford and undertook to give the matter serious thought.
‘Well, it’s in your hands now,’ said Miss Gifford, almost gaily. ‘That’s a load off my mind. And if Clare does want another job … Not that I can fix her up with another king.’
‘A what?’ said Richard sharply.
‘Oh, dear, this is my day for indiscretion. Still, I’d better tell you.’ She gave him a brief sketch of the Rowley antecedents, concluding by saying: ‘And Jane did tell me your sister fancied being a king’s mistress. Really, all this would be funny, if it wasn’t so serious. Now you must excuse me. I’ve people waiting.’
He excused her willingly. Good God, what did one do? At first, taking her for a silly old gossip, he had almost entirely discounted her suspicions but he had become more and more uneasy. Clare had been gone a fortnight without sending so much as a postcard. She had ignored letters from him and from Drew. And the very fact that she had got a job at all, and the first she had applied for, was omninous. Had this man had designs on her from the very beginning? And this ex-royalty nonsense, it was exactly the thing which would fetch his silly sister. Yes, Clare was silly. If Merry, at twenty-one, were involved in such a situation he’d hardly feel he had the right to attempt interference, but with Clare …
The telephone rang. What now?
It was Drew, his voice almost unrecognizable. Never before had Richard heard his brother really angry.
‘Have you gone out of your senses, Richard? How could you do such a frightful thing? Letting this man loose on Merry!’
‘What? Oh, God, has he managed to find her?’
‘No, no. But you forwarded his indecent letter. And what about your own letter? Calmly wanting to hand your sister over to this atrocious man!’
‘He’s not atrocious!’ said Richard, catching Drew’s anger. ‘And I don’t believe his letter’s indecent.’
‘Of course it is. A man of his age telling a child he’s in love with her and wants to marry her. And your letter backed him up!’
‘Not as regards marrying him. I merely pointed out how the Crestovers could help her.’
‘And tried to harrow her. Well, you’ve succeeded – and just when she was getting back to normal. I was seriously worried about her when she arrived yesterday; I wouldn’t have put it past her to have a nervous breakdown. But the Sever
ns came up in the evening and we all encouraged her and gradually she began to talk and get the whole wretched business out of her system. I must say she was terribly funny.’
‘I bet she was,’ said Richard, grimly.
‘But it’s not funny to think what she’s been through. Still, she’s pretty resilient and by the time she went to bed she was almost her old self. And then, this morning! She was utterly shattered, especially by your letter. I tell you, she was hysterical.’
‘Ah, yes,’ said Richard. ‘Merry does very good hysterics.’
‘Now listen,’ said Drew, more angrily than ever. ‘Just because you’ve been won over by this elderly roué …’
Richard laughed. ‘Come out of the Edwardian era – or shall I join you there and tell you Lord Crestover’s the soul of honour?’
‘No man who makes love to a child …’
‘He didn’t know she was a child.’
‘But she looks one, Richard. Actually, she’s looking even younger than usual – with that pretty fair hair.’
‘That what hair? Oh, God! Well, she didn’t look a child when she came home, with her hair flaming red and a false bust, though I didn’t realize the bust was false till afterwards. Which reminds me, do you know about her farewell letter to Lord Crestover?’
‘I think she did say she left one.’
‘Well, I’ve read the letter. Now calm down, Drew, and take this in. She told him she truly loved him and would have married him if the law would let her. What’s more, she meant it when she wrote it. You get her to tell you the whole story when she hasn’t got such a large audience. Oh, she didn’t deliberately lie to you all. She just got carried away.’
There was a silence. Then Drew said deflatedly: ‘You could be right. Damn it, of course you are. But she’s still got to be protected. She is only a child.’
‘Well, she behaved like a grown-up for nearly three weeks and that needs imagination as well as acting ability. Tell her to use her imagination now and write the truth to Lord Crestover as kindly as she can. If she sends the letter to me, I’ll forward it without letting him know where she is, and I’ll see him again if necessary. I’ll protect her all right, but she’s got to behave decently. Believe me, he deserves it.’
Drew sighed heavily. ‘She kept saying he was like a codfish – and we all laughed madly. Miss Whitecliff adores her and so do Mr and Mrs Severn.’
‘Well, so do I,’ said Richard. ‘Even if I do want to kick her.’
‘She’s at a café with Miss Whitecliff now, eating ice-cream. I was so impressed by the brave way she’d perked up again, and all the more furious with you. I am sorry.’
‘Oh, forget it,’ said Richard. ‘And forget Merry for the moment. For God’s sake give me some advice about Clare.’
It took him no time at all to relay the few bare facts, shorn of Miss Gifford’s verbiage. Indeed, facts were so few and bare that he was surprised Drew took them so seriously.
‘Richard, how frightful! And exactly the kind of thing that could happen to Clare. You must go to her at once.’
‘She won’t be in till six. And of all the awful jobs! Suppose the man’s with her? What do I do?’
‘With Clare involved, there should be a duel by candlelight. Is King Rudolf of Ruritania expected to spring the instant the nurse leaves the hotel?’
‘That seems to be the idea. And Clare’s so silly she might not quite know what she was in for until – well, it had happened. Drew, could you possibly come up to London and see her with me?’
‘Let me have a word with Mr Severn. Hold on, will you?’ Richard waited, trying to visualize Drew in Mr Severn’s office, and Merry eating ice-cream – with fair hair now, damn her! But he couldn’t feel really angry with her, for that or for anything else. He understood her too well.
Drew was back in little over a minute. ‘I can come. Mr Severn says he has Merry for a hostage now.’
‘You won’t tell her what you’re coming for?’
‘No, I’ll say I have to see Father’s solicitor with you. Will you meet my train? Make a note of the time. You know how vague you are.’
Richard had just jotted down the time and the station when Aunt Winifred opened the door. ‘Yes, Aunt Winifred?’ he said loudly, for Drew’s benefit.
‘I heard that,’ said Drew. ‘You’ll want to ring off. See you this afternoon.’
Richard replaced the receiver and looked nervously at his aunt. The walls of Dome House were thick and he had kept his voice low even when annoyed with Drew. Still, she might have overheard something. But she only said he had been talking a long time and she’d suddenly felt it might be about Clare.
He hoped she wasn’t becoming psychic as well as crazy. ‘Nothing whatever to do with her,’ he said emphatically. ‘Just Father’s solicitor. I have to go to London to see him.’ Drew’s lie came in very handily. ‘Excuse me, please. I’ve barely time to catch my train.’
He hurried past her, and past the still recumbent Violet, and dashed up to his room. A few minutes later there was a knock on his door followed by the instantaneous entrance of Violet, who closed the door behind her.
‘Richard, your aunt says you’re going to London. Will you be staying the night?’
He said he didn’t expect to.
‘Well, why don’t you? And I’ll come up with you and open the flat. Then we can have a quiet, uninterrupted talk.’
He stated at her in amazement. ‘But you’ve let the flat go.’
‘Well, not exactly, Richard. It’s ail part of what I have to tell you and you won’t give me the chance to.’
‘And I can’t now,’ said Richard, ‘or I shall miss my train.’
‘I don’t want to, now. I want you to come to the flat tonight.’
He said with sudden anger: ‘I’m not spending the night at a flat my father paid for.’
‘But he didn’t. Oh, dear!’ She burst into tears and flung herself on the bed, face downwards.
‘Well, he did in the past. Oh, for God’s sake stop crying.’
‘I’m trying to, but when once I start … I just don’t understand how anyone as good as you are can be so cruel.’
‘I wouldn’t say I was either good or cruel.’ He could see her tears were genuine and she seemed to be making a genuine effort to control them. Patting her on the shoulder, he added, ‘I’m sorry – really, I am. We’ll talk fully as soon as I’m home.’
She instantly rolled over on her back and put her arm round his neck.
‘No, Violet – I must go!’ He broke away and made for the door, then turned to say, ‘If only you knew how much I have on my mind today.’
‘All right, darling. Good luck!’
She spoke with sudden reasonableness, and smiled at him so sweetly that he nearly went back – but not quite.
Hurrying out to the car, he wondered if he really had time to catch his train; and then the car proved difficult to start. Driving faster than he cared to, he still reached the station five minutes too late and was faced with a long wait for the next train, a deadly slow one. Well, he’d drive all the way, though he disliked taking the car to London. He never knew where to park, was uncertain of his way and invariably got confused by traffic regulations. But he could take his time now and put in some thinking …
Had he been cruel to Violet? Damn it, he hadn’t been holding out on her very long; it was only yesterday that he’d been sure of her intentions … well, quite sure; he’d been pretty sure from the day she arrived. Had she no sense of decency? Obviously not his sense of it, or was his sense of it really conventionality? Anyway, he couldn’t go on like this. Whisking himself out of Violet’s clutches was so bloody coy. And what were all the disclosures she intended to make?
He rested his mind from Violet by thinking of Clare, rested it from Clare by thinking of Merry, then thought of Drew – with a certain amount of envy, though he wouldn’t care to be the ewe lamb of even the most charming old lady. After that, he spared a few thoughts for his vanished
father, gone nearly a month now. Then back to Violet again. It was a relief when the traffic in the London suburbs forced him to keep his whole mind on driving.
He parked the car near Regent’s Park, had some sandwiches at a café – it was too late for lunch; then took himself to the Zoo until it was time to meet Drew’s train.
4
Survivals
Drew, looking particularly slight, neat and reassuring, came hurrying towards him.
‘Richard, how very glad I am to see you.’
‘And I to see you,’ said Richard.
‘Sorry about this morning. You were right. Merry admits it. She says she knew she was behaving badly but somehow couldn’t stop herself. And I gather she didn’t lie, exactly – just left things out and gave the whole story a comic slant. Now she’s swung to the opposite extreme and feels tragically guilty. I had to cheer her up. Anyway, she’s sent Crestover a telegram saying: “Writing fully. Grateful love to all.”’
‘Hope he doesn’t notice where it was handed in.’
‘He’s welcome to. Mr Severn got someone in Manchester to send it. She swears she’ll write a long, kind letter tomorrow – says it’ll be a mortification as she really wants to pour out her soul in her journal. Anyway, we can stop worrying about her for the moment. Let’s concentrate on Clare.’
‘I loathe spying on her.’
‘Just visiting her,’ said Drew. ‘And you didn’t exactly dress for it, did you?’
‘I meant to change but … circumstances were against it.’ Only when well on his way had he noticed he was wearing his oldest tweed jacket.
‘Never mind. You look an honest, home-spun brother. I’m really a bit too dapper. By the way, Mr Severn has heard of the villainous Mr Charles Rowley. He’s a property-deals tycoon and possibly a millionaire. So are you sure we’re justified in forbidding the – what’s the disreputable equivalent of the banns?’
‘I gather you’re not as worried as I am,’ said Richard. ‘I keep thinking how miserable she might feel … well, afterwards.’