Dorothy Eden (18 page)

I am telling you this so as to warn you that I fear he has his suspicions about you. He cannot know about you and Ambrose, but I would not trust him one inch. What he determines to discover, he will. I fear he is more than a match for most people. But I am confident Ambrose will cleverly bring him down, for he, after all, has the trained legal mind, and this man is nothing but a bluffer.

Have you yet heard from Ambrose? Do write to me as soon as possible. I hope receiving this letter from me does not arouse suspicions, but it is a risk I have to take, in order to warn you. I tremble for you, my dearest Sarah, but I know you will be equal to this situation. Do not, however, take unnecessary risks. Come home the moment you feel there may be danger.

Your devoted aunt.

P.S. Cousin Laura will shortly be at Buckingham Palace, when the Queen returns from Balmoral. What shall I say if she enquires after you? You know that you are her favourite.

Aunt Adelaide was letting her sense of the melodramatic run away with her. What possible danger could there be except that of being found out and summarily dismissed?

So Blane had been growing suspicious of her. She hoped she would be able to go on perplexing him for longer than he perplexed her.

She had read the letter in the privacy of her bedroom, but now Eliza had Titus ready for his morning lessons. Eliza was full of important information herself.

‘Miss Mildmay, that woman has gone!’

Sarah stopped smiling. ‘What woman, Eliza?’

‘That woman for the sewing. Mrs Stone. Betsey hasn’t been told, but the room’s empty and all Mrs Stone’s things gone. She must have just gone off in the night. Betsey says the mistress should count the silver.’

For a moment Sarah had an involuntary picture of the room as she had seen it last night, with her green dress spread, half-finished on the table, and the lamp burning. But Mrs Stone hadn’t gone then because her things were still there, the shabby carpet bag and her shawl and a few toilet things. She had noticed. She had an observant eye.

‘Betsey says in one way she doesn’t blame her,’ Eliza was going on garrulously. ‘Putting her in that room. She might have got feared and run off.’

‘We won’t discuss it now,’ Sarah said sharply. ‘And don’t gossip, Eliza.’

But later Amalie came to the schoolroom. She still didn’t look well, her face pale and dark marks beneath her eyes. But when Sarah said politely,

‘I hope you’re feeling better, Lady Mallow,’ she answered that she was perfectly recovered. The chill had not developed.

‘The hot whisky and milk my husband prescribed for me cured it. He’s very good at remedies, as no doubt you discovered, Miss Mildmay, when you injured your ankle.’

‘Mrs Robbins cared for me,’ Sarah answered coolly. She didn’t mean to revive that uncomfortable memory of Blane’s attentiveness.

‘I got wet through,’ Amalie went on. ‘I rode too far, and the rain came on.’

‘I’m glad to hear you felt well enough to go riding, Lady Mallow. Lady Malvina said you’d been poorly.’

‘I get nervous headaches at times. After all, we all have our weaknesses, don’t we. I trust your toothache is quite cured. Mamma was concerned for you. You went off looking so miserable.’

‘I hope not to have a recurrence,’ Sarah answered composedly. ‘Perhaps you’d care to see, Lady Mallow, how well Titus is progressing with his letters.’

‘Is he, the lamb? Come and show Mamma, Titus.’

It was the first time Amalie had come to the schoolroom. Her effect on Titus was to make him nervous and silent. She pouted when he edged away from her embrace, but in a moment said gaily, ‘Little boys don’t like to be fussed over, do they? I’ll just sit here quietly and watch. Now, Titus, say the letters.’

She was over-dressed as usual, wearing a fine woollen shawl over a silk gown that was trimmed with a great deal of black velvet. She sat on the low chair by the fire, silent for a little while as she had promised, but with one foot tapping up and down, and a far-off look in her eyes. She must have suddenly had the desire for company. Blane was probably outdoors and she was finding the day lonely and tedious. It was to be expected that she would soon tire of the country unless she constantly filled the house with people. Also, the grey weather must depress her after the blue skies of the Caribbean. Sarah had a sudden feeling of pity. Amalie had not been friendly. Indeed, she had been over-bearing and haughty, and latterly suspicious and jealous. But the woman sitting by the smoky fire just looked rather young and forlorn.

‘You no doubt miss the sunshine, Lady Mallow.’

Amalie hugged her arms about herself.

‘I hate this grey weather! I hate it! And the sound of the sea in the night. Or is it the wind ?’ She got up to stand looking out of the window. ‘My husband doesn’t understand,’ she added in a voice so low that Sarah scarcely heard.

‘But doesn’t he himself hanker for the Caribbean again?’

‘Oh, yes, he does. He says he’ll go. What he doesn’t understand is how I would feel about being left.’ She flung round. ‘Can’t this place be gayer? Why shouldn’t it be gayer? We must have parties. Musical evenings, dancing. I enjoy playing and singing. I like to dance, too. That’s what we’ll do.’ She lifted her skirts and twirled in a waltz. ‘Like that. Don’t you think Mamma should dance, Titus? And I promise you can come down for half an hour to watch.’

Her face was thin and bright with a kind of desperate gaiety.

‘We’ll give the ball my husband suggested. Why shouldn’t we? We can afford it, and we have plenty of servants. Oh, by the way,’ she dropped her skirts and looked more sedate, ‘that wretched creature I engaged for sewing has gone already. Things are appalling, Miss Mildmay, when one only has to speak sharply to a servant and notice is given. I had to speak to Mrs Stone about her very indifferent work.’

‘I noticed she sewed very badly,’ Sarah said.

‘Oh, you did? I’m glad you saw that, too. She’d lied to me, of course. She said she was an expert needlewoman. But even then I’d have given her another chance if she hadn’t taken offence. She just packed her bag and went.’

‘I thought she needed money.’

‘I paid her a week’s wages in advance. My belief is, and my husband shares it, that she’d go to the nearest public house. It will teach me not to engage staff out of kindness again.’ Amalie’s eyes went to Titus. ‘But this isn’t a subject for the schoolroom. And I’m interrupting lessons. What a pity, Miss Mildmay, that if we give a ball your ankle will scarcely be well enough for dancing.’

Amalie had recovered her poise. Whatever strange mood had possessed her, the short rather explosive conversation had eased it. Now she was behaving true to her narrow and jealous nature again, making sly comments at Sarah’s expense. The trouble obviously was between herself and her husband, and she was consumed with frustration and bewilderment. Why did Blane behave so badly to her? His lordly indifference suggested he was punishing her for something. Well, perhaps she would find someone at her ball with whom to flirt. That would please her easing her pique and restoring her morale.

Sarah didn’t give much thought to the strange woman who had so briefly occupied Bella’s room. But later in the day some need for action to ease her own sense of frustration took her up to the now-empty room.

The lamp still stood on the table, but all the sewing materials had vanished. In the fading light it was a gloomy little room with its low ceiling and dark-coloured walls. Perhaps it had depressed the woman. Perhaps Betsey or one of the other servants had maliciously told her its history. It wasn’t a room that had depressed Blane, locked in there as a boy, for he didn’t even remember the event. But a woman was more sensitive to atmosphere. Sarah admitted to herself that she wouldn’t like to stay there long. Her eyes went to the ceiling where the hook for the hanging lamp had once been. That had been removed long ago, but her eyes did catch something that startled her. The object looked like a black cat curled on the top of the wardrobe. What was it?

Sarah stood on a chair to look. Then gingerly put out her hand to retrieve the object. It was a black straw bonnet, with ribbons twisted to string. There didn’t seem much doubt that it was Mrs Stone’s bonnet.

But all her other belongings had gone. Why on earth should she hurry off leaving her bonnet? It wasn’t even likely that she had had an alternative one to wear.

Sarah looked at the bonnet in her hand. The chilly distaste the room gave her seemed to centre now in this limp inanimate object dangling from her fingers. She had an overwhelming impulse to drop it and run.

But panic was unreasonable and foolish. This required investigating. At last she had something positive to do.

She went downstairs to the drawing-room where she knew she would find Amalie. Without ceremony she went in, flourishing the distasteful object.

The timing was fortuitous, for not only Amalie but Blane and Lady Malvina were there, finishing their tea.

‘Miss Mildmay?’ said Amalie questioningly.

Sarah pretended a naive surprise.

‘Look what I found in Mrs Stone’s room. Her bonnet, surely. Why should she leave without it? I keep thinking of her in this cold wind with nothing to cover her head, poor little creature.’

‘Poor little creature!’ That was Amalie on her feet, her face blazing with anger. ‘No wonder she didn’t take her disgusting old bonnet. Miss Mildmay, throw it on the fire. This minute. I order you to.’

‘What on earth is all this?’ demanded Lady Malvina. ‘Amalie, are you out of your head? Burning a servant’s possessions ! Surely the woman wasn’t that bad.’

‘Bad!’ Amalie exclaimed. ‘She only helped herself to some pieces of jewellery and other things out of my room, including that new bonnet you bought for me, Blane. My nicest one, the blue velvet with roses. I only discovered the things missing this morning. It was too late to pursue the woman, so I decided to say nothing about it. It’s unpleasant having thieving people in the house, and I don’t want the servants upset. But you’ve forced me to tell the truth, Miss Mildmay. So throw that wretched thing on the fire.’

Then, not waiting for Sarah to do this, Amalie snatched it out of her hand and tossed it on to the flames. In a moment it had flared up and become unrecognisable; It was gone as completely as the faded little woman who had so briefly occupied the room in the top storey.

‘If the woman’s a thief the police should be informed,’ Lady Malvina declared. ‘What a fortunate thing I was wearing my pearls last evening. But if anything else is missing from my room I haven’t noticed. Nor has Bessie.’

‘You’re not her size, Mamma,’ Amalie said briefly. ‘Now forget this, as I intend to. It was unpleasant, but it’s over and a lesson to me. I shall make the most extensive enquiries before engaging anyone else. People are just not to be trusted.’ She rubbed her hands hard, as if rubbing off the contact with the shabby straw bonnet. ‘Miss Mildmay, isn’t it time you brought Titus down?’

‘Before Miss Mildmay goes,’ drawled Blane from his deep chair by the fire, ‘perhaps she will tell us just how she came to discover that unprepossessing article of headgear.’ The top of his head was just visible. He hadn’t turned to look at her. His voice was bland and seemingly only mildly interested. ‘Just what were you doing in Mrs Stone’s room, Miss Mildmay?’

If he had looked at her in his usual way, inquisitively and aggressively, she would have responded to the challenge. But she found this mildness, this almost disembodied voice, peculiarly demoralising.

Amalie’s and Lady Malvina’s instant suspicion was nothing to the effect Blane was having on her.

‘She was doing some sewing for you, wasn’t she, Miss Mildmay?’ Lady Malvina prompted helpfully.

‘Yes, she was. But that was last evening.’ The dark head in the armchair hadn’t moved. Sarah took a deep breath and decided on attack. ‘If Lord Mallow really wishes to know what I was doing in Mrs Stone’s room, I was testing a theory.’

She expected him to leap up and face her, throwing accusing questions at her. But his behaviour was no longer predictable.

‘What theory, Miss Mildmay? That Mrs Stone was secreted in the wardrobe or behind the panelling?’

‘Blane!’ exclaimed Amalie breathlessly.

‘Nothing so melodramatic, Lord Mallow. Merely that the servants gossip about that room, and Eliza thought Mrs Stone might have left because she was nervous.’

Now Blane had turned and was regarding her with lazily narrowed eyes.

‘And what were your own reactions, Miss Mildmay? Did you sit up there in the dark and get pleasantly spooky?’

Spooky, yes. But not pleasantly. Sarah thought of the thin querulous face bent over her work last evening, and later of the lamp burning in an empty room. Mrs Stone must have come back for her possessions (excepting
the
black bonnet), but she had not seen her again. It was almost as if the poor common little creature with her inability to sew neatly had been a ghost.

‘I did find it rather uncanny,’ she said evenly. ‘But perhaps women are more susceptible to these influences. I believe you weren’t affected in that way, Lord Mallow.’

‘In what way? I didn’t sit up there in the dark, I assure you.’

‘But I thought—’ Sarah contrived to look embarrassed and foolish. ‘Am I under a misapprehension? I thought that once your cousin locked you in that particular room.’

‘Ambrose did, Blane. Don’t you remember?’ Lady Malvina was jogging his memory again, anxiously. ‘You came out utterly furious, and saying you would kill him. Such a violent child you were.’

‘Oh, yes, Ambrose insisted he did that, didn’t he? But I’d forgotten the incident. So the uncanny, as Miss Mildmay points out, obviously left me unaffected. Perhaps it wouldn’t have done had I been acquainted with the room’s fair victim. And I don’t mean Mrs Stone,’ he added, twinkling outrageously.

‘Blane, how can you joke?’ stormed Amalie.

‘Joke? But I find Miss Mildmay’s adventure into the supernatural diverting. And a little surprising. I thought you were much more of a realist, Miss Mildmay.’

‘I can’t believe that woman was frightened away by a ghost,’ Lady Malvina said emphatically.