Dorothy Eden (21 page)

Realising she had said more than she intended to, Sarah clapped her hand to her mouth. But not before a lewd secret look had come into Lady Malvina’s face.

‘So you’ve discovered that, Miss Mildmay. I wonder how.’

‘It was accidental’

‘Oh, no doubt. I won’t enquire into your strange curiosity about my son. I believe your injured ankle that kept you in London was accidental, too. My dear, you have the most exquisite colour when you’re angry. I like a young woman with spirit. So you just stay here and keep my grandson happy, and we’ll say no more.’

She swept out of the room, giving Sarah no opportunity to reply. Indeed, there was no reply to be made. Lady Malvina was not her enemy. She was a coarse kind old woman with a streak of shrewd worldliness.

A little later Blane came back to see how Titus was.

‘He’s sleeping soundly, and the fever seems a little less,’ Sarah reported.

‘That’s splendid. Then you’d better get some sleep, Miss Mildmay.’

His voice was polite and formal. There was no trace of the intimacy it had had on the drive from Yarby. That had belonged to the windy darkness and the emptiness of the winter countryside. It had been a dream.

‘Thank you, I will,’ Sarah said, equally formal. ‘I hope Lady Mallow is able to rest.’

‘She is now. I persuaded her to take a sedative. I’ll bid you goodnight, Miss Mildmay. Don’t hesitate to send for me if the boy seems worse in the night.’

‘The night’s almost over, Lord Mallow.’

‘So it is. And you must be exhausted. Get some sleep.’

Sarah left her door open so as to hear the slightest sound from Titus’s room. She meant to sleep only lightly, but fatigue overcame her, and she had to struggle from a sound sleep when she heard the sound at her window. It was the sound of the curtains being pulled back. Pale chilly early-morning light came in, and Amalie in a flowing négligé, with her dark hair hanging on her shoulders, stood there.

‘Good morning, Miss Mildmay,’ she said amicably. ‘It’s getting light. Look, you can see the lake quite clearly now the trees are bare.’

Sarah started up. ‘Titus—’

‘Titus seems much better, I’m happy to say. He’s still asleep. I’m sorry he was so upset last evening. My husband said I was to tell you so.’

‘He’s a very nervous little boy.’

‘So you all tell me. I know nothing about children, even my own.’

Standing there in the dim light she seemed forlorn and helpless, almost ghostlike.

‘I think you know I’d prefer not to be here, Lady Mallow.’

‘I understand. I believe I behaved badly to you. I act on impulse. I’m glad you consented to come back. My husband says I can’t go on like this, engaging and then dismissing servants without real cause. He didn’t object to Mrs Stone’s departure, but with you he didn’t feel the cause was real enough.’ Amalie gave a brief laugh. ‘My husband is a very domineering man. I give you a warning, Miss Mildmay. If you haven’t a submissive nature yourself, don’t marry a domineering man.’

She turned to go, then, as if drawn against her will, went back to the window.

‘I didn’t realise you got such a view from here. I believe your room is more pleasantly situated than mine. You can see almost the whole of the lake. In the summer we must have picnics down there. That is,’ she came closer to the bed, ‘if you’re still with us.’

Her voice was perfectly friendly and amicable. It came as a distinct shock to see the hate glittering in her eyes.

B
UT SURELY THE EARLY
-morning light must have been deceptive. Sarah must have imagined that look of hate. For in the days that followed Amalie seemed friendly enough: She spent a lot of time sitting with Titus who was recovering from the illness which the doctor diagnosed as a sharp chill combined with the after-effects of his fall. She also busied herself with sending out invitations for the ball, and arranging the numerous details concerning that. Her manner to Sarah, whenever they chanced to be alone, was almost ingratiating.

‘Miss Mildmay, you’re looking pale. You should get more fresh air and exercise. You must come walking with me.’

‘Thank you, Lady Mallow. When Titus is better.’

‘He’s better now. Another day or two and the doctor says he can go outdoors. It’s this bitter English climate after the tropics that’s caused the trouble. But all this is no reason why you should get pale, Miss Mildmay.’

Amalie’s eagerness and brittle gaiety was puzzling. She was behaving with an almost embarrassing friendliness.

‘What are you going to wear for the ball, Miss Mildmay? Have you a pretty gown?’

‘I don’t imagine I will be dancing,’ Sarah answered, remembering Amalie’s previous snub.

‘Don’t be offended at my saying this, Miss Mildmay, but is it because you haven’t got a ball gown? I’d be very happy to let you wear one of mine. I should think our waists are almost identical.’

Looking at the thin eager face Sarah had a feeling of revulsion. She had preferred Amalie’s haughtiness.

‘Thank you, Lady Mallow, that’s very kind of you. But I have a perfectly suitable gown. And I really don’t imagine I will be dancing.’

Amalie looked at her as if she were not listening.

‘I shall wear my diamonds,’ she said.

Acceptances came in as if all the countryside had been waiting for an invitation to a ball at Mallow Hall. Amalie was flattered and happy. She imagined, no doubt, that this was a sign that she and Blane were completely accepted. Sarah had a shrewd suspicion that curiosity was bringing most of the people, and this suspicion Lady Malvina shared. But where Lady Malvina was saying aggressively, ‘We’ll show them that the Mallows are still alive,’ Sarah was reflecting that this may prove to be the best opportunity yet to glean valuable information. And this time she would have no regrets. Blane had forced her to come back. He deserved anything that might happen.

But now she was desperate to hear from Ambrose, although she had a queer dread of what he might write. The situation was fast proving intolerable.

Only one significant thing happened before the ball, and that was the scrap of conversation she overheard between Blane and Amalie.

‘You’ll have to get rid of Soames. He’s getting insolent.’

‘Soames! Soames can’t go.’

‘Why not?’

‘You know very well why not. One has some loyalty. He’s been here since I was a boy.’

Amalie gave a derisive laugh.

‘I realise that’s quite a long time, but that doesn’t excuse his insolence. I want him dismissed. If you won’t do it, I will.’

‘I don’t think so, my dear. I don’t think so.’ Blane’s voice was quite confident and quite cold.

In contrast Amalie lost her own self-control. She said in a high edgy voice, ‘You’re not going to behave over him the way you have over that woman, Sarah Mildmay!’

‘We won’t make any comparisons. Soames stays. You’ve had your fun at dismissing people. And my God, I hope you’ve been right about that.’

‘Nothing’s happened, has it? So I was right.’

‘I can’t believe it’s as easy as that.’

‘Oh, Blane, don’t look for trouble. It doesn’t happen if you don’t look for it.’

‘Ambrose will be back soon enough. Heaven knows what he’ll try to dig up. Sammie, most likely.’

Amalie, for no apparent reason, gave a high peal of laughter.

‘Oh, forget about Sammie. And Ambrose. It’s Soames I’m talking about. He’s too familiar.’ There was a little silence. Then Amalie added in a low voice, ‘He watches me.’

‘As mistress of a large house you must expect to be watched. I expect the other servants do that, too.’

‘Oh, yes, including your precious Miss Mildmay. I gave in about her, for Titus’s sake, but Soames means nothing to Titus. And he does watch me.’ There was no mistaking now the note of apprehension in her voice. ‘I don’t know how much longer I can stand all this. I might even decide it isn’t worth it.’ Her voice rose defiantly. ‘And then what will you do?’

‘Get another wife,’ Blane retorted drily. ‘Don’t put ideas in my head, my love.’

‘I believe you would!’ Amalie whispered. ‘I believe you would.’

It was the Sunday before the day of the ball, and they were riding in the carriage to church, Titus crushed between Lady Malvina and Sarah, Amalie and Blane facing them.

Sarah suddenly exclaimed in surprise, ‘Why, you’ve found your blue velvet bonnet, Lady Mallow. Didn’t Mrs Stone take it after all?’

Her exclamation had been spontaneous. It could not have been more effective, though, had she rehearsed it for its element of surprise and drama.

All eyes went to Amalie’s attractive blue bonnet with the French silk roses. Lady Malvina said wheezily, as if she were suddenly asthmatic, ‘Then she must have gone without a bonnet at all. How extraordinary!’

‘I didn’t say it was this bonnet she took,’ snapped Amalie. ‘It was my other blue one.’

‘I didn’t know you had two.’

‘Don’t be foolish, Mamma. I have dozens of bonnets.’

‘Then Mrs Stone must have had quite a problem in making a choice,’ Blane murmured. His voice was gently ironic. But he was watching Amalie, too.

‘She took my fur tippett, too. And jewellery,’ Amalie said sulkily.

She had recovered. It had only been for a moment that that white look of fear had flashed into her face. Now it had left her, and settled instead in Sarah’s heart. But what she was afraid of, she didn’t know. She only felt that the four walls of the carriage, and the close-together faces, each with its private thoughts, were suffocating, and something from which urgently to escape.

But nothing happened until the day before the ball. Then Eliza, who was allowed a night off once a week to spend with her family in Yarby, came back bursting with a secret.

‘Oh, Miss Mildmay, I’ve got an important message for you.’

‘For me?’ Sarah echoed.

‘Yes. From a man arrived at the George. He said I was to hand it to you personally. It was very important, and I wasn’t to tell anyone else.’

Without ceremony Sarah snatched the crumpled envelope from Eliza. This must be news from Ambrose at last.

But the writer of the large awkward script was a stranger, James Brodie, and apparently Ambrose had impressed caution on him, for the news of Ambrose was yet to come.

Dear Miss Mildmay,

On instructions from Mr Ambrose Mallow who I last seed in Trinidad, I have a packet to deliver to you concerning matters you are deeply interested in. If you will communicate with me at the George and tell me where I can safely hand to you the said packet, it not to be trusted to the post, I will do my best to oblige.

Your obed’nt servant,
J
ames Brodie

Where could she meet him? Sarah thought rapidly, momentarily forgetful of Eliza’s burning curiosity.

‘Tom Mercer said he was a sailor from the South Seas,’ she said breathlessly. ‘Is he really, Miss Mildmay?’

‘Oh. No, not the South Seas. But he’s probably a sailor.’

Could Eliza be trusted, she was wondering. She would have to take the risk, for she had no possible excuse herself to make the journey to see James Brodie.

‘Eliza, this man has something for me from a—a friend. He’s been asked to deliver it to me personally. How can I get a message to him?’

Eliza was not practical. But she was excessively romantic. Her eyes were large and shining.

‘Oh, Miss Mildmay! Have you got a secret lover?’

‘Indeed I haven’t. At least’ Sarah hesitated, realising that this, of course, was what Eliza must be led to believe. And in any case, wasn’t it true? Wasn’t she overjoyed that there was news from Ambrose at last?

Eliza giggled conspiratorially.

‘I can see you have, Miss Mildmay. Is he on adventure in the South Seas? I do declare!’

‘Now, Eliza, don’t get ideas. And not a word of this to anyone. The thing is, how to get in touch with Mr Brodie again.’

‘Well, he sent the letter by Pa to me, knowing I worked with you at the Hall. But I won’t be seeing Pa till my next night off. I know, Miss Mildmay. Johnnie Smith comes with the groceries this morning. If you’d write a message I could give it to him to take.’

‘Could you really? Without anyone knowing?’

‘Easy. Johnnie’ll do what I say. And he’ll keep his mouth shut, too, or I won’t never speak to him again.’

‘Is Johnnie a friend of yours?’

‘Known him ever since we was kids,’ Eliza said briefly. Then her eyes grew big and yearning. ‘But I’d rather have a mysterious lover in the South Seas. Ooh, Miss Mildmay! Isn’t it romantic!’

‘Please, Eliza! Not a word, or I’d lose my job.’

‘You can trust me to keep a secret. But if I’m to catch Johnnie you’d better write that message quick. I’ll tell cook and the rest it’s a letter to my Mum.’

Confusion and excitement kept Sarah from thinking clearly. She hastily wrote the first thing that came into her head.

If you could come to Mallow Hall tomorrow afternoon I’ll be in the summer house by the lake at five o’clock. Come by the path through the woods. No one is likely to see you.

When it was too late and Eliza excitedly informed her that the message had gone, Sarah reflected that the summer house was not such an ideal place because of Amalie’s habit of walking by the lake. But since it was the day of the ball, she was not likely to be out of the house. So perhaps the arrangement was fortuitous after all.

Eliza, now her willing ally, agreed to keep Titus happy, and cover up for her absence. She hoped not to be out of the house more than half an hour, and would be back in plenty of time to cope with Lady Malvina’s nightly swoops on the nursery, and her garrulous chatter about the ball.

What was the news from Ambrose? Was anticipation of that the reason for the feeling not of excitement but of dread hanging over her?

It was very cold down by the lake. The summer house was empty. A few dead leaves rustled on the floor, blown by gusts of wind. The lake was steely grey and empty even of wild life. Now that the trees were bare the big house was visible, and in the deepening dusk lights sprang into the windows, the nursery, Lady Malvina’s, and Amalie’s all showing that the lamps had been lit and that the occupants of the rooms must be there. Only Blane’s remained in darkness. He had been out riding, but was probably back by now, and warming himself at the library fire. Sarah hadn’t dared to look lest she should be seen herself. She had put a shawl over her head and shoulders, and slipped out by the garden door, making a long circuit round the garden so as to keep out of sight of the windows.