HIGH TIDE AT MIDNIGHT (27 page)

her going to Barbie Inglis and telling her that she had nothing to hide —that

Nick knew what she had done all those years before? Her spirit quailed

slightly. It was not a course of action that she would ever have contemplated

in the past, and she was far from convinced about its wisdom now. If it went

wrong—would Nick ever forgive her? she wondered. And almost in the

same moment--But if she did not try at least to bridge the gap between them

would she ever be able to forgive herself?

She sat in silence for the remainder of the journey while Mark talked

exuberantly about his hopes and plans and pondered likely dates for the

wedding. His remarks were largely rhetorical, demanding no more than a

sympathetic ear in response, and Morwenna was able to sit smiling faintly

and nodding her head at intervals while her thoughts pursued each other. She

would be taking a terrible risk. Barbie Inglis might simply refuse to see her

and that would make matters even worse than they were at present. But at

the same time she knew that if there was nothing ventured, there was nothing

gained. She did not even contemplate the prospect of Dominic's anger if he

ever found out about her interference. That was best left out of the reckoning

or she might lose her courage entirely.

'The yard's closing down early this afternoon,' Mark commented suddenly

after a few minutes' silence. We always do that at Christmas, and we always

all have a drink together before the closing. If you're in the vicinity, I'm sure

you'd be welcome to join us.'

'Who else will be there?' she asked cautiously.

'Well—everyone. Dominic, of course—and Nick when he was well enough.

There's always a little present each for the men's children which Dom hands

out. Aunt Barbie used to go, but I suppose she'll hold aloof this time.'

'And Karen?'

'Naturally,' he said rather drily. 'Can you imagine hef permitting herself to be

left out of anything—even a works party?'

She tried to smile, but it was a dismal failure. 'I suppose she feels she has the

right now.'

'Right doesn't enter into it. She'd come anyway. Well, shall I tell Dom to

expect you?'

'No.' Her denial was too swift and positive. She could sense his surprise.

'I—I mean I don't think so. I'll just do my shopping and catch the bus back to

Trevennon. Please don't worry about me. Parties aren't much in my line.'

'Saving yourself for tomorrow evening, eh?' He smiled, but his eyes were

still slightly puzzled. 'Please yourself. Now, where do you want me to drop

you?'

She answered him at random and slid out of the car with a feeling of

thankfulness. She wandered up the main street, oblivious of the Christmas

bustle going on around her, stepping off the pavement to avoid the laughing,

chattering groups of children and adults scurrying to complete their

preparations. The shops were brightly lit and decorated with tinsel and

glitter, but Morwenna hardly noticed. Her heart was beating loudly and

painfully and not merely because of the steep climb as she neared the top of

the hill. She knew, because Mark had pointed it out to her, where the Inglis

house was, standing foursquare in its own grounds just where the little town

gave way to the countryside again. It was a Georgian building, of three

storeys, commanding a view right over Port Vennor, and it looked neat and

freshly painted, with the gardens carefully tended. Everything, Morwenna

thought as she pushed open the gate, that Trevennon was not. This was the

house where money had never been a problem or maintenance any particular

anxiety.

Life, it seemed, had always been good to the Inglis family. Generations of

them must have lived here, expecting the best and usually obtaining it,

secure in the assurance of their own worth. It could never have occurred to

Barbie Inglis that Robert Kerslake, the man she had set her heart on, could

possibly prefer another woman. The shock of the elopement must have been

punishing for her—worse even than it had been for Nick—and it must have

made everything she valued seem suddenly meaningless.

So she had lashed back at Laura and at the family who had sheltered and

cherished her for so long. Both of them must suffer because of the wrong

that had been done her. And, ip the end, because malice always turns back

on itself, the one to suffer most had been herself.

Morwenna put her hand on the gate. It swung inwards on well-oiled hinges

and she walked steadily up the path and rang the bell. It was a dark, grey day

and there were lights on inside the house. As she heard approaching feet on

the other side of the door, Morwenna found herself praying it would not be

Karen.

Instead she was confronted by a tall woman in a neat green nylon overall

who gave her an enquiring glance.

'I'd like to see Miss Inglis, please.'

The curiosity in the woman's eyes deepened. 'Madam isn't feeling well

today. She's resting in her room. I think Miss Karen is at home if…'

'No, I'd rather speak to Miss Inglis herself,' Morwenna said firmly. 'I'm sure

she'll see me. I—I have a message from Trevennon for her—a personal

message.'

The woman hesitated. 'Well, miss, I don't know, I'm sure. Madam did say ...

but there, if you've a message for her, I suppose it will be all right. I'll tell her

you're here.'

'No, that's all right,' Morwenna halted her. She swallowed. 'If you'll just

show me where her room is, I'll pop in and give her the message and be off.

It is rather urgent and I'm in a bit of a hurry.'

There was a pause then the other woman said rather stiffly, 'Very well, miss,

though what Madam will say, I don't know. However, if you're certain…'

She led the way up thickly carpeted stairs to a broad gracious landing

running the full length of the house. She led the way briskly to the door at the

end and tapped on it.

'There you are, miss.' She turned away. 'I presume you'll see yourself out

when you've passed on the message.'

There was silence from the room beyond and Morwenna had to steel herself

to open the door and walk in.

The curtains were half drawn across the tall windows, excluding what little

light there was, and for a moment she thought the housekeeper was mistaken

and that the room was empty, and then she saw Barbie Inglis lying on a

chaise- longue close to the window.

'You!' Morwenna thought she had never heard such bitterness conveyed by

one brief monosyllable. 'Who allowed you in here?'

'Your housekeeper, Miss Inglis. But you mustn't be angry with her. She

acted in good faith—I said I had a message for you.' Morwenna forced

herself to walk across the room. She stood looking down at Barbie Inglis.

For a moment she wondered whether she had been doing her an injustice.

She looked genuinely ill, her skin stretched tightly over her cheekbones and

her eyes sunken.

'How dare you force your way in?' There was a handbell on a small table

close at hand and she propped herself upon one elbow to reach for it.

Morwenna quite gently put it out of her reach.

'For Nick's sake,' she said.

'You've brought me a message from Nick?' Barbie Inglis's eyes flashed. 'He

couldn't be so cruel as to use you as a messenger.'

'No.' Morwenna looked steadily at her. 'He has no idea I'm here. He'll

probably be very angry with me—almost as angry as you are, Miss Inglis,

but I have to take that risk. I can't bear this terrible misunderstanding to go

on any longer.'

'There is no misunderstanding,' Barbie Inglis said with a terrible coldness. 'I

simply do not wish to visit a house where the daughter of a woman who

wronged me very deeply is treated as an honoured guest—given privileges

that—friends of many years' standing are denied.' There was almost a choke

in her voice. 'Now go, Miss Kerslake. Leave my house. Nick has made his

choice and you will not busy yourself any1 further.'

Morwenna bit her lip. 'I know you hated my mother, and I can understand it.'

'Thank you.' Barbie Inglis's voice vibrated with sarcasm.

There was a chair nearby, a delicate thing with gilt legs upholstered in the

same striped material as the chaise- longue. Morwenna pulled it forward and

sat down without being invited.

'I've asked you to go!' Miss Inglis's voice was almost hysterical.

'No, not yet.' Morwenna nerved herself. 'You talk of wrongs, Miss Inglis.

But what of the wrong you did? Wasn't that a greater one? To sell the

designs for the
Lady Laura
to a cheap firm like Lackingtons. How much did

they pay you?' She looked round the affluent surroundings of the bedroom. 'I

wouldn't have thought you were in real need of thirty pieces of silver.'

If she had any lingering doubts about the veracity of Barbie's guilt, they

were banished for ever. Under her incredulous eyes, Miss Inglis seemed to

shrink, her eyes widening and glazing in real horror.

Ridiculously, Morwenna found words singing inside her
head—
'The curse is

come upon me,' cried the Lady of Shalott.

When Barbie spoke, her voice was whispering like an old woman's. 'How

did you know? Did—did Laura guess? I've been afraid of this always. From

the moment you came back, I knew why. I've been waiting for you to come

here. What do you want—money? My niece tells me you have none of your

own. She said something about art lessons— trip abroad. Is that what you

want?'

'No, no.' Any anger Morwenna might have felt evaporated under an onrush

of pity. 'You really don't understand, do you? I knew nothing about any of

this until I came to Trevennon. And my mother never told me what had

happened to the
Lady Laura
because she never knew.'

'Then—who did tell you?' There was a dawning realisation in Miss Inglis's

eyes, and a kind of sick dread.

Morwenna hesitated compassionately, but there was no easy way, now she

had embarked on this course. 'Nick told me,' she said at last.

For a moment she thought Barbie Inglis had fainted. The older woman sank

back on her cushions, her eyes closed. Her face was very white and her

mouth looked pinched.

'He knows,' she muttered at last.

'He's always known.' Morwenna leaned forward and took one of the cold

hands between hers, chafing it gently. 'He just wanted you to tell him, that's

all. All these years he's been waiting. Don't you see there's no point in

pretending any longer?' she ended on a note of appeal.

Barbie Inglis struggled upright into a sitting position. 'There's a glass in the

bathroom,' she said. 'Will you get me some water, please?'

She indicated a door on the other side of the room. Morwenna went across

and found herself in a small but luxurious bathroom, probably converted

from the original dressing room. She poured some water into the glass and

took it back to Miss Inglis, who was sitting staring expressionlessly out of

the window.

'Thank you.' She accepted the glass from Morwenna and drank deeply. She

was still very pale, but she appeared to have herself under control once

again.

'What are you going to do?' Morwenna asked as the silence seemed to stretch

out between them.

Barbie Inglis smiled without mirth. 'What can I do? I've been considering

closing the house and going away from here. A cruise perhaps—or a long

holiday in the sun. That seems the obvious choice. I shall think of

something, no doubt.'

'But what about Nick?' Morwenna took the empty glass from her and put it

down.

'Nick?' There was pain in the way Barbie Inglis pronounced his name. 'How

can I face him now, knowing that he's always—known? I could never stand

the shame of it.'

Morwenna stared at her, her heart sinking. 'But you can't mean that. You've

both been so unhappy for so long—and now when you have the chance to be

totally honest with each other....."

Barbie Inglis gave a twisted smile. 'It's too late for that. No, I shall go away

somewhere—after Christmas. That's all that's left to me now.'

'No, it isn't.' Morwenna stared appealingly into her eyes. 'It's just

this—infernal pride of yours and you know it. Nick wants you. He's wanted

you for years, but not with this—thing always between you. Isn't the

sacrifice of a little pride worth all the happiness that might result?'

Barbie Inglis gave a faint smile. 'You're very young, Miss Kerslake.' To the

young, everything is always black and white. Let us accept that you meant

well by coming here; however, I would be grateful if you would go now.'

She leaned back against her cushions and closed her eyes again.

Morwenna got to her feet, slowly and reluctantly. 'Miss Inglis, I feel I've

failed. Please believe me—all you would need to do would be arrive for