The Golden Maze (19 page)

disgusting trick to play. And all because she wants more money. She's already incredibly wealthy. She inherited a fortune from her grandfather."

"I . . ." Cindy hesitated, but she had to know. "Are you going to marry her ?"

"What? Me?" Peter was obviously amazed. "What on earth made you think that ?"

Cindy twirled a spoon, avoiding his eyes. "She ... she told me that you . . . well, she said 'we' will only live here part of the year."

"Yvonne was always implying that we should marry, but no ... my word, Cindy, imagine being married to her !" He laughed suddenly. "I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy. I've known her for years, met her in Australia first. We always seem to be meeting, by chance—that is, by chance where I'm concerned. I sometimes wondered if she wasn't there with a purpose. You see, her father's a stockbroker and she's really good about stocks and shares and advises me. Marriage? Never !" he said scornfully.

He stood up, as if eager to be rid of her, Cindy thought, so she stood up, too. Then Peter startled her as he said, almost wistfully, "I just wish Dad knew that I was doing what he wanted me to do ..."

She knew in that moment that Peter was in a receptive mood.

"Peter," she said, catching hold of his arm, "will you promise to let me say something without jumping down my throat or telling me to grow up?"

He looked amused. "Okay, but what's it all about ?"

"Your father, Peter. Please . . . please don't interrupt. I'll be as quick as I can, but ... but you must let me

tell you," she said breathlessly, unaware that she was clinging to his arm. "I found your father's diary in a secret drawer in his desk. Maybe I shouldn't have read it, but I wondered what sort of a man he was. Peter, he never got one of your letters. He kept saying in the notes that if only you would write a few lines to let him know you were well . . . That time you came to see him, he was ill. Not very, but Mrs. Stone refused to let him have visitors, he said she fussed and he was lonely, but he was too tired to fight her. Peter, I believe Mrs. Stone kept those letters from your father, that it was she who told you to get out and not your father at all." Cindy stopped, completely breathless as she stared at the man standing silent by her side.

"You've got the diary ?" he asked gruffly, his face looking grave.

"Yes, in my suitcase. I've got the key here. I was afraid you wouldn't listen to me. I've made notes of the dates to look at, because your father wrote terribly small and it's hard to read . I was so afraid your impatience would make you toss it on one side, but you should read it, you must . . ."

"Well, let's get it."

They went to the hall. Cindy bent over the suitcase, then looked up, her face startled. "The lock's been broken !"

Peter bent down by her side to look at it. "Been forced open," he said curtly. "We'd better see Mrs. Stone."

Keith Ayres came down the stairs. "Trouble?" he enquired.

"It seems Cindy found some notes my father had

written and she thought I should read them. She left them in here, but the lock's been broken."

"Better make sure they're not inside."

Cindy looked up. "They won't be." She was nearly in tears. It was so terribly important that Peter should see his father's words, to know his father had forgiven him and wanted to be forgiven in turn. However, she opened the suitcase. "I left them on the top."

They weren't there !

Peter was down the hall in a moment, Cindy hurried after him, Keith Ayres close behind.

Mrs. Stone was stirring a saucepan on the stove and looked startled to see the three of them coming out.

"You want some coffee now? she asked.

"No, Mrs. Stone," Peter said quietly. "I want my father's diary."

"Your father's diary? What's t'do with me? I don't know anything about your father's notes," she said.

"The lock on Miss Preston's suitcase in the hall. has been broken and the diary taken out."

Mrs. Stone looked indignant. "She's accusing me, is she now? Well, maybe you'd better look at her. No doubt she broke the lock so that she could accuse me and make trouble."

"Mrs. Stone," Peter said even more quietly, "this is a serious matter. Did you or did you not break open Miss Preston's suitcase and remove a book ?"

"I ... did ... not !" Mrs. Stone almost shouted.

Suddenly Cindy remembered something. When she had hurried out to Mrs. Stone to ask her for some coffee, she'd heard a drawer slam.

"Peter," she said, "it's in one of the drawers."

She knew she was right, for Mrs Stone's face turned almost purple. "You've got no right t'open the drawers. They're my private property !"

"They are not, you know," Keith Ayres said gently. "We have every right to look in them."

"You . . . Mr. Baxter, now, it's not fair . ." Mrs. Stone waved a wooden spoon at them. "Never before has anyone accused me of theft !"

"Mrs. Stone," Cindy felt she could no longer hold her tongue, "you didn't want those notes read because you knew Mr. Baxter would say he'd never received a letter, nor did he ever know his son had been to see him."

Mrs. Stone's cheeks were bright red now, her eyes flashing vindictively. "Ever since you came here, you've tried t'cause trouble, any time. I am not a liar nor a thief, and I .. ."

"Careful, Mrs. Stone," said Keith Ayres, turning from a drawer in the dresser. "I've found the diary !"

He handed the long flat book to Peter, who opened it, frowning a little as he saw the tiny neat print, then unfolded a piece of paper. "You worked hard on this, Cindy," he said. "It means a lot to you ?"

"I want you to know that your father did love you," she said earnestly. "It's so terrible when you

feel no one loves you."

He turned to Mrs. Stone. "Did you send the letters back to me, Mrs. Stone? Was it a lie when you told me my father never wanted to see me again ?" He patted the book in his hands. "I have the evidence here."

It was as if something exploded in Mrs. Stone, for suddenly she was screaming at him.

"Of course I did ! I had to keep you away from him. 'Twasn't fair, and that's the truth, you go off to live your own life and I look after him—then up you turn and expect to start again. What about the work I did? What about my son Paul? A proper son to the old man, he was'. And what do I get for my ten years' work ? A paltry thousand quid and nothing for my poor Paul who'd been a-counting on it I had to think of Paul, and I knew you didn't really care . .."

Peter took Cindy by the arm and bent, whispering to her.

"Please go, Cindy, I'd rather handle this on my own. Look after this, though." He gave her the diary.

She obeyed and went to stand in the drawing-room by the french window, looking through blurred eyes at the serene blue lake below. The sun had thrust the clouds on one side, the distant mountains were almost blue in the strange light. Poor Mrs. Stone, Cindy was thinking. It was understandable when Mrs. Stone loved her only child so much. Cindy hoped Peter would be charitable.

When the two men rejoined her, she saw that Peter was the cheerful one.

"Don't look so worried, Cindy," he said. "I'll-see that she's looked after financially. They'll have to go, of course, but I'll give her a good reference."

"But what will you do?" Cindy's eyes widened with dismay. "You can't cook and clean the castle, Peter."

He laughed, "Not to worry, Cindy. I have friends. Probably Luke's wife will come and lend a hand or find someone from the village. It'll be better

without the Stones on the property, she gives me the creeps and he makes me want to box his cheeky ears." He smiled as he turned to Keith Ayres. "Sorry to land you in my domestic troubles like this." He took the book from Cindy. "Thanks, Cindy, for going to so much trouble. I'll read every word if it takes me the rest of my life," he promised with a smile.

"I found a magnifying glass helpful. I've got one in my suitcase."

"There's one in the library, thanks. Well," Peter looked at them both, "you want to be on your, way, I suppose. Let's take the luggage out to the car. One thing, the weather is good."

Silently Cindy followed as Peter carried her suitcase. She gave one last look round the huge lofty hall, and then walked across the gravel to the car, trying not to look back at the castle but failing at the last moment. She stared up at it as it towered above her. The castle where she had, known both sadness and happiness. She would never forget it, she knew that.

"Cindy," Peter urged, and she looked round. He was standing by the car, holding the door open. She realised with a shock that he was eager to get rid of them.

"Thanks," she said as she got in by Keith Ayres' side.

Peter closed the door, tested it to make sure it was shut, then spoke through the window. "You won't forget the research you promised to do for me, Cindy?"

His face was so near and yet so far. Her hand ached as she fought the longing just to stroke his

cheek once. The tears seemed to be gathering, but she managed a watery smile.

"I won't forget, Peter," she said, and as the car moved forward, she added quietly, "Anything."

"A nasty business for Peter Baxter," Keith Ayres observed as the track neared the main road.

"Horrible," Cindy agreed, grateful that he had kept silent for so long. She had fought and overcome the desire to look back at the castle. After all, she didn't really need to look at it
she had only to close her eyes and she could see it again, with all its mock-majesty. In a way it was a farce, something to make people laugh. Just as her love for Peter was ... a farce.

"Poor Mrs. Stone," she sighed. "She only wants to help Paul."

"Actually she's doing the worst thing she can do for the boy. He's a cheeky layabout, that's all. Do him good to have to work."

"But will he ever work ?"

"That's her problem. Tell me, what do you think of Peter Baxter?" Keith Ayres asked suddenly.

"Peter? Well, I like him ... very much," Cindy said without thinking. "Don't you ?" She turned to look at her companion.

"I do and I don't," he said as they turned off the track on to the main road. "He's either extremely self-disciplined or very callous. He seems to take everything in his stride—his girl-friend's behaviour, the housekeeper who hurt his father so much by holding back those letters and not letting the old man see his son ... yet Peter Baxter ... well, I don't know what to make of him."

"He told me he wasn't in love with Yvonne. He said there was nothing like that—just that they've known one another for years and she advised him about stocks and shares."

"I gathered she was very bright. Honestly, though, how she fell for that tale about treasure in the castle ! I suppose that once a gambler, always a gambler. You say you like Peter Baxter. He seems to like you. He's paying all your expenses for your trip up here. I've been given instructions to send you a substantial cheque."

What was Peter doing? Cindy thought unhappily. Paying her off ? "There's no need for him to do that."

"There is. The estate would have paid your expenses anyhow. I just wondered how you saw him."

"Well, it's difficult," Cindy said slowly. "He's kind and thoughtful and yet he can be very cruel. He was always saying I was so young and a child and ..."

"I suppose to a man of thirty-three, a girl of nineteen is rather young."

"I suppose so," Cindy said miserably. "Almost a different generation."

"He's very ... well, let's say authoritative. I suppose he's been in executive positions?"

"I don't know, really. He's an engineer, and has been in Africa, Australia, Canada, practically everywhere."

"Somehow I can't see him settling down to a cabbage existence in the castle."

"Why should that be a cabbage existence?" Cindy asked quickly.

Keith Ayres shrugged. "Sooner him than me. The countryside is lovely, but . . ."

"But .. .?" Cindy was almost aggressive at the thought of anyone attacking her beloved Lakeland.

"What sort of people will he meet? The Fairheads ... but they're yew s older. Of course there's always Johanna," Keith Ayres chuckled. "Maybe she'll get her fangs in him now Miss Todd is away."

"Johanna is in love with David."

"But David is obviously not in love with Johanna," Keith Ayres said with equal haste. "So where will Johanna look now ?"

Cindy was glad they had reached the garage then so that she need not answer. But it was the seed of a thought he had tossed into her brain, a seed that was to grow with alarming speed in the next few days.

She could see her little grey car waiting for her and pointed it out to her companion. He looked rather amused.

"You won't want me driving on your tail all the time, so I suggest we meet for lunch. I'll drive ahead and book a table." He told her the name of the place he suggested and of a good hotel he knew there.

"If you don't turn up," he promised, "I'll come and look for you."