The Shadow of the Lynx (48 page)

“She murdered my mother,” said Minta.

“And she would have murdered me.

Why? “

“She was Lady Cardew but that was not enough. Minta would inherit the house. When Sir Hilary died she would be merely a dependant having no control. She could not endure that. If she could have a son it would be different. But Sir Hilary was old. I was fascinated by Lucie and I did not know that she had committed murder. Druscilla is my daughter.”

There was a short silence before he went on: “She longed for a son.

Her rage when Druscilla was born was great. But she would not give up.

She was determined to have a son who would inherit Whiteladies and prevent its passing to Minta. But Minta married and Sir Hilary died.

There was no hope then except through Druscilla, who was believed to be Sir Hilary’s daughter. If Minta were out of the way . ” He lifted his bands helplessly.

“You see it all now. The whole sordid story. I swear I did not realize all that had happened until I saw those cats today. I knew that she had wanted a son so that she could rule the house through him. I did not know that she had committed murder and planned another. Only today did I see the complete picture.

Mrs. Devlin admitted that Lucie came yesterday and brought whisky and that she, Mrs. Devlin, drank too much. She was asleep the whole afternoon and when I went into my dispensary I found the drug missing as it had been on that other occasion. That is the story. “

I was conscous of a great relief. Stirling was looking at Minta with fear and horror and I thought: He is fond of her after all. Who could help being fond of Minta?

I said: “What are we going to do?”

Nobody answered, but the matter was decided for us.

Minta’s face creased in sudden agony, and she said: “I think my pains are starting.”

It seemed then that reality was forcing fantasy aside, for this , 312

story of what had happened was like a fantasy to us all. It is disconcerting to discover that someone whom one has regarded as a friend, a normal human being, is a murderer. Yet I could believe this of Stirling! I excused myself. I had after all seen his father shoot a man.

There was not time to do anything then but think of Minta and we all became practical. Fortunately Dr. Hunter was with us. I said: “I don’t think Minta should go back to Whiteladies. She should stay here. I can look after her.”

Dr. Hunter, no longer a man with a terrible secret on his conscience, became the efficient doctor. I ordered servants to put a warming-pan and hot-water bottles in the bed in the spare bedroom next to my own;

and we took Minta to it. We were all very anxious because the baby was not due for another four weeks.

The child was born late that day—a perfect child, though premature.

It would need very special care and the doctor had summoned a nurse who would come to the Mercer’s House solely to care for it. He himself would be in constant attendance. Minta herself was very weak. The shocks of the last weeks culminating in the so recent one were responsible, said Dr. Hunter. We must take very special care of Minta.

I promised I would do this and I was determined to. I believed that if I could help bring Minta back to health I should in some way expiate my guilt in loving her husband.

I shall never forget Stirling’s face when he heard that he had a son.

I knew he would be called Charles after his grandfather and that he must live so that Lynx’s dream could be realized—a child of his own name to play on the lawns of Whiteladies.

What a strange, unreal kind of day! Looking back on it, it seems like a dream, too fantastic for reality; but there had been other days like that in my life and perhaps there would be more.

Lucie could not be found anywhere. We thought she had run away. She was in the tower and in the morning they found her body on the flagstones below the bartizan. The wall above, which had been boarded up since that occasion when Minta and I had been up there together, was broken away.

The servants said: “It was a terrible accident. The wall gave way and Lady Cardew was thrown to the ground.”

Two

I was proud of Stirling. He took on the role of country squire as though it had always been his. Lady Cardew was dead—it was an accident, was the verdict. It was explained by all the work that was being done in Whiteladies which had shaken the old house to its foundations. That, said Stirling, was the best explanation.

He asked me to talk to the doctor to make him see reason. Stirling’s idea was that the entire matter should be forgotten. There was no need for anyone—who did not already know. it-to know the truth. The danger was removed. Lucie was dead;

she could do no more harm. Dr. Hunter insisted that he had been guilty of grave indiscretion and was a disgrace to his profession. He didn’t think he could allow matters to stand as they were. So the day after little Charles was born Stirling and I talked to him together.

I said: “You have your skill. You have brought this child into the world and you know how difficult that was. If you hadn’t been here Minta would have died and the child with her. Are you going to throw away that skill?”

“There are other doctors,” he said.

“But you belong here.”

“Another doctor would come and there would be no need of me.”

“And what of Maud?” I asked.

“You’re fond of her. She’s fond of you.”

“It’s impossible,” said the doctor.

“It’s not!” I cried indignantly.

“You must stop dramatizing yourself and think of Maud. Are you going to make her unhappy?”

He protested but I saw that I had made my point.

The days passed; the baby was two weeks old, still fragile, :

still in the care of his nurse, still needing the doctor’s constant

,;

attention. They were two strange weeks. I looked after Minta. | Motherhood had changed her. She seemed older and more I beautiful—her features finely drawn, but there was a brooding | sadness in her eyes.

Franklyn often called at Mercer’s. He would sit and talk to Minta about the estate and the old days and ask questions about the baby. I thought how much more suitable than Stirling he would have been as a husband for Minta. They were of a kind, just as Stirling and I were.

Stirling came too. He would sit in Minta’s room but there was an embarrassment between them. I wondered whether he knew that she had suspected him of attempting to kill her.

Once he and Franklyn came to the house at the same time so I left Stirling with Minta and Franklyn and I went to the drawing-room to play a game of chess.

As I sat there I thought of Lynx’s hand stretched out to move the pieces, the ring on his finger. I treasured that ring. It brought back so many poignant memories.

And then before the game was over Franklyn said suddenly:

“Nora, will you marry me?”

I drew away from the table.

“No, Franklyn,” I said firmly.

“I wish you would,” he said quietly.

I smiled and he asked me why.

“It seems a strange way to offer marriage—almost as though you were inviting me to take a glass of sherry.”

“I’m sorry,” he said .

“I shouldn’t have said that.”

“You should always say what’s in your mind to me. I know I’m rather inadequate at expressing my feelings.”

I like that. “

“I’m glad. I’m very fond of you and I hoped you might like me … a little.”

“Much more than a little but …”

“Not enough to marry me?”

“We are different kinds of people, Franklyn.”

“Does that make marriage impossible?”

“We shouldn’t be compatible. You are good, precise, your life is well ordered …”

“My dear Nora, you overrate me.”

“I believe you would never do anything that wasn’t reasonable and conventional. You are in control of your life.”

“Shouldn’t one be?”

“Oh yes. It’s very admirable. But hard to live up to. I can only say that we are different and I can’t marry you.”

I looked into his face, but I was not really seeing him. I saw another face—a strong face that could be cruel and passionate. the face of a man who could dominate me as Franklyn

never could. Even now it was impossible to analyse my feelings for Lynx. To marry him had been a compulsion. Yet I knew that now I yearned for Stirling because I had known ever since we met that we belonged together. Yet how could I reconcile this with my marriage to And Franklyn and myself! Minta and Stirling! We were star-crossed.

Lynx like a mischievous god had made us dance to his tune and we had ended up with the wrong partners.

“No, Franklyn,” I said firmly.

“I can’t marry you.”

The child was flourishing but Minta was not. Each day she seemed more wan, a little more fragile.

“She’s not picking up,” said the doctor.

“She’s listless.”

None of Mrs. Glee’s special dishes could tempt her. Mrs. Glee was almost in tears when they came back untouched to the kitchen. Maud came to visit Minta bringing some of her own honey and black currant jelly. A radiant Maud, this;

she told me that the doctor had proposed.

“And been accepted, of course,” I said.

She nodded.

“He has told me-werything and we’re going to adopt Druscilla. Isnt that wonderful? And it’s only right. Mr. Herrick agrees.”

I told Minta about it.

“Everything is working out well,” I said.

“Now you must eat what’s brought to you and try to show some interest in life. What about your son, eh?”

“You can take him.”

“I! When yau are well I shall be off to Australia.* ” Are you still determined to go? “

I assured her I was. She looked very sad and I told her that I should come back in a few years and then there would perhaps be a brother or sister for our little Charles. She shook her head.

I was really worried about her and it dawned on me that there was something on her mind.

My guilty conscience set me brooding. I thought constantly of Minta.

One night I was so disturbed about her that I couldn’t sleep. I rose and went to. her room. The lamp there was kept burning all night and as I went in I was horrified to find how cold it was; then I saw that the window was wide open letting in the chilly night air. Minta had thrown off all the bedclothes and lay there in her nightdress only.

I went quickly to the bedside. I touched the sheets and

found they were damp. I noticed the empty water jug on the bedside table.

First I shut the window; then I went back to the bed.

“Who did this?” I demanded. I lifted her from the bed and seizing a blanket wrapped it round her. I made her sit in a chair, while I took off the sheets and put on fresh ones. I boiled water on the spirit lamp and filled the hot-water bottles; when I got her into bed she was still shivering. She seemed dazed and she was certainly delirious; I am sure I should never have discovered what was in her mind if she had not been.

I sat by her bed listening to her rambling. It was about Stirling, herself, myself. So she knew. She talked of the child who would play on the lawns of Whiteladies. That phrase which had haunted me! I would be there for she herself would be dead. It was the only way to make Stirling happy.

“It’s so hard to die,” she said.

“I have to die, though, because that’s the only way.”

Piece “by piece I fitted it together. And during that hour of delirium she showed me what was in her mind as she never would had her mind been clear. I was appalled and ashamed by the extent of her love for Stirling since she was ready to die for him.

A great determination came to me. I was going to nurse her back to health; I was going to make her live. Stirling must love her in time if I were not there. If we could grow away from this absurd obsession that we were meant for each other (for if it were true would we ever have allowed anything to stand in our way? ) he would learn to be happy with Minta. Perhaps it wouldn’t be the intoxicating passion which for a while I had known with Lynx, but it could be a good life;

and Stirling would have the gratification of knowing that he had fulfilled his father’s wishes.

Within a week Minta began to improve. I spoke to her severely. I knew what she had done, I told her; and it must not occur again. It was cowardly to take one’s life.

“For others?” she asked.

“For any reason,” I replied firmly.

“Life is meant to be lived.”

She told me then how she had discovered that Stirling and I loved each other, for she had been secreted in the minstrels’ gallery. I tried to remember what we had said and I knew it must be damning.

“And you love Stirling,” she said.

“You were meant for

each other. You are alike in so many ways. You are strong, adventurous people. “

“Who knows what love is?” I asked.

“It takes a lifetime to discover. I believe that love at its best is not the passion of a moment. It is something that one builds over the years. You can build it with Stirling.”

“But Stirling loves you. I heard him speak to you as he never did to me.”

“One day he will. Then he will have forgotten what I looked like.”

“It’s not true, Nora.”

“It is something you can prove to be true in time.”

I half convinced her. Her health was improving rapidly and the baby was getting stronger. I’ll never forget the first day she was able to hold him in her arms. I knew then that she had something to live for and so did she.

I knew, too, that it was time for me to leave.

I was going within the next three weeks. I had told Stirling that nothing would induce me to stay. He had his son; he had his wife; it was his duty to make up to Minta for all the anxiety he had caused her.

He realized this. He knew that Minta had suspected him of trying to kill her. That had shaken him considerably and made him feel tender and protective towards her. It was a beginning and I told him that in time he might become worthy of her.

Franklyn came to play a game of chess.

He said: “I’ve decided to go to Australia.”