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Authors: Patricia Wentworth

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BOOK: The Silent Pool
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Chapter Fifteen

Janet gave Stella her breakfast next morning and took her to the Vicarage without seeing any of the others. When she returned they were all in the dining-room, Edna pouring out the tea and Geoffrey dispensing fishcakes as if there had been no midnight excursions. Edna looked a little more run-in-the-wash than usual, but her manner had not changed. She found small fidgeting faults with the service, the weather, and in fact with everything. The toast was not fresh — ‘Mrs Simmons will make it too soon. It is incredible how often one has to say a thing before one can get it done.’

Geoffrey gave his pleasant easy laugh.

‘Perhaps, my dear, if you didn’t say it quite so often—’

Her eyes were still reddened with last night’s weeping. They dwelt on him for a moment.

‘There are always things that have to be said, Geoffrey.’

He looked back at her, handsome and good-humoured.

‘Well, my dear, I can’t see the use of worrying yourself to skin and bone. You wear yourself out, and people mostly go on taking their own way. You can’t change human nature. Live and let live – but I suppose you’ll tell me to take my own advice and let you do as you wish. How many people are coming to this do of Adriana’s tomorrow?’

Meriel gave a scornful laugh.

‘Half the county, I should think! We shan’t be able to hear ourselves speak, and everyone will hate it like poison! But Adriana will have staged her come-back, which is all that matters – to her!’

Mabel Preston wanted to know who was coming.

‘It really is tomorrow, isn’t it? Will the Duchess come — did Adriana ask her? I saw her in the distance once, opening a bazaar. She was very distinguished-looking, but I wouldn’t have called her pretty. Of course you don’t need looks if you are a duchess. My goodness! I don’t suppose I’ve got anything half smart enough to wear! Not that these high-up people are always smart – not by any means. Why, I saw the old Duchess of Hochstein once at a charity bazaar, and she was really what you would call dowdy. Very stout, you know, and miles behind the fashion. And she was Royalty!’

Janet went up to the nursery. Ninian followed her.

‘We’ve missed the nine-thirty, but there’s the ten-twenty-nine. You’d better hurry up and dress.’

She turned on him, her eyes bright with anger.

‘Ninian, have done with this! It’s nonsense!’

He propped himself against the mantelpiece.

‘A serious expedition to town to take a flat is not my idea of nonsense.’

‘I have no intention of taking a flat!’

‘Haven’t you then? That’s very interesting. I’d better make a note of it in case I forget. Aren’t you making it a bit difficult? It’s not so easy to get anything done if you won’t let yourself have any intentions.’

‘Ninian!’

‘All right, all right, if you won’t come you won’t, but don’t say I didn’t ask you. And when I’ve taken the flat without anyone to help me, don’t tell me the linoleum is foul and you can’t live with the curtains – that’s all. I must rush for the bus.’

It was about an hour later that Meriel burst into the room. There was an unusual amount of colour in her cheeks and her voice was angry.

‘Really, Adriana is the limit!’

Janet finished writing, ‘Two blue smocks – won’t let down any more—’

Meriel stamped her foot.

‘Why don’t you answer me? What are you doing?’

‘There didn’t seem to be anything to answer. I’m making out a list of Stella’s clothes.’

‘Why?’

‘Star wants it.’

Meriel threw back her head and laughed.

‘Clothes! There’s no getting away from them! I’ve just come from Adriana’s room, and what do you suppose she’s doing? The place looks like a jumble sale – it’s got clothes laid out everywhere! And do you know what she’s doing with them? She is giving most of them away to that damned Mabel!’

‘Why shouldn’t she?’

Meriel made a dramatic gesture.

‘Because they are all perfectly good clothes! Because she might have asked me if I wanted any of them! Because all she cares about is putting herself over big and having that silly old fool gawping at her and saying how marvellous she is! Do you know, there’s a coat there I’ve wanted ever since she got it! I’d look wonderful in it, and Mabel makes everything look as if it had come out of a rag-bag!’

‘Why didn’t you ask Adriana to give it to you?’

‘I did — I did! And what do you suppose she said? I’ll swear she was just going to give it to Mabel, but when I asked for it she said oh, no, she didn’t think she could spare it! It was so nice for the garden, and she thought she would keep it in the cloakroom so as to have it handy if she just wanted to go out for a little!’

‘Well, that seems reasonable.’

‘It’s not – it’s not! She’s doing it to spite me! I tell you she got herself a new coat in town the other day – big soft checks of rust and brown! And this one is much more my style – bold squares of black and white with an emerald strip! I tell you it’s me! And as soon as my back is turned she’ll give it to Mabel! – I know she will! Unless – Oh, Janet, couldn’t you say something – couldn’t you stop her?’

‘No, I don’t think I could.’

‘You mean you won’t! You don’t care – nobody does!’

Janet controlled herself. She found it difficult to carry on a conversation with Meriel for more than five minutes without wanting to shake her. She thought regretfully that her moral character must be deteriorating. She made a real effort.

‘Now look here – why don’t you wait until Adriana is alone, and then ask her quietly about the coat? If she has said she wants to keep it for a bit she won’t have given it to Mabel, and you can’t very well ask for it now. But you could tell her how much you liked it and say you hope she won’t give it to anyone else.’

Meriel went into a pose.

‘And you think that would stop her? How little you know about us! If she thought I had set my heart on anything, it would just make her determined to keep it from me – yes, it would! And have me there to look on while she gave it away to somebody else! It is the sort of thing she would enjoy. You see, you have the ordinary commonplace mind – no, don’t be offended. It must be wonderful to take the everyday things as they come and never look beneath the surface or long to walk among the stars! I wish I could be like that, but it’s no use. And you can’t begin to understand Adriana or me, so it is no good your trying. But we see clearly enough about each other. She knows just what will hurt me, and I can see her enjoying it. It isn’t a happy thing to be able to see into someone else’s mind. Be thankful that you were not born that way. I see too much, and sometimes I shudder at what I see!’ She passed a hand across her eyes and went trailing out of the room.

When Janet had finished with Stella’s clothes she made her way to Adriana’s room. She found a scene which resembled a dress shop. Clothes of every description trailed from the chairs, hung over the back of the couch, and were piled wherever there was room to pile them. The coat described by Meriel was very much to the fore. Adriana was, in fact, in the act of slipping it off.

It was certainly striking. The sharp black and white of the twelve-inch checks, the vivid green of the stripe which crossed them, made Janet blink and reflect that it would certainly be a trying garment for poor old Mabel Preston. Much more suitable for Meriel really. She could see her looking dramatic and rather handsome in it.

Adriana waved it at her.

‘Just take this down when you go, and hang it in the cloakroom. I’m giving it to Mabel, and Meriel has been throwing a fit of the sulks about it, so I thought the best thing was to put it downstairs and go on wearing it once or twice myself. Mabel can use it too if she wants to, and then she can just take it with her when she goes and there won’t be any fuss. Meriel is the end when she sets her mind on anything!!’

Janet made her voice soft and coaxing.

‘She really does want it very badly.’

Adriana gave a dry laugh.

‘Did she send you to ask me for it?’

‘Well, I said I wouldn’t—’

Adriana tapped her on the cheek.

‘Don’t let people make use of you, or you’ll end up somewhere under foot. You can have no idea what Meriel is like when she wants something she can’t have.’

‘And she really can’t have the coat?’

Adriana frowned.

‘No, she can’t, and I’ll tell you why. It’s much too marked, and I’ve worn it too much myself. I don’t choose to have people say I keep Meriel so short she has to wear my cast-off clothes. And they would, you know. Everyone within a ten-mile radius has seen me in that coat, and you must admit that it’s once-seen-never-forgotten – now, isn’t it?’

As Janet turned to the door with the coat on her arm, Mabel Preston came in from the bedroom in a black and yellow cocktail dress which imparted a most unfortunate resemblance to a wasp. She had pulled her dry red hair into rather wild-looking puffs and she had been experimenting with Adriana’s rouge and lipstick. The result had to be seen to be believed, but it was obvious that she was extremely pleased with it. She came into the room with quite a good imitation of the mannequin’s glide.

‘There!’ she said. ‘How’s that? Pretty good, don’t you think? And nobody remembers black, so it will be all right if I wear it to your party tomorrow – won’t it, darling? And shan’t I feel smart! Quite new too! No one would think it had ever been worn – at least not unless you looked right into it, and nobody is going to do that.’

Janet made her escape. She took the coat along to the nursery, and when she went to fetch Stella from the Vicarage she carried it downstairs with her and hung it in the cloakroom.

Chapter Sixteen

Ninian stayed the night in town. He rang up at seven, demanded Janet on the nursery extension, and was rather lavish with the time.

‘Is the child in bed?… Good! I thought I had calculated rather neatly. Now listen! The linoleum is quite a pleasing shade – wear and tear negligible. And the curtains are a bit of all right. How good will you be at visualizing them from a description? Just turn on the imagination.’

‘Meriel told me this morning that I haven’t got any. I’m the fortunate possessor of a perfectly commonplace mind, with none of the perceptions which are such a burden to sensitive people.’

She heard him laugh.

‘Never mind, I’ll come back tomorrow and protect you. Now do your best about the curtains. The bedroom is north-east, and the ones there are a nice creamy yellow with a pattern of hollyhocks. Calculated to give the illusion that the sun is shining even if it hasn’t let out a blink for days. Quite nice to wake up to, don’t you think?’

‘Ninian—’

‘Darling, don’t interrupt. You are supposed to be listening. I was rather taken with the living-room curtains. A pleasing shade of green, and lined, so they oughtn’t to fade. They really are a good colour – very restful to the eye. So I’ve taken the plunge and told Hemming we’ll have the lot. I hope you approve?’

‘Ninian—’

‘It will be your own fault if you don’t, because I wanted you to come up with me, and you could have managed quite easily. So when – or shall we say if – you wake up and hate the hollyhock curtains, you will just have to remind yourself that you rushed upon your doom.’

‘Ninian—’

‘Woman, let be! This is my show, and I want to talk. It is your part to listen – resign yourself to it! I have also said I will take over—’ He proceeded to waste time in enumerating things like a front door mat, a kitchen cupboard. ‘His aunt has things like that built in – superiority of Scottish houses! Also a rack for drying clothes, and two more or less fitted book-cases.’

As he described all these things in minute detail with comments and interjections obviously designed to draw her fire, Janet considered that she would really be thwarting him better if she just held her tongue. There is nothing quite so damping as to let off fireworks with no one to scream or say ‘Oh!’ when they go up. He had been talking for quite a time before he checked to say,

‘Darling, you’re still there?’

Janet said, ‘Just.’

‘I thought you might have swooned with ecstasy.’

‘At hearing you talk a lot of nonsense? There’s nothing so very new about that.’

‘Darling, that came out pure Scots.

‘ “The accents of the Doric tongue

Upon her lightest murmur hung—”

‘I believe those beautiful lines to be original, but I won’t swear they were not written by Sir Walter Scott in one of his more exalted moments.’

‘I shouldn’t think it at all likely!’

‘Darling, I could listen to you all night, but the pips are mounting up. Oh, by the way, I see in the evening paper that the leading man in Star’s play has been rushed to hospital with a broken leg and the opening is put off. They’re going to fill in with a revival of something or other until he is all right again. Rather a knock for Star – she was building a good deal on this show. I wonder if she’ll come back.’

‘Won’t she be in the thing they are putting on?’

‘Oh, no, not her line – it’s a Josefa Clark play. Darling, this is a most expensive call. Good-night! Dream about me!’

The house next day took on all the more trying features of the pre-party rush. Mrs Simmons displayed the temperament upon which great cooking rests as surely as do the other major forms of art. It is sad to reflect that the hand so light upon pastry and soufflé should drag so heavily upon the reins of office. There is a certain flush which when it reaches the forehead may be regarded as a danger signal. There is a tone in the voice at which the boldest of domestic helps hastens upon the errand assigned and does not dream of answering back. Simmons, a husband of many prudent years standing, knew better than to be what his wife would have stigmatized as ‘under foot’. He returned to his pantry, where he marshalled drinks and polished the cocktail glasses until they shone like crystal.

It was left to Edna Ford to precipitate a storm which might otherwise have been averted. Constitutionally unable to let well alone, she came fretting into the kitchen at a delicate moment in the creation of the cheese straws which were Mrs Simmons’ pride. Undeterred by a portentous frown, she burst into fluttered speech.

‘Oh, Mrs Simmons, I hope you are not doing too much. Miss Ford was particularly anxious – I understood she had made it quite clear – those are cheese straws you are making, are they not?’

In a voice that matched the frown Mrs Simmons said, ‘They are.’

Edna pushed at a wisp of hair that had straggled down on to her cheek.

‘Oh dear,’ she said, ‘I quite understood that Miss Ford had ordered all the savouries from Ledbury. I know she was most anxious you should not be overburdened.’

Mrs Simmons’ fingers paused on the pastry knot she was twisting.

‘Bought cheese straws is what we’ve never had, not since I’ve been in this house, and if they come in, I tell you fair and square, Mrs Ford, that I go out! Now, if you don’t mind letting me go on with my work—’

‘Oh, no – no – of course not. I just came to see if there was anything I could do.’

‘Nothing except to let me get on, Mrs Ford, if you don’t mind.’

Edna transferred her attentions to Mrs Bell who was doing the drawing-room, and succeeded in making her so nervous that she broke a Dresden figure which had been the gift of an archduke in those distant days when there was still an Austrian Empire.

Over her elevenses Mrs Bell bewailed the tragedy.

‘Enough to upset anyone’s nerves, her coming right up behind you and saying, “Oh, do be careful!” And I’m sure there isn’t anyone in the world carefuller with china than what I am. Why, I’ve got my great-grandmother’s tea-set that she had for a wedding present a hundred years ago this spring, and there isn’t a piece so much as chipped. And I’m still using a frying-pan what my grandmother had.’

‘Then it’s time you had a new one,’ said Mrs Simmons.

Janet, asking Adriana whether she could be of any use, was advised to choose the lesser of two evils.

‘If you offer to help Meriel with the flowers, she’ll probably stab you with the gardening-scissors. If you don’t help her, the worst she can say is that no one ever gives her a hand. I should advise you to play for safety.’

Janet looked unhappy.

‘Why is she like that?’

Adriana shrugged.

‘Why is anyone like anything? You can pick and choose among the answers. It’s written in your forehead, or in your hand, or in the stars. Or someone thwarted you when you were in your cradle and it struck you crooked. I think I really prefer Shakespeare—

‘ “The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars,

But in ourselves that we are underlings.“

‘Of course, what’s wrong with Meriel is that I’ve never been able to lead her aside and tell her she is the romantically illegitimate offshoot of a royal house. If she tries me too high, I shall probably some day tell her what she really is!’

Janet said, ‘Oh—’ on a caught breath because the door behind Adriana had swung open. Meriel stood there, her face white, her eyes wide and blazing. She came forward slowly, a hand at her throat, and did not speak.

Adriana made an embarrassed movement.

‘Now, Meriel—’

‘Adriana?’

‘My dear, there’s really nothing to make a scene about. I don’t know what you think you heard.’

Meriel’s voice came in a whisper.

‘You said if I tried you too high you would one day probably tell me what I really was! I ask you to tell me now!’

Adriana put out a hand.

‘My dear, there is nothing much to tell. I have told you that often enough, but you don’t believe me because it doesn’t fit in with your romantic fancies.’

‘I demand that you should tell me the truth!’

Adriana was making an unusual effort at control. She said,

‘We have had all this out before. You come of quite ordinary people. Your father and mother were dead, and I said I would look after you. Well, I have done it, haven’t I?’

Meriel flared.

‘I don’t believe you! I don’t believe I come of ordinary people! I believe I’m your daughter, and you’ve never had the courage to own me! If you had, I might have respected you!’

Adriana said in a quiet voice,

‘No, I am not your mother. If I had had a child I should have owned it. You must believe me when I tell you that.’

‘Well then, I don’t! You’re lying just to spite me!’ Her voice had risen to a scream. ‘I’ll never believe you – never – never – never!’ She ran out of the room and banged the door behind her.

Adriana spoke in a voice of cold rage.

‘Her father was a Spanish muleteer. He stabbed her mother and himself. The baby was a pretty little black-eyed thing. I took it – and trouble enough with it.’

Janet stood there, shocked and silent. After a minute Adriana reached out and touched her.

‘I’ve never told anyone. You won’t speak of it?’

Janet said, ‘No.’

BOOK: The Silent Pool
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