The Unfinished Clue (7 page)

"I, too," said Lola coldly. "I prefer that I should eat my lunch here."

"I won't eat another meal in this house! I couldn't!" said Geoffrey, with suppressed violence. "I may as well tell you, Lola, that I've had the hell of a row with Father. In fact, it's all over between us two, and I hope I never set eyes on him again!"

Miss de Silva regarded him with sudden suspicion. "What is this you are saying?" she demanded. "But tell me at once, if you please, for I do not at all understand you!"

"We've quarrelled - irrevocably!" announced Geoffrey, giving a somewhat inaccurate description of the onesided scene enacted in the study at half past nine. "Of course it was bound to come. We're oil and water. I've always known it. Only I did think that Father -"

Miss de Silva sat up. "You are talking quite ridiculously, my dear Geoffrey. It is not oil and water, but, on the contrary, oil and vinegar. I am not so ignorant that I do not know that. But I do not see why you must quarrel with your papa for such a stupid reason, which I find is not a reason at all, in fact, but a great piece of folly."

"You don't understand, darling. I said we were oil and water - not vinegar. It's an expression - an idiom."

"It is entirely without sense," replied Lola scornfully.

"It means we don't mix. Well, anyway, it's just a saying. It doesn't really matter. The point is that Father's behaving like an absolute cad. Simply because you're a professional dancer he's trying to do everything he can to stop us being married. I simply hate telling you this, darling, because I'd die sooner than let you be hurt. But there it is. He's one of those hide-bound, utterly disgusting Victorians. One simply can't argue with him. He's always hated me. I expect it's because of my mother. She ran off with some other man when I was a kid. I don't really know much about it, but I believe there was a perfectly ghastly scandal at the time. Anyway, Father's been an absolute beast to me all my life - it's a pity he didn't have Francis for a son, though as a matter of fact he wouldn't think so jolly well of him if he knew some of the things Iknow about him - and this is just the last straw. Because nothing would induce me to give you up. He needn't think I care about his filthy money. Money simply means nothing to me, and in any case I happen to be able to write, and though he chooses to sneer at my work there are other people who know far more about it than he does who think I'm going to go a long way. I couldn't help smiling when he talked about me starving in the gutter for all he cared. Of course he'd never believe that anyone could make any money by writing, but he'll just see, that's all!"

Lola, who had listened to this rambling speech in complete and unusual silence, relaxed once more on to her bank of pillows, and said in a thoughtful voice: "It is true that your papa is a character extremely difficult, not at all sympathetic. It will be better perhaps if I do not marry you."

Geoffrey stared down at her, startled and incredulous. "Lola! You can't think that I'd give you up! Good God, I'm mad about you! I adore you!"

"It is very sad," agreed Lola. "I myself am quite in despair. But it is not sense to marry if you have no money. One must think of these things, though certainly it is very disagreeable."

He snatched at her wrists. "Lola, you can't mean that! Lola, don't you care for me? What does it matter about the money, if we love each other? I'll make money, I swear I will! You can't say you won't marry me!"

"Certainly I love you," replied Lola with composure. "I love with great passion always, but I am not at all a fool, and it is plain that if you have not a great deal of money it is impossible that we should marry. And I will tell you, my dear Geoffrey, what I have been thinking, that perhaps it is better that I do not engage myself to you, for I am quite young, not at all passee, and besides, I find that I do not wish to live in the country where there is no absinthe, no shower in my bathroom, and cocks that crow all night so that I cannot sleep."

"But we shouldn't live in the country! We could live anywhere you liked!" Geoffrey said desperately.

"I like always to live in the best places," said Lola with simplicity. "And I must tell you, please, that you are hurting me."

His grasp on her wrists tightened. "Lola, you're saying it to tease me! You don't mean it! Oh, my God, you couldn't be so cruel, so utterly heartless!"

The beautiful brown eyes flashed. "It is not I who am cruel, let me tell you, but entirely you, my good Geoffrey, to wish me to marry you when you have not any longer any money!"

"But Lola, I'll make money! I know I can make enough for us to live on! It won't be a fortune, but we'll manage somehow."

"I find that you are being completely selfish. You do not think of me at all," said Lola austerely. "It is quite necessary that I should have a great deal of money, a fortune, as you say. And I wish that you will instantly let go of my arms, because though I do not make complaint you are hurting me excessively. And then you will go away so that I may dress myself, and after I have eaten my lunch, but not in the least before, you will drive me back to London."

He sprang up; his face was very white, his lips trembling incontrollably. "I can't believe it! I can't believe it!" he stammered, his voice breaking on a dry sob. "I can't give you up! I tell you I can't, I won't!"

"It is for us both a great tragedy," agreed Lola. "But your papa -"

The death-like pallor grew. "It's all his fault!" Geoffrey gasped. "Ever since I was born - and now this-! devil, devil, devil!" He dashed his hand across his eyes, and stumbled over to the door. "He's ruined my life, and my happiness, and taken you away from me God, I can't bear it!" He wrenched open the door and rushed out, almost colliding with Dawson, a breathless and entranced auditor on the landing.

"And out of my way!" he says, just like that, and he gave me a push that sent me up against the wall - Oo, Mrs. Moxon, you wouldn't believe what a push he gave me; it's a wonder I didn't fall over, it is really! And then he went off down the stairs, without one backward look, and out of the house, with no hat nor nothing, and leaving the front door open behind him, which Mr Finch'll bear me out is the solid truth!"

Chapter Five

At a quarter to twelve the General's voice was once more to be heard in the hall, this time shouting or his wife. He and Camilla had just returned from their inspection of the litter of springer puppies, and, whether by her desire, or his, it had become necessary for her to take back to town with her some of his famous roses.

Fay, who had only just emerged from her bedroom, and was in consultation with Peckham upstairs, at once hurried down. "I'm here, Arthur," she said in her fluttering way.

"Oh, there you are! I want Camilla to have some roses to take home with her," decreed the General. "Tell Lester, will you? Where is the fellow? I thought I'd made it plain that I wanted the front lawn mowed this morning? I suppose you've taken him oil that job to do something for you that could quite well be done tomorrow. It's always the way! As soon as my back's turned —'

"I haven't told him to do anything," said Fay wearily. "I haven't even seen him."

"Then where the devil is he?" demanded the General balked. "I must say I do think you might see that the servants do their work when I'm out!"

"If you had told me, Arthur -"

"Oh, don't let's have any argument about it!" begged Sir Arthur. "Though I should have thought - However, doubtless I was wrong. Find out what the fellow's doing, and tell him to cut Mrs. Halliday a couple of dozen blooms."

"It's most awfully sweet of you," said Camilla. "I do hope it isn't any trouble?"

"'Trouble? Good gracious me, it's no trouble at all, my dear Camilla. It's a pleasure. Only wish the roses were more worthy of you!"

Camilla gave her empty little laugh, and said archly: "Now you're trying to flatter me, and I won't listen to a word you say! Thank you terribly, Fay - it is good of you to bother! I'll just run up and take my hat off."

The General watched her go up the stairs, and became aware of his wife, still standing beside him. Since his conscience pricked him slightly, he naturally felt annoyed with her for being there. "Well, don't hang about looking like seven bells half struck!" he said irritably. "You might at least try to behave pleasantly to your guests. And kindly understand that if anyone wants me before lunch I'm busy, and don't want to be disturbed. I've wasted quite enough of the morning as it is. Look at the time! Ten to twelve, and as far as I can make out you're only just up! I wonder what my mother would say if she were alive today and could see the way you modern women lie in bed till all hours!"

"Oh, don't, don't," Fay cried out suddenly, putting her hands to her head. "I can't bear it! You're driving me out of my mind, Arthur!"

The General stared after her, as she turned and hurried away towards the garden-hall. "More nerves!" he said, with a short laugh, and walked into his study, and shut the door loudly.

It was just as well that he did not know that Miss Fawcett, who had spent the morning "doing the flowers', had already robbed the rose-garden of its choicest blooms. Now, conscious of rectitude, she had joined Stephen Guest on the terrace, and subsided into a deep wicker-chair beside him.

"I call it more than a little sultry," she remarked. "No double entendre meant, I assure you. Does my nose want powdering?"

"It looks all right to me," said Guest, giving it his consideration.

"I mistrust your judgment profoundly," said Dinah. "However, I don't think I can be bothered to go upstairs. Though I have noticed that it's becoming quite the done thing in this house to make your face up in the full view of - Oh, hullo, Mrs. Halliday! How were the puppies?"

"Sweet," said Camilla. "I adored them. Don't say I've butted in on a tete-a-tete! Where's Basil?"

Stephen Guest, who had risen politely, looked vaguely round. "I don't know," he answered. "I think he went into the billiard-room. Shall I go and see?"

"Oh no, don't bother, thanks," said Camilla, seating herself. "We are a small party, aren't we? I always think the Monday after a weekend is frightfully depressing. don't you? I mean everybody leaving, or packing, or something. I suppose it's much too early for a cocktail?"

"It's about twelve," said Dinah, consulting her wristwatch.

This hardly seemed to be an adequate answer to the question. Camilla gave a short sigh, and said: "Oh, well!" and began to drum her fingers on the arm of her chair.

The arrival of Mrs. Twining, a few minutes later, rated a diversion. She came through the drawing room out on to the terrace, looking, as usual, cool, and perfectly dressed. "I told that inestimable Finch that I'd announce myself," she said. "Good morning, Mrs. Halliday. I have had to go to Silsbury, Dinah. Such a bore, but you see that is why I am so early. It did not seem to be worth while to go home again."

Dinah shook hands with her. "Won't you sit down? I think I saw Fay going towards the rose-garden a minute or two ago. I'll go and tell her you've arrived."

"Let us both go and tell her I have arrived," said Mrs. Twining. "I should like to see Arthur's new standards. Mine have not done at all well; I believe it is the soil."

"Do you really want to see rose trees?" Dinah asked bluntly, as they walked across the lawn to the yew hedge that shut off the rose-garden.

"Not in the least, my dear. I want you to tell me just what has happened today. There is that peculiar and plague-stricken quiet about the house that usually means that there has been a great deal of unpleasantness."

"Well, there has," admitted Dinah. "There's been a row with Fay, and then a sort of skirmish with me (but that was my doing), and then what sounded like a really super-row with Geoffrey. I don't know what happened exactly, but Francis said that Geoffrey was looking pretty sick."

"I always felt that Sunday's forced abstinence was putting too great a strain on Arthur," remarked Mrs. Twining thoughtfully. "Where is Geoffrey now?"

"Well, I don't really know. He was outside Lola's door at half past ten. He may be in her room. To tell you the truth, Mrs. Twining, I'm not awfully interested in his troubles, except when they affect Fay."

"Why should you be?" said Mrs. Twining. "I am sure I am not surprised. It was so extremely stupid of him to bring that remarkable young woman of his here. But I don't think we must let Arthur cast him on the world."

Dinah glanced curiously at her. "You're very fond of Geoffrey, aren't you?"

Mrs. Twining had stooped to smell a great crimson rose. "Too full-blown to pick. What a pity! No, my dear, I don't know that I should describe myself as being very fond of Geoffrey. I knew him when he was in his cradle, however, and I have always been sorry for the boy."

"Did you know his mother, Mrs. Twining?" asked Dinah. "I've often wondered."

Mrs. Twining put back a trailing rambler with her gloved hand. "Have you, my dear? Yes, I knew her quite well."

"What was she like? Arthur never mentions her, you know, and there isn't even a photograph."

"When Arthur puts people out of his life," said Mrs. Twining, with a faint smile, "he does it very thoroughly. She was generally thought to be pretty."

"I don't really blame her for leaving Arthur, but it was rather rotten of her to leave Geoffrey," reflected Dinah.

Mrs. Twining passed through the gap in the hedge again on to the lawn. "Yes, it was, as you say, rotten of her," she replied. "But whatever she did that was rotten, or foolish, she had to pay for. Tell me, is Arthur in, do you know?"

"Yes, I think he must be. Oh, there is Fay, coming away from the vegetable garden! Fa-ay!"

They waited for Fay to catch up with them. She gave her hand to Mrs. Twining, saying: "It's so nice of you to have come, Julia. Things are being - a little difficult. Perhaps if you spoke to him Arthur might listen."

"Listening is not his speciality, but I will try," promised Mrs. Twining. "Where is he?"

"Oh, it would never do if you disturbed him before lunch!" said Fay, looking quite flustered at the bare thought of such a thing. "He's writing letters in his study."

They ascended the steps on to the terrace. Stephen Guest pulled up a chair, his gaze on Fay's face. "Come and sit down," he said. "You look done up."

She pushed the hair away from her forehead. "I've got a headache. It's nothing." Her voice was forlorn; as she sat down she raised her eyes fleetingly to his, and he saw that they had filled with tears. She tried to smile, and said in a low, unsteady voice for his ears alone: "It's all right, Stephen. Really it's all right."

Mrs. Twining was talking in her pleasant way to Camilla Halliday; Dinah was wondering what had happened to Geoffrey and his Lola, when Finch came on to the terrace to tell Fay that Mrs. Chudleigh had called, and would like to see her.

"Oh dear!" said Fay involuntarily; then, recollecting herself, she added: "Ask her if she will come out on to the terrace, please."

"Blast and damn!" said Dinah. "What on earth can she want?"

"Dinah darling!" expostulated Fay.

"That's a lady who's mightily interested in other people's business," said Guest. "I can't say I like the type myself."

"She wants me to give a talk at the Women's Institute, said Fay. "I said I'd let her know, only I forgot."

"Mrs. Chudleigh!" announced Finch.

The Vicar's wife stepped briskly out on to the terrace. and sent one of her quick, peering glances round. She looked rather hot and more than a little crumpled in a tussore coat and skirt, and a burnt-straw hat of no particular shape; and she wore in addition to these garments a blue shirt blouse, dark brown shoes and stockings, and a pair of white wash-leather gloves. She shook hands with Fay, nodded to Mrs. Twining and to Dinah, and favoured Camilla with a stiff little bow. "I'm so sorry to come bothering you, Lady Billington-Smith, but you know I always say I do all my unpleasant tasks on a Monday! It is the Children's Holiday Fund, and I know you are always so good and generous in giving towards it."

"Don't you ever shirk your unpleasant tasks?" inquired Camilla, with an air of patronage amounting to insolence.

But Camilla was no match for the Vicar's wife. "No, Mrs. Halliday, never!" replied Mrs. Chudleigh in a steely voice. "I hope that I should never shirk jury duty, however unpleasant."

"God help us, we're for it again!" murmured Dinah to Stephen Guest.

Camilla was looking a little foolish, and had given a half-laugh, and shrugged her shoulders.

"Do come and sit down over here, Mrs. Chudleigh!" Fay intervened. "Of course my husband and I are only too glad to subscribe to the Fund."

Mrs. Chudleigh accepted the chair indicated, which was placed on the outskirts of the group, and said that she must not stop, for that would make her late for lunch. "And Hilary is so absent-minded that he would never think to begin without me," she said, her face softening as it always did when she spoke of her husband. "I really only came to beg, and to ask you whether you are going lo address us on Friday? You said you might give the Women a little talk on Gardens, and I'm sure it would be much appreciated. Only when you did not let me know," she added with a significant look, "I wondered whether perhaps you have rather too much on your hands just now?"

Fay coloured. "No, I should be pleased to speak, if you think it would interest the Club. But you know I'm not very good at giving lectures."