Winterwood (24 page)

Yet nothing could have been more correct than the dinner, sitting at a table in the corner of the hotel restaurant which specialized in good food rather than exotic decorations. They made formal conversation. They talked of Simon’s school, of the possibilities of a good hunting season, of Flora’s future as an heiress, of Edward’s progress with Mr. Bush.

Then Daniel, in his polite voice, hoped she had not been offended by the misunderstanding in the dress shop.

She said “offended” was scarcely the word, “distressed” was a better one, and that was not so much because of the misunderstanding as the purchase of that unsuitable, extravagant gown.

“Flora must understand I can’t accept gifts like that, Mr. Meryon. Your wife would be very disapproving, and for Mr. Peate to see me dressed like that would be fatal.”

It must be the wine she had drunk that had made her speak so impulsively. She had never meant to show any sign of her private worry about Jonathon Peate. She might have known Daniel would seize on the scrap of information and demand to know the whole story.

“Fatal! That’s a curious word to use.”

“Yes. It was a little extravagant. It is only that—Mr. Peate admires me a little too much.”

“I was aware of that, but I hadn’t known his admiration gave you such apprehension. Does he persecute you? I asked you that once before, and you denied it. Were you telling the truth?”

She was about to say that Jonathon Peate’s attentions were becoming intolerable when caution stopped the words. Supposing Daniel interfered and Jonathon carried out his threat to expose her?

“No, he doesn’t persecute me, of course. I am really very good at discouraging unwanted attentions.”

“You have had too many of these in your life?”

“It is not an asset, in my position, to have good looks,” she said wearily. “Flora is very kind and generous, but that is something she doesn’t realize. I should conceal my looks, not accentuate them.
You
realize that, Mr. Meryon. And yet you amuse yourself with things like that absurd charade in the shop today.”

She hadn’t meant to say that either. She certainly didn’t anticipate his violent reaction to her words.

“Amuse
myself! Is that what you think I was doing? Is a woman of your intelligence so blind? Come!” He pushed back his chair and stood up. “Let us go before I say more than I ever meant to.”

He could scarcely restrain himself sufficiently to walk decorously behind her as they left the restaurant. He seemed to want to stride fast and furiously. His whole being was full of contained violence. On the stairs he said that he would see her to her room, then take a turn outdoors before retiring.

“And tear up that gown, Miss Hurst. Or give it to the poor. You’re entirely right about not wearing it. Though don’t think I lo—admire you less in poplin or whatever you term suitable attire.”

“Love?” She had seized on the forbidden word, and turned so sharply that she stumbled on the turn on the stairs and was instantly caught in his arms. His kiss was inevitable. It seemed that no power on earth could have prevented their lips coming together.

But it was only for a moment.

Then he had held her away, his fingers bruising her shoulders.

“Don’t make me say the words, Miss Hurst, or they will be forever between us.”

“Lavinia,” she said in a daze. “Lavinia is my name.”

He dropped his hands.

“And this is what we are doomed to, Lavinia. Kissing on stairways. Can you bear it? Can you be content with such small things as being in the same room, eating at the same table, saying a formal good morning and good night? Because that is all we can have. Can you bear never to talk like this again? To embrace?”

“Yes,” she said steadily.

“It will not drive you away?”

“It should. But no, it won’t.”

“And I can’t even tell you—explain—about my marriage.” His eyes were black with emotion. She had to bite her nails into her palms to stop herself from taking his face between her hands, saying that nothing mattered so long as they were under the same roof…

“You look so radiantly happy,” he said.

“You told me yourself to take each day as it came.”

“Yes, I did. And I told you we would use you, myself, Charlotte, Flora, Winterwood itself. You must have known it wasn’t only for Flora that I begged you to stay.”

“Perhaps that’s why I look so happy.”

“In spite of knowing that we must never talk like this again?”

“In spite of that.”

“It’s madness,” he muttered. “When Flora walks again—You must think of your own future. Not my selfishness.”

She did risk touching his face very briefly,

“I seem suddenly to have a great deal of courage,” she said.

T
HE BARRIERS
BETWEEN THEM
were too great to be overcome.

She had said that just to be under the same roof was enough, and for the present it was. But she knew that she was not going to be content always with crumbs. Sooner or later her passions would rebel. What then? Charlotte had said she brought an aura of disaster. And what was to happen after Christmas when Jonathon Peate demanded his answer? It seemed certain that her happiness was to be limited to a few weeks. She would try to live every minute of that time. If Flora could be got to walk, that achievement would be worth all the pain she and Daniel would eventually suffer.

Whether it were Lavinia’s fault or not, there was another disaster when the little party returned to Winterwood. This time it struck Eliza. A diamond brooch belonging to Lady Tameson had been found among Eliza’s belongings. It had been pinned inside one of her flannel petticoats and the petticoat rolled up and pushed to the back of her drawer. Its very manner of concealment was guilty. Obviously Eliza had stolen it.

Eliza swore passionately that she had not, that Lady Tameson had given it to her.

“She wanted me to have it, madam,” she told Charlotte, her plain middle-aged face alight with earnestness and indignation. She had never before, in her life of honest service, been called a thief. “She said I had been kind to her, and begged me to have the brooch. It was for a keepsake. I didn’t want to take it, madam. I swear I’m telling the truth, but she was that upset if I didn’t.”

Charlotte’s face was cold and unforgiving.

“I suppose Miss Hurst got one, too. Did you, Miss Hurst? In gratitude for helping my aunt to make that disgraceful will?”

Lavinia’s face flamed.

“Of course I did not. There was no question of bribery.”

“Then what did Eliza’s gift represent? Love? How can I possibly believe such a story? If my aunt gave her such a valuable gift it could only have been because she was persuaded into doing so. She was old and her mind was growing weak. She could have been easily persuaded, I don’t doubt. But that is virtually the same as stealing.”

Eliza, long-trained in meekness, proved to be a fiery opponent when aroused. She held her white-capped head high as the indignant words tumbled from her.

“If you must know, madam, my lady said she didn’t suppose my wages were much, so I could sell the brooch. It would make a nice nest egg. That’s the whole truth of it. But seeing as madam will never believe me, and my poor lady isn’t here to say I’m telling the truth, I’ll give in my notice. I won’t stay in any house where I’m called a thief.”

Lavinia made a dismayed protest, but Charlotte motioned her to be silent.

“That’s very wise of you, Eliza. You have saved me the trouble of dismissing you. You can count yourself lucky I haven’t called the police.”

Eliza put out her hand for the brooch that lay on the table between them. With her new boldness she said, “Then I’ll be taking my property, madam.”

“You’ll do nothing of the kind.”

“Then I must be seeing the master. I fancy he’ll believe me. Perhaps he might wonder how my private things came to be searched while I was absent. I’m not accustomed to working in houses where that sort of thing happens.”

For a moment it looked as if Charlotte were going to have one of her wild turns. She pushed the brooch violently toward Eliza, saying, “Oh, take the wretched thing. Your drawers were searched because in making an inventory of my aunt’s things one brooch was found to be missing. The search was made on Mr. Mallinson’s instructions. If the brooch hadn’t been found among your belongings, Miss Hurst’s would have been searched also. Does that convince you?” She pressed her fingers to her temples in her familiar expression of weariness. “I’m sick and tired of the whole thing. There has been nothing but trouble since my aunt came here. I wish she had died in Venice. Alone in her palace. Why are you looking at me like that, Miss Hurst? She was dying anyway. Would a few weeks earlier have made so much difference? Only a fortune for my daughter, you are going to say. And the old lady lying in a grave where she doesn’t belong.”

“What are you saying, Mrs. Meryon?” Lavinia cried. “Lady Tameson does belong with her son.”

Charlotte gave her a quick, startled glance, as if she had just realized clearly what she had said.

“I was only thinking that she had grown too foreign. She didn’t belong in England anymore. She might have been happier under cypresses. Well, I did my best, and what thanks did I get?” Her voice went hard and cold. “Why are you standing there gaping at me, Eliza? I want you out of the house today.”

Lavinia was more upset than Eliza. Indeed, now that she had calmed down, Eliza seemed almost happy to be going.

“Don’t fret about me, Miss Hurst. I thought somehow it would come to this. The mistress was bound to find out about the brooch and I knew she’d never believe it was given to me. Not that I wanted it. It was only that my lady begged me to have it. It was the only way she knew to repay me, she said.” Eliza’s apron was lifted to her eyes. “My poor lady. I miss her too much, and that’s the truth. I keep listening for her bell and it never rings. I’m better to go, Miss Hurst.”

“But how will you get another position?” Lavinia refrained from saying that she knew all too well the difficulties of making a new start with a cloud over one’s past.

But again Eliza was surprisingly calm and philosophical.

“Don’t you worry, I’m going to take a short holiday first. I haven’t had one since I was a girl. But I’ll be sorry to say goodbye to you and Miss Flora. I don’t suppose you’ll be here forever, either, but I hope you’ll be seeing Miss Flora through these troubles.”

“Troubles?”

“Her not walking, and all,” Eliza said, too quickly. Lavinia had a queer feeling that that was not what she had meant at all. Suddenly Eliza, too, had become a mystery. For she would say no more, and she was packed and gone within an hour. She said she had a sister in Norfolk where she would go and stay. She insisted on walking to the village. Lavinia watched her small square figure, laden with her wicker traveling bag, plodding away down the drive and out of sight. She was reminded suddenly of the strange woman who had called to see Lady Tameson, professing to be an old servant. She had almost forgotten that episode. But now it came back to her mind, and she was puzzled. Puzzled and uneasy. She didn’t suppose she would ever see Eliza again.

She didn’t know Jonathon Peate was standing behind her until she heard his familiar softly derisive laughter. She didn’t know how long he had been there.

“Are you afraid that is going to happen to you one day, Miss Hurst?”

She looked into his mocking eyes.

“You did this!” she exclaimed. “You told Mrs. Meryon to have Eliza’s things searched!”

“I gave my cousin advice, certainly. After all, the bauble is worth a few hundreds. Too much for a servant to get away with. Pity she has, after all. Charlotte is too soft.”

“What do you
want
in this house, Mr. Peate?”

He enjoyed the direct attack. His eyes glinted.

“Mr. Peate? Still so distant? My name is Jonathon. And what do I want? Your answer, my little love. Among other things.” He whistled between his teeth. “Among other things.”

Lavinia was certain, now, that he had a personal interest in the missing brooch—as well as in more of Lady Tameson’s possessions. He and Charlotte. Was that their conspiracy?

Daniel must have known about Eliza’s dismissal, but Lavinia had no way of knowing what he thought. She only knew that a bank messenger was sent for from Dover, and he and Mr. Mallinson took away all Lady Tameson’s jewelry in a locked box. It was to be put into safe custody until Flora’s coming of age. Flora was a little regretful, as she had imagined herself doing what her great-aunt had done, occasionally bestowing a valuable piece of jewelry on someone who had pleased her. But she soon forgot the incident in the excitement of unwrapping her London purchases and inviting Edward to come and witness her munificence.

Edward was unusually subdued, and played quietly in Flora’s room. He only set up a noisy protest when Bertha came to take him to his mother.

“I don’t want to go. Tell Mamma that I’m busy.”

Bertha was shocked. “As if I could do that. You come at once, you naughty boy.”

Edward’s lower lip was stuck out. “It’s too hot in her room and she’s always crying. I don’t care about Great-aunt Tameson being dead. Do you, Flora?”

“Yes, I do,” said Flora, as shocked as Bertha.” It’s wicked not to care about people dying. How would you like it if no one cried over you?”

“I wouldn’t care. And I wouldn’t cry over you, or Mamma, or anybody. I especially wouldn’t cry over you.”

“You won’t have to, because I’m never going to die,” said Flora loftily.

“Now stop this nonsense and come, Master Edward,” Bertha said impatiently.

“If Mr. Peate’s with Mamma I won’t come.”

Bertha’s face tightened.

“Mr. Peate isn’t there. So come
along.”

Edward reluctantly followed her, his complaining voice coming back. “It isn’t fair, Flora goes to London, and all I do is sit with Mamma. I find it exceedingly tiresome.”

Flora watched his departure with brooding intensity. “Serves him right for being Mamma’s pet. Why does Mamma never send for us? Why is it always Edward and that abominable Mr. Peate?”