The two men stood in silence. Tony said, “Can you really face going up and seeing Brenda?”
“Yes, I'll go,” said Jock.
Presently Mrs. Rattery came in. “Colonel Inch has been here,” she said. “I talked to him. He wanted to give you his sympathy.”
“Is he still here?”
“No, I told him you'd probably prefer to be left alone. He thought you'd be glad to hear he stopped the hunt.”
“Nice of him to come … Were you having a good day?”
“No.”
“I'm sorry. We saw a fox in Bruton wood last week, John and I … Jock's going up to London to fetch Brenda.”
“I'll take him in the aeroplane. It'll be quicker.”
“Yes that will be quicker.'
“My maid can follow with the luggage by train … I'll go and change now. I won't be ten minutes.”
“I'll change too,” said Jock.
When he was alone Tony rang the bell. A young footman answered; he was quite young and had not been long at Hetton.
“Will you tell Mr. Ambrose that Mrs. Rattery is leaving today. She is flying up with Mr. Grant-Menzies. Her ladyship will probably be coming by the evening train.”
“Very good, sir.”
“They had better have some luncheon before they go. Something cold in the dining room. I will have it with them … And will you put a call through to Colonel Inch and thank him for coming. Say I will write. And to Mr. Ripon's to enquire how Miss Ripon is. And to the vicarage and ask Mr. Tendril if I can see him this evening. He's not here still?”
“No, sir, he left a few minutes ago.”
“Tell him I shall have to discuss arrangements with him.”
“Very good, sir.”
Mr. Last was very matter of fact about everything, the footman reported later.
It was perfectly quiet in the library for the workmen in the morning room had laid aside their tools for the day. Mrs. Rattery was ready first.
“They're just getting luncheon.”
“We shan't want any,” she said. “You forget we were going hunting.”
“Better have something,” said Tony, and then, “It's awful for Jock, having to tell Brenda. I wonder how long it will be before she arrives.”
There was something in Tony's voice as he said this which made Mrs. Rattery ask, “What are you going to do while you're waiting?”
“I don't know. I suppose there will be things to see to.”
“Look here,” said Mrs. Rattery, “Jock had better go up by car. I'll stay here until Lady Brenda comes.”
“It would be awful for you.”
“No, I'll stay.”
`Tony said, “I suppose it's ridiculous of me, but I wish you would … I mean won't it be awful for you? I am all in a muddle. It's so hard to believe yet, that it really happened.”
“It happened all right.”
The footman came to say that Mr. Tendril would call after tea that day; that Miss Ripon had gone straight to bed and was asleep.
“Mr. Grant-Menzies is going up in his car. He may be back tonight,” said Tony. “Mrs. Rattery is waiting until her ladyship arrives.”
“Very good, sir. And Colonel Inch wanted to know whether you would care to have the huntsman blow `Gone Away' at the funeral.”
“Say that I'll write to him,” and when the footman had left the room Tony said, “An atrocious suggestion.”
“Oh, I don't know. He's very anxious to be helpful.”
“They don't like him much as Master.”
Jock left soon after half past two. Tony and Mrs. Rattery had coffee in the library.
“I'm afraid this is a very difficult situation,” said Tony. “After all we scarcely know each other.”
“You don't have to think about me.”
“But it must be awful for you.”
“And you must stop thinking that.”
“I'll try … the absurd thing is that I'm not thinking it, just saying it … I keep thinking of other things all the time.”
“I know. You don't have to say anything.”
Presently Tony said, “It's going to be so much worse for Brenda. You see she's got nothing else, much, except John. I've got her, and I love the house … but with Brenda John always came first … naturally … And then you know she's seen so little of John lately. She's been in London such a lot. I'm afraid that's going to hurt her.”
“You can't ever tell what's going to hurt people.”
“But, you see, I know Brenda so well.”
Six
The library windows were open and the clock, striking the hour, high overhead among its crockets and finials, was clearly audible in the quiet room. It was some time since they had spoken. Mrs. Rattery sat with her back to Tony; she had spread out her intricate four pack patience on a card table; he was in front of the fire, in the chair he had taken after lunch.
“Only four o'clock?” he said. “I thought you were asleep.”
“No, just thinking … Jock will be more than half way there by now, about Aylesbury or Tring.”
“It's a slow way to travel.”
“It's less than four hours ago that it happened … it's odd to think that this is the same day; that it's only five hours ago they were all here at the meet having drinks.” There was a pause in which Mrs. Rattery swept up the cards and began to deal them again. “It was twenty eight minutes past twelve when I heard. I looked at my watch … It was ten to one when they brought John in … just over three hours ago … It's almost incredible, isn't it, everything becoming absolutely different, suddenly like that?”
“It's always that way,” said Mrs. Rattery.
“Brenda will hear in an hour now … if Jock finds her in. Of course she may very likely be out. He won't know where to find her because there's no one else in the flat. She leaves it locked up; empty, when she goes out … and she's out half the day. I know because I sometimes ring up and can't get an answer. He may not find her for hours … It may be as long again as the time since it happened. That would only make it eight o'clock. It's quite likely she won't come in until eight … Think of it, all the time between now and when it happened, before Brenda hears. It's scarcely credible, is it? And then she's got to get down here. There's a train that leaves at nine something. She might get that. I wonder if I ought to have gone up too … I didn't like to leave John.”
(Mrs. Rattery sat intent over her game, moving little groups of cards adroitly backward and forwards about the table like shuttles across a loom; under her fingers order grew out of chaos; she established sequence and precedence; the symbols before her became coherent, interrelated.)
“… Of course she may be at home when he arrives. In that case she can get the evening train, she used always to come by, when she went to London for the day, before she got the flat … I'm trying to see it all, as it's going to happen, Jock coming and her surprise at seeing him, and then his telling her … It's awful for Jock … She may know at half past five or a bit earlier.”
“It's a pity you don't play patience,” said Mrs. Rattery.
“In a way I shall feel happier when she knows … it feels all wrong as it is at present, having it as a secret that Brenda doesn't know … I'm not sure how she fits in her day. I suppose her last lecture is over at about five … I wonder if she goes home first to change if she's going out to tea or cocktails. She can't sit about much in the flat, it's so small.”
Mrs. Rattery brooded over her chequer of cards and then drew them towards her into a heap, haphazard once more and without meaning; it had nearly come to a solution that time, but for a six of diamonds out of place, and a stubbornly congested patch at one corner, where nothing could be made to move. “It's a heartbreaking game,” she said.