They found him on the terrace in consultation with one of his young men. Lady Mary straightened her frail body. She lifted her head and her eyes shone blue. “Mr. Blayne!”
“Yes, Lady Mary.” He smiled good-naturedly. “If you’ve come to tell me to go I want to assure you that we will be off at precisely five minutes to three.”
Lady Mary looked at the young men inside the castle who were making measurements and drawing sketches on large pieces of paper. “Those Americans seem to be everywhere,” she said, “don’t you think so, Kate?”
“I haven’t thought about it, my lady,” Kate said.
“You should think, you know, Kate,” she went on with gentle severity. “Everyone should think these days, if at all possible, about everything. Which reminds me, Mr. Blayne, would you mind leaving immediately instead of when the tourists come?”
He stood there bemused, wondering if he was being made game of in some obscure English fashion.
“Leave, Lady Mary?”
“Please do so,” Lady Mary said in the same pleasant voice. “With all cohorts! Kate, tell the men that Mr. Blayne is leaving, at my request.”
“They won’t listen to me, my lady. I tried that before,” Kate said.
There had been enough of this game, whatever it was, and John broke in impetuously. “Of course we will leave, Lady Mary, but I must remind you that Sir Richard gave us permission to remain — in fact, he asked us to proceed with the castle as planned, and—”
Lady Mary drew herself up so suddenly that she tottered. Kate stepped forward to offer her arm, and Lady Mary steadied herself. Indignation enlivened her whole being.
“How dare you,” she cried. “Do you question who I am? This is my home, Mr. Blayne — I have the right to — to—”
“We go at once.”
“Kate,” Lady Mary said imperiously, “go with him, else he’ll lose his way.” She lowered her voice. “And he’s not to go near Sir Richard, mind you. If you see Wells, send him here at once.”
“Yes, my lady,” Kate said, and followed John Blayne. Instead of going immediately to inform the rest of his young men, he had gone into the garden. She caught up with him near one of the elephant yews. For a moment they looked at each other without speaking.
“Kate, what does this mean?” He spoke impatiently. “And how am I to know what to do? Sir Richard tells me to stay, Lady Mary tells me to go, and both of them act as if they were living in the Middle Ages when people could be ordered around.”
“In a way they are living back in the past, Mr. Blayne, that’s what’s the trouble. It’s the castle — they’ve got to get away from it.”
“There may be a way, though it may not be the eternal way,” he reminded her. He reached out and took her hand, holding it in his palm like a flower. “Do you know you have pretty little hands?”
“Please—” She blushed and tried to pull her hand away, but he covered it with his other hand.
“Why do you distrust Americans?” he inquired.
“I don’t,” she said. “Not at all,” she added. “Why should I? You are the only one I know.”
Oh, what a pretty girl she is, he thought. Assured and graceful and proud-looking, her face was a picture with its straight features, fine skin and violet eyes.
“Then why don’t you trust me?”
“Please, Mr. Blayne—”
He saw the look in her eyes and let her hand slip away. “Kate, what is it?”
She bit her lip and tears brimmed her eyes. “It’s just that I …” She faltered, paused.
“Just that you what?” He tipped her head up to look at him, his forefinger under her chin, but she twisted away from him.
“There, it’s nothing — it’s more than just the castle. Sir Richard and Lady Mary grieve so only about the castle. I have to think of them, you know, take care of them—”
“It’s the treasure in the castle, isn’t it?” he asked.
She took him seriously. “Yes, yes, I expect it is.”
“Have you any idea what that treasure is?”
For a moment she looked almost frightened as his eyes kept their steady gaze on her. “N-no, no I haven’t, Mr.—”
“John,” he interrupted.
“John,” she repeated, like a child learning a new word in school.
“I’m just beginning to understand.”
“I wish you would go away, really I do,” she said in a low voice. “I wish you would leave us to ourselves.”
“You mustn’t blame me, you know, Kate. It’s not my fault, and my going away won’t solve anything. If you’d only explain—”
She interrupted him in sudden impatience. “I can’t explain, I tell you. I’m only the maid.”
“You’re not! You’re everything here in the castle and I can’t leave you,” he said firmly. “Here I stay, until—”
She could be firm, too. “You’re not. You’re going, as Lady Mary asked you to.”
He yielded suddenly, seeing that neither was to be gainsaid. “We go at once,” he said.
… Presently Wells stood before Lady Mary. “You sent for me, my lady?”
“I did. I want to know where Sir Richard is.”
His eyelids flickered. “I do not know, my lady. He went off on his horse before luncheon. Will that be all?”
“You should know. It’s your duty, Wells, always to know where Sir Richard is.”
“I’ve a good deal to do, my lady.”
“Don’t speak to me like that!”
“No, my lady. I’m sorry, my lady.”
She paused, to signify he was not forgiven, then went on, “Go and find him.”
“Yes, my lady.”
He had walked as far as the entrance to the castle when suddenly she called him back.
“Wells, come here!”
He came back slowly, his gnarled hands hanging at his sides, surprise on his long, old face.
“Wells,” she said in a low hurried voice, “I understand — what I didn’t before.”
He looked blank.
“Wells!” she said sharply.
“Yes, my lady?”
“I know everything!”
“Everything, my lady?”
“Everything. … Wells, I saw him.”
The look on the long face changed. The cheeks quivered, he blinked his eyes rapidly two or three times, he wet his lips before he spoke.
“Then I can only say I’m glad, my lady. It’s been a strain — fearful, I might say.”
“I’m sure it has been. You did what you thought was right. I don’t blame you.”
She paused. Her face quivered piteously and he looked away, in tender respect. She went on, hurrying her words, her voice low.
“Wells, the boy — Colin — wasn’t yours, was he?”
“No, my lady—”
“Then, why did you—”
“For his mother, my lady. Elsie, that was. I was daft about her. In love, that is. … She wouldn’t look at me, though she knew Sir Richard couldn’t — his father would never have allowed a farmer’s daughter to—”
“Stop for a moment, Wells.”
She looked so desperately pale that he was frightened and yet he dared not call anyone. To think that all these years she had not known! He’d wondered, but Elsie had said no, she didn’t know — not Lady Mary.
“Don’t take it hard now, my lady,” he whispered. “It was all done with long ago.”
“Did he — love her, Wells?”
“Sir Richard? Oh no, my lady — it was just a fancy, on a summer’s day. Even she knew that. And she — she was afraid of him, in a way, so far above her station.”
“But she gave him a son.”
Wells hesitated. “Well, in a manner of speaking. The child was a boy — yes, my lady.”