“Not buy the house?” He stared at her, his eyes bluer than ever. “Because poor Margot died here? Why, scores of people have died in every old house in England, and nobody suggests that the families shouldn’t go on living there. If you were to look them up, I expect the most appalling things happened in this very place, and nobody thinks about them now.” He looked at her frankly. “Do you know, you surprise me. I should never have given you credit for being morbid about that sort of thing. Why, my dear girl, what would you propose doing after a death in the house? I’ve heard of people who kept the room just as it was-wouldn’t use it, wouldn’t even have it cleaned. And how soon after that do you suppose it is before someone begins to say the place is haunted? I’m not going to have anything like that started about poor little Margot, and I not only hope, I insist, that you shouldn’t put any such ideas into Allegra’s head.”
As it turned out, Allegra had no morbid views.
“I don’t know why you should think I would mind staying on here-because of Margot. After all, nobody can really mind about her very much-can they? She was a terribly inconvenient person to have in the house, and of course the older she got the worse it was going to be. I was always afraid she was going to jump out on me from behind a door. She did once, and that was the only time Geoffrey ever really scolded her. He said if she did it again she would have to be sent away to a very strict home.”
“When was this?”
“Oh, about two years ago,” said Allegra vaguely.
“And she didn’t do it again?”
“No-but I was always afraid she might.”
Ione went in search of Geoffrey, and found him in his study. She went and stood by the fire, and said,
“You were right about Allegra. I don’t think she likes the Ladies’ House, but she doesn’t dislike it any more because of what happened to Margot.”
He sent her a challenging look.
“So you’ve been talking to her about it?”
Her deep voice had a note of impatience.
“Naturally. I had to find out what she felt. Well, I have found out. She is just where she was before the accident happened, except that-she’s better.”
He nodded.
“I’ve found where she keeps her stuff. There are some hiding-places in this old house, you know. I daren’t cut it off all at once, but I’m managing so that the amount is being diminished gradually. The tablets she’s taking now are not what she thinks they are. I’m in touch with Whichcote about it, and he has been very helpful. I’m glad you notice the difference.”
She stooped forward over the fire as if to warm her hands, and said as easily as she could,
“I suppose Miss Delauny won’t be staying on here now?”
She was not looking at him, but she was aware of his being startled.
“Jacqueline! Why? Has she said anything to you? She doesn’t want to leave, does she?” Ione stood up and turned round. He was looking at her with a troubled and distressed expression.
“Well, Geoffrey, she was Margot’s governess, and her job has come to an end.”
He said very warmly indeed,
“I can’t agree about that, you know. Allegra needs her just as much as Margot did, and she will have more time to give to her now. Don’t you see, it’s exactly what we need-someone to give Allegra the constant care and companionship she ought to have, and to make sure that she doesn’t get hold of any more of that wretched stuff.” Ione was reminded, and disagreeably reminded, of something she could not immediately place. And then she did place it. Geoffrey was speaking of Jacqueline Delauny and the benefits her companionship would confer upon Allegra in the same tone and with very much the same enthusiasm as he had brought to his panegyrics on the Ladies’ House. The impression was the more startling because ever since Margot’s death he had been silent and very evidently under the influence of shock. There had been no trace of his former good humour and easily stirred enthusiasms until now, when Jacqueline Delauny called them up. Ione refused the implication. Geoffrey was like that-easily cast down, and as easily roused by some fresh project. He was pleased at Allegra’s improvement, and regarded Miss Delauny as an adjunct to a more complete recovery. She said,
“I certainly don’t think Allegra ought to be alone. All that sitting about is bad for her. She needs to do things. I was thinking we might go into Wraydon this morning and do a little shopping.”
His face clouded.
“Well, I don’t know-I have a good deal of business to get through this morning-I couldn’t drive you-” Ione laughed.
“That is just what I mean, Geoffrey. Allegra needs to do things for herself, not to have them done for her all the time. There isn’t the slightest necessity for you to drive her. We shall take the bus from the church, and the whole thing will do her a lot of good. You want to get rid of the cottonwool wrappings, you know. She wasn’t brought up like that any more than I was. And by the way, if she’s pleased and interested, we shall probably have lunch at the George.”
She carried the day, but there was a certain undercurrent of disapproval, and in the end, to her disappointment, he announced that he would put his letters on one side and take them to Wraydon in the car.
“You can come back in the bus if you want to, and I think that will be enough of an experiment for today.”
When she and Allegra came down to get into the car Ione was surprised and not at all pleased to find that Jacqueline Delauny intended to accompany them. She had planned a little cosy shopping of trifles with Allegra-the kind of thing which may be used to recall expeditions which have been shared in the past. She definitely did not want a third person, and a stranger, to give Allegra a chance of slipping into one of her abstracted moods. The face which was so expressive upon the stage must have showed at least some trace of this feeling, for Miss Delauny made haste to say,
“I won’t be in your way, Miss Muir. I have just the one place to go to, and Mr. Trent very kindly offered me the lift.”
She got off at the station; and Ione and Allegra, where Cross Street turns into the High Street. It was a pleasant day with a hint of February softness in the air. There were actually a few snowdrops and a yellow crocus or two in the little sheltered gardens in Cross Street where half a dozen old cottages have managed to linger on. Due for demolition before the war, the housing shortage has for the moment deferred their doom. They have no amenities, but they are easy on the eye, and the snowdrops were coming out bravely. Allegra actually noticed them, and stood for a moment to look.
The High Street is like a great many other High Streets. There are the large shops which have swallowed their neighbours, and the little ones not yet quite squeezed to death. The elegances are advertised by the plate-glass window where a single hat like some exotic flower is displayed against a length of shimmering brocade. The exiguous purse is attracted by the scarlet and gold front of a famous emporium. There is the usual conglomeration of prams on the pavement, bicycles propped at the kerb, and motor-buses pursuing their rather dashing way along the crowded street.
The principal shop in the High Street is Kenlow’s. From small beginnings it has expanded into one of those glittering glass-fronted affairs with a department for almost everything you can think of. Everything for the bride, everything for the baby, everything for the schoolboy, the schoolgirl, the home-it does not matter what your need may be, Kenlow’s can always, or nearly always, supply it.