“How? Who spoke of it? Your father? You? Surely not your legal adviser?”
“My father spoke of it to my sister. He was very ill. I’m sure he wouldn’t have done so if he had been himself. It has always made things very difficult for me.”
“Most unfortunate,” said Miss Silver. “And does everyone in the family know of the arrangement?”
There was a momentary flash of humor in Rachel Treherne’s dark eyes.
“I should think so. You see, it was a grievance, and when my sister and her husband have a grievance, well, they like to share it. I think it is quite safe to say that everyone in the family knows I revise my will once a year in January. Some of them are tactful about it, some of them resent it, the young ones treat it as rather a joke. If only they didn’t know-”
Miss Silver took up her pencil and added a word to her notes on Mabel Wadlow. The word was, “Indiscreet.” She leaned back and said,
“Is it possible that the terms of your present will are known?”
“I don’t know.”
“You must know whether there is such a possibility.”
Rachel was silent.
“Have you at any time had a draft of your will in the house?”
“Yes.”
“You are not helping me, Miss Treherne. Would it have been possible for anyone to see that draft?”
“I suppose it would. Oh, one doesn’t think about things like that!”
“I am sorry to distress you, but I am afraid we must think about them. You had the draft in an unlocked drawer?”
“No, locked. But I am careless about my keys.”
“I see. And if I were to ask you who would chiefly benefit if you were to die before you could make this annual revision of your will, would you answer me?”
Rachel Treherne pushed back her chair and got up. She said,
“No, Miss Silver, I couldn’t tell you that.”
Miss Silver remained seated. She was knitting again.
“Do you wish me to take your case?”
Rachel Treherne looked at her. Her eyes said, “Help me.” Her lips said,
“Please-if you will.”
The needles clicked.
“I wonder if you will take my advice,” said Miss Silver.
Rachel’s lips parted in a sudden charming smile.
“If I can,” she said.
“Go home and tell your sister that you took the opportunity of being in town to go through your will, and that your have made considerable changes in it this time. She will certainly inform your other relatives, and for the present there will be no more attempts upon your life.”
All the color went out of Rachel Treherne’s face.
“No-I couldn’t do that.”
“It would be a safeguard.”
“No, I won’t do it! I won’t tell lies-it’s too degrading!”
“Make it true then. See your lawyer, alter your will, and let your relations know that you have done so.”
Rachel stood there silently with her hands on the table edge. She seemed to lean on them. At last she said,
“I will think about it. Is there anything else?”
“Yes. I think of taking a short holiday. Can you recommend me to cottage lodgings in your neighborhood? I should be an acquaintance who is friendly with the Cunninghams. It would then be quite natural for us to meet, and for you to invite me to the house.”
“I can invite you to stay.”
“Without exciting remark? It is very necessary that no one should imagine I am anything but a private visitor.”
Rachel Treherne smiled again.
“Oh, but I am always asking people down-all sorts of people. It will be quite easy. I like having people who can’t afford to go away, and-” She stopped short and colored vividly.
But Miss Maud Silver was not at all offended.
“I shall do very well as a gentlewoman of restricted means,” she observed. “Let me see-I can come down on Saturday. You can just mention Hilary Cunningham, but I should not stress the connection. And I think you had better call me a retired governess.” Most unexpectedly her eyes twinkled. “And that need not trouble your conscience, because it is perfectly true. I was in the scholastic profession for twenty years.” She got up and extended her hand. “I disliked it extremely. Good-bye, Miss Treherne.”
Chapter Six
Miss Treherne was met at Ledlington by her extremely comfortable car. As she was driven through the dark lanes she could not help thinking how secure she must appear. Nobody who saw her drive away with a fur rug over her knees and the steady, responsible Barlow at the wheel, could have believed that under this appearance of safety there was a nightmare of fear, an anguished struggle against suspicion. She looked at Barlow’s solid back, and could hardly believe it herself.
She was glad that the house would not be full-only Mabel and Ernest, and Caroline, who was so much the child of the house that she did not count. She supposed that Richard might turn up, but she was always pleased to see Richard. She was tired, but she would have a clear hour before dinner. The thought of a hot bath was pleasant, and Louie brushing her hair.
She came into the hall, and found it full of people. Ernest, Mabel, Richard, Caroline, and Maurice and Cherry who had apparently just arrived and wished to dine but not to sleep, because they had to get back to town.
“And this makes quite a good road-house, darling.” Cherry’s light, fleeting laugh had no more warmth than the term of endearment which she applied to everyone she met. Her prettiness had something brittle about it-the very fair hair with a sugar-loaf cap crammed on amongst its curls, the very thin hands with their pointed blood-red nails, the painted arch of the lips. As always when she saw them together, Rachel’s eyes went to Caroline, who came forward, kissed her, and said in that slow, soft voice of hers,
“Are you quite frozen?”
“No, not quite. How many of you are sleeping here? I suppose Mrs. Evans knows. Cherry, you and Maurice had much better stay. Barlow says the roads will be dangerous in another hour-it’s freezing on the melted snow.”
Mabel Wadlow turned round with her hand on her son’s arm. She was a small woman, and had once been as fair as Cherry, but her skin had gone lined and sallow, and her hair as colorless as dried grass. It had something of the same off-greenish tint. She had a high, fretful voice.
“That’s what I’ve been saying,” she complained. “And perhaps Maurice will listen to you. Of course what I say doesn’t matter to anyone.”
Maurice said, “Oh, come!” and slipped an arm about her waist. He had the same small, regular features as his sister, the same rather near-set eyes; but whereas Cherry had seen to it that her lashes were a good half dozen shades darker than her hair, his were still as sandy as nature had made them. He wore a small straggling moustache, and occasionally threatened the family with a beard. He was at the moment quite determined to throw up a legal career in favor of politics. He hoped to induce his aunt to finance this change of plan, but up to date he had found her very unresponsive. He said,
“Well, I would like to have a talk with you, Rachel.”
Rachel Treherne said “Presently” in rather a weary voice.
“You’ve missed Cosmo,” said Mabel Wadlow. “He was seeing someone in Ledlington. He came out here for tea. Oh, and Ella rang up and wanted to know if she could bring a friend over to lunch-you know, that Mrs. Barber she stays with. They came over in Mrs. Barber’s car. I don’t know how all these people afford cars, I’m sure.” Mrs Wadlow’s tone suggested that this was a personal grievance.
Rachel felt a faint thankfulness at having missed Mrs. Barber-one of those people who are obsessed with the excellence of their own good works and are forever thrusting them down your throat. But it appeared that she had rejoiced too soon. Ella Comperton proposed transferring herself from Mrs. Barber’s cottage to Whincliff Edge in time for lunch next day, and Mrs. Barber would drive her over. She couldn’t stay to lunch, but she would drive her over. Mrs. Barber therefore had not been completely avoided. One might perhaps be out shopping, to taking Neusel for a walk. And by the way, where was Neusel?