She paused again. Then the conversation broke out; and the outcome was that it was decided that when Harry Leveret invited us to Chough Towers we would accept the invitation.
Bevil and I dined at Chough Towers. It seemed strange to be in the house again, particularly as it was furnished almost as it had been when my father had rented it. There were some additions, of course, and it was clear that Harry was going to do a good deal of entertaining.
He was different from the young man who had come to the gallery to look for Gwennan, and I guessed that the loss of Gwennan had had a great effect on his life. It had made hint grow up suddenly, and he had ceased to be a lighthearted boy. I was certain that he had loved Gwennan dearly and had wanted alliance with the old family of Menfrey, Although he seemed insignificant, I sensed in him a driving desire to succeed, which he must have inherited from his father, who from humble beginnings had built up the fortune which had made him a millionaire.
We invited him back to Menfreya, and the relationship between the two families was re-established, Jessica appeared to have been right, for the move was approved of. When the election did come—although it seemed as though it would not be just yet—it was going to be a clean fight in the constituency, and most people—except Harry and some of his supporters—believed that Bevil would certainly hold the seat.
A few days after Harry’s visit to Menfreya I went into the library and saw Fanny standing at the window very still, crouched behind the curtains, so that she would not be seen.
“What are you looking at, Fanny?” I demanded, and I went swiftly to the window.
“Nothing … oh, nothing,” she replied, hastily turning away.
But I had seen them—Bevil and Jessica. Benedict was playing a little distance away, but it was on Jessica and my husband that Fanny’s attention was focused.
“Is anything wrong?” I asked.
“I hope not, Miss Harriet,” she answered tartly.
I knew exactly what was in her mind, and she knew what was in mine. I wanted to rebuke her, to tell her she was being foolish; but when I looked into her loving face I knew that if I suffered she would suffer with me.
I shrugged my shoulders and turned away.
A week or so later, going down to the dining room, I found, to my dismay, that both Bevil and Jessica were missing.
We had taken our places at the table—Sir Endelion and Lady Menfrey, William Lister and myself—expecting at any moment that the missing pair would arrive. The fact that they were both absent immediately aroused my uneasiness.
“What is keeping them?” murmured Lady Menfrey. “Mr. Lister, have you any idea?”
“None at all,” replied William. “I haven't seen Mr. Menfrey since four o’clock.”
“I hope Benedict is not unwell and that Jessica feels she should be with him.”
“I’ll go up to the nursery,” I said, and immediately slipped away.
I ran all the way, and when I opened the door of Benedict’s room I saw that he was in bed, fast asleep.
I went into the schoolroom and through to Jessica’s room and knocked on the door. There was no answer, so I went in. The room was as neat as it always was. A sudden fear made me open the drawers in the chest of drawers. With great relief I saw that her things lay neatly there. I opened the cupboard door. There hung her dresses.
I faced the fact then that I had actually believed that she and Bevil might have eloped together.
I went back to the dining room. “Benedict is asleep, but Jessica is not in the nursery or in her room.”
We dined at eight, and it was now ten minutes past the hour. Pengelly, hovering with his maids, wanted to know if he should serve.
Lady Menfrey often looked at Sir Endelion before giving an order. It was a habit which mildly irritated me, because I believed that she could have at least been mistress in the house if she had asserted herself.
I said rather sharply: “They know dinner is at eight. They won’t expect us to wait. Let us begin.”
I sounded as though I cared more for my food than anything, when in fact I was wondering how I was going to make a show of eating.
Pengelly said: “Thank you, Madam.” And the soup was brought in.
“It’s so unlike Jessica,” murmured Lady Menfrey. “She’s usually such a punctual person. Her father always was, I remember.”
“And Bevil?” said Sir Endelion. There was speculation in his eyes, and he looked more puckish than ever. “Have you any idea, Harriet, my dear, where he might be?”
“None,” I replied. “Unless he was suddenly called to Lansella, but in that case he would surely have left word.”
“Into Lansella with Jessica Trelarken? Now that’s hardly likely, I should think. Why, if he’d taken anyone into Lansella it would have been you, my dear.”
“I should have thought so.”
“It’s Jessica I’m wondering about,” said Lady Menfrey.
“I do hope there hasn’t been an accident Oh, Pengelly, send to the stables and see if any horses are missing. I remember poor Gwennan’s accident , . . and how Dr. Trelarken’s houseboy came over to tell us. Yes, go at once, Pengelly. I am most anxious.”
We were through the soup course before Pengelly came back.
“None of the horses is missing, my lady.”
Sir Endelion sat back in his chair looking at me.
“It’s strange,” he said. “Both of them.”
The meal seemed interminable. I played with the fish on my plate, anxious that none of them should know how worried I was. I caught William lister’s eyes on me. He knew; and he was kind and sympathetic. I believed he was as worried as I was.
“Miss Trelarken knows many people in the neighborhood,” he suggested. “It may be that she has gone visiting and forgotten the time.”
“That’s what it is!” cried Lady Menfrey triumphantly, and she began to eat steadily. She had something to cling to now. Jessica was visiting friends and had forgotten the time; Bevil was in Lansella on parliamentary business; they would soon return and it would all be explained. She wanted peace in the household so desperately that she would pretend it existed when it didn’t.
William Lister, seeing that he had soothed her, went on: “I’m sure something must have turned up at the Lansella chambers demanding his immediate attendance.”
“Wouldn’t he have told somebody that he was going?”
“There might not have been time,” he said lamely.
“Of course,” cried Lady Menfrey. “That’s it There wasn’t time.”
Her husband was smiling at her sardonically. I guessed he believed that they were together. And if they were, I asked myself, if they had disappeared so blatantly, what could it mean?
But Bevil would never leave Menfreya. How could he give up everything? He was not a romantic boy to elope on impulse, leaving his wife and his career. There was some other explanation. But I was becoming more and more certain that they were together somewhere.
The meal had come to a dismal end.
“I’m. afraid,” said William Lister, looking at me almost pityingly, “there may have been an accident.”
“Oh no, no!” insisted Lady Menfrey. “Jessica has forgotten the time, and Bevil has been called to Lansella.”
William and I exchanged glances. We didn’t believe it We “went to the drawing room where coffee was served. We were all tense and nervous. We talked desultorily, but all the time we were straining our ears for the sounds of arrival, and none of us was really paying attention to what was said.