“I’ll wait till after the — the funerals, but I won’t wait any longer. Oh, I won’t get married here! I’m going to take Loveday up to London. You can’t stop me, Ingram.”
Ingram heaved a sigh, and shook his head, but he saw that it would be useless to argue with Bart in his present mood, and merely said soothingly that he would see what could be done about installing him at Trellick a soon as possible, and that in the meantime he must try not to let things get on top of him. He disapproved profoundly of the projected marriage, but he could not help feeling that if Loveday could restore Bart to his senses there might be something to be said for it. He did not want to be deprived of Bart’s services, at any rate until his son Rudolph was of an age to fill his place; and he hoped very much that Loveday would induce Bart to perceive the folly of abandoning at least his share in the management of the stables. As Reuben came in just then, to convey the information that Inspector Logan had come up, and wanted to see him, Ingram was obliged to put an end to the interview. Bart went upstairs to his own room, and Ingram went to join the Inspector in the morning-room.
Faith, meanwhile, had dropped into a deep sleep, as the influence of the aspirin she had swallowed took effect upon her system. She did not rouse until the evening was considerably advanced, and then it was to find Loveday beside her with a bowl of chicken-broth.
Loveday tidied her hair, and powdered her nose, and propped her up with extra pillows. She was resistless, and looked so ill that Loveday made up her mind to speak to Charmian about the advisability of requesting the doctor to call in the morning. When Loveday laid the tray on her knees, she said in a faint voice: “I don’t want it. What has been happening? Please tell me!”
“And so I will; my dear, but you must drink a little soup, or we shall be having you ill, and that won’t do.”
She began to coax Faith to take a few spoonfuls of the broth, telling her, as she fed her, that there was nothing for her to worry about. “You’ll be going away soon, you and Mr Clay, and then you’ll be able to forget all this.”
“No,” Faith said, in a mournful voice. “I shall never be able to forget it.”
“Yes, you will, then, my dear. Bart feels the same, for he thought a deal of Mr Ray, and it has hit him cruel, hard, but he’ll get over it, you’ll see.”
“Bart!” Faith said, giving a little start. She turned her horror-filled eyes towards Loveday. “I was forgetting Bart. Is he — very much upset?”
“Well, he is,” Loveday admitted. “Bart’s got a warm heart, and it hurts him bad to think of Mr Ray’s killing Mr Penhallow. It’s like he was being torn two ways, and he’s not one as has known trouble, my Bart. But leave me get him away from Trevellin, and I know I can make him feel better about it all. Then there’s Mr Con. Bart won’t come next or nigh him, and it doesn’t make things easier, the pair of them living under the same roof at daggers drawn, as they say.”
Faith lifted a hand to shade her eyes. “Even the twins!” she said. “Everything spoiled for them too!”
“Well, it was bound to be different, once Bart and I were man and wife,” Loveday said sensibly. “Mr Con’s that jealous, you see. But give him time, and he’ll come round, and my Bart’s not one to bear malice, I’ll say that for him, bless him! I was thinking you should go away from here as soon after the funeral as you can, my dear, for I’ll have to be leaving you, and you wouldn’t be comfortable here with me gone.”
“Oh, Loveday, no! You mustn’t leave me!”
“Yes, but I must,” Loveday said gently. “Bart needs me, and my duty’s to him. He’ll go crazy if he’s kept hanging about here, where every stick and stone reminds him of them that have gone. But I’ll make him happy, never fear!”
“I hope you will,” Faith said wistfully. “I think I could bear it better if l knew that it hasn’t ruined everything for him. Have the police been up? What — what have they been doing downstairs?”
As Loveday had been shut up for the greater part of the time with Bart, she was unable to give Faith much information on this point, so as soon as the supper-tray had been removed from her knees Faith asked her to beg Mrs Eugene to come up and see her, if she had not already gone to bed.
In a few minutes, Vivian tapped at the door, and entered. She said awkwardly that she hoped Faith was feeling much better, and offered to extinguish her cigarette, if the smoke bothered her.
Faith shook her head. “No. Please sit down! It was so stupid of me to faint like that. I want to know — I want to know what has been happening.”
“Well, nothing very much, really,” replied Vivian, pulling up a chair. “Dinner was pretty ghastly, I thought. Ingram took possession of Ray’s place, which made it seem even more ghoulish, and Char held forth as usual, until one wanted to scream. You know, Faith, it’s a funny thing, but I used to think that nothing could be as awful as those evenings we all had to spend in Mr Penhallow’s room, but ever since he was killed, everything has been ten times worse. It seems absurd to say so, but I almost feel as though I should be thankful if I woke up, and found that none of it had ever happened.”
Faith twisted her hands together. “Yes, yes, I know. Go on!”
“Oh, there isn’t much to tell! Bart’s taking it frightfully hard. He swears he won’t carry on with his usual job; and of course that doesn’t suit Ingram’s book.” She gave a bitter little laugh. “And it doesn’t suit mine either!”
“Yours?”
Vivian smoked her cigarette rather viciously for a moment. “Yes, mine. It’s quite funny, if you look at it in the proper light. I can see that. I mean, you know how I’ve always wanted to get away from Trevellin, and go back to London? Why, when I heard that Mr Penhallow was dead, I — I thought all my problems were solved!”
Faith regarded her with dawning dismay. “Yes, of course. But you will go back to London — won’t you?”
“Oh, no, I shan’t!” Vivian replied. “I’m going to be stuck down in the Dower House, where I shall have to remain for ever and ever — or at least until Ingram wants it for one of his boys, by which time I shall be past caring.”
“The Dower House!” repeated Faith. “But why? Why?”
Vivian shrugged. “Well, it’s obvious that even if Bart were willing to carry on he wouldn’t have the time to, once he’s running Trellick. Ingram can’t manage singlehanded, and I suppose he doesn’t want to engage a bailiff. Anyway, he’s asked Eugene if he’ll do all the book-work — accounts, and that sort of thing — and has offered to let him have the Dower House.”
“Oh, Vivian!” Faith cried pitifully. “Oh, I’m so sorry! Can’t you — can’t you persuade him not to accept?”
“No, I — You see, he’d like it, Faith! And Mr Penhallow didn’t leave as much as he’d expected, and he just hasn’t the health to be able to do anything very strenuous. I can’t say I won’t stay here when I know that there’s nothing he’d rather do. It’s just my rotten luck, that’s all. At least we shan’t have to live here any more. Of course, the Dower House is much too big for us, and I suppose I shall have to do half the work myself, but it will be my own house, which is something.”
“I thought you would go away,” Faith said numbly. “I thought everything would be all right for you.”
“Yes, that’s what I thought. Only things don’t happen to have gone according to plan. I suppose I ought to be thankful that I’m not being arrested for murder, which looked likely at one time. I never thought Ray had done it, though, did you?”
Faith shook her head, pressing her handkerchief to her lips. “Is it certain — do they all think — the police as well as everyone else — ?”
“Well, it’s obvious, isn’t it?” Vivian said. “Why else should he have shot himself? Besides, he left a letter for Ingram —”
“Not saying he had done it!” Faith exclaimed. “It isn’t possible! Oh, this is a nightmare!”