Johnny Fabian had got up when she did. He took a step towards her. Turning away from the writing-table, she came face to face with him. No one was sure whether he said anything or not. Afterwards he wasn’t sure himself. With the tears running down her face she said,
“Oh, you won’t want to marry me now-will you?” and ran out of the room.
Chapter XXIV
JOHNNY WENT after her. His mind was in a state of the utmost confusion. She wasn’t going to have the money after all. Jonathan had signed the will that made her his heiress, and he had destroyed it the same day. Mirrie wasn’t going to have a penny, and he could no more stop himself going after her than he could have stopped himself blinking at a flash of lightning or ducking to avoid a blow. There was neither thought nor reason behind his action, there was only one of the strongest forces in the world, and it had taken charge. He came up with her at her bedroom door. She had got so far and stopped there as if she had been flung against it by wind or water. Her hands were flat against the panelled wood, her forehead pressed against her hands, and she was crying with big choking sobs which shook her from head to foot.
Johnny put his arm round her. He turned the handle and the door opened inwards. He took her over to a comfortable chintz-covered chair and put her into it. Then he went down on his knees and took both her hands in his.
“What are you doing crying yourself sick, you silly little thing? You’re to come off it, do you hear-at once!”
She couldn’t cover her face any more. It was quite distorted with misery. The tears ran down, whilst more and more brimmed up to take their place. She pulled her hands out of his and sobbed.
“He said I would be like his daughter-he said I would have the money. He said he had signed the will-and that everyone would know how he thought about me. And then he went and burned it-or perhaps it was Georgina. Oh, Johnny, do you think it was Georgina who burned the will?”
Johnny shook his head.
“No, of course she didn’t. She wouldn’t, you know-she isn’t like that. And don’t you go round saying that sort of thing, because if you do you’ll put her off doing anything to make up for Jonathan burning it. She won’t do anything if you start fighting her of course, but if you don’t she might rally round with quite a nice little nest-egg for us to set up house on.”
“But you don’t want to marry me now. You told me you were too poor to marry me, but I thought if I had a lot of money I could give you some.”
“And I told you that sort of thing wasn’t done.”
“I thought it was very stupid of you. I was going to get you to see how stupid it was, and then everything would have been all right-but now I haven’t got any money to give you-”
The words were broken into by sobbing breaths. And how true they were. If he didn’t marry money, he was going to have to work for it, and work hard. The thought revolted him. Mirrie and a fortune had been an uncommonly pleasant prospect, but Mirrie without anything at all would really mean hard work. The thought should have been an efficacious deterrent, but he found himself kissing her hands and saying the sort of things which ought to have made his blood run cold, only they seemed to be having the opposite effect.
“Mirrie-say you like me a bit. I want to hear you say it. I’ve gone in off the deep end about you-I expect you know that. I’ll work my fingers to the bone if you’ll take me on. I didn’t think I’d ever want to do that for any girl, but I do for you. I’ve got that bit of capital my aunt left me. I was going to put it into a garage business. I’m looking round for one. There might be a flat over it.”
Mirrie’s tears had ceased to flow. She gazed at him between dark wet lashes and said,
“Should we have television?”
“Not quite at first-unless Georgina thought it would be a bright idea for a wedding present. Darling, does that mean you will?”
She sniffed.
“I haven’t got a handkerchief.”
“Girls never do have one. Here’s mine.”
She blew her nose and sat up.
“Johnny, you oughtn’t to be in here. Aunt Grace said most particularly that a nice girl never lets anyone come into her bedroom.”
“Darling, not even a housemaid?”
Mirrie’s eyes were wide with reproof.
“She meant a man.”
He broke into rather shaky laughter.
“You are a funny little thing!”
“I’m not! You-you must go away.”
He got up, set the door half way open, and came back again.
“That ought to satisfy anyone’s sense of respectability.”
Her eyes were brimming.
“Johnny, I thought you were going away.”
“Didn’t you want me to?”
Her head was shaken and the tears ran down.
“Oh, no, I didn’t. It was just Aunt Grace.”
He knelt down beside the chair again.
“Darling, let’s give Aunt Grace a rest. Shall we? I’m not really so hot on her or on Uncle Albert. Suppose we forget them. I want to talk about us.”
She shook her head in a slow, mournful manner.
“There’s nothing to talk about. I haven’t got any money.”
“I know-it’s too bad. Do you think you could bear to be rather poor for a bit?”
“I shall have to be. Oh, Johnny, don’t-don’t let them send me back to Uncle Albert and Aunt Grace!”
“Darling, we were going to forget about them. What about marrying me and living over the garage business? Can you cook? Because that’s very important, and if you can’t you’ll have to learn.”
She brightened a little.
“Oh, but I can! Even Aunt Grace said I wasn’t bad, and Uncle Albert liked my omelettes better than hers.”
“Tactless of him. I don’t suppose it went down very well.”
“N-no-it didn’t. He liked my soups too. Johnny, shall we be very poor?”
At that moment Johnny Fabian became aware of an extraordinary willingness to do without practically everything else in order to look after Mirrie and have her making omelettes for him. He would even be prepared to work really hard in order to provide the necessary eggs.
He said so. They kissed. And Mrs. Fabian walked in upon the scene. She had come to console Mirrie upon the loss of a fortune, and found her flushed and radiant. But she took Aunt Grace’s view of bedroom interviews. They could go and talk in the morning-room, and Johnny ought to have known better.
“Yes, Johnny, you ought-and Mirrie such a very young girl! And she had better wash her face before she goes downstairs.”
Chapter XXV
THE INQUEST on Jonathan Field took place next morning, and the funeral in the afternoon. At the inquest only formal evidence was offered and the proceedings were adjourned. The funeral was at Deeping and was attended by a very large number of people.
Miss Silver removed the bunch of flowers from her second-best hat and covered her olive-green dress with the black cloth coat whose years of service were now becoming legendary. Such an excellent material. Pre-war of course, and still so warm, so serviceable. A small scarf of black wool kindly lent to her by Mrs. Fabian enabled her to dispense with the rather yellow fur tippet of an even greater antiquity than the coat. It had been a good fur once, and was still most cosy, most comfortable. Since she considered the country draughty, it invariably accompanied her when she left London, but the colour being a little bright for a funeral she gladly accepted the loan of Mrs. Fabian’s scarf.
Georgina and Mirrie walked side-by-side behind the coffin. They stood together at the grave. When Mirrie was obviously overcome, Johnny Fabian came forward and put an arm about her shoulders. But Georgina stood alone, tall and slight in her plain black coat and skirt, her face pale and her eyes fixed darkly on the line of trees against a sky of wintry blue. When it was all over she spoke simply and quietly to the old friends who came up in twos and threes.