“I certainly do. And I certainly think that Jenny would be better at school.”
“She isn’t nearly strong enough.”
Another turn of the drive and they would be within sight of the road. Instinctively she stopped.
“Craig, you mustn’t-you mustn’t really! Don’t you know it’s what Aunt Lydia wants-to get rid of Jenny, so that I can do more, and more, and more for her and for the house?”
He said coolly,
“It may be what she means, but it isn’t what is going to happen. You give her a month to find someone else, and then you marry me, and you take Jenny away. After which we decide what is the best kind of school for her.”
“She isn’t fit for it.”
At least she hadn’t said that she would not marry him. Perhaps she had merely overlooked his assumption that she would. He left the point to be settled later.
He said, “Has it occurred to you that Jenny can walk a great deal better than she makes out?”
She pulled away from him.
“No, of course it hasn’t!”
“Well, it has to me. As a plain matter of fact she limps when you are there, and she doesn’t when you are out of the room.”
Her eyes were bright and angry.
“She is proud and sensitive. She doesn’t like to let a stranger see her limp.”
“Rubbish! She puts on an act for you, and she doesn’t bother about it for me.”
“Why should she?”
“Oh, she has to outbid Aunt Lydia.”
“Craig!”
“When did the specialist see her last?”
“Two months ago.”
“Did he say she could walk?”
“Well-”
“I see-he did. Did he want to see her again?”
“He said-” The words broke off.
“He didn’t!”
She took a step away from him.
“It isn’t only the limp. If she does too much-it hurts.”
“Not very seriously, I think.”
All her colour was gone. She said in a stranger’s voice,
“I think we had better stop talking about it. Mrs. Merridew won’t like it if we’re late.”
“I suppose not. Why don’t you ask me why I’ve been saying all this?”
Something in his tone arrested her. The startled look returned. She said in a voice like an echo,
“Why-”
Craig Lester said,
“I think we must keep Mrs. Merridew waiting whilst I tell you. I couldn’t sleep last night-it’s always fatal to start thinking after midnight. In the end I dressed, got out of one of the back windows, and went for a stroll. It was about a quarter past one. I walked up in this direction, and someone was getting over the stile just across the road from where the drive comes out. There was a car coming, and whoever it was stood still and waited for it to pass. As it came round that little bit of a bend, the lights picked up the hedge and the person standing there. Well, it was Jenny.”
“Jenny? Oh, no!”
“Oh, yes, it was Jenny all right. There’s no mistaking that hair. Besides I saw her face.”
They both had the same picture-Jenny in the beam of the headlights, her bright hair glowing. Rosamond said on a gasp,
“Craig, she looked-there was something different about her this morning. I couldn’t think what it was-as if-as if-oh, I don’t know. She must have been walking in her sleep.”
He shook his head.
“Oh, no, she wasn’t! Anything but! As soon as the car had gone by she laughed and came skipping across the road. Then she ran off up the drive. I followed at a discreet distance and saw her go in at the side door. When I had heard her lock it I went back to the Holly Tree. But I thought you had better know.”
“But why-why?”
“I imagine she slips out because she wants to walk and skip, and she doesn’t want anyone to see her because she doesn’t want to be packed off to school. I think it’s quite simple. And there’s no need for you to look as if the roof had just fallen in. It can be dealt with all right. And now perhaps we had better put our best foot forward and save our faces with Mrs. Merridew.”
CHAPTER 15
Mrs. Merridew’s drawing-room suffered from the fault of all rooms which have been furnished with the treasures of a much larger one. There were a number of fine pieces, but no space to display them. There were too many pictures on the walls, a sizable antique mirror on the chimney-breast, and a great deal too much china everywhere. The chairs and a very deep sofa, though much too large, were extremely comfortable, and the loose chintz covers, in spite of being a good deal faded, went very well with a worn but valuable Persian rug and the curtains which had once adorned the morning-room at Dalling Grange. Miss Silver considered the whole effect to be pleasing, and was particularly appreciative of the fact that the windows fitted extremely well. Old houses were often so sadly draughty, but in this case there was nothing to complain about. A pleasant fire burned on the hearth, and the room was so comfortably warm that she was able to wear the blue dress which she had bought at Cliffton at the end of the previous summer. She had hesitated a little over the price, but her niece Ethel Burkett had persuaded her. “Such good style, Auntie. I am sure you would never regret it.” She wore it now with a large mosaic brooch representing an Italian scene-cupolas against a very bright blue sky. The material, being dark, threw up the vivid colouring of the brooch in a decidedly pleasing manner. She felt modestly satisfied with her own appearance, and wished that dear Marian would take more trouble. So much hair and so badly controlled, and her figure really too large for that tight mauve jumper. The colour too, not at all becoming, but Marian had always been fond of it, even at school.
Mrs. Merridew who, having once acquired a garment, never thought about it again but continued to wear it until either Florrie or some candid friend intervened, was now discoursing placidly about the friends she was expecting to tea.
“Lucy Cunningham I feel sure you will like. She has had a difficult life, but she is wonderfully cheerful as a rule-devoted to her nephew and to poor Henry, and a good deal taken up with her hens. As I told you, she and Lydia Crewe are great friends, but I purposely didn’t ask her yesterday, because Lydia does ride rough-shod over everyone, and when she is there she doesn’t give Lucy a chance. I asked Henry too. I always do, but he never comes. Such a pity to shut himself away like that- don’t you think so?”
Miss Silver opined that men very often seemed not to care about tea-parties.
“I know-but such a pity. There are so few ways left in which one can entertain. I really hesitated to ask Mr. Lester, but he seemed quite pleased to come. As I told him, we knew his uncle very well indeed. And then, I’m afraid, I did just drop a hint that I had asked Rosamond Maxwell. They are certainly on very friendly terms, and Lydia may say what she likes, but when young people are on friendly terms they like to be asked to meet one another. It’s really shocking how Lydia keeps that girl mewed up. I used to think that perhaps she and Nicholas-but of course there isn’t any money there, and Jenny needs so much care-” She broke off as the sound of footsteps and a murmur of conversation announced that two of the guests were coming up the flagged path to the front door. She had just time to say, “That will be Rosamond and Mr. Lester. Lucy is always late,” when Florrie opened the door and showed them in.
Rosamond had left her coat in the hall and taken off the scarf which had been tied over her hair. Her blue jumper threw up the colour of her eyes. Miss Silver thought her a most attractive girl. She also thought that she had something on her mind. It was, of course, quite obvious that Mr. Lester was in love with her. He made no attempt to hide the fact. But in Miss Silver’s opinion it was not the pleasing disturbance of a love affair which had brought that anxious look to Rosamond Maxwell’s face.
Lucy Cunningham walked in without ringing the bell, a habit to which Florrie ought to have been accustomed, but which never failed to annoy her. She followed with an air of protest and set the tray down in front of Mrs. Merridew with what was almost a clatter.