Dorothy Eden (16 page)

‘She was to get her tooth attended to and come back at once,’ Amalie stormed. ‘I almost believe she didn’t have toothache at all.’

‘But she was in tears of pain.’ Lady Malvina liked and trusted Sarah Mildmay, and intended to defend her. After all, who but she had injected some spirit into Titus?

‘Then why is the business taking so long? Even if the tooth had to be extracted it would be done in a few minutes.’

‘There may have been after-effects. The poor girl may be ill. Visits to the dentist are not usually noted for their pleasantness. Or do you think, my dear,’ Lady Malvina was suddenly malicious; ‘that my son finds her company agreeable? He always had a weakness for a pretty girl. He’s no saint, you know.’

‘You don’t need to acquaint me with my own husband,’ Amalie snapped. ‘I trust him, but I don’t trust that sly creature. Look at the way she inveigled herself into this household. Just arriving from nowhere. I always thought it odd.’

‘Mrs Stone came the same way and you had no objection to her. But then she’s deplorably plain, isn’t she?’

Amalie’s face was icy.

‘I’m afraid my head is too bad for conversation. I shall have to spend the rest of the afternoon in my room.’

So after that there was no one to talk to. Lady Malvina took a gown up to Mrs Stone for alteration. Then sewing materials had to be found for her, since she had arrived with none of her own, not even a thimble. But the woman was disinclined to talk, and when she was set to work Lady Malvina left her, thinking her intolerably dull. She didn’t even show signs of that touched simpleness today, but kept her eyes lowered over her work. She was as bony as a starved sparrow and not much bigger. Lady Malvina felt her own ample bosom to be almost indecent and panted away down the stairs in petulant boredom. She would ask Bessie to bring her tea to her room, and then doze by the fire. She might even have her dinner there, since Amalie, even if she decided to appear, was such poor company. She needed a new bottle of port, she discovered. She must have finished the last one the previous evening, although she didn’t remember doing so. Bessie must see to that, too. She didn’t usually drink in the afternoon, but today was so dark and melancholy, one required a little comfort.

The result of all this was that Lady Malvina fell asleep over the fire, and woke with a start much later to find the fire almost out, the curtains undrawn, and the room filled with the pallid light of twilight.

She shivered violently, hating both the eerie light and the chill. Couldn’t Bessie ever come without being rung for? Ugh, that pale wintry sky and the forlorn tree branches gave her the creeps.

Panting heavily, she made her way to the window to twitch the curtains across, shutting out the purity and the intense loneliness of the country night.

But, her hand on the heavy velvet, she paused and stared out into the gloom.

Was that a woman running? She could scarcely see. There was just that dark glimpse of bundled skirts, hair streaming and two arms flung wide. Then the form disappeared into the shrubbery and it was difficult to be sure whether she had seen it or not. The night was so still. Now nothing moved at all.

B
LANE CAME INTO THE
firelit room with his confident stride. Sarah, lying on the couch with her foot up, made to rise, but he tossed her a package and with a grin said,

‘Put that on.’

‘Put what on, Lord Mallow?’

‘Open it and see. Lord, it’s devilish cold out tonight. And we have to be up at the crack of dawn to catch the first train.’

‘You have accomplished your business?’ Sarah asked.

‘No, I haven’t. But the post brought a note from my wife. We’re to return at once.’

The black brows were up mockingly. The situation which Blane had decided to treat as a joke perpetrated entirely for his amusement Sarah found intolerable.

‘I hope you will explain to Lady Mallow that I would have returned this morning.’

‘My dear Miss Mildmay. I could have lifted you on to the train at Victoria, but could Soames have lifted you off? Now tomorrow I’ll accompany you all the way, and there’ll be no difficulty.’

(Beyond Amalie watching our arrival, Sarah thought grimly. And that would probably be the end of her employment at Mallow Hall.)

She still couldn’t decide whether Blane was determined to keep her constantly under his eye, using her incapacity as an excuse, or whether he was genuinely concerned for her welfare. He alternated so frequently between this attitude of laughing at her, and what seemed a kindly sympathy that could have been sincere. The day had been a torment. She longed for him to be out of the house, and then found herself constantly listening for his return.

But now he was here she was once more full of indignation. And what had happened to the mysterious Sammie, and why had Amalie peremptorily asked him to come home?

‘Do as I told you, Miss Mildmay,’ Blane was saying impatiently. ‘Open chat and put it on. Or shall I do it for you?’

Was this another joke? With a quite unreasonable feeling of apprehension, Sarah undid the wrappings, disclosing a long slim jeweller’s box. Her fingers were trembling as she undid the clasp.

The diamond necklace lay shimmering in the lamplight.

She stared at it for so long that Blane snatched the box from her, took out the necklace, and unceremoniously fastened it round her neck himself.

Then he stepped back to admire it.

‘It almost is worth perjuring oneself for, isn’t it?’

Sarah had at last overcome her. speechlessness. Her face flaming, she fumbled for the clasp of the necklace.

‘How dare you put them on me! How dare you?’

‘My dear young lady, they won’t contaminate you.’

But he was a little startled at her reaction, for he added placatingly,

‘I merely wanted to see them worn. By a beautiful woman. Diamonds should always be worn, and not hidden in a safety vault.’

‘Then find some other beautiful woman!’ Sarah snapped.

She was almost in tears. She couldn’t understand the violence of her feelings. The Mallow diamonds, her rightful possession, put round her neck by, this bragging impostor. Now they were spoilt for her forever. She would always remember this humiliating scene, him treating her as a model, expecting her to swoon with admiration and longing.

And now their destination was Amalie’s skinny neck. When she and Ambrose got them back she would never wear them. Never!

‘I’ll undo it. Don’t pull it to pieces.’

‘Please keep your hands off me, Lord Mallow.’

Blane straightened himself to give his hearty roar of laughter. ‘What an unpredictable creature you are. I thought any woman would enjoy wearing a necklace like this, even only for a few minutes.’

‘Your joke is in execrable taste.’

‘I believe you think so. Then I must ask you to forgive me. But what with my cousin Ambrose having gone out ferreting to the West Indies’—Sarah’s fingers were momentarily still—‘and other difficulties, I begin to wonder just how long I’ll be in possession of the Mallow diamonds.’

‘You have—reason to be anxious, Lord Mallow?’

‘Anxious? No, that isn’t the word.’ His eyes hadn’t lost a whit of their superb confidence. ‘Amused is a better one. Especially when I think of Ambrose in Trinidad. Poor fellow, it isn’t exactly his element. And such an appalling waste of time for him. He’d be much better advised to get on with his profession.’

‘You wouldn’t think it more becoming to give him a little sympathy than to laugh at him?’ Sarah’s voice was as impersonal as she could make it.

‘Did he give me any sympathy?’

‘I believe he thought you an impostor scarcely deserving sympathy.’

‘It suited him to think so. I thought he’d finally agreed to gracefully admit his error, but now I see he hasn’t. Well, good luck to him. If he ferrets as well into his clients’ affairs as into mine he’ll make a successful barrister.’

‘How did you hear of this journey he has made?’ Sarah asked carefully.

‘Rumour has it. My wife tells me she heard it from Colonel Fortescue who no doubt is correctly informed. Well, well, poor Ambrose. I hope he made a good sailor. And now, perhaps you’ll allow me to unclasp chat necklace, Miss Mildmay. I’m afraid the catch is too complicated for you to do it yourself. After all, if my cousin Ambrose were to walk in here now, he’d hardly appreciate this scene. Or I wonder, would he?’

It was impossible to prevent the colour deepening in her cheeks again. Sarah felt the probing eyes on her and for the first time could not meet them. Had this been a trick to catch her out? Did he know about Ambrose and her?

But how could he, for no one in the world except Aunt Adelaide knew?

No, he was merely teasing her cruelly, taking advantage of her helplessness to amuse himself.

‘If I were not Lord Mallow,’ she heard him saying slowly.

But he did not finish the remark. Abruptly he swung the necklace away from her, saying with his undertone of irony,

‘Don’t fret, Miss Mildmay. They looked very beautiful, but they’re not your stone. I assure you.’

‘Fret!’ echoed Sarah.

He looked at her. ‘Perhaps some day you’ll tell me why you have this aversion to diamonds. To all diamonds, I wonder, or just these?’

Her eyes fell. ‘I told you the joke was a poor one.’

‘Then I apologise again.’ He tossed the necklace into the velvet-lined box. ‘I expect these will please my wife. And I have my mother’s pearls redeemed. And a present for Titus. So think of the welcome awaiting us tomorrow.’

On their arrival, the first thing Sarah noticed was the way Amalie’s face seemed to have grown even more thin and drawn. She was at the door before Blane had helped Sarah from the carriage, as if she had spent the day watching for their arrival. She came running down the steps crying,

‘What’s the matter with Miss Mildmay? Has she had an accident?’

Blane left Sarah to go and greet his wife.

‘How are you, my love? Is everything well?’

‘Well enough.’

‘Miss Mildmay had the bad luck to sprain her ankle rather severely. She was quite unable to travel yesterday, although she wanted to.’

It was impossible not to notice the quick suspicion in Amalie’s face as she glanced at Sarah’s feet. Sarah obligingly lifted her skirt a few inches to show the bandages, and the clumsy slipper she was forced to wear.

Amalie flushed a dull colour.

‘I don’t disbelieve you, Miss Mildmay, though I don’t see how a visit to the dentist involves you in this kind of accident. You’d better go up to Titus at once. I warn you he’s in one of his difficult states.’

Leaning on the stick Blane had acquired for her, Sarah began to climb the stairs. She was not acting now, for her ankle was still very painful and swollen and it was impossible to move quickly. But she was very conscious of Amalie’s and Blane’s eyes on her, and would have given a great deal to overhear their ensuing conversation. Would Amalie explain why she looked as if she hadn’t eaten or slept since he had been away?

Blane’s voice did follow her. He was saying, ‘I have Mamma’s pearls. And the diamonds for you. Does that please you? We might even invent an opportunity for you to wear them. You were talking of giving a ball, weren’t you?’

‘But not now!’

‘Why not?’ As Sarah reached the curve of the stairs she turned to see that Amalie had seized both of Blane’s arms and was about to tell him something, or to embrace him. At that moment Blane chanced to look up and saw her pause. With what seemed undue deliberation he bent his head and kissed his wife, on the forehead, and then, more slowly, on the lips. Sarah didn’t know whether he looked up again at her, for she hurried on, ignoring the pain in her ankle. At least Amalie must be happy now, and would lose her drawn look. For she had not only her husband to kiss her lovingly, but the diamonds. Sarah wondered vindictively which mattered the most.

But she forgot about Blane and Amalie when she was in the nursery. For Titus had completely lost the endearing gaiety and liveliness which she had encouraged in him. He sat silently at his desk, a very small white-faced boy in his velvet jacket. When Sarah spoke to him he didn’t answer, but gazed at her with a look of hostility.

‘Titus, come here and answer me when I speak to you.’

Titus slipped off his chair and with as deliberate an action as his father’s walked to the window, turning his back on her.

‘Titus, are you disobeying me?’

The small shoulders shrugged. The action was comical and precociously adult. It was also a mask for something else. What had happened to the child?

‘Did you think I wouldn’t come back?’ Sarah asked gently.

‘I don’t care!’ he muttered.

‘But I did come back, you see. And now you won’t even speak to me. Eliza! Come and tell me what’s wrong with Titus.’

Eliza came from the nursery.

‘Oh, he had a nightmare.’

‘But you were sleeping with him?’

‘No. You said I was to, but the mistress wouldn’t allow it.’

‘I don’t care,’ said Titus again, loudly. ‘I wasn’t frightened.’

Sarah lifted the little boy into her arms. He resisted stiffly.

‘You said you would come back and you didn’t.’

‘But I’ve come now, Titus darling. I couldn’t yesterday because I have a sore foot. Look, it has a bandage on it.’

‘Does it hurt?’

‘It hurt a great deal at first. I fell down some stairs which was very foolish. Your papa was cross with me,’

‘Lawks, Miss Mildmay!’ murmured Eliza, staring. ‘Was you and his lordship’

‘That’s enough, Eliza. I came back as soon as I was able. Now what’s this about the bad dreams, Titus. Tell me.’

‘The light—went out,’ the child whispered. Suddenly his hostility melted and he flung his arms round Sarah’s neck holding her in a desperate embrace.

‘And you thought it was the mouse?’ Sarah encouraged.

‘It was someone crying. I heard them.’

‘That’s what he said,’ Eliza put in. ‘There’s someone crying, he said. Gave me the shivers. That was the second night. The first night he said someone had been walking in his room and leaning over him. I didn’t take much notice. I said he’d been dreaming. Or perhaps the old lady—I mean, his grandmother—had come in like she does.’