Rosemary Aitken (12 page)

‘Who was that frightful creature who called you by your name? How presumptuous! How did she come to know it, anyway?’

‘I met her briefly once. I was called upon to interview another maidservant who was a friend of hers and who was an important witness in a case – that’s all.’

‘Really all?’ She looked at him intently. ‘Your father is convinced that you do not come home, and you try to dissuade me from visiting you here, because you have some quite unsuitable young girl in view. Promise me that he is wrong and that Priscilla’s awful maid is not a secret fling.’

‘I have told you, Mother. I have met her once, that’s all – and only for a fleeting moment then. I doubt that we exchanged a dozen words, and besides she had a young man with her at the time. I promise you I have no interest in the girl.’ He felt like a traitor to Effie as he said these words but his mother seemed relieved.

‘I suppose as a policeman you would be obliged to deal with people of that class,’ she observed. ‘And no doubt you made an impression on her at the time. All the same it was unfortunate. She should know better than to speak to you, uninvited, when you are a guest. No doubt her mistress will have words with her.’

‘I hope she does not scold the girl on my account,’ he said, and meant it too. He did not want Lettie giving details as to how and when they’d met. ‘After all, she’s not a parlour-maid at all. She’s really the lady’s maid to Miss Caroline.’

He had blurted out that information before he stopped to think, and he braced himself for questions about how he came to know, but his mother simply smiled and sat back in the carriage-seat. ‘Ah, yes, Miss Caroline. I think you made a little conquest there. What did you think of her?’

He said something non-committal, and his mother said, ‘Well, despite your unfortunate acquaintance with the maid, you have obviously made a good impression on the Knights. The Major says you’re welcome any time and he would be delighted to let you have a horse, if you care to come to lunch. I suggested next Thursday, since that’s when you are free. He’ll drop a note to you confirming it, of course.’

‘But I’ve got to study some time,’ he heard himself declare. ‘I can’t be going to luncheon out there every week.’ He wasn’t interested in Miss Caroline, but the offer of a horse was a very tempting thing. Perhaps he would go out there, just once more, and ride – but visiting the Knights must not become a ritual. Next week there would be no Effie, but it was important that the following Thursday was kept free.

But somehow he could not bring himself to confess that to Mother. And that was worrying.

Jenkins ragged him mercilessly when he got back. ‘Wafted off by carriage to have luncheon with the gentry, eh?’ he teased. ‘And there’s a daughter too! What would your other young friend have to say to that?’

‘What friend?’ Alex challenged. He had never told anyone about his meetings with Effie and had fondly supposed that his colleagues didn’t know. However, Jenkins raised a pitying eyebrow at him, which convinced him otherwise, and he went on weakly, ‘Anyway, that was a private conversation with my family. You had no business to be listening.’

‘A good policeman keeps his ears and eyes open at all times,’ Jenkins replied good-humouredly, quoting Old Broughton’s favourite motto from the Manual. ‘Anyway, you don’t suppose the station doesn’t know about your little outings on Thursday afternoons? Why do you suppose that Sergeant Vigo arranged the rota as he did? I think your Miss Pengelly, or whatever she is called, made quite a good impression when she came here that day.’

The remark left Alex speechless. He had supposed he’d wangled that himself, by volunteering to work that extra night a week – which, of course, he was very shortly going to have to do today. It was rather embarrassing to think he’d been indulged, and still more embarrassing if everybody knew. Besides, he thought with irritation, what he chose to do with his free afternoon was surely his affair – provided that he didn’t bring the police force into disrepute.

But before he could think of any suitable riposte, Jenkins spoke again. ‘Talking of Miss Pengelly – you’ve missed all the fun. While you were out we had a strange enquiry about that corpse of hers. Some firm of debt-collectors or something of the kind – seems they have been attempting to trace a missing man, and our London people put him on to us in case our body turned out to be the one. They’d already seen a copy of the newspaper report, and thought that it might possibly just match up, so they were writing to ask if we could tell them any more. Sergeant Vigo had me type a letter back at once, to say that the man was buried now, the matter had been closed and we had no further information as to who he was.’

‘You didn’t mention that he asked for Effie?’ Alex was alarmed.

Jenkins shook his head. ‘Wasn’t my responsibility. It was Sergeant Vigo’s letter. He dictated it. I just took it down and typed it up for him to sign. But I can assure you that it didn’t mention anyone by name – just confirmed the details in the newspaper: where the corpse was found, what he was wearing, that he appeared to have died of natural causes, and that sort of thing – and that we were sorry we could be no further help. Nothing else at all. But – as old Vigo said to me himself – the fellow’s dead and buried and they cannot touch him now, however much he owed. And besides it seems a long chance that he was even the man that they were looking for, so it served no purpose dragging other people into it.’ He grinned. ‘So your Miss Pengelly’s safe. I told you the sergeant thought a lot of her.’

‘She’s not “my” Miss Pengelly,’ Alex said ungraciously, though he was relieved.

Jenkins laughed again. ‘I don’t suppose she will be, either, now that you’ve started lunching with daughters of the gentry. But I knew you used to have an eye for her and I thought you’d like to know.’

Alex muttered something and went back to his room. He was rattled by Jenkins’ last remark. ‘Had an eye’ for Effie – what a thing to say! It made him sound a real Lothario. But then he remembered that April afternoon. Was he really being fair to Effie, doing things like that? A kiss would mean a great deal more to her than it would to one of Mother’s socialites.

And looking back, it wasn’t just the kiss. His tongue had almost run away with him. ‘If we are going to . . .’ he’d begun, and almost mentioned something permanent, though he had stopped himself in time. But he hadn’t promised anything, just talked of ‘walking out’. Surely there could be no harm in that? All the same he’d kissed her, and that altered everything. Effie would still be justified in having hopes of him.

Even when he went on duty, later on that night, he couldn’t put the question of Effie from his mind. Mother’s suspicions of his knowing the Knights’ parlour-maid today had shocked him into facing up to things. It was obvious, to anyone with sense, that marriage to Effie was not available to him. Their respective families would never stand for it. Yet he was not the sort of man to offer less – or Effie the sort of girl who would agree to it! He remembered what she’d said about visiting his home, and she was obviously right. Mother had proved it. They came from different worlds.

So what was he doing, walking out with her? He mustn’t ‘lead her on’, as the unpleasant saying went. He would have to talk to her about it, that was all – face her next time, and tell her the truth: that he was getting far too fond of her and it would be better if they did not meet again. He would try to find a way to put it tactfully – that he had years of training to look forward to and he could not expect her to save herself for him. Better, if she had a follower at all, for it to be some decent fellow from the mine.

It was such an awful prospect that he couldn’t sleep. He told himself that he was mostly anxious about hurting her – it had been so sweetly touching the way she kept the flowers as a memento of their little walks. Naturally a parting would be very hard, but it was for the best, and no doubt her family would be actually relieved if she started going home every week again. He was being very sensible, he assured himself, and was only sleepless because the floor was hard.

But the more he tossed and turned the more it dawned on him that actually the truth was something else. What kept him wakeful was the thought of losing her – of weeks and weeks of empty summer days without her cheerful prattling and artless happy laugh. None of her swift smiles, no upward glance, no gentle Cornish burr. Mother would try to match him with one of those ghastly girls whom she kept inviting for his benefit. Or – worse – Miss Caroline!

He was almost relieved when the duty sergeant roused him from his bed and sent him with his bull-dog lantern out into the rain, looking for a burglar who had robbed a house nearby.

‘My lor’, Effie! You will never guess!’ Lettie was almost bursting with her tale. It was Tuesday and they had met up in the haberdashery again, but there were others in the shop and there might be listening ears. Miss Blanche was busy with a customer, so Lettie pulled her friend into the corner by the knitting wool where they could not be overheard. ‘I swear you could have knocked me over with one of the feathers from Miss Caroline’s new hat. Went in with a tray of tea and there he was – sitting in the drawing-room and looking quite at ease.’ She glanced slyly at Effie from underneath her lids.

He friend was looking appropriately mystified. ‘Who was?’

‘Why, your constable of course!’

Effie had turned a gratifying shade of red. ‘Alex! Whatever was he doing there?’

‘Having luncheon with Miss Caroline, it seems – though they had finished eating by that time. Cook says she thinks the mothers dreamed the party up – apparently the two ladies have known each other years and they ran into one another in the town – accidentally for the purpose, Cook appears to think. Mrs Dawes was naturally invited to luncheon at the house and practically begged to bring her son as well – the coachman says she dropped all sorts of hints – and courtesy obliged the Major to agree, even if your Alex is just a constable. Mrs Knight was practically in ecstasy when she got home, I hear. She would love to find a husband for Miss Caroline – most of the other suitors haven’t lasted long. There was some scandal with a cousin of the house, who was involved in a divorce – a lot of better families back away from things like that – and Miss Caroline is as wilful as a nanny-goat herself. But no doubt a policeman would know how to handle it.’

Effie said, ‘I see!’ a little woefully.

Lettie did not wish to cause her friend unnecessary grief but there was an odd pleasure in passing on this news. It gave a sort of power, in a peculiar way – and what she was saying was no more than the truth. Besides, the sooner Effie knew, the less she would be hurt and the better it would be for everyone. That’s why Lettie added, with a little smile, ‘Miss Caroline seemed very charmed with him.’

Effie said nothing.

After a moment, Lettie had to speak. ‘You could have knocked me down for sixpence when I saw him sitting there! I almost dropped the tea-tray with the teapot and the sandwiches and all and before I thought I’d blurted out “Hello, Mr Dawes!” Well, you can imagine! The mistress nearly bit my head off for taking liberties and Miss Caroline was frowning fit to burst. I was expecting a right royal dressing-down after the visitor had gone – but when she got me on my own, all she did was ask me how I came to know his name.’

‘I hope you didn’t tell her? Or I’ll be in the soup!’

Lettie shrugged. ‘I said that I had met him when that corpse was found and he came asking questions at the Westons’ shop. That seemed to be enough. In fact it made Miss Caroline go all dewy-eyed. Went on about how brave and clever he must be, dealing with such things – as if looking at a dead man was something terrible. Proper taken with your Alex, that was clear to see. Anyway, the upshot of it is, he’s coming back to lunch again next week – and they two are going out riding. Your Alex is going to have her father’s horse.’

Effie was looking slightly stricken as she said, ‘Not “my” Alex, really, is he then?’

Lettie felt rather guilty, but she said cheerfully, ‘Well you did tell me you thought you weren’t well suited, anyway. And it solves your little problem for you, doesn’t it? No need to worry that you let him kiss you, now. Just be glad he did it while he had the chance. No harm done; just a pleasant memory.’ She picked up her pile of books. ‘Now I’d better get these back and find some more to take.’

Effie said dully, ‘Won’t matter much, I suppose.’

Lettie gave a laugh. ‘That’s what you think, Effie. I’ll have to be a lot more careful what I choose this week. Miss Caroline is very likely going to look at them for once. Your constable has had a strange effect on her. This lot was piled up in
the drawing room, and he saw them and asked her if she liked to read. Well, to hear her talk you’d think she’d read the
lot, though of course she’d never glanced at them at all. But ever since she has been doing nothing else – though even then she doesn’t read them properly. Seems to look at the first few pages and the last – and leave it go at that.’

But Effie wasn’t listening. She simply muttered, in a strangled voice, ‘I’ll have to go, myself. Bye-bye, Lettie.’ And she hurried from the shop.

Lettie found that she was secretly relieved. It was a shame about the policeman, naturally it was, but all this had saved her an embarrassment. She’d promised Effie to tell her the truth about the stork, and now she wouldn’t have to – which was just as well. Mind you, Bert could give some lessons! She gave a little laugh and took her selection of volumes to the desk.

It was not really anybody’s fault – even Captain Maddern said so, and he’d been shift-captain at the mine a dozen years and ought to know. It was just an accident – a weakness in the rocks.

It wasn’t even as if they had been blasting at the time, only preparing the places to put the charges in. More than likely there had been a hidden fault and boring the shot-holes had just struck into it and caused the ‘run’ of stone. There was always a possibility of a rock-fall in a stope, especially when you were working ‘overhand’, digging out the ore above your head. Walter knew that, but he still blamed himself. He was the leader of the little team – the ‘pare’ – and it was his decision where to place the drill. If he had not had half his mind on other things – what Joe had said to him about his girl – perhaps he would have spotted the signs of weakness in the stope and the whole catastrophe would never have occurred.