Seven for a Secret (22 page)

“Daniel really loves her,” Rachel told me.

“How could he help it? She is the most perfect baby.”

I agreed that she was. Her looks had improved since the first time I saw her and she was looking more like a baby now than a wrinkled old gentleman of ninety. She had blue eyes and dark hair and, fortunately, no resemblance so far to Gaston Marchmont.

The question of names was discussed at length.

“If she had been a boy,” said Rachel, “I should have called him Daniel. It would have made Daniel feel that the child was his as well.”

“That would have been a good idea. I am sure Daniel would have liked that.”

“I have an idea that he already looks on her as his. Freddie, 1 think I should call her after you.”

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“Frederica! Oh no! Fred … Freddie … just think of it! I wouldn’t call a child of mine by my own name.”

“You have been so close to us in all this.”

“No reason why the poor child should be burdened with my name. I’ve got an idea. There’s a girl’s name. It’s French, I think, but that wouldn’t matter. It would be near and 1 do think it is a lovely idea.

I’m thinking of Danielle. “

“Danielle!” cried Rachel.

“It’s almost Daniel. But I think it ought to be Frederica.”

“No, no. That would be wrong. In a way it would be a reminder. We want to make a complete break with the past. She is yours and Daniel’s that is the point. She must be Danielle.”

“I see what you mean,” said Rachel.

In due course the Reverend Hetherington christened Rachel’s baby. Most of Harper’s Green were at the church and after the ceremony, with proprietary pride, Daniel carried Danielle back to Grindle’s Farm.

Murder in Harper’s Green

Since I had been working for the estate, I had little spare time to give to the sewing circle and the rest, and even Miss Hetherington understood that. She approved of what I was doing, for she thought that women should play a more prominent part in business and general affairs.

Aunt Sophie was, of course, delighted.

“It was just what you needed,” she said.

“I can’t be grateful enough to Crispin St. Aubyn for suggesting it.”

She enjoyed hearing details of what I discovered from the tenants; she liked James Perrin and he was asked to tea on several occasions.

In fact, several people exchanged glances when they saw me with James, and I guessed what was in their minds. I felt faintly embarrassed about this.

I visited Tamarisk now and then, but she was not exactly welcoming. I guessed everything was not going smoothly and she did not want to talk about what was wrong. I was often at Grindle’s Farm. The baby was flourishing and both Daniel and Rachel were obviously delighted with her.

It was a Saturday afternoon a free time for me unless there was some problem which had to be dealt with and, since it was some time since I had called on Flora Lane, I thought it was time I did so.

I approached the cottage from the back. There was no one in the garden. The empty doll’s pram was standing by the wooden seat in which Flora usually sat. Then I noticed that the back door was open and presumed she had gone in to get something.

1 went to the door and called: “Is anyone at home?”

As I did so. Flora came out, carrying the doll, and to my amazement, Gaston Marchmont was with her.

“Hello,” said Flora.

“You haven’t been for a long time.”

“I see you have a visitor.”

Gaston Marchmont bowed.

“I was passing,” he said.

“I spoke to Miss Lane and she has shown me the nursery where she tends her precious child.”

Flora smiled down at the doll in her arms.

My amazement must have been obvious. It seemed so strange to me that she should be friendly with Gaston to such an extent that she invited him into the house. It had taken me several meetings before I had that privilege.

Flora put the doll in the pram and sat on the seat Gaston and I were on either side of her.

“You didn’t expect to see me here,” said Gaston to me.

“No, I did not.”

“I take an interest in the estate and all who live on it. After all, I am a member of the family now.”

He spoke with a certain insolence, I fancied.

“I like to know what’s going on,” he continued.

“It’s a long time since you’ve been,” said Flora again.

“I don’t get so much time now that I am working,” I explained.

“Miss Hammond is a very unusual lady, you know,” put in Gaston Marchmont.

“She is a pioneer. She is out to prove something which we should have learned a long time ago. The ladies are as good as the men only better.”

Flora looked vague.

“He’s got a touch of that cold, he has. Never quite got rid of it. I took him up to give him a dose of that stuff. It’s made with herbs.

That makes it better, doesn’t it, precious? “

Gaston raised his eyebrows and looked at me, as though he found this amusing. Knowing so much about him, I felt contempt for him swelling up in me.

“What a pleasant nursery Miss Lane has created up there,” he said.

I thought this could not be the first time he had called on her. 1 supposed he looked in as I did and when talking to him she had conceived the idea that the baby was not well and needed this medicine. She had gone up and he had followed her.

“It was so good of Miss Lane to show me the nursery,” Gaston went on.

“And thank goodness little what’s-his- name is better now. Have you, Miss Hammond, seen those venomous-looking birds on the wall?”

I felt myself turn cold at the sudden intense curiosity I saw in his eyes.

The birds had had a certain effect on me, reminding me of the old rhyme, of a secret which must never be told. And he had felt the same.

“The magpies,” said Flora.

“Lucy put them in a frame for me. They show you it’s a secret… never to be told. That’s what they are saying.”

“Do you know the secret?” asked Gaston.

She looked at him in horror.

“You do,” he said triumphantly.

“Suppose you told us. That would be fun, wouldn’t it? We would never tell. Nothing to worry about.”

Flora had begun to tremble.

1 whispered to him: “You are upsetting her.”

“Sorry,” he murmured.

“What a beautiful day it is. Just right for sitting in the garden.”

1 could see how much he had upset her and that could not be lightly set aside.

I said: “I think we should be going. I just came to see how you were,” 1 went on to Flora.

“Your sister will be back soon, I dare say.”

Gaston was looking at me steadily.

I repeated firmly: “Yes, I think we should go.”

Flora nodded. She looked at the doll in the pram and started to push it backwards and forwards. Then she stood up and wheeled it towards the cottage.

“Goodbye,” I said.

She did not turn but muttered: “Goodbye.”

He went with me to the gate.

“Phew,” he said as we walked away.

“She’s quite mad.”

“She’s deranged. You shouldn’t have talked about those birds.”

“She talked about them. She took me up there and showed them to me.

She didn’t seem to mind. “

“You have to be careful with people in her state.”

“She really is … far gone. Thinking that doll is a baby! It’s supposed to be Crispin, of all people! That makes it madder than ever.

There he is, strutting round, cock of the walk, and she thinks he’s a china doll! “

“She was his nurse. She is still … living in those days.”

“I pity the poor sister.”

“They are very fond of each other and Crispin is very good to them.”

“I think you are blaming me for that scene.”

“Well, it was because you talked about secrets and all that.”

“I thought that if she could unburden herself … All that talk about secrets, it struck me that that was what she had on her mind … or what was left of it.”

“I think it is better to leave her alone … to go along with her .. pretending with her that the doll is a baby. That is what her sister does, and Crispin too. They know her best. Her sister was there when she lost her senses, and Crispin … well, he has known her for a long time.”

“Knew her as his dear nanny, I suppose.”

“Not Flora. He was a baby only a few months old when she had to give up and that was when Lucy took over.”

“Extraordinary story, isn’t it? Interesting, though. All I wanted to do was cheer the old girl up a bit, now that I’m taking such an interest in everything.”

You’re thinking of staying here, then? “

That my dear Miss Frederica, is in the hands of the gods. “

I was glad when we reached The Rowans and he left me to go on to St. Aubyn’s.

Aunt Sophie said to me one morning at breakfast: “Gerry Westlake is home.”

“Who is Gerry Westlake?” I said. The name seemed vaguely familiar.

“You know the Westlakes. They have one of those houses in Cairns Lane.”

“And Gerry?”

“He’s their son. He went away years ago. Twenty no, more than that twenty-six years ago. That’s more like it. He was quite a boy then.

About seventeen or so. Went to Australia rather suddenly. Decided he wanted to emigrate. No, it wasn’t Australia. It was New Zealand. Had a friend out there by all accounts. “

“I wonder how the Merrets are getting on in Australia?”

“They’re bound to write to someone sooner or later, then it will be passed round. I dare say all will be well. They were both hard workers.”

When I reached the office, one of the first things James said was, “The Westlakes’ son is home.”

“Aunt Sophie was saying something about him. Gerry, isn’t it? Did you know him?”

“Good Heavens, no. I don’t think I was born when he went away. But lots of people in Harper’s Green remember him and they’re all talking about his return, of course. 1 have to go over that way to see about some repairs and 1 thought I’d look in on the Westlakes and meet the young man. Why don’t you come with me?”

1 hesitated, knowing that people were talking about our being rather frequently together. I liked James very much, but I did not care that my name should be linked with his. I wondered if he knew of the gossip and found it disconcerting.

I said: “Is it justified?”

“But of course. It’s a good opportunity for you to meet Mrs. Westlake.

Her husband is one of the part builders we employ only part-time now he is getting on a bit. There’s always some work of that nature to be done on the estate. I’d like to hear what Gerry’s got to say. “

So I set out with James.

The Westlakes’ residence was a neat little house with a well-kept garden and we had a pleasant morning.

Mrs. Westlake brought out her elderberry wine and I met i Gerry a pleasant man with a wife and a daughter of about my age.

They told me it was their first visit to England and Gerry explained how he used to do odd jobs on the estate. It was just after his seventeenth birthday that he decided to go to New Zealand. It had been a hard decision to make, but he had felt there was more scope for him in a new country. He had a friend who’d gone out there and they had been writing to each other. It was that which had decided him.

He was frowning slightly as he looked back over the years.

“It was the right thing for you, I suppose,” I said.

“Oh yes, though it wasn’t easy at first. But young people were wanted out there and there were facilities for emigrants. I went out steerage, of course … a bit primitive, but who cares for that at seventeen. It was exciting. And there was my friend waiting for me. He was ten years older than I and in the end it worked very well.”

Old Mrs. Westlake smiled at her son.

“You were quite fond of one of the girls over here,” she said.

“It was all to the good that you went.”

“Yes said her husband.

“Poor girl. She went a bit strange after you left.”

“It wasn’t because of me, Mother!”

“Well, I reckon there was something wrong before that. You were a handsome lad though, son.”

Gerry looked uneasy.

“It was all a long time ago,” he said.

“How is … Mr. Crispin St. Aubyn?”

“I believe he is very well,” I said.

“In good health, is he?”

“I have not heard otherwise, have you, James?” I asked.

“Never,” said James.

“A fine figure of a man, I suppose?”

That is exactly how I would describe him,” said James.

“Wouldn’t you?”

he asked me.

“Yes, I would,” I replied.

“Tall, upstanding, sound in every way,” murmured Gerry.

“Absolutely.”

Gerry laughed and seemed well pleased.

Mrs. Westlake senior had brought out some little cakes to go with the wine.

This is indeed a celebration,” said James.

“Well, Mr. Perrin,” said old Mr. Westlake, ‘it is not every day we have a son come home from New Zealand to see us.

That was a very interesting morning.

I was going to call on Flora and to my dismay when 1 was close to the cottage I met Gaston Marchmont.

“Good afternoon,” he cried gaily.

“I’ll guess where you’re going. Do you know, I thought I’d look in myself.”

“I see,” I said blankly.

“I think she likes visitors. She always seems to. I’m really sorry for the old girl.”

“I don’t think her sister wants people there.”

“Is that why you call when she’s away?

“When the cat’s away …” and so on? “

I felt irritated and just at that moment I saw Gerry Westlake coming through the gate. He, too, had been visiting the cottage. That was very odd.

“Hello,” he said.

I returned his greeting and, turning to Gaston Marchmont, went on:

“This is Mr. Gerry Westlake.”

“I know,” said Gaston.

“It must have been very pleasant to return to the old country to see your family.”

“It was,” said Gerry.

“And you will be leaving soon?” I asked.

“Tomorrow. It’s been good but all good things come to an end, alas.”