The Golden Maze (17 page)

There was a little silence. "You are the solicitor?" Yvonne asked.

Keith Ayres looked at her. "Yes, I am,' he said, his words clipped.

Peter returned and sat down. "Was it a bad journey up? I mean much fog ?"

"Pretty unpleasant, but it got better when I got nearer here." He looked round. "It's quite some place, isn't it? I'm not surprised Miss Preston liked it." He smiled at Cindy. Then he looked at Peter. "I have an important thing to tell you which I believe may be of interest. You know all that hullabaloo about the American who wanted to buy this castle?" He waited until they had nodded, then he folded his arms and looked from face to face. "Well, the whole thing was a hoax. There was no American."

"But then ..." Cindy began.

"No American?" Peter echoed slowly. "Then why was it in the paper ?"

Keith Ayres looked at Yvonne.

"That's absurd," she said. "There was a letter from him."

"I know. Miss Preston sent it to me—unopened." He looked at Peter thoughtfully. "One point was rather interesting. The letter had been posted several days earlier and should have reached the castle before the article in the newspaper appeared. Something went wrong and the letter was delayed."

"Paul Stone said the letter was opened," Yvonne put in, looking at Cindy. "Why should he lie?"

"Because he hates Miss Preston, and Mr. Baxter. His mother brought him up to believe that Robert Baxter would treat him, as a son and leave him the castle and a good sum of money. When the will was read, Paul was furious. I was not there at the time, but my uncle was. He said he thought the boy would have a fit and that Mrs. Stone was extremely rude and wanted to fight the will, but my uncle persuaded her that she had no hope of winning. Probably the boy said the letter was opened by Miss Preston out of sheer malice." Keith smiled at Cindy. "Personally I should have thought that anyone knowing Miss Preston would unhesitatingly believe anything she said."

"The reporter said she rang him up," Yvonne chimed in.

Keith looked at her, his eyes narrowed. "Voices, as doubtless you are aware, can sound very different on the telephone. That sort of evidence would never be accepted in court.

"But who else would do it? I mean, there's no point in it, is there?" Yvonne asked.

Cindy found her voice. "But why should-I do it? All that happened was that I lost the castle." She stood up, suddenly unable to bear it. "Excuse me," she murmured, hurrying out of the room. They were talking about her as if she wasn't there, as if she didn't exist. Why hadn't Peter leapt to her rescue? she wondered. But then, of course, he must be on Yvonne's side. Now who would make up an American buyer?

Suddenly she thought : Mrs. Stone ! Knowing the local people, she knew there would be an outcry because their precious Claife Castle was to be demolished and removed to America, another land. Perhaps Mrs. Stone hoped that through the noise and arguments, Cindy's right to the heirdom would be queried, for if the castle was left to her only because she loved it—wouldn't her apparent willingness to sell it prove she had no right to have it?

Cindy stayed upstairs as long as she could and then went down, for she didn't want to give them a chance to say anything, and hoped they would all have left the drawing-room. But they hadn't, though Peter and Keith Ayres were obviously making for the library to talk business. Yvonne saw Cindy coming and stood up.

"You do know, of course, Cindy, that your car has been ready in the garage for two days," she said in her husky voice.

"Two days?" Cindy was startled. "But I was told it wouldn't be ready until Thursday or Friday."

"That's your story," Yvonne said coldly. "The plain truth is 'that you intend to stay here as long as

you can despite the fact that you should have gone long ago. You have no right to be here."

Peter looked startled. "Yvonne, you have no right to say that. I am the host. I asked Cindy to stay. I knew her car was ready, but . .."

Cindy was suddenly so angry she could hardly speak. She swung round to stare at Peter.

"You knew? Yet you knew very well I wanted to get back to London, and you lied !" she exclaimed angrily.

He smiled and, for a moment, she hated him. He looked so ... so complaisant, which was not a word used generally, though it was one of her boss's favourites.

"For your own good, Cindy. I didn't think it wise for you to start work again so soon after your near-accident. Besides, I knew you loved the castle and I didn't want to deprive you of the pleasure of being here."

"Oh, you ... you . ." She was battling between anger and tears. So she turned to Keith Ayres and caught hold of his arm. "Would you drive me right away to the garage? I'll pick up my car and I can stay at a hotel. I don't want to be here another moment !"

"Calm down, Cindy," said Peter, and his condescending voice was the last straw. "Mr. Ayres and I have business to talk over. You can leave tomorrow morning, but not before. Come along, Ayres," he said, leading the way.

Cindy rushed by him and stood for a moment on the stairs. "Please ask Mrs. Stone to bring my dinner up," she said. "I never want to speak to either of you

again." She turned and ran up the stairs, stumbling, as the tears ran down her cheeks.

In her own room, she stood still, her hands to her eyes. How dared he speak like that? As if she was a small child ! How dared he lie like that—telling her the car wasn't ready, making it look as if she was the liar, she the one who wanted to stay . . .

An hour or so later there was a knock on Cindy's door and she heard Peter's voice.

"Cindy, I want to speak to you," he said firmly. She slid off the bed, hastily brushed her hair, and went to the door.

"May I come in ?" he asked with that slightly-pompous air he put on often and which invariably made her want to laugh.

"It's your castle," she muttered, standing back. He came inside, closed the door and looked at her.

"Isn't it time you behaved like an adult and not as a spoilt child ?" he asked her.

She was completely taken aback. She wasn't sure what she had expected him to say but it certainly wasn't what he had.

"Why should I stay there and let Yvonne insult me? She implied that I lied about the car and ..."

He smiled. "It was me. I apologise, but honestly, Cindy, it was for your good. However, that's the past. We're now involved in the present. I've invited David and Johanna to dinner as I don't want Keith Ayres to be too utterly bored tonight. Somehow he and Yvonne don't hit it off."

"I'm not surprised," Cindy said bitterly.

Peter laughed. "Oh, it's just her way. If you knew

her as well as I do, you'd take no notice." He opened the door. "You'll be down, then."

"Yes," said Cindy, closing the door quickly, leaning against it. Now, why had she agreed ? Why should she go and be a sitting duck for Yvonne to aim at? Was she getting like the rest of the females in the Baxter world? A meek little mouse, dutifully saying `Yes', all the time?

She dressed carefully, wearing her long pale green dress with the high waist. It was the only party dress she'd got, for she so, seldom went out ! But with Yvonne and Johanna looking so beautiful, she had to look her best. At the dinner party, Mrs. Usher had mentioned how well she thought it suited Cindy.

"Charming colour with your hair, my dear."

A little nervous, Cindy went downstairs. David and Johanna were already there, talking and laughing with Peter over their drinks

Johanna welcomed her with a smile, but David only with a stiff jerk of his head. Cindy wondered why he disliked her so much. Then Yvonne came in with a· flourish, looking ravishing in a shimmering gold maxi-dress.

"David !" she said, holding out both her hands. "I'm so glad you could come. Peter and Keith will talk shop all the time and one gets so utterably bored." She flung a quick vague smile at Johanna and ignored Cindy completely.

Dinner was pleasant; as usual, Mrs. Stone had proved what a competent cook she was. Afterwards, as they sat in the drawing-room with coffee and liqueurs, Yvonne sat next to David, as she had done at dinner, talking and laughing with him, while

Johanna talked stiffly to Keith and Cindy found herself with Peter.

"I wonder where Roxanna and Martin are," said Cindy, more for something impersonal to talk about than because she was interested.

"At least the rain is ceasing, so they should start walking soon," he said casually.

Suddenly he leaned forward, speaking so loudly that automatically everyone looked at him so that there were no longer three groups of two people talking, but one large group.

"Have you heard the latest, Johanna ?" he asked with a laugh. "Yvonne has fallen for the old story about the house with seven chimneys. I think she's even trying to buy it !"

As he spoke he glanced at his cousin David, who immediately looked uncomfortable, fidgeting a little in his chair.

"Well, why not? These legends can't last for years without there being some truth in them," Yvonne defended herself quickly.

Suddenly Johanna clicked her fingers. "I've got it !" She looked triumphant and amazingly beautiful in her straight white silk dress. Now her face seemed to glow, her eyes sparkling. "I remember where I met you !" Johanna pointed a finger at Yvonne. "It was a few days before Cindy came. You came into my tea-shop and . ."

"That's absurd, Johanna," Peter said with a smile. "Yvonne had never been in the Lake District before she came straight here."

Johanna swung round to him. "Oh yes, I know she was here. It was something she said to me that

day. You had a blonde wig on," Johanna said accusingly to the startled Yvonne. "And you looked fatter and much ... well, less with it. Also you wore dark glasses. As soon as you started asking questions about Castle Claife I knew you were from the South. I thought what a lot of idiots you must be to believe that after all these years the smugglers' treasure would still be hidden. It so happened I was pretty bored that day, so I played you up. I told you a lot of codswallop about the treasure in the castle that could only be discovered by finding the mysterious path that gave this castle its name. And you said," Johanna went on triumphantly, "just as you said just now—that's how I recognised your voice : 'These legends couldn't last for years without there being some truth in them.' "

Yvonne's face had gone very white, but now her cheeks were flaming with anger.

"You lied to me? Why, you . . . you . . ." she nearly exploded.

Johanna laughed. "Why not? Only a sucker like you would have fallen, so I laid it on good and thick."

"You.. . you .. ." Yvonne half-rose from her chair, looking as if she was going to fly at Johanna in her fury.

Peter spoke quietly, very quietly, so that Cindy's heart seemed to skip a beat.

"You came up here at once to find out about the castle Yvonne? You made up the yarn about the American buyer because you wanted me to claim the castle ?"

"Of course I did. It was for you." Yvonne turned

towards him, her face still flushed. "I had to do something, because you were so stubborn. I came up to see if the castle was worth having. I decided it wasn't because of what it would cost to modernise it. Then this ... this ..." she bit back her angry words and glared at Johanna, who was sitting back, her hands folded demurely, her eyes bright with triumph, "lied to me. I thought when I heard about the treasure that had been hidden for centuries it might be found by modern methods. I thought it worth trying as an investment."

"You phoned the newspaper to get publicity and make me believe that Cindy was ...?' Peter began, still with that ominous quietness that made Cindy shiver but that Yvonne didn't seem to notice.

She even smiled. "Of course I did. I had to do something to make you claim the castle. You were being so impossible, giving away the castle—and perhaps a hidden treasure—to a bit of a girl we didn't even know. The treasure was yours by right and I was determined you should have it. Yes, I wrote the letter which was, unfortunately, delayed. It should have been here before the article in the newspaper. Not my fault. I phoned the newspaper, yes, and it worked," she went on triumphantly. "You claimed the castle and ... and ..." Her words began to die as she looked at Johanna. "You ... you ..." Yvonne spluttered.

Cindy sat, hunched up, words growing inside her; angry, accusing, ugly words. How could Yvonne be, so mean? So greedy, so money-mad? It didn't make sense. It was something she just couldn't understand. It would have been easier to understand if it had

been who Cindy had thought : Mrs. Stone. At least she had her love for her son to excuse her. But Yvonne . . .

There was a strange silence in the room. David was leaning back in his chair, arms folded, a dismayed look on his face. Johanna was obviously delighted at the way she had fought her rival. Keith Ayres looked puzzled, glancing from Yvonne to Peter and then back to Yvonne.

It was Peter who spoke first, quietly but so firmly that no one could argue with him. "This is
something
we'll discuss tomorrow, Yvonne," he said coldly. "Now let's forget it. No one wants to see their dirty washing hanging on the line. Mr. Ayres, I would like you to meet Luke Fairhead tomorrow," Peter said, his voice conversationally casual as he turned to the solicitor. Then he looked at Johanna. "It can't be true that you're thinking of selling your tea-shop and leaving us?"