The Scandal at 23 Mount Street (An Angela Marchmont Mystery Book 9) (2 page)

‘Don’t bother trying to pretend you’re not at home, Angela—I can hear you. Open the door. My mother won’t let me back in the house until you’ve bought all her raffle tickets.’

‘Quick! You’ll have to hide,’ said Angela. ‘If he finds you here I’ll never hear the last of it. He’s a reporter, and a very inquisitive one at that,’ she said in answer to his questioning look.

‘How remarkably inconvenient,’ said Valencourt, as she chivvied him towards the nearest door, which happened to lead to her bedroom.

‘Don’t come out until I tell you,’ she said.

‘You seem rather—er—practised at this,’ he said. ‘Do you do it often?’

‘Not more than once or twice a day. You’ll find the others hiding in the wardrobe,’ she said as she shut the door on him. She had no time to wonder what had possessed her to make such an idiotic remark before Marthe opened the door to admit Freddy Pilkington-Soames, who rolled in looking dishevelled and as though he had been up all night. He looked around suspiciously as he entered.

‘What was all that noise I heard just now?’ he said. ‘I thought there was someone here.’

‘No,’ said Angela, busying herself with the lilies as Marthe spotted Valencourt’s hat and whisked it away behind Freddy’s back. ‘There’s only me. And Marthe, of course. What was that you said about raffle tickets? Why didn’t Cynthia come herself?’

‘She said you’d be more likely to buy them from me,’ said Freddy. ‘Her exact words were, “You do it, darling—you know how susceptible she is to handsome young men.”’

‘Is that so?’ said Angela, narrowing her eyes.

‘I know, she has the most awful cheek,’ said Freddy. ‘She’s right, though. How could you possibly refuse such a vision of angelic beauty and innocence?’

‘That’s not
quite
how I’d describe you,’ said Angela, ‘but of course I won’t refuse. How much to make her stop bothering me, do you think?’

‘Ten bob ought to do it, I reckon.’

‘Here,’ said Angela, digging in her handbag and handing him a crumpled note. ‘What’s the prize? Not another pig, I hope.’

‘I’ve no idea. The usual, I expect. You’ll have to ask her. I say, what’s the hurry?’ he said, for she was showing signs of wanting to usher him out. ‘I was going to ask you to come out to tea with me.’

‘Not now, Freddy,’ she said. ‘Marthe’s going away and I have things to do. As a matter of fact I was just about to have a bath.’

‘But if Marthe’s going away you’ll need someone to help you,’ he said. ‘I can hold the towel if you like.’

‘Out!’ she said, and pushed him towards the door. He was finally persuaded to leave, and she returned to the sitting-room, half-laughing, hoping that Valencourt had not overheard too much of the exchange.

‘You can come out now,’ she said, opening the bedroom door.

‘He sounds like an interesting young man,’ remarked Valencourt as he emerged.

‘Oh, Freddy’s quite incorrigible,’ said Angela. ‘I like him very much.’

At that moment Marthe appeared, wearing her coat and hat and carrying a little suitcase.

‘If that is all,
madame
, then I will go,’ she announced.

‘Yes, thank you Marthe,’ said Angela. ‘Do give your mother my best wishes. Oh, and you’d better leave your key in case I need it.’

‘Very well, I will leave it here,’ said Marthe, putting the article in question on a little table. Then she bade them goodbye and left. Now they were quite alone, and Angela felt all the awkwardness return. There was a silence. She knew she ought to invite him to sit down, but feared it might encourage him to stay. He made no move, however, but merely stood there, looking at her.

‘I seem to have caught you at a busy moment,’ he said at last.

‘Not at all. As a matter of fact this week has been very quiet up to now,’ she said.

‘Still, perhaps I oughtn’t to have turned up like this. I’m a tremendous nuisance to you, I know, but I’m afraid I couldn’t help myself.’

Angela opened her mouth to contradict him, but could not say the words, because of course he
was
a tremendous nuisance—there was no denying it.

‘You were going to say something,’ she said instead.

‘Yes,’ he replied. He hesitated, then went on, ‘I don’t suppose it’ll be of much interest to you, given your earlier stated opinions on the subject of my character, but I wanted to let you know that I’ve decided to retire.’

Whatever Angela had expected, it was not this. She glanced up, and was surprised to find that he looked almost embarrassed.

‘Oh,’ she said. She was about to go on when there was a loud knock at the door, followed by a series of rings at the bell, which made her jump.

‘I thought you said you weren’t busy,’ said Valencourt.

‘It’s Marthe again. She must have forgotten something,’ said Angela. ‘She needn’t have made such a racket, though.’

She went into the little entrance-hall and opened the door, expecting her maid to hurry in apologetically. Instead, she was confronted by a most unexpected and unwelcome sight. Her heart gave a great thump, and she stared in shock and dismay at the man who stood before her, smiling from ear to ear.

‘Hallo, Angie,’ said the newcomer.

‘Davie!’ said Angela when she found her voice. ‘What on earth are you doing here?’

‘Why, I came to see you, of course,’ he said. ‘You might look more pleased to see me.’ Then, as she made no move, he said, ‘Well, don’t just stand there. Aren’t you going to invite me in?’

He did not wait for her to reply but instead pushed past her and into the house. Angela’s head was in a whirl, but she exerted herself to be calm and act as though everything were quite normal.

‘I guess you’re doing well for yourself,’ he said, looking around him as he entered the sitting-room. He caught sight of Valencourt and stiffened. ‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I didn’t realize you had a visitor. I guess that’ll teach me not to call first.’

He grinned genially and held out a hand. Valencourt took it with some reserve.

There was no getting around it now. Angela pulled herself together with the utmost effort.

‘This is Mr. Smart, Davie,’ she said, at her most distant and imperious. ‘Mr. Smart, this is David Marchmont, my husband.’

It was all terribly awkward, of course. Fortunately, Valencourt had sized up the situation immediately and was at his blandest and most self-effacing. Davie Marchmont, meanwhile, helped himself to an apple from a nearby bowl of fruit, threw himself into a chair and smiled broadly as though it had never occurred to him to doubt his welcome. To judge by the strong smell of spirits that hung about him, he was in drink.

‘So you’re a friend of Angie’s, I guess,’ he said.

‘Yes,’ said Valencourt. ‘Or rather, my mother is.’

‘Do thank her kindly for me,’ said Angela, jumping on this with relief, and inwardly blessing the fact that Valencourt was still wearing his coat. ‘Of course I’ll come on Sunday. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.’

‘She’ll be very pleased to hear it,’ said Valencourt.

Angela escorted him to the front door and handed him his hat. He glanced warily towards the sitting-room and turned a questioning gaze on her, but she gave a little shake of her head.

‘I’ll see you all on Sunday, then,’ she said brightly.

‘Don’t forget to bring your raffle tickets,’ he said, and then he was gone, leaving Angela alone with her husband—the last person she wanted to see at that moment.

She returned to the sitting-room, where Davie had now wandered across to the window and was idly pulling open the drawers in a little chest and glancing into them as though he were quite in his own home. He was a tall, well-built man who had obviously once been handsome, but too much alcohol and too many late nights had done little for his appearance, and he was now running distinctly to seed. His skin wore an unattractive sheen and there was a thickening around the jaw and the waist that spoke of an excess of self-indulgence over the years, but despite this, he was still an imposing presence.

‘Congratulations,’ he said without turning round, as she entered the room. ‘I liked your little pantomime just then. You don’t think it fooled me for a second, do you?’

‘What are you doing here, Davie?’ said Angela. ‘I thought you were in New York.’

‘You mean you
hoped
I was in New York, to judge by what I just saw,’ he said. He turned away from the window. ‘Who is he? I guess he’s not too fussy about whether a woman’s married or not.’

‘Don’t be absurd, Davie,’ said Angela. ‘He’s an acquaintance of mine. You don’t suppose I sit at home all day, avoiding people, do you? I have lots of friends—both women and men—and they’re all quite welcome to visit if they like. But never mind all that. Why are you here? I thought I’d made it quite clear before I left the States that I wanted nothing more to do with you.’

‘That may be so,’ he said, still wearing that self-satisfied smile of his, ‘but I never said I wanted nothing more to do with
you
. And who knew whether you were serious or not? Married couples fight all the time, but they make it up again often enough. If you really meant it, then why didn’t you divorce me when you had the chance?’

‘That was a mistake on my part,’ said Angela. ‘I ought to have done it before I came here.’

‘Well, you didn’t, and from what I hear it’s a little more difficult in this country to get rid of a husband you don’t want. That’s good news for me, I guess.’

‘What do you mean?’ said Angela, taken aback.

‘Why, it means that you still belong to me, and that’s how it ought to be, don’t you agree?’

‘Don’t be ridiculous. You wanted the separation as much as I did,’ said Angela.

‘Is that what you think?’ he said. ‘Then you’re wrong. You’re my wife. Why would I want to let you go?’

He took a step forward and tried to put his arms around her, but she shook him off and stepped away.

‘Is that any way to treat me?’ he said, quite unabashed. ‘Don’t tell me you don’t love me any more.’

‘Of course I don’t love you any more,’ said Angela. ‘Sometimes I wonder whether I ever did. Listen, Davie, I presume this is all a joke on your part, but I can assure you I don’t find it very funny. We agreed to separate a long time ago, and I expected you to keep to your side of the bargain. Oh,
I
see,’ she said, as a sudden realization struck her. ‘You want money, don’t you? You’ve spent what I gave you and now you want more. That’s it, isn’t it?’ She gave a short laugh. ‘Still the same old Davie, I see. You won’t lift a finger for yourself but you’re quite happy to live off your wife.’

‘What if I am? I’m not fit to work, you know that. What choice do I have?’

‘Not fit to work, indeed,’ she said scornfully. ‘Only because you think it’s beneath you. You weren’t too proud to let me support you, though.’

‘And you never missed an opportunity to rub it in, did you? Making me come and beg for money, keeping me short. A wife ought not to embarrass her husband, but that’s what you did. I could never make a show.’

‘In front of all the other women, you mean? I see. It wasn’t enough for you to humiliate me with your unfaithfulness—you wanted me to fund it too, is that it? Well, I told you when I left that I wouldn’t give you another penny, and I meant it. You’ve come a long way for nothing, I’m afraid.’

They glared at one another furiously, Angela trembling slightly as years of resentment that she had thought long smoothed over rose to the surface. How she had hated all the rows and the recriminations! It had been nothing but misery almost from the start, and now, just as she was congratulating herself on having escaped and created a happy, contented life for herself in England, here he was again, bringing up the past and all the old feelings she had worked so hard to bury. Was there no end to it?

Davie regarded his wife calculatingly and changed tack.

‘Listen, Angie,’ he said wheedlingly. ‘I didn’t mean to get you all riled up. I just thought that after all this time you and I might be able to talk to one another without fighting.’

‘There’s nothing to talk about,’ said Angela coldly. ‘I haven’t changed my mind. As soon as I am able, I shall file for a divorce, and until then I should be very glad if you would leave me alone.’

‘I told you, you can’t divorce me,’ he said. ‘Not here, anyway. You have no grounds. You ought to have done it back in the States while you had the chance. Here you’d have to prove adultery on my part, and you won’t do that—just you try! I’m smart enough to be careful.’

Angela’s heart sank. Of course he was right.

‘As a matter of fact,’ he went on meaningfully, ‘I wonder what would happen if I did a little digging into
your
life here. You’re a good-looking woman, Angie, and you’re still young enough to want to have fun. I’ll bet you get plenty of attention. What exactly have you been getting up to in the last couple of years? I saw the look that passed between you and that fellow just now. A friend of his mother, are you? How long do you think it would take a private detective to find out whether that’s true or not? How would you like to have it all brought out in court and hear yourself called an adulteress? That would look good in the newspapers, don’t you think?’

While he spoke he had advanced slowly upon her, and for a few seconds she stood frozen in fear. Then the spell broke, and she regarded him with disdain.

‘Do as you please,’ she said. ‘But you may as well save your money, because you won’t find anything.’

‘Are you quite sure of that?’ he said. ‘Don’t forget, I know all about you. You weren’t exactly all white when I married you, were you? How would you like everyone to know about that?’

Again she felt the thrill of fear, but hid it.

‘It’s a pity you never wanted to give me children,’ he went on. ‘Maybe that’s where things started to go wrong between us. It’s not right to deny a man an heir. Kind of unnatural on the part of a woman, don’t you think?’

Angela said nothing, and he again gave that self-satisfied smile.

‘Still, never say die, eh?’ he said. ‘I don’t have to worry about that any more. Not now. Not all women are as frozen as you.’

‘How much do you want?’ she said suddenly, and his smile widened.