Voices in a Haunted Room (31 page)

Jonathan went to her and picking her up swung her round.

“Oh sir,” she said, dimpling, “you will have your ways, won’t you? And you here with a young lady… and no warning so that I can cook something special for you!”

“Then I shall send you to the Tower and insist that you are hanged, drawn and quartered.”

“Oh sir, don’t say such things even in a jest.”

“All right, Matty. I’ll be good, as it is a special day. We want some of your famous roast beef, of which Thomas assures me there is a goodly supply.”

“Give me fifteen minutes, sir, and you’ll be surprised.”

“Fifteen minutes, it shall be.”

“And what shall it be for now… some ale… or would you like wine?”

“I’ve got something very special in the cellars,” said Thomas with a wink.

Jonathan returned the wink. “We’ll trust you, Thomas, and if it doesn’t come up to expectations you shall go along with Matty to your judgement. Oh, I forgot… I’m on my best behaviour today.”

He put Matty down. She was flushed and looking at him with something like adoration. Was this always the effect he had on women? I thought of Millicent and myself.

Matty curtsied and said she would be off. She’d so much to do and she had to do what was right for such a lady and gentleman.

Thomas brought in the wine and poured it into goblets with such reverence that it might have been the nectar of the gods.

Jonathan sipped it and raised his eyes ecstatically to the ceiling while Thomas beamed.

They seemed really fond of him, those two. Or perhaps this was the way they welcomed all their visitors to the Dog and Whistle, I thought cynically, but I did not really believe that.

“There’ll be crowds in the City, I reckon,” said Thomas, gazing at the wine and then back at us, and it was hard to detect which he admired most.

“All are celebrating the wedding with glee—except the bridegroom, it appears,” said Jonathan.

“They say he compares his bride with Mrs. Fitzherbert.”

“And,” added Jonathan, “the comparison is not very favourable to the Princess.”

“But there’s that Lady Jersey, sir, his latest. If you ask me, His Royal Highness doesn’t know what he wants.”

Jonathan smiled at me. “He’s like a great many more of us, I fear,” he said.

“There you are, sir. I’ll just go to the kitchen to give Matty a hand. She’ll be ready as soon as she can.”

“Tell her not to hurry. We’re happy here.”

The door shut on us.

“What luck to have the room to ourselves. Usually it’s crowded. See how wise I was to come here.”

“They seem very pleasant… the host and hostess.”

“They’re a good hardworking couple.”

“And you come here often?”

“Frequently. They know me well. But I must assure you that I am on excellent terms with many keepers of inns and taverns.”

“Ah,” I said. “It is this secret work…”

“You are very interested to know more about that, are you not, little Claudine?”

“I am interested in everyone.”

“Well, you are right. People frequent taverns. They are inclined to drink too much. They talk. Do you understand?”

“I see. You are a very mysterious man.”

“That’s what makes me so attractive.”

“To people like Matty, for whom you know how to mingle the right brand of condescension and flirtation.”

“Oh, did you like the mixture?”

“I saw the point of it, of course.”

“Matty liked it.”

“I’m sure she did. The grand gentleman… the one who spends money in her husband’s inn. Of course she liked it.”

“You have to admit it was a slightly different approach.”

“Absolutely. But you did promise to forget all that, to behave in a manner which would be acceptable in any company.”

“I don’t remember the exact words, but I have promised to show you a new Jonathan, the man of honour.”

“I think you are going to find it rather hard to convince me.”

“Nevertheless, before this day is out you are going to change your opinion of me. I know you are very fond of me… in a special way. It is just that I offend certain codes which you have been brought up to observe. Believe me, it is merely a matter of how one interprets the rules.”

“Surely there must be only one interpretation of right and wrong.”

“That is the superficial view, dear Claudine. There are shades of right and shades of wrong, and it depends entirely on the angle from which you study these matters.”

“You have a talent for talking round a subject, trying to hypnotise your listeners so that after a while they begin to wonder whether black is really black and white white.”

“Is that so? Then it is yet another of my talents. Isn’t this fun… you and I here together, talking, actually talking! For so long you would scarcely speak to me.”

“We said we would not refer to that time.”

“It is you who insist on veering towards it.”

“Tell me then, how often do you come out here… in the course of your duty?”

He considered. “Once a month, shall we say?”

“And the obliging Matty and Thomas keep a check on their customers. They listen to their conversations and report what they think might be of interest.”

“Now we are getting into deep waters.”

“Secret matters. I wish I knew what you were involved in.”

“Do you worry about me?”

“I try not to think of you.”

“That is rather unkind.”

“It’s very wise really.”

He looked at me steadily, his eyes a burning blue. “I understand. In your view it would be unwise to think of me.”

“I want to forget,” I said. “And why are we talking like this?”

“You have brought us back to it again. It must be very much in your mind.”

I stood up and walked round the room, examining the brasses.

“Thomas has some very fine stables,” he said. “This is a typical coaching inn. I’ll show you round after we’ve eaten.”

There were some old hunting prints on the walls; he walked round explaining what they represented and while he was doing this Matty came in with the soup.

“There,” she said, “that will warm you before you get down to the cold. I’ve always got a cauldron of soup. People ask for it again and again.”

The pease soup was delicious and so was the roast beef, garnished with herbs, served with hot crusty bread and a fruit pie to follow.

I sat back, drowsily content. Jonathan watched me closely.

“You agree that I have brought you to a worthy inn?”

“It was a very good meal.”

“Imagine what Matty would have done if she had known we were coming!”

“It could not have been better.”

“Oh, you don’t know Matty.”

We complimented her while she cleared away and Jonathan said we would rest awhile before resuming our journey.

I felt very happy. I knew I shouldn’t be, but Jonathan had that certain effect on me. It was a kind of bewitchment. There were warning voices in my mind, reminding me what could easily happen again. It must not be.

I kept telling myself that my being here was not of my contriving. Excuses come glibly when one has need of them.

I just knew that I wanted this to go on. I had never felt the same with anyone else. Never with anyone had I felt the desire to catch at time and hold it, making moments last for ever.

He talked about London, how he would be there more and more, for his father was gradually relinquishing the London business to him.

“It was a good thing,” he said, “that there were two of us… and so different. David the countryman; myself the townsman.”

“I think your father arranged it.”

“Would even he be clever enough for that?”

“He always seemed to get what he wanted.”

“A trait I sincerely hope he has passed on to his son.”

“I think there is no doubt that you have inherited a little of that spirit.”

“A little? I was hoping it was a great deal.”

“Well, you are young yet. I don’t suppose that when he was your age everything fell quite so neatly into Dickon’s hands. For one thing, he wanted my mother and he didn’t get her, did he, until later.”

“But in the end he did.”

“Only after years…”

“And thank Heaven it worked out that way or where should you and I be today, somewhere in the region of the unborn… if there is such a place.” He stood up. “Let’s go. We’ll ride along by the river. There are some pretty spots. That is what is so delightful about London. It is teeming with life… yet in a short time you can be out in the heart of the country.”

What a perfect afternoon that was! We said our goodbyes to Matty and Thomas, complimenting them on the excellent meal, inspected the stables, mounted our refreshed horses and set out.

About a mile from the inn we came to a grassy bank and Jonathan suggested that we tether the horses to a nearby bush and sit down to watch the river. A few craft passed… one or two returning home after having been in the city for the celebrations.

Contentment… forgetting all evil… sitting on the grass idly watching the ripples in the water… looking up as the occasional vessel floated by.

Suddenly Jonathan said: “We should have married, Claudine, you and I.”

I was silent and he went on: “It would have been ideal. You know it, don’t you? You and I… loving… really loving.”

“I would want a faithful husband, and you would never be that.”

“I might. Who knows?”

“No,” I said. “It is not in your nature.”

“Look at my father. He had adventures far and wide. Now there is not a more faithful husband in the country.”

“He has matured and grown wise. You are young yet.”

“My dear Claudine, are you wishing that we were old?”

“I wish—”

“Come tell me what you wish. You wish that you had not hastily married my brother. You know that I am the one for you. You long for the kind of life you could have shared with me… exciting, adventurous.”

“Your wife would not be very happy.”

“Oh, she would. There would be the reunions after my absences. It would be like starting all over again… the honeymoon, the perpetual honeymoon.”

“No,” I said firmly. “I am happier as I am.”

“You merely accept life, Claudine.”

“You seem to have forgotten that you will soon be a husband yourself.”

“It has not escaped my memory.”

“Oh, Jonathan, do you feel no shame at all! You would deceive Millicent, and what we did, you and I… you don’t regret that…”

“How could I regret the most exciting experience of my life?”

“Save such talk for your gullible victims.”

“On this occasion I speak the truth. I love you, Claudine. I did, right from the first moment I saw you. You remember… a little girl who spoke such quaint English. I thought, She’s mine. From the moment I saw you I thought that.”

“We did a terrible thing, Jonathan.”

“Is it so terrible to love?”

“In the circumstances, yes. I deceived my husband. You deceived your brother. Surely you see how despicable that is. I cannot understand why you do not feel shame. You don’t, do you?”

“No,” he replied coolly.

“You think we did no wrong?”

“We shall only have done wrong if we are discovered.” He laughed at me. “You are shocked. Listen, Claudine, this is the way I see it.” He picked up a stone and threw it in the river. “Sin… wickedness is hurting others. If others are not hurt by what one has done, then one has done no wrong.”

“But
we
know that we did.”

“We do indeed… and I shall never forget. Constantly I long to be with you… as we were in that room. I shall never forget it. I can’t regret… As long as David does not know, what harm have we done?”

“You are amoral… as well as immoral.”

“Perhaps you are right. We were happy, you and I, and happiness is a rare and wonderful gift. Could it be a sin not to take it when it is offered to you?”

“When it is a sin against one’s marriage vows and duty towards one’s brother?”

“I repeat that if no one is hurt there is no need to regret. The trouble with you, Claudine, is that you have been brought up to observe a set of conventions. You believe they are unalterable. They are the Right and the Wrong, and to offend against them is to incur the wrath of God… or at least the wrath of your relations. That is too simple. It is not as easy as that. The rules are flexible. Take my simple one: Do not hurt anyone. Keep people happy. That is as good a doctrine as any.”

“But don’t you see how bitterly you and I have sinned against David?”

“Only if David discovers. Then we shall have hurt him. If he does not know, what harm is there? I can tell you I have rarely seen David as happy as he is now.”

“It is impossible to make you see reason.”

“Your reason, Claudine. I am trying to make you see mine.”

“Yours is trimmed to suit yourself.”

“Perhaps yours is too.”

“And,” I said, “there is something else I have to say to you. Someone knows about us.”

“What? Who?”

“I don’t know. You laughed at my voices. They were not fantasy. Jeanne discovered some sort of speaking tube, which extends from that room to the kitchens. So… someone was in the Enderby kitchens when we were there. It was that person’s voice I heard.”

“Is that really so?”

“It is. It surprises you, doesn’t it? You see, if someone knows, we could find your theories thrust aside. If that someone told David, what then?”

“Who can it be?” he said.

“I don’t know. I suspect Mrs. Trent.”

“That wicked old woman!”

“She has not said anything to me, but she did try to blackmail me… well, that’s hardly the word…
persuade
me to help Evie along with Harry Farringdon. She said that her son Richard was Dickon’s son.”

“I know there was a suspicion of that. My father has helped her quite a bit. Grasslands was doing very badly and he put money into it. Richard Mather was a gambler and he drank too much. He almost ruined the family. My father has helped them out of various difficulties.”

“So you think she is right about Richard’s being your father’s son.”

“I daresay. There were always women with him, and what happened between them must have been when he was very young. It would give her a feeling that she had certain rights, I suppose… or at least Richard’s daughter had.”