Winterwood (27 page)

“But what did he say about Willie, Mr. Meryon?”

“He said the boy admitted to eating wild berries which had never previously harmed him, but this time he had obviously got hold of one of the more deadly varieties, white bryony most likely, since its red berries would attract him. Or it may have been black nightshade, which looks exactly like black currants. The stomach wash proved that he had eaten berries, and also drunk milk. Doctor Munro hadn’t thought to suspect the milk since the evidence of the berries was there before him, but he did admit the boy’s symptoms of extreme drowsiness and inertia could come from other forms of poison, such as opium. The main thing was that the patient was recovering and had no doubt learned his lesson about eating or drinking rashly.”

“Is that all?” said Lavinia. “Then there is nothing conclusive?”

“Nothing. Unlike you, Miss Hurst, I have no intention of declaring that Willie Jones has nearly died of a drink intended for my daughter.”

“You don’t believe it!”

“Do you?”

“I’m—not sure.”

“Will it comfort you to hear that my wife admits to having taken laudanum on two occasions recently, one only last night. She said she couldn’t sleep. You yourself know her nervous state, so I don’t think you can deny the truth of her story.”

“No,” Lavinia admitted reluctantly.

“Is that all you are going to do?”

“I want also to apologize to you for the way I spoke this afternoon. You had given me a very unpleasant shock.”

“I know.”

“I think you may have to go, Miss Hurst.”

“Go!”

She met his bleak eyes.

“The situation is—untenable. I had thought—but it isn’t possible. How do you find Flora since her visit to London?”

“Stronger.”

“Yes. I thought so myself. I believe she will recover. After Christmas Edward will go to school with Simon and I intend to take Flora abroad for an indefinite time. If you would be good enough to stay until then”—he put out his hand—“if it isn’t asking too much. I am sure you understand.”

“The situation is the same as it was when we were in London,” Lavinia burst out.

“No, it is worse. Much worse.” He seemed about to explain more, then changed his mind, and gave her instructions in his impersonal voice. “Until then I don’t want Flora left alone at any time. I believe you have been making plans about this yourself. I appreciate your caution, and though I am sure it isn’t necessary, we’ll take no risks. Does that satisfy you?”

She had forgotten her own pain in the realization of his.

“Mr. Meryon, this situation can’t go on forever!”

“Oh, it is most unlikely to. Strangely enough, the world doesn’t come to an end. In the meantime, it is going to be the festive season and I want the children happy. That is your task, Miss Hurst. Can you manage it?”

She said yes because there was nothing else to say.

J
ONATHON PEATE
WATCHED
her come out of the library. She gave a violent start as he laughed behind her. He had been standing in the shadows, a glass in his hand, swaying a little. The ruddy color in his cheeks was heightened, his hair disheveled.

“The pretty watchdog, eh?” he observed genially.

Had he been at the keyhole listening to hers and Daniel’s conversation? She didn’t think he was capable of doing so. He looked too drunk.

But he had known she was in the library, and must have been waiting for her to come out.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Oh, come now, my sweet little darling, when were you unintelligent? You’re too bloody intelligent for a woman. But I like you in spite of that When are you going to give me your answer?”

She backed away in distaste, one eye on the library door lest Daniel should come out and hear this revealing conversation.

“You couldn’t think you would endear yourself to me by this behavior!”

“My dearest high and mighty young lady, I have given up trying to endear myself to you. From now on I use other methods.” He began to laugh again, his soft drunken laughter much worse than his usual hearty shout.

“The same as you use with Mrs. Meryon?” she retorted swiftly. It was a shot at random, and rather disturbingly found its mark.

For one moment his bold eyes slid from hers. Then he laughed again and said, “I adore my beautiful cousin. But she’s a high-strung creature, and far too greedy. In spite of all that she already has. Winterwood, a good-looking husband”—he paused significantly—“even that pasty-faced cripple you are trying so hard to protect.”

“What do you know about that?”

He ignored that question and went on, “You and I are the outsiders here. Isn’t it the logical thing for us to join up? Stop wasting your time casting languishing glances at Daniel. He’s married. You’ll never get him. Anyway, he’s a dull stick. I can give you a great deal more fun and excitement than Daniel Meryon ever could. And you like excitement, don’t you, my lovely Lavinia?”

Lavinia twitched her skirts about her to pass him. He began to laugh again at her white-faced anger.

“Don’t look so murderous! I believe I’ll scarcely be safe here until after Christmas. Do you remember—that’s the date for your answer. We start the new year together.”

Again her question came without her apparent volition.

“Why do you wait until then? Why don’t you demand an answer now, if you are as impatient as you say? What is to be gained by waiting?”

He had spilled a little of the brandy out of his glass. He stood staring at the small pool on the parquet floor with a suddenly very drunken look.

“Go back to your watchdog duties,” he said thickly. “Mind your own business and I’ll mind mine.”

What was his business? To get what pickings he could, since he must have been as disappointed as Charlotte by his aunt’s will? But how was he planning to get them, and how could she expose him without him exposing her?

She stood in the bedroom holding the candle over Flora’s sleeping face. The child was growing so much prettier. Her cheeks were quite round, and gently flushed. Her mouth had a soft curve. She looked happy. She was dreaming of Christmas, or perhaps her romantic attachment for Mr. Bush. Or perhaps of walking again. Supposing she were to be wakened and told that her dear Miss Hurst, who she trusted completely, was a murderess!

For Jonathon would not mince words if he carried out his threat. It might be that she would be forced to tell Flora the whole story herself—and watch the child shrinking away from her, shocked and disillusioned, taking refuge in her invalidism, her chance of recovery postponed perhaps forever.

How could she have become so emotionally involved with this child, who in the sunlit square in Venice had been so unlikable? She had never dreamed this would happen, nor that her emotions could involve her in such a dangerous situation. What was she to do? Go on fending off that drunken man’s advances, and praying for a miracle? But what was the miracle to be? She must, in the meantime, simply do as Daniel had asked and keep Flora happy. Then Christmas would be over, Simon and Edward would be at school, and Daniel would be free to wander Europe with his heiress daughter.

Christmas was never meant to be a menace nor life so cruel.

Disappointingly, in spite of daily massage and constant encouragement, Flora’s legs remained stubbornly lifeless. Finally one day she had one of her outbursts of temper, and struck Lavinia’s arm as she was rubbing the limp ankles.

“Oh, leave me alone, Miss Hurst! It’s no use. I’m always going to be a cripple.”

“I expect you are, if you want to be.”

“Want to be!” Flora screeched. “How could anyone want to be ugly and horrid like this?”

“Perhaps they might think they get petted and pampered this way.”

“But I don’t! You scold me, and Papa goes out all day and takes Simon, and Mamma only wants Edward! I hate you! I hate everybody. I wish I were dead. I’d like to be buried with Great-aunt Tameson,” she went on, beginning to enjoy her morbidity. “She was the only one who loved me. I could eat some poisonous berries like Willie Jones. Only I would have to make my will first, wouldn’t I?”

“Flora, stop being so precocious! You’re a silly little girl just showing off. Making your will, indeed!”

“I shan’t put you in it if you’re going to be so horrid. I shan’t tell you who I’ll put in it. I’ll keep it a secret.”

There was a commotion at the door as Edward banged on it unceremoniously and then burst in.

“I heard you saying you’d got a secret, Flora. I’ve got one, too.”

“You have not. You’re making that up,” Flora said bad-temperedly.

“I am not. Mamma told me one.”

“She did not.”

“She did so. She told me an important one.” His lively little face began to grow uncertain. “But I don’t really want to go and live in London just with Mamma.”

Flora pounced without mercy.

“Is that the secret? You see, you haven’t kept it after all. What an untrustworthy little boy you are. Mamma ought to be more careful what she tells you.” Her face tightened as she said suspiciously, “Why is Mamma taking just you away? Why are you to live in London?”

“I don’t know. She said I could see the Household Cavalry ride past every day, and we’d go to pantomimes and things. But I thought I was to go to school with Simon.”

Flora’s mind was occupied broodingly on this startling information.

“I wouldn’t care in the least for a hundred troops of Household Cavalry. Anyway, Papa would never allow you to go. Mamma’s just making up a story.”

“She said there’d be no one else, not even Cousin Jonathon.” Edward was plainly worried. It didn’t seem that he had invented this fantasy. “I’d rather there was someone else, even old Bushie. Are you hoping to talk to old Bushie at the party, Flora? He’s hoping you will. He picked some berries and things for you to draw on our botany lesson this morning.” Edward added, in a clever imitation of Mr. Bush’s soft, hurrying voice, “I think these may provide a charming study for your sister, Master Edward. She’s very clever with her pencils. You’d do well to imitate her industry.”

Flora’s bad temper was melting into blushes and giggles.

“You don’t know what ‘imitate her industry’ means.”

“No, and I don’t care. Grown-up talk is tiresome. Mamma makes me stay while she and Cousin Jonathon are talking. She says I’m not to leave because she doesn’t like to be alone with him.”

“What nonsense. She’s often alone with him. She rides with him and walks with him, and laughs as if she likes it.”

“No, she does not. He follows her, she says, and she has to pretend to be polite. Anyway, he’s getting married soon and going to America, and I’m jolly glad.”

“Getting married! Cousin Jonathon!” Flora lifted her eyes to the ceiling. “I pity his bride. Who is she to be?”

“How should I know? He just keeps saying he is going to America to settle down with his wife, and then we’ll never see him again. But he says it’s a pity that steamship passages are so expensive, especially for two.”

“What else does he say?” Lavinia thought that her voice was admirably casual.

“Nothing else. I don’t listen much. I don’t want to know about his old wife. Mamma doesn’t either. She says ‘the sooner the better’ and why doesn’t he go at once, and he says doesn’t she remember she begged him to stay to make Christmas jollier after the sad death in the house. And then he kisses her hand and she cries.”

“Why does she cry?” Flora demanded.

“I don’t know. Perhaps he bites her finger.”

“Edward!” Flora giggled irrepressibly. “Mamma can’t cry because she’s jealous of this wife he is to marry. After all she has Papa. I wonder who this lady is.”

Not content with wondering, Flora decided to ask Jonathon point-blank. This she chose to do that day at luncheon.

“I hear you are to be married, Cousin Jonathon,” she said in her most grown-up voice. “I congratulate you.”

Jonathon bowed toward her. His eyes glinted with amusement.

“Thank you, Flora. That’s very civil of you, I’m sure.”

“But it isn’t fair that we shouldn’t know who your wife is to be. Is it, Papa? Mamma?”

“Is this the spirited young lady you talked about?” Charlotte inquired. “I believe you likened her to a blood horse.”

“Someone from these parts, my boy?” asked Sir Timothy, who liked to know what was going on.

Jonathon put his finger to his lips. “Silence!” he said. “I have promised the lady.”

“There’s some reason for secrecy?” Daniel asked, with interest.

“I bow to feminine whim. But this can scarcely interest you. She isn’t a lady whose family or background you know. I met her at her home in London quite some time ago. Since then, I have kept in touch. Ladies,” he addressed Flora specifically, “enjoy being wooed.”

“Are you dying of love for her?” Flora asked. Her antagonism was temporarily forgotten in this new development.

“I hope to survive. Though the lady in question has a fatal effect on men.”

“Is she so beautiful?” Flora was impressed.

“When you see her at her best. Fatally beautiful.”

Charlotte made a sudden exclamation. “Jonathon! You’re being ridiculous. Don’t fill the child’s head with nonsense.”

“But I wasn’t joking, dear Charlotte. Upon my word!”

The result of that little exchange was that Flora informed Edward that Cousin Jonathon’s betrothed was a mysterious beautiful lady like a blood horse, and Edward began to neigh and stamp and begged Flora to fall in love with him. Both children were put out when Lavinia sharply told them to be sensible and not play such a silly game.

“But, Miss Hurst, we’re so happy that Cousin Jonathon is getting married and going away. Even if he is to marry a horse!”

The giggles broke out afresh and were unstoppable. Lavinia had to give up and let them go on with their nonsense. She supposed she had to be thankful that Jonathon’s enigmatic remarks were not as appallingly clear to Flora and everyone else as they were to her. She fancied Daniel had been suspiciously silent. But she was fancying things about everyone. The strain was becoming unbearable. She wished a hundred times that she had not made a promise to stay until after Christmas. She would so dearly like to quietly disappear into obscurity where no one would find her again. Then, a moment later, she would look across a room and see Daniel’s preoccupied face—he was scarcely outdoors at all now; only she knew that he was quietly and unobtrusively keeping everyone under observation—and doubt whether she could ever bring herself to leave Winterwood. The party spirit had never seemed so impossible to capture.