Читать книгу Annie Haynes Premium Collection – 8 Murder Mysteries in One Volume - Annie Haynes - Страница 40

Table of Contents

“Minnie, can I speak to her ladyship?” said the nurse. The maid looked doubtful.

“Her ladyship has just gone downstairs; she told Mrs. Parkyns and me to see that you had all you wanted.”

The nurse paused a moment in indecision. She was a pleasant, capable-looking woman, nearly thirty years of age, with dark hair, already beginning to be streaked with grey, drawn back from her face and braided smoothly beneath her cap. “It isn’t anything of that kind. I have everything I need, thank you. But I should like to speak to her.”

Minnie shook her head as the sound of wheels became audible.

“It is no use now. We have a big dinner-party to-night and the guests are arriving. I couldn’t go to her ladyship. If Miss Mavis—”

“Miss Mavis wouldn’t do,” Nurse Marston said decidedly, frowning as if in perplexity. “I must see her ladyship to-night. It is about my patient.”

“Is she worse?” the girl asked in consternation. “We thought she was going on so nicely, and Dr. Grieve said—

“She is doing very well,” the nurse said absently. “It wasn’t about that I wanted to speak. It—well, I suppose you know how to keep a still tongue in your head, Minnie?”

“I should hope I do,” returned Minnie in an affronted tone. “I should hardly have risen from waiting on the schoolroom to being Miss Mavis’s own maid if I didn’t, let me tell you that, nurse.”

“Well, well, I dare say you wouldn’t,” conceded the nurse in a conciliatory tone. “The fact of the matter is I am so bothered that I hardly know what I am saying or what to do. But I understand that nothing has been found out about my patient, or who she is, since I saw Dr. Grieve this morning?”

“Not a word. I heard Sir Arthur tell Miss Mavis as much not half an hour ago on this very spot,” glancing down the corridor and at the door leading into the pink- room, which the nurse had carefully closed behind her when she came out. “None of the people around here know anything of her, and nobody seems to have met her on the way or seen her come into the park. We can’t see daylight in it—not Sir Arthur or any of us,” concluded Minnie breathlessly.

The nurse bit her lips nervously and glanced at the closed door behind her.

“Minnie, it is in this way—if nobody else has seen that young lady before, I believe I have,” she whispered. “Now you know that I must see her ladyship to-night and why.”

Minnie’s eyes opened to their fullest extent.

“You don’t mean it, nurse! Are you sure?”

“Sure enough!” the nurse replied with a significant nod. “We come across many folk, do we nurses, and little think how we shall see them again, some of them.”

“But where did you see her? Do you know who she is?” asked Minnie.

“I don’t know who she is, any more than you do yourself, but I may know what will lead to its being found out!’ the nurse replied enigmatically. “That will do, Minnie—the rest is for her ladyship’s ear only. Now, can you get a message to her? Tell her Nurse Marston must speak to her, and alone, to-night.”

“I don’t quite see how it is to be managed,” debated Minnie slowly, “but I will do my best. I’ll speak to Mr. Jenkins—or perhaps it would be better if you wrote a bit of a note, nurse, so as to let Mr. Jenkins give it to her ladyship.”

Nurse Marston hesitated a moment; then she tore a leaf from the notebook hanging at her side, and, after hastily scribbling a line or two, folded it up and handed it to the girl.

“There, if you can get that to her!” she said.

“I will try. And—and”—Minnie detained her—“won’t you tell me a bit more, nurse?” wheedlingly.

“Not a word!” said the nurse positively. “I dare say I’ve said more than I ought now.”

“But—”

With her finger on her lips to enjoin silence, and with a farewell nod, the nurse turned the door-handle and slipped quietly into her patient’s room.

Minnie went slowly down the passage, stopping a moment to peep over the banisters and get a glimpse of the gaily-attired ladies who were passing through the hall below before she made her way to the backstairs to perform Nurse Marston’s errand.

With the note in her hand she tapped lightly at the door of the housekeeper’s room, blushing as she caught the sound of voices and saw a man standing with his back to her when she entered.

“I’ve come with a message from the nurse to her ladyship. Could you send it to her, do you think, Mrs. Parkyns?” holding it out.

The housekeeper looked important.

“Well, I think I might take it on myself, seeing it is marked ‘Immediate.’ You wait a minute, Minnie. I will speak to Mr. Jenkins.”

She bustled off and Minnie was left tête-à-tête with her sweetheart.

Mr. Gregory was distinctly inclined to make the most of his opportunity; he caught hold of Minnie round the waist with both hands before the girl had time to raise any objection.

“Well, and what have you been doing with yourself all day, Minnie?” he said. “Not talking to Mr. Thomas Greyson, I hope?”

Minnie raised her eyes reproachfully.

“Jim, how can you? As if I should! I have been sitting with the poor young lady they found in the park last night for the biggest part of the day.”

Gregory held her from him at arm’s length.

“That’s why your eyes look heavy,” he declared. “I can’t have you put upon. What is the good of that fine nursing madam that I saw talking for a good half-hour to Mr. Garth Davenant in the avenue this afternoon if she can’t look after the lady herself?”

“Oh, I haven’t had anything to do since Nurse Marston came—” Minnie was beginning.

Gregory interrupted her, his eyes regarding her keenly from beneath his narrowed lids.

“Nurse—what did you say her name was—Marston?”

“Yes, Marston. She is Mrs. Marston’s daughter down at Lockford. Do you know her, Jim? She has been in London.”

“Not that I know of,” he said carelessly. “Mr. Garth seemed pretty thick with her this afternoon, to my way of thinking. That note you gave Mrs. Parkyns was from her, wasn’t it?”

“Yes. She wants to see her ladyship most particular to-night,” said Minnie, forgetting her promise. “Something about the young lady—”

Jim glanced obliquely at her a moment.

“What about her? She doesn’t know anything of her, this Nurse Marston, does she?”

“She thinks she does, but I don’t know what. She said she wouldn’t tell anyone but her ladyship,” Minnie said carelessly; then in an altered tone, “There! She charged me I wasn’t to say a word to anybody and here I am telling you all about it!”

“Don’t you fret yourself, I shan’t say anything. For the matter of that, telling you is the same thing as telling me, for ain’t you and me going to be one, Minnie?” responded Mr. Gregory, his clasp growing tighter. “I have got something better than that to talk about to-night. There’s a little cottage down against the common at Lockford to let. How’d that do—Ah, Mrs. Parkyns, you do come into the room quiet! I never so much as heard a step!”

The housekeeper laughed meaningly.

“Ay, maybe I am a bit too quiet for some folks! Bless me, Minnie, there’s no need to put yourself about!” for the girl had sprung away from Gregory and thrown up her hands to her flaming face. “We have all of us been young once, my lass. Where are you off to now, may I ask?”

“There’s some lace to be put on Miss Mavis’s gown for to-morrow,” faltered Minnie. “I—I must be off, Mrs. Parkyns.”

“And her ladyship’s message to the nurse?” remarked the housekeeper, chuckling at the girl’s confusion. “There, if I don’t believe you have forgot all about it! What can you be thinking of, I wonder!” with a laugh at Gregory. “Her ladyship says if Nurse Marston’s business is very important she is to come to her in the small library when all the guests are gone. She does not think they will be very late to-night.”

“The small library? I haven’t seen that, I think,” Gregory remarked, moving a little nearer the girl but keeping his eyes on the housekeeper.

“Well, I dare say you haven’t,” she remarked a trifle condescendingly. “It hasn’t been, so to speak, in general use, though it has been kept aired, since Sir Noel died. He always sat there in the morning when he was indoors. It is that small room that opens into the conservatory to the right of the drawing-room.”

“Oh, ah, I think I have seen it,” Jim said absently, edging nearer the door through which Minnie had already vanished. “I’ll be pleased to do what I can for you at any time, Mrs. Parkyns; but if there is nothing more tonight—”

“I should be sorry to keep you if there was,” the housekeeper said with a significant laugh. “You are to let us have the cattleya for the table to-morrow night, Sir Arthur said.”

“Very good, m’m,” and Jim made his escape without, more ado.

In the wide stone-flagged passage outside he caught a glimpse of Minnie’s black skirt as she hurried round the corner, and gave chase at once.

“Why, Minnie,” he said reproachfully as he came up with her, “you are never going off like this without a word? I want to talk to you about that Cottage; but I haven’t finished with Mrs. Parkyns yet. However, you come round while they are at dinner and I will tell you all about it.”

Minnie looked frightened.

“I don’t know as I dare. It would be as much as my place is worth if her ladyship or Mrs. Parkyns got to hear of it.”

“You won’t need to keep the place much longer if we settle on the cottage,” Jim reminded her. “You must come, Minnie; there’s the dearest little sitting-room and the regular picture of a kitchen.”

Minnie hesitated, but the wish to hear more of her future home overcame her scruples.

“Well, just this once,” she conceded. “You won’t keep me long, Jim?”

A light gleamed in the man’s eyes.

“Not a minute longer than you want to stop, Minnie. Now I must go back to Mrs. Parkyns.”

Minnie’s face was still flushed as she walked slowly up the backstairs; half-way down the corridor leading to the sick-room one of the other maids ran after her.

“This parcel has just come up from Lockford for Nurse Marston; will you give it to her, Minnie?”

Minnie took it and tapped at the pink-room door.

“Her ladyship will see you in the small library when the guests have gone, nurse,” she announced. “This has come for you.”

Nurse Marston stepped into the passage, pulling the door to behind her.

“Ah, my things for the night!” she said as she took the parcel from the girl’s hands. “Mother said she would send them; but I don’t think I shall go to bed, though they have given me this room,” nodding to the door of that next the one occupied by her patient. “However, I can’t decide that till I have seen her ladyship. But I will put my things out”—unfastening the parcel—“and here’s my knitting. If I do sit up I like a bit of work in my hand, and I am anxious to get mother’s stockings done before winter. I knit them all myself, Minnie.”

“Do you really?” The girl looked much impressed. “You will ring if you want anything, nurse,” she went on. “Wright will bring your supper up; and I will let you know when the folk are going.”

“Thank you, Minnie!” the nurse responded as she laid her modest belongings in the big wardrobe and the drawers that looked so ludicrously out of proportion with their contents.

A few minutes later she was back with her patient, who was apparently asleep, and stood regarding her with a puzzled expression.

“I cannot be mistaken,” she murmured, “and yet—”

She shrugged her shoulders as she crossed the room and, taking her knitting in her hand, sat down before the fire, watching the flames with absent eyes, while her fingers clicked the steel pins with mechanical regularity.

She had scarcely moved, save to give her patient the required nourishment, when several hours later Mavis tapped at the door.

“You wanted to see mother, nurse,” she began. “The people are going now, so if you—”

The nurse came softly across the room.

“I would go at once, Miss Mavis, but Minnie promised to come and sit with the young lady while I went. I hardly care to leave her alone.”

Mavis came into the room.

“Oh, I will stay, nurse! I dare say Minnie is busy with the cloaks.”

She drew nearer the bed and looked at the fair pale face, at the cloud of golden hair spreading over the pillows.

“How lovely she is,” she said with involuntary admiration.

“She is pretty,” Nurse Marston admitted, with a kind of grudging reservation.

“Is she unconscious?” Mavis went on. “Does she hear anything we say?”

“It is impossible to tell how much she understands,” the nurse said repressively. “She lies for the most part in this kind of stupor, and I must ask you not to talk before her, Miss Mavis. It might do harm.”

“Oh, I am so sorry! “ Mavis exclaimed penitently. “It was very thoughtless of me. You will be afraid now to trust me with her.”

“Well, I am rather anxious to speak to her ladyship, so if you really don’t mind staying a few minutes I shall be very grateful to you, Miss Mavis.”

“Oh, that will be all right!” Mavis tiptoed across the soft carpet to the nurse’s big easy-chair. “Don’t hurry yourself at all on my account, nurse,” she added pleasantly. “Just tell me, is there anything I ought to give her?”

Nurse Marston considered a little.

“There’s her draught, but that is not for half an hour, and I shall be back in plenty of time for that. No, there is nothing now, thank you, Miss Mavis—only just to give an eye to her every now and then.”

“I see.” And Mavis settled herself comfortably in her chair. “Tell mother not to stay up gossiping too long,” she said lightly as, with a half-reluctant backward glance, the nurse left the room.

Mavis’s glance lingered a while on the straight white figure lying so still and motionless in the big bed, then her thoughts wandered to Garth, and the little smile which certain memories of the evening evoked was still lingering round her lips when a weak voice spoke from the bed.

“Who is there? Who are you?”

Mavis sprang to her feet and hurried to the bedside, starting as she met the gaze of a brilliant pair of blue eyes.

“Who are you?” the soft voice went on insistently.

“I am Mavis Hargreave. You saw me last night. Don’t you remember now?”

The girl pressed her hand over her forehead. “I —I think I have seen you somewhere,” she said perplexedly. “But I don’t remember. Where am I?”

Moved by a sudden impulse of pity, Mavis took one of the slim trembling hands in hers and held it tenderly.

“You are at Hargreave Manor—we found you in the park last night.”

The girl tossed restlessly about.

“I don’t seem to remember anything,” she said, her mouth trembling pitifully. “But I think you are being very good to me, and I thank you very much.” Her fingers closed on Mavis’s and her eyelids drooped.

Mavis glanced across the room longingly at the bell. She was uncertain how this interval of consciousness should be treated and felt anxious to summon Nurse Marston back to her duties, but the hold on her hand detained her. She stooped over the invalid gently.

“Hilda—may I call you Hilda?—will you let me go for one moment? I want to call some one who will know just what you ought to have now.”

The weak clasp did not slacken.

“No—I want you—to stay with me,” the invalid said wilfully. “It—Where was I last night?”

Mavis was uncertain how far the question should be answered; her eyes sought the clock as she hesitated. Already the nurse had been away twenty minutes. Surely she would soon be back now?

“I—When do you mean?” she parried.

Big tears came into the blue eyes.

“Ah, why will you not tell me? I cannot remember, try as I will. All I can recall is a sort of medley, like a bad dream—trouble—and I was all alone—and darkness and difficulties all around me.”

There was a low tap at the door, but Mavis was too much interested to notice it.

“Then out of all that was vague and indefinite,” the girl continued, “one face seemed to shape itself, looking down at me with pity—a man’s face—and I was borne away into light and warmth.”

“My brother Arthur found you in the park and carried you to the carriage,” Mavis returned prosaically. “We were very glad we heard you; it might have killed you to stay there all night.”

The knock at the door was repeated, and a voice called: “Nurse!”

Mavis recognized her mother’s voice and tried to draw her hand away.

“It is my mother,” she said.” I must speak to her.”

But the other girl still clung to her.

“You must not go,” she said. “I am not strong enough to see anyone else to-night—indeed, I am not. Promise you will not let anyone come in.”