Читать книгу Miss Silver Comes to Stay - Dora Amy Elles - Страница 11

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Mrs. Voycey’s tea-party went off as tea-parties do. Home-made scones were partaken of, and home-made quince preserve offered with modest pride.

‘My dear mother’s recipe. A lovely colour, isn’t it? It reminds me of that deep red dress of yours, Rietta. But what I would like to know is how to keep the pale green colour of the fruit as they do in Portugal. I stayed out there for a month when I was a girl, and they made a most delicious quince cheese which they called marmalada, the colour of green grapes and turned out of a jelly-mould. You ate it in slabs, and it was crystallized all over the top—quite terribly good. But I never met anyone who could tell me how it was done. The minute I boil quinces with sugar they behave like traffic lights—first they go amber, and then they go red.’

Mrs. Voycey laughed very heartily at her own joke and proceeded to terrible disclosures about Portuguese plumbing. Whilst Miss Silver shared her views as to up-to-date sanitation, it was, in her opinion, a subject not at all suited to the tea-table. She coughed and endeavoured to change it, but it was some time before she was able to do so, and then, a good deal to her distaste, she found her professional activities the next topic of Cecilia’s rattling tongue. The whole story of the extraordinary affair of the Eternity Earring as retailed by Miss Alvinia Grey was poured out.

No use for Miss Silver to say with her slight admonitory cough, ‘I prefer not to talk about it,’ or even, ‘My dear Cecilia, I never discuss my cases.’ Even as a schoolgirl it had always been very difficult to stop Cissy Christopher. As an elderly woman in her own house it was quite impossible to check or deflect Cecilia Voycey. Miss Silver sighed and gave up the attempt. At the earliest possible opportunity she introduced the subject of education, and found herself able to exchange views in a very interesting manner with Miss Rietta Cray.

‘I spent twenty years in the scholastic profession.’

Something stirred at the back of Rietta’s mind and vanished again in the shadows. A little later it was there again—something just on the edge of being remembered. And then all at once, in the middle of Catherine being plaintive about the cost of living, Mrs. Voycey urging everyone to have more tea, and Miss Silver interrupting a quotation from Tennyson to say, ‘No, thank you, dear,’ it came to her.

‘“Knowledge comes, but wisdom lingers”, as Lord Tennyson so aptly says.’

Rietta said, ‘Oh—’ And then abruptly, ‘Are you Randal March’s Miss Silver?’

Miss Silver smiled in a gratified manner.

‘He and his sisters were pupils of mine. The friendship has, I am glad to say, been maintained. Do you know the Marches?’

‘I was at school with Isabel and Margaret. They were big girls when I was a little one. Miss Atkinson always said how well grounded they were. Randal was younger of course—about my age. He’s Chief Constable of the county now.’

‘Yes. I had the pleasure of lunching with him in town not long ago. Isabel has married, you know. A widower with several children—extremely suitable. In my experience these late marriages are often very happy. People have learned to appreciate companionship. Margaret, of course, married in her early twenties, but it has turned out very well.’

They went on talking about the Marches.

Catherine and Rietta walked home together. It was deep dusk. There were no lights except a distant yellow gleam here and there where a curtain had been carelessly drawn in one of the cottages which bordered the Green. When they had gone a little way, Catherine said with sudden energy,

‘Rietta, what did James say to you last night? Did he talk about me?’

Rietta considered. There seemed to be no reason why she should hold her tongue. She said,

‘He asked me whether I knew what arrangement his mother had made with you about the Gate House.’

‘What did you say?’

‘I said I didn’t know.’

Catherine took a quick breath.

‘Anything else?’

‘He asked me about the furniture.’

‘What about it?’

‘Whether it was given or lent.’

‘And what did you say to that?’

‘Just what I said before—I didn’t know.’

Catherine brought her hands together in sharp exasperation.

‘Aunt Mildred gave me the furniture—you know she did—I’ve told you a dozen times! Why couldn’t you say so?’

Rietta said in her brusque way,

‘What you’ve told me isn’t evidence.’

‘You mean you don’t believe me when I tell you—when I tell you that she gave me the things?’

‘No, I don’t mean that. I mean just what I said—what you told me isn’t evidence.’

‘And what evidence do you want?’

How exactly like Catherine to make a scene about nothing. Rietta wondered, as she had often wondered before, whether the old friendship was really worth while. Only when you have known someone all your life and you live practically next door to each other in a village, there isn’t much you can do about it except try and keep your temper. She said as coolly as she could,

‘It isn’t what I want—it’s James. And what he wants is evidence—something to show his mother’s intention. He asked whether she had ever said anything.’

‘What did you say?’ The words came quick and angry.

‘I said your mother told me, “I’m letting Catherine have the Gate House. I’ve told her she can have the two ground-floor rooms knocked into one, and I suppose I shall have to let her have some furniture”.’

‘There—you see! What did he say to that?’

‘That it might mean anything,’ said Rietta drily.

‘Oh!’ It was a gasp of pure rage, followed by a sharp, ‘How perfectly outrageous!’

They were in the middle of the Green on the narrow footpath which cut across it. Rietta stopped.

‘Catherine, don’t you see you can’t take James like that? You’ll only get his back up. He looks on the whole thing as a business transaction——’

Catherine broke in with an edge to her voice.

‘Of course you would stand up for him—we all know that!’

Rietta’s temper rose. She restrained it.

‘I’m not standing up for him—I’m telling you how he looks at the thing. Opposition always puts his back up. Unless he has changed very much, the best thing you can do is to lay your cards on the table and tell him the exact truth.’

‘What do you think I’ve been telling him—lies?’

‘Something betwixt and between,’ said Rietta in a blunt voice.

‘How dare you!’ She began to walk on quickly.

Rietta caught her up.

‘Well, you asked me. Look here, Catherine, what’s the good of going on like this? You know, and I know, what Aunt Mildred was like, and what is more, James knows too. She had spasms of being businesslike, but most of the time she couldn’t be bothered. She was an autocrat to her fingertips, and she was as changeable as a weathercock. If she told you you could have something, she might have meant it for a present one day and not meant it the next, or she might never have meant it at all. And if you want to know what I really think, well, I don’t believe she did mean to give you the things outright—some of them are too valuable. But I didn’t say that to James.’

‘But you will.’

‘No. He didn’t ask me, and I shouldn’t have said it if he had. It’s just what I think.’

They walked along in silence for a minute or two. Then Catherine’s hand came out and caught at Rietta’s arm. She said in a trembling voice,

‘I don’t know what to do.’

‘Do what I said, put your cards on the table.’

‘I can’t.’

‘Why can’t you?’

‘I can’t—he might turn nasty.’

A little contempt came into Rietta’s tone.

‘What can he do? If you don’t make him angry, he’ll probably take back the half-dozen things which are really valuable and let you keep the rest.’

Catherine’s grip became desperate.

‘Rietta—I’d better tell you—it’s worse than that. I—well, I sold some of them.’

‘Oh!’

Catherine shook the arm she was holding.

‘You needn’t say “Oh!” at me like that. They were mine to do what I liked with. Aunt Mildred gave them to me—I tell you she gave them to me!’

‘What did you sell?’

‘There were some miniatures, and—and a snuffbox—and a silver tea-set. I got three hundred for one of the miniatures. It was a Cosway—really very pretty—I’d liked to have kept it. And the tea-set was Queen Anne. I got quite a lot for that.’

‘Catherine!’

Catherine let go and pushed her away.

‘Don’t be a prig—one must dress! If you’re going to blame anyone, what about Edward, never telling me he was head over ears in debt, and leaving me practically without a penny! And now, I suppose, you’ll go and tell James!’

‘You don’t suppose anything of the sort,’ said Rietta coolly.

Catherine came close again.

‘What do you think he’ll do?’

‘I should think it would depend on what he finds out.’

‘He knows the things have gone—the snuffbox, and the miniatures, and the tea-set. I mean, he knows they’re not at Melling House, and Mrs. Mayhew told him Aunt Mildred let me have the tea-set. He said last night that he hoped it wouldn’t inconvenience me, but of course it was an heirloom and he must have it back. As if it mattered whether it was an heirloom or not! He hasn’t any children!’

After a moment’s silence Rietta said,

‘You’ve got yourself into a mess.’

‘What’s the good of telling me that? What am I to do?’

‘I’ve told you.’

There was a pause. Then Catherine said under her breath,

‘He says his mother made out a—a memorandum of everything she’d done—all the business things, you know—while he was away. It hasn’t turned up yet, but when it does—’ Her voice petered out.

Rietta finished the sentence.

‘When it does, you don’t think there will be anything about giving you the Cosway miniature and the Queen Anne tea-set.’

‘She might have forgotten to put them down,’ said Catherine in an extinguished tone.

They had reached the edge of the Green. As they stood, the Gate House lay to the left, and the White Cottage to the right. Catherine turned to where the tall pillars loomed up in the dusk. She said ‘Goodnight’, and went across the road.

Rietta took her own way, but before she could reach the Cottage gate she heard quick footsteps on the path. Catherine came up with her and put out a hand.

‘I want to ask you something——’

‘Yes?’

‘It would make a lot of difference if you could remember Aunt Mildred saying she had given me those things——’

‘I don’t remember anything of the sort.’

‘You could if you tried.’

Rietta Cray said, ‘Nonsense!’ She made a movement to go, but Catherine held her.

‘Rietta—listen a minute! After he came back last night James was’—she caught her breath—‘rather frightening. Polite, you know, but in that sort of icy way. He talked about things being missing—oh, it wasn’t so much what he said, it was a sort of undercurrent. I thought he wanted to frighten me, and I tried not to show it, but I think he saw I was frightened, and I think he enjoyed it. I haven’t ever done anything to make him feel like that, but I got the most horrid sort of impression that he would hurt me if he could, and that he would enjoy doing it.’

Rietta stood perfectly still. The shadow which she had shut away all those years ago came out and stood at her shoulder.

Catherine spoke in a whispering voice.

‘Rietta—when you and James were engaged—was he like that? It would come out if you were engaged to someone. Did he like—hurting?’

Rietta stepped back. She said, ‘Yes’, and then she walked quickly away, lifted the latch of her own gate, and went in.