Читать книгу The Chinese Shawl - Dora Amy Elles - Страница 10

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Laura rang up the Priory as soon as the meal which Miss Sophy still called dinner had been disposed of. The stately repasts of the eighteenth century, the heavy banquets of the Victorian age, had dwindled to a cup of clear soup and a lightly poached egg surrounded by spinach. The ale, the strong waters, the fine claret, the Madeira which had made the journey round the Cape, the sherry, and the port, were gone away to a flagon of orange-juice and a jug of barley-water. The transition to the dining-room was too risky for an invalid, so there was a comfortable low table drawn to the side of the couch in the drawing-room. But Miss Sophy still dined.

As soon as Mary had removed the last traces of the meal the business of telephoning began. Miss Sophy superintended. It was the most interesting thing that had happened for a long time. It was a rapprochement—it was the end of the family feud. Oliver’s daughter and Agnes! Miss Sophy’s colour rose and her eyes shone. She fairly fluttered with excitement.

Laura would much rather have waited until Cousin Sophy had gone to bed. She could have borne to wait for ever. She felt an extreme reluctance to call across that twenty-year gulf and hear Agnes Fane answering her. It was naturally not the slightest use to feel like that. She put through the call whilst Miss Sophy poured out reminiscences, and almost at once, before she was expecting it, there was a voice on the line—what Laura would mentally call a suet-pudding voice.

“This is the Priory. Miss Adams speaking.”

Cousin Sophy’s hearing was very acute. She plucked Laura’s sleeve and whispered,

“Your Cousin Lucy—”

Laura said, “It is Laura Fane, Cousin Lucy,” and waited.

There was a sound as if the receiver had been jerked. The voice said “Oh—” just like that, without any expression. Laura found it rather daunting. There was a pause, a murmur of voices too low to be caught. She thought the receiver had been set down or muffled.

Cousin Sophy whispered, “Don’t take any notice of Lucy. She is a very stupid woman.”

And then another voice was speaking in a deep, firm tone. If Laura had not known that this was Agnes Fane she would not have been quite sure that it wasn’t a man.

“Is that Laura?”

Laura said, “Yes, Cousin Agnes. It is Cousin Agnes?”

The deep voice said, “Yes.” And then, “I hope you are coming to stay with me.”

Laura thought, “She knows I’m coming. Tanis must have rung her up.” The voice was dominant and assured, a voice that was accustomed to being obeyed.

This feeling persisted through her polite thanks and Miss Fane’s reply. The conversation was as short, as formal, as devoid of emotion as if there had never been a passionate Agnes who had sung Infelice, and a reluctant Oliver who had loved somebody else.

Miss Sophy heaved a sigh as Laura rang off.

“Well, my dear, that’s over. And a little disappointing, don’t you think? Things so often are, you know. When your father ran away with your mother they were having a fete at the Priory—Primrose Day—no, it couldn’t have been that, because it was in the summer, really a very hot day—but it was something to do with the Primrose League. Very inconsiderate of Oliver and Lilian, but of course they were very much in love, and when young people are in love they don’t think of anyone except themselves. The grounds of the Priory are very beautiful, and Agnes was pouring out tea under the big cedar, when one of the footmen, a very foolish young man, brought her Oliver’s note on a salver. Of course he never meant her to have it like that—it was a most stupid mistake. But she opened it, and read it, and put it away in her bag, and went on talking to the Lord Lieutenant and pouring out tea. No one would have known there was anything wrong. But when everyone had gone she took her horse, Black Turban—such a curious name I always thought—and rode out on him. And when she didn’t come back they sent out a search party, and there she was at the bottom of the quarry, and the poor horse was dead.”

Laura was speechless. She gazed white-faced at Cousin Sophy, whose pretty pink colour had not faded at all. It was just an old story to her, but to Laura it felt like all the terrible and unhappy things and all the unkindness in the world brought to a focus.

Cousin Sophy stroked her hand with a soft fluttering touch.

“Don’t look like that, my dear. It was a long time ago, and if Oliver had gone on with the engagement and married her, they would both have been most unhappy, because Agnes was always very intelligent, and she would have known quite well that he didn’t really love her.”

Miss Sophy went to bed at half past nine. At a quarter to ten the telephone startled Laura from her book. She picked up the receiver, and heard Carey Desborough say,

“Can I speak to Miss Fane?”

“Oh, Carey!”

She sounded warm and pleased, and all at once she hoped she didn’t sound too pleased. That was the worst of the sort of things Tanis had said—you pushed them out of your mind and tidied it up, and then you found some lurking trail of slime.

Carey was asking, “Are you alone?”

“Yes. Cousin Sophy’s gone to bed.”

“My head spy told me she went at half past nine. Laura, are you going down to the Priory?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Tanis said so. She doesn’t tell the truth unless it suits her, so I thought I’d rather have it from you. Because I’m not going unless you are.”

The little trail of slime caught the light in Laura’s mind. She said easily,

“Thank you. What a lovely compliment!”

“It wasn’t a compliment—just a plain statement of fact.”

Laura said nothing. It was absurd that a voice travelling along a wire should reach the strings of your heart and shake them.

The voice said her name insistently.

“Laura—”

“Yes?”

“Have you seen Tanis?”

“Yes. She came in just before dinner to fix up about going down to the Priory.”

“I thought so. What did she say about me?”

“About you?”

“Yes, darling—me. I know she said something. What was it? She didn’t by any chance warn you against me, did she?”

“Why should she? I mean, is there any reason why she should warn me?”

Laura was rather pleased with this. Then she heard Carey laugh.

“She did—I knew it! Kind cousin warns debutante.”

“I’m not a debutante!” said Laura, revolted.

“Compared with Tanis you are, my child. I’m sure she did it with the utmost charm and delicacy. What did she say?”

Laura’s voice changed. She stopped trying to be light and indifferent, and spoke with simplicity.

“She said you were never serious.”

There was a pause.

He said, “I see—” And then, “She didn’t by any chance say or suggest that I was engaged to her?”

“She said, ‘Not exactly.’”

There was an angry laugh.

“What a convenient phrase! Laura—listen. I asked Tanis to marry me six months ago. I was under the impression that she had accepted me. A month ago when I came out of hospital I found out that I was not the only man who was under that impression. She said then that she couldn’t imagine how I had got it. She had never intended anything of the kind. She didn’t want to marry anyone, but why not be friends? Well, I was fool enough to agree. Since then I’ve been gradually coming to my senses. When I met you last night—” He paused, whilst they both gazed astounded at the fact that it was only last night that they had met.

Laura found the receiver shaking a little in her hand. She heard him say, “It doesn’t seem possible,” and she heard herself say, “No.”

He gave an odd eager laugh.

“Well, thank God it happened! Laura, when I met you it was like coming out into the open air. I woke right up, and I shan’t go to sleep again. Now, about tomorrow. I’ve got some petrol. Let me drive you down.”

“Tanis suggested that I should go down with Petra North.”

She heard him whistle.

“That means she’s annexed Alistair.”

“I think I’d better go with Petra really.”

“I’ll take her too, and we’ll collect Robin. I’ll fix it. I’ll be round for you about half past two. Is that all right?”

Laura said, “Yes.” It was rather pleasant to have it all taken out of her hands.

“All right. Wait a moment, don’t hang up. About this business of my not being serious, an important announcement follows immediately. Are you listening—Miss Laura Fane?”

Laura said, “Yes.”

“Well then, my intentions are serious, honourable, and dreadfully premature. Goodnight!”