Читать книгу The Alington Inheritance - Dora Amy Elles - Страница 10

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Jenny washed up the tea things and put away the cakes. Her hands moved mechanically over the china. She felt dazed, and she wanted to stay like that. She had had an anaesthetic once when she had fallen out of a tree and dislocated her shoulder. The doctor wasn’t quite sure if there was further damage and she had had a whiff of anaesthetic. She remembered coming out of it, and how she hadn’t had any feeling, and how gradually the pain had come in again and the dreamy feeling had thinned out and gone away. She thought this was the same. It was going to hurt. It was going to hurt very much like her shoulder had done, only worse, because the things that happened in your body were never as bad as the things that happened in your mind.

When she had quite finished washing up and putting the things away she went up to the schoolroom. She didn’t know where Alan was. She thought he had gone out, and that meant that she was quite alone, because Mrs. Bolton, who went out on Wednesdays, might as well not be there, for she never came upstairs at all and had her bedroom in what had been the housekeeper’s room. It gave her a lonely feeling in one way, but it was rather nice in another. Only tonight the house felt very echoey and lonely. She wished she had gone with the little girls, she wished she had done anything different from what she had done.

And then she heard the car. It came rolling to a stop at the front door, and she went to the window to look. Mrs. Forbes and Mac got out. Jenny’s heart gave a jerk. At the sight of Mac’s tall figure her heart had begun to ache quite dreadfully. It was just like that time with her shoulder—the pain got worse and worse, until suddenly it was too much for her. She pulled the curtain across the embrasure and sank down upon the window seat behind it in a flood of silent tears. Everything swept over her at once—Garsty—and the loss of her home—and what Alan had said about Mac. She fought against that. It wasn’t true. It wasn’t—it wasn’t true. But out of the depths of her there came a little clear voice that said, “It’s true, and you know it.”

She had forgotten everything but the bitterness which had swept over her, when she heard footsteps on the stairs outside. Mac—she would have known his step anywhere. She shrank down behind the curtains. She couldn’t meet him—not like this.

And then there was another step, and a voice—Mrs. Forbes’ voice.

“Isn’t she there?”

The door opened and Mac came in. The light went on. Jenny shrank back behind the curtains. He said,

“No, she isn’t. She and Alan must have gone down to get the children.”

Mrs. Forbes came across from her bedroom. The faint scent she used came in with her. It was very faint indeed, like the last reflection in water before the light goes. The thought went through Jenny’s mind like a background to what she was feeling. She didn’t mean to listen. She didn’t know that there was going to be anything to listen to. She heard the click of the closing door, and she thought that she was alone. And then she knew that she wasn’t, because the light was still on, and Mrs. Forbes was so terribly particular about lights being turned off. She sat there frozen with something like terror. Why didn’t they go away? Why should they stay here?

Mrs. Forbes spoke from the far side of the room.

“Well, what did you want to say to me, Mac?” The tone was the indulgent one which no one else heard from her.

Mac didn’t answer at once. Jenny couldn’t see him, but she knew how he would look—frowning, his brows drawn together over the dark blue eyes.

Mrs. Forbes turned towards him and said,

“Mac, what is it?”

“All right, you can have it. I’ve only known for a week. I went away and thought it out. I didn’t know how much you knew—or guessed.”

Behind the curtain Jenny’s heart beat to suffocation. She didn’t know what was coming. Or did she? Did she? The pulses sounded in her ears, in her throat, in her breast. And then she heard Mac say,

“It’s Jenny. He married her.”

Mrs. Forbes was holding her foot to the fire. She turned now and looked at her son.

“What do you mean?”

“I’m talking about Jenny. What we all knew was that she was the daughter of Richard Forbes and Jennifer Hill.”

Mrs. Forbes said in a hard voice,

“Well, isn’t she?”

“Of course she is. There wasn’t ever any doubt about that. The only thing there was a doubt about was the fact of their marriage.”

Mrs. Forbes had turned to face her son. She looked him up and down with a cold piercing look and said,

“You’re talking nonsense! There was no marriage!”

Jenny heard the anger in her voice. Mac didn’t sound angry. He sounded like a person who had lived with something and got used to it, and for whom there are no surprises any more. He said,

“Oh, my dear Mother, be your age! And we haven’t all day. They’ll be back in a moment, all the lot of them, and we’ve got to get this settled. There was a marriage, and I’m not asking you to take my word for it. I’ve seen the certificate.”

“You’ve what?”

“I’ve seen the certificate.”

“You can’t have!”

“I have. Will you get that firmly into your head! I’m not making this up—why should I? Now listen, because we may not have much time, and it’s urgent—very urgent. I had my suspicions. Garsty gave the show away rather. She said something, and then stumbled and picked herself up.”

“Do you mean that she fell?”

Jenny knew that voice. It was Mrs. Forbes fighting. She would fight to her last drop of blood for Mac. She heard it in her voice, and she heard the recognition of it in Mac’s laugh as he said,

“I don’t mean anything of the sort, as you know perfectly well. And don’t talk! Listen to what I’ve got to say! The Thursday before she died Garsty and Jenny went to Camingford. I knew they were going, and I came down. I let myself into the cottage.”

Mrs. Forbes said,

“How?”

Mac laughed.

“Never you mind! I did, and I went over the whole place till I found what I was looking for.”

Mrs. Forbes’ voice had changed—Jenny knew that. It was still steady, but it wasn’t the same. There was something strained about it, something unnatural. She said,

“What did you find?”

“I found a letter from Richard Forbes to Jennifer Hill. It must have been the last letter he wrote her. He called her his wife.”

Mrs. Forbes came in quickly.

“There’s nothing in that.”

“My dear Mother, I’m not a child, but there was enough to make me, shall we say, a little anxious. Anyhow I went up to Somerset House and—well, you can guess.”

“I’m not guessing. If you’ve got anything to say, say it!”

“I’ve got this to say.” His tone was still a smiling one.

Jenny knew just how he looked—the fair hair, the blue eyes, the height, the strength, the everything. A little giddiness came over her. No, no, not now—not when she had to hear. She had to. She pressed the nails of her left hand into the palm of her right, and the pain got through the faintness. She heard what Mac said. She heard it quite distinctly and past any possibility of a mistake. He said,

“They were married in January 1940 five months before he was killed.”

“I don’t believe it!”

He shrugged his shoulders.

“I tell you I’ve seen the certificate.”

“Then why didn’t she say?”

Mac shrugged again.

“You’ve forgotten. She was knocked on the head in an air raid the same night that he was killed. A splinter from a shell got her. Garsty told me all about it once. She must have told you, too.”

“Yes, she did.”

“Well, there you are. They thought she’d get her senses back when Jenny was born, but she didn’t—she just died.” There was a long pause.

Jenny’s head cleared. What were they going to do about it? She hoped very much that she knew. She was afraid that she didn’t know. If Alington was hers she would give it to them, oh, so gladly. If Alington was hers ... She didn’t know what she felt. She didn’t know. She heard Mrs. Forbes say suddenly, quite loud and clear,

“This is all nonsense!”

And Mac laughed and said,

“It’s going to be very dangerous nonsense for us unless we do something about it.”

“What can we do?”

“Oh, it’s quite simple. I can marry her.”

“No—no——”

“Don’t be silly, Mother. It’s the one perfect way out.”

“I won’t have it!”

“I said don’t be silly. You don’t suppose I want to marry the girl, do you?”

“I don’t know.”

He laughed.

“Oh, come! I shouldn’t have thought of it if it hadn’t been for this! But you must see that it’s the perfect way out.”

“I don’t see anything of the sort!”

“Oh, come, you’re not stupid. And you needn’t pretend with me. We’re two of a kind, and you know it. I’m not Alan. And you don’t have to pretend—not with me. I quite agree with having a little, shall we say, camouflage in the ordinary way. But just now, as things are, just between ourselves and for this once, let’s be straight about it.”

Mrs. Forbes said,

“What do you want to say?”

“This. I’ve had time to think about it, and you haven’t. There’s only one way out—that’s the way I said. I marry her, and we hold our tongues. If she ever finds out, well it’s just too bad, but there’s nothing to be done about it. We didn’t know, and she didn’t know. And once we’re married it doesn’t really matter. I shall be the noble cousin who married her when she was an illegitimate poor relation.”

Mrs. Forbes said, “Don’t!” and Mac laughed and said, “Why not?”

Jenny couldn’t see them, but they saw each other, and for the moment what Mrs. Forbes saw shocked her. It was one thing to suspect and to put the suspicion from your mind, and another to see the plain truth naked before you. The thought of her husband came to her and she put it away with a sort of terror. She knew very well what his judgment would have been on her for her hesitation, and on Mac for his certainty. She had her moment of choice. She looked at the alternative—Jenny in her place, herself a widow with a limited income, Mac with his way to make—She got no farther than that. There was a rush of everything in her to protect herself, to protect Mac. She said in a lowered tone but very firmly,

“No—no. I can’t do it.”

Mac smiled.

“You won’t find it so difficult.”

“No—no, I don’t mean that. You’re right—you must marry her.”

“Of course I’m right! I always am. And why? Because I’m a clear thinker. I don’t let my doings get diverted by morality. That’s the mistake always. You have to decide what’s best to do and leave the morality out of it.”

Mrs. Forbes stared at him.

“I wish you wouldn’t talk like that,” she said. “You’ll marry the girl and that will be doing well by her. And the best thing we can do is to forget this stupid story about a marriage which I don’t believe in and never shall.”

Mac laughed. Jenny wondered as she heard him. It was such a gay laugh—gay and infectious.

“Have it your own way,” he said.

And with that there came the sound of children’s voices and Alan speaking to them. The hall door opened and shut again. Mac took his mother by the arm.

“Come along, we’ll go and meet them. We don’t want to be found here like conspirators, do we?”

“Certainly not. Those children should be in bed. I never meant them to stay so late. That’ll be Jenny’s fault. She makes a game of everything.”

They went out. Mrs. Forbes said, “Put out the light.” The door shut. Jenny heard their footsteps go away. The room was dark. She was alone.