Читать книгу Silence in Court - Dora Amy Elles - Страница 10

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Nora whirled out of the house and was seen no more. This time apparently it was Alan, not Jack, who was her escort. She passed Dennis and Carey on the stairs and flung out the information with zest. Then she opened her fur coat and pointed triumphantly to a large glittering emerald and diamond crescent.

“How’s that for richness?”

Dennis whistled.

“How did you get away with it?”

She put out the tip of a pointed red tongue at him.

“She gave it to me just now—sent Ellen to get me and pressed it into my hand. Aha!”

Dennis lifted an eyebrow.

“Everyone will think it’s Woolworth, or if they don’t you’ll be garotted on the way home.”

She said, “Pouf!” and flicked two fingers at Carey. “It’s worth masses more than the one she gave you, but you’ll probably get the rubies. Competition in armaments! I wonder what Honor got. She was going in as I came out. Poor old Den—you can’t even wear a diamond ring! Bye-bye—have a nice time!”

Honor came creeping down after them, followed by Magda Brayle. As they came into the dining-room, Carey had a momentary impulse towards laughter. Honor in that hideous beige frock, the last colour on earth, she ought ever to put anywhere near her, and, fastening the neck, one of those frightful Victorian brooches like a gold pudding with stones stuck in it for plums! The stones were red, and possibly valuable. Rubies? Difficult to tell in all that gold, but she didn’t think so. Probably carbuncles, in which case not valuable at all. All that really mattered was that Honor was obviously as pleased as Punch. She fingered the horrid thing, and was determined that everyone should notice it. Perhaps the stones were really rubies. Perhaps she only thought they were. Perhaps she was just pleased at having a present. The impulse to laughter died. It was pathetic to see anyone so pleased with a heavy, ugly thing like that.

Dennis looked at it and enquired candidly,

“Your share of the loot?”

“Aunt Honoria gave it to me just now.”

“Mrs. Maquisten is very generous,” said Magda Brayle.

Dennis laughed.

“She’s very clever—little sops all round to keep us from hating Carey. I don’t know about Robert, but I got a cheque—quite a nice fat cheque. Carey and I are dining out and doing a show on the strength of it to-morrow.”

Honor looked under her pale eyelashes at Magda.

“You didn’t get anything? But of course you’re not one of the family.”

It was a bald statement of fact without apparent malice. Carey wondered. Could you be so inept as that without meaning anything? She thought she preferred Honor silent, though it got on your nerves a bit.

If Magda’s feelings were hurt, she did not allow it to appear.

“Mrs. Maquisten is always very kind,” she said.

Carey thought her colour rose a little. Perhaps it was this faint flush that made her suddenly realize that Magda’s looks had possibilities. Her features were good. A little darkening of the eyebrows, a touch of lipstick, some colour in the cheeks, would do wonders for her. She wanted colour. All that starchy whiteness, so becoming to most women, just blotted her out. Colour, and the play of expression—if she had these, she would be a very pretty woman.

“A penny for your thoughts,” said Dennis.

Carey blushed, and was laughed at.

Honor disappeared after dinner. Carey and Dennis spent a companionable evening. They had reached the stage of intimacy at which you talk if you want to, and sit silent if you have nothing to say or if what you would like to say is not ready to put into words. She discovered that he sang charmingly to the guitar.

“Pity Aunt Honoria doesn’t like music, or I might be able to sing my way into being residuary legatee.”

Carey sat up straight.

“Don’t any of you ever talk or think of anything but Cousin Honoria’s will?”

He smiled affably.

“Oh, sometimes—just to fill in odd moments.”

“Because it’s frightfully bad for you, and frightfully boring.”

He twanged a soft descending arpeggio.

“Boring? Oh, no, darling—we’re passionately interested. It’s the golden link that binds us.”

“That’s what I mean. It’s horrid, and it’s dull.”

He shook his head.

“Not dull, my sweet. It combines a really good gamble with the excitement of the chase. There’s only one thing that offers a bigger thrill, and that is making love. Combine the three, and you have the perfect situation.”

Carey looked at him with an odd little smile.

“You do like talking nonsense, don’t you?”

“That’s not nonsense—it’s a profession of faith. And I’m one of those rare people who translates faith into works.”

“I suppose you know what you’re talking about. I don’t.”

“You will, darling. I’m leading tactfully up to the fact that now you are an heiress I shall probably make love to you.”

Carey’s chin lifted.

“How kind!”

“Yes, isn’t it? I’m a little handicapped, but I can still put one foot forward, and the wounded hero stunt is said to go down well. If I were to come over faint, would you go down on your knees beside me?”

“No, I shouldn’t. I should call Magda.”

“A heart of stone! I must think again.”

“I’d much rather you went on singing.”

Rather to her surprise, he complied, and after a little put down the guitar and took up a book. But when Carey got up to say good-night he reached for his crutch and limped to the door with her. She thought he was going to open it, but he stood there, looking at her and smiling.

“Pleasant dreams.”

“Thank you.”

“About me.”

“I see quite a lot of you in the day.”

His eyes held a spark of malice.

“There are several answers to that—but perhaps better not. Kiss me good-night?”

“Certainly not!”

“I shouldn’t have asked, should I? What’s a girl to say? Be brave—it’s quite painless!”

His hand came down on her shoulder, steadying him. You can’t step back and let a cripple fall. Carey didn’t know whether she wanted to step back or not. She ought to have known—she didn’t. She was pulled up close and kissed. It was rather disquieting, but not at all unpleasant. She gave a little laugh, and was kissed again.

“Dennis—I’m not a crutch!”

“All right—all over.” He let go of her. “Going on well?” He stepped back from the door as he spoke and opened it.

Carey stood and tried to look severe.

“It wasn’t fair!”

“Wasn’t it?”

Something in his teasing look brought the colour flaming to her cheeks. She said, “You know it wasn’t!” and ran out of the room.

His voice followed her, pleasant and cousinly for anyone to hear.

“Good-night, darling!”