Читать книгу Silence in Court - Dora Amy Elles - Страница 11

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It was in the evening that Honoria Maquisten gave her the brooch. Carey had changed when she came in, and proceeded by order to the bedroom, where Cousin Honoria sat in state by the fire robed in silver tissue hemmed with fur, diamonds in her ears and at her throat, diamonds on the long, thin fingers. None of the jewels were the same as she had worn yesterday. Carey blinked at the splendour, and felt herself very sober in her blue woollen house-gown. She sat obediently on a chair placed for her by Ellen, who then retired, noiseless and lizard-like. She seemed scarcely to open the door or to close it again, but since she was there one minute and gone the next, it was reasonable to suppose that she had done both.

With a feeling of discomfort it came to Carey that she had never been in a house where people made so little noise. Cousin Honoria’s deep voice and the jarring tap of Dennis’ crutch stood out against a curiously muffled background. Of course curtains and carpets being so thick had something to do with it. No, not something—everything. And then she remembered Nora calling the house a tomb the night before and flinging out of it with a banged door to break the silence.

Honoria Maquisten put a hand in a fur-trimmed pocket and held it out with something on the palm.

“That’s a hideous garment you’ve got on—as much like a dressing-gown as makes no difference. All the clothes are hideous nowadays, but at any rate it’s long. I can’t get used to things above the knee in the evening. And I won’t say the colour doesn’t suit you. I suppose you matched your eyes. You’d better have this to cheer it up. I took a fancy to it in a second-hand shop and bought it to give to Julia on her twenty-first birthday a week before she died. It’s been put away for fifty years. I’d like you to have it.”

Carey lifted the brooch from the thin, dry palm. Her feelings were rather mixed. The word tomb cropped up again—it was like being given something out of a tomb. But it was very kind, and she had never had such a pretty brooch. Pleasure came to the top and stayed there. She put the brooch against the blue stuff of her dress, and saw how the colour deepened the big pale sapphire set round with small rose-diamond points.

“It’s lovely, Cousin Honoria.”

Mrs. Maquisten nodded.

“It looks nice on your frock and on you, but it isn’t worth twopence—the sapphire is too pale. It’s just pretty—that’s all. I suppose you’d rather have diamonds?” The sharp eyes were lively and searching under quizzical brows.

Carey shook her head.

“Oh, no, I wouldn’t.”

“Why?”

“Well, what’s the good of diamonds when you’ve got your living to earn?”

Honoria Maquisten fingered her necklace.

“Do you mean to say you wouldn’t say thank you for this?”

Carey met her look with a laughing one.

“What would I do with it? I couldn’t wear it.”

“You could sell it.” The voice was dry and cold.

Carey flushed to the roots of her hair.

“Please, Cousin Honoria——”

There was a rainbow flash as a hand came out and patted her.

“There, child—I’d no business to tease you. Put on the brooch and give me a kiss.”

Nora was at dinner, vivid and ornamental in emerald green.

“Got to match Aunt Honoria’s room,” she explained. “I don’t see why she should have it all her own way, and it might stir her up to give me an odd emerald or two. She’s got oodles of them.”

When Magda did not appear, Carey asked where she was, and was answered by Dennis.

“Evening out. Only one of our rays of sunshine tonight. Honor darling, be twice as sparkling as usual, won’t you. We don’t want our new cousin to think us dull.” His eyes came back to Carey and dwelt, sparkling, upon the sapphire brooch. “Where did you get the gewgaw?” Then, without waiting for an answer, “Elementary, my dear Watson. Aunt Honoria has begun to part—the thick end of the wedge.”

Carey said, “It belonged to my grandmother.”

“Meaning that Aunt Honoria didn’t give it to you—or that she did, but it used to belong to your grandmother?”

“It used to belong to my grandmother.”

“A little disingenuous of you, darling.”

“Well, it isn’t your business,” said Nora.

Honor’s hand had gone up to the neck of her dress. There was no brooch there. She said nothing. Her hand dropped into her lap again.

Carey laughed, partly because Honor gave her the creeps, and partly because she didn’t see why Dennis should have it all his own way.

He shook his head at her reprovingly, his eyes bright and malicious.

“To-morrow it will probably be diamonds which didn’t belong to your grandmother but were bought by Uncle James out of money made from armaments in the last war. And then perhaps it will be cheques—or the famous rubies.... Darling, don’t tell me you don’t know about the rubies! Too, too unnaturally innocent of you! They’re marvellous, and it’s been the tragedy of Aunt Honoria’s life that she’s never had the nerve to wear them. The hair, you know. She won’t leave them to Nora for the same reason, and I seem to remember her saying something rather biting to Honor about what she would look like in them. Do you remember what it was, my sweet?”

Honor kept her eyes on her plate and did not speak.

Nora said, “Come off it, Den!”

He caught Carey’s frowning gaze and laughed.

“I’ve had serious thoughts of swearing to marry a black-haired wench to see if that would bring down the scales on my side. What are your views about rubies?”

“I haven’t got any.”

“Just as well, because the original Latin proverb about woman being variable was composed with a prophetic eye upon Aunt Honoria. Diamonds today, rubies tomorrow, and nothing the next day. She’ll probably leave the whole caboodle to Robert just because he’s got plenty without.”

It would have given Carey the greatest pleasure to throw something at him—the salt cellar, a full glass of water—but she restrained herself. She looked past Honor, who was eating fish a crumb at a time after the manner of Amina in the Arabian Nights, and said scornfully,

“I can’t think why you bother about it. You’d all be much more comfortable if you didn’t.”