The innocent Mrs Duff

by Elisabeth Sanxay Holding

  He felt a little better when he got back. At four o’clock he called Vermilyea.

  “Don’t hesitate to turn this down, old man,” he said. “But here’s the setup. My wife’s gone down to our place on the shore, and I want to join her. But the garage people can’t fix me up with a car. Can’t—or won’t. It’s a hell of a trip by train, with those two changes, so I thought that, if you had enough gas, maybe you’d drive me down and stay overnight.”

  “Very pleased to, Duff,” said Vermilyea. “What time?”

  “I can’t get away very early,” Duff said. “I’m up to my ears in work. About seven, say?”

  “There’s a train leaving Grand Central at six-twenty-two,” said Vermilyea. “How would that do. Duff? I could meet you at the Vandenbrinck station.”

  “Fine! Fine!” said Duff. “I appreciate this, Vermilyea.”

  Then he called up the shack, and Reggie’s voice answered.

  “I’m sorry, Reggie,” he said, “but something’s just turned up. This man’s coming from Washington, and I’ve got to wait. I’ll take a room in a hotel for the night, and I’ll be out early tomorrow morning.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry, Jake!”

  “And tell Nolan to stay,” he said. “I don’t want you out there alone.”

  “All right, Jake,” she said. “Take care of yourself, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  He disliked his plan more and more. But if Reggie’s behaving properly, there’ll be no harm done, he thought. And if she isn’t… then I needn’t have any compunction.

  He knew Reggie well enough to feel almost sure she would be doing something that would look wrong. Something that would shock Vermilyea. For she had no dignity, no discretion.

  Pictures came into his mind. Suppose they were to find Reggie and Nolan sitting side by side on the front steps, talking and laughing? Drinking soft drinks out of bottles! He imagined himself telling this to Mrs. Albany. You can realize how I felt, he would say, arriving there with a fellow like Vermilyea, and finding my wife and the chauffeur…

  If they’d only be making love…! he thought. No matter what I find, I shouldn’t make use of it. I’d still let her get the divorce. I’ll provide for her decently. It’s simply that I want somebody to realize what she really is. Aunt Lou, above all.

  Vermilyea was waiting for him on the Vandenbrinck station.

  “You’re looking a bit seedy, Duff,” he said.

  “I’m dog-tired,” said Duff.

  “Take a little snooze, on the way out,” said Vermilyea. “Nice night, after the rain this morning.”

  Duff leaned back in the dark car and closed his eyes. There couldn’t, he thought, be a better witness than Vermilyea, a man of honor, a gentleman, who would understand all the implications of what he was going to see. Mrs. Duff and the chauffeur, sitting on the steps, drinking pop out of bottles, his arm around her shoulder.

  It was worse than that, though. There was a merry-go-round on the lawn outside the house, and Reggie sat on a coal-black horse, with Nolan behind her, holding her round the waist; they went round and round, laughing, to very loud music. Fortunately Aunt Lou was with him, and she could see for herself how it was.

  “The whole neighborhood’s complaining,” he told her. “But she doesn’t care.”

  He opened his eyes and they were in the main street of the village, with a radio playing loudly somewhere.

  “Oh, look here, Vermilyea!” he said. “Mind going back just a couple of blocks? I want to stop at the liquor store. There’s nothing in the house.”

  The man in the store knew him well, from the days when he used to come down here with Helen.

  “You’re starting early,” he said. “There isn’t anybody else has come down yet.”

  “I’ve been working pretty hard,” said Duff, “and I thought I’d like a little sea air.”

  “Nothing like it,” said the man.

  “Might as well stock up. Two bottles of rye—and I might as well take a couple of bottles of gin. A lot of people seem to like gin drinks, Martinis, Tom Collinses, and so on. Personally, I don’t like gin.”

  He wondered a little why he had said that and why he was talking so much. It’s because I’m upset about this thing, he thought. He got back into the car with a big paper bag, and Vermilyea started off again. They turned in to the Shore Road, and there was the sea, pale under the starry sky. Some ten feet below the road and fronting the ocean was that solid and comfortable little bungalow which he and Helen had always called ‘the shack’. It was the only lighted house to be seen.

  “I hope Reggie got my wire,” said Duff. “I couldn’t get her on the telephone, so I sent her a wire to say we’d be along.”

  “Certainly hope so,” said Vermilyea. “I shouldn’t like to cause Mrs. Duff any inconvenience.”

  “Better leave the car up here,” said Duff. “Nolan will take it down to the garage. It’s a rather tricky bit of road.”

  Vermilyea parked the car at the side of the road, and Duff led the way, down a flight of wooden stairs to the beach. His knees felt weak; he felt cold and wretched. Suppose we find something—outrageous? he thought. Suppose she’s got Nolan in her room? Well, Vermilyea would never talk. Nobody else would know.

  He mounted the three steps to the veranda and looked in at the sitting-room window. Nolan, in his shirtsleeves, was doing something to the radio, a cigarette in the corner of his mouth. Reggie sat in a wicker armchair, with Jay on her lap.

  Chapter 6

  “Oh, hello, Jake!” cried Reggie.

  “Hello, Mr. Vermilyea!”

  “Hello!” Vermilyea answered, smiling broadly.

  “Nolan, get Mr. Vermilyea’s car into the garage,” said Duff. “Jay, you ought to have been in bed hours ago. What’s the child doing here, anyhow, Reggie?”

  “Well, he wanted to come,” she said.

  Duff was struggling against a furious anger that was beyond his understanding. Anger against Nolan, who was leisurely putting on his jacket, against Reggie in her black dress, even against Jay.

  “Go to bed at once. Jay,” he said.

  “Well, I’ll have to change him in to the guest room, Jake,” said Reggie. “I didn’t know you were coming, and I was going to keep him in with me.”

  “Didn’t you get my wire?”

  “Why, no, I just—”

  “Don’t change your arrangements,” said Duff. “I’ll share a room with Vermilyea. Only get that child to bed.”

  He was very nearly shouting, and that wouldn’t do. He must get himself in hand.

  “Sit down, Vermilyea!” he said, with great heartiness. “Sit down! Sit down! We’ll have a drink. What’s yours, gin, or rye?”

  “Rye, thank you. Duff.”

  “Personally, I don’t care for gin,” said Duff.

  No sense in saying that all the time. He went into the kitchen, and there were no ice cubes in the refrigerator; no soda. He opened a bottle of gin and poured himself a drink, and put the bottle back in the paper bag. Then he opened a bottle of rye and brought it, with two glasses, into the sitting-room.

  “Sorry to say there’s no ice, old man, no soda.”

  “That doesn’t bother me,” said Vermilyea.

  “I’ll get some water,” said Duff, and returning to the kitchen, he drank the gin and rinsed out the glass.

  “Cigarette, old man?”

  “I’ll use my own, Duff, thank you. They’re worth their weight in gold, these days.”

  “Here! Here! Take one of mine!” said Duff. “I’ve got plenty, at the moment. My aunt, Mrs. Albany, gave me two cartons last week. Remarkable woman.”

  “So I’ve heard. Roger and Elly Pendleton know her.”

  “Remarkable woman,” Duff said. “Sixty-five years old, and still-remarkable. Used to do a lot of big-game hunting with her husband, y’know, and I believe she could do it now. Y’know, when I was a kid, I used to like it better than anything when she’d come out to see me in school. She’d bring a souvenir—
from Africa, India, wherever she’d been, and she’d have stories to tell that were better than any book you ever read. The other kids would all gather round… A thorough sportswoman. Thorough.”

  “Very interesting, Duff.”

  Duff told a story about Mrs. Albany and a rhinoceros.

  “Well, by Jove…!” said Vermilyea.

  “My uncle used to say he’d rather have her beside him in an emergency than any man he’d ever met.”

  “That’s certainly a fine compliment,” said Vermilyea.

  “Yes. True, too. Another spot, old man?”

  “Just a small one, Duff. You’re not taking any?”

  “Well, no,” said Duff. “To tell you the truth, it’s apt to make me wakeful if I take a drink around bedtime.”

  “It’s just the other way with me,” said Vermilyea, seriously. “It’s a very rare thing for me not to go to sleep as soon as my head touches the pillow, but if it ever does happen that I can’t sleep, a jigger of whiskey will always send me off.”

  “You’re lucky,” said Duff.

  He was waiting for Reggie to come back. At least she’ll have manners enough to say good-night to Vermilyea, he thought. But eleven o’clock came, and Vermilyea was politely covering a series of yawns.

  “Shall we turn in now?” he suggested.

  From his overnight case Vermilyea brought out pajamas, dressing-gown, slippers, a few toilet articles, a razor, everything of the best quality and absolutely right. God, what a relief to be away from Reggie, with her flimsy things strewn all around!

  Vermilyea was breathing calmly in his bed in the dark room, asleep already. And what had he thought of that scene, that nice, cozy, domestic scene? Mrs. Jacob Duff, and the chauffeur in his shirtsleeves and a cigarette in his mouth.

  Why did she bring the child here? he thought, his anger rising and rising. She’s ruining him. Encouraging him to hang around with the servants all the time. God knows what he’s picking up.

  After a while he rose and went barefoot into the kitchen. He poured himself a drink of gin, a good one, too. I’ve got to get some sleep, he thought.

  He went back to bed, and now he was able to sleep, in the cool breezy dark.

  When he waked in the morning, Vermilyea’s bed was empty. He heard voices near, he heard Jay laughing, and Reggie. She’s turning the child against me, he thought. When Helen was alive, he’d run to meet me, as soon as I came into the house. Only four years since Helen died? I can’t realize it… Aunt Lou could have stopped this—disastrous second marriage. Only time I’ve ever known her to use poor judgment.

  He felt sick, very sick, but he had expected to be. I was a damn fool not to bring a bottle in here last night, he thought. Now if there’s anyone in the kitchen, I can’t get a drink.

  Yes, I can, he thought. He got out of bed and put on his dressing-gown and slippers. He went straight to the kitchen. In the dining-room Reggie and Vermilyea and Jay were all sitting at the table.

  “Good-morning, everybody!” said Duff.

  “Jay!” said Reggie, in nervous imitation of Miss Castle, and Jay stood up.

  “Mrs. Duff’s giving us a wonderful breakfast,” Vermilyea said. “Wonderful! I only wish I had more time. But for a wonder I’ve got to show up at the office fairly early.”

  The big paper bag was on the sink-board. Duff picked it up and carried it into the bedroom; he did not explain, he did not have to explain. He had a drink of gin poured out and standing on the dresser when Vermilyea came in to get his bag.

  “I’ve enjoyed this very much, Duff,” he said. ‘You’re a lucky man.”

  “Oh, very!” said Duff.

  No sooner had Vermilyea gone than Reggie came knocking at the door.

  “Come in!” said Duff, with a sigh.

  “I just wanted to know if you’d like some little sausages, Jake,” she said.

  “No, thanks, I shouldn’t.”

  “Jake,” she said, “now that we’re down here—now that we’ve got more time together—couldn’t we have a good long talk?”

  “About what?” he demanded.

  “About—whatever it is that’s gone wrong between us.”

  She had never taken the initiative before, never had questioned him. He was not prepared for it; he did not know how he wanted to answer her.

  “I’m afraid we haven’t much time,” he said. “I’ve got to go in to the office this morning.”

  “Oh, I thought we were going to stay here over Sunday. I told Jay so. He’ll be disappointed, poor little fellow.”

  “I’m sorry,” said Duff, briefly.

  Why didn’t she go away? She was obviously nervous, one hand picking at her dress, a warm color in her cheeks; she did not look at him. She’s guilty! he thought.

  “Jake…” she said. “Jake, honey, what’s happened?”

  “What d’you mean? What are you talking about?”

  “Things seem to have gone—all wrong between us,” she said, and there were tears on her cheeks. “I guess all married people have their ups and downs—but I thought that if we could just clear things up— if we could have a good long talk, Jake…”

  “My dear girl,” he said, “this is hardly the time. I haven’t had so much as a cup of coffee, and—” He paused. “I’m not feeling any too well,” he said.

  “I knew that!” she said. “For quite a while I’ve thought you seemed queer.”

  “Tactfully put,” he remarked.

  “I didn’t mean to be tactless. It’s only that—”

  “D’you mind if we postpone this?” he asked. “I’d like to finish dressing and get some coffee.”

  She went away then and he finished his dressing and his drink in haste. But instead of going to the dining-room, he went out of the house, to the garage. The door was open, and Nolan stood there, smoking.

  “Morning, sir!” he said, alertly.

  “Good-morning,” said Duff. “We’ll be leaving in an hour. And after you’ve driven us home, I’ll pay you whatever is due you, and you can go.”

  “And why is that?” asked Nolan, with interest.

  “I don’t care for your manners,” said Duff. “I don’t care to find my chauffeur in my drawing-room, in his shirt-sleeves, smoking a cigarette.”

  Nolan drew on his cigarette.

  “I know a frame-up when I see one,” he said.

  Everything in Duff drew together against this blow.

  “What are you talking about?” he asked.

  “I’ve been around,” said Nolan. “You tried to frame me and your wife.”

  “Keep quiet!”

  ‘For the time being, I will,” said Nolan.

  Chapter 7

  Nolan’s going to blackmail me, thought Duff. Or try to, anyhow. But he can’t prove anything. Can’t prove I didn’t send a wire to Reggie – or anything else. Only I don’t want him putting any ideas into Reggie’s head.

  That thought made him sweat with dismay. If Reggie should turn on him, accuse him of this contemptible thing… I couldn’t stand that, he thought. It was a mistake, anyhow. I’m sorry I ever tried it. It’s not like me.

  And if Vermilyea ever knew…? All right. Duff thought. I’m sorry. It was a bad idea, the sort of thing a gentleman doesn’t do, or even think of. But I don’t see how Vermilyea ever could find out. Who’d tell him? He wouldn’t believe it, anyhow.

  But Reggie might believe it, if Nolan told her. She and Nolan, no doubt, spoke the same language. Very likely they both knew of instances like that, a suspicious husband coming home, when he had definitely said he would not be home. It was such a damn vulgar thing for me to do, he thought.

  “Is the coffee all right, Jake?” she asked.

  “Very good. Very good indeed.”

  That pleased her.

  “I’m terribly glad you like it, Jake,” she said. “I honestly think I could get to be quite a good cook. I know I’d love it. Only, living around in furnished rooms the way I did before we were married, I never got a chance.” />
  “No, of course not. Can you be ready in half an hour, Reggie?”

  “I’ll just wash up the dishes, Jake—”

  “Don’t bother. Mrs. Anderson comes in once a week to air the place. She’ll attend to them.”

  “Honestly, I’d rather, Jake,” she said. “I’d hate to go and leave dirty dishes. It’ll only take a moment.”

  “Well, if you’d rather—” he said, and his indulgent tone brought out her wide, dazzling smile.

  I’m going to behave differently, he thought. Not going to be irritable. And if Nolan does try to put any ideas into her head, she won’t believe them. Anyhow, it wasn’t a frame-up. I simply wanted to see if that fellow was too familiar and free-and-easy when I wasn’t around. Very well. I did see.

  He went into the bedroom to pack, and as he took the three bottles out of the paper bag, he frowned to see how much gin had gone since last night. Of course, the stuff evaporates, he thought, but even at that, it’s too much. I’m cutting down.

  Reggie was still in the kitchen and Jay was with her, drying the dishes.

  “Soldiers dry dishes!” Jay said. “Reggie’s a trained nurse, and I’m a soldier.”

  Duff very much disliked the child’s calling her ‘Reggie’, but he had never been able to think of a reasonable substitute. He didn’t like to see Jay drying dishes, either; the whole atmosphere was displeasing. When he and Helen used to come here, they had always brought a maid along; everything had been informal, but not like this.

  “I’ve nearly finished, Jake,” she said. “I just want to leave things nice and neat.”

  “I see! I’ve been thinking, Reggie… I’ll be finished early at the office. Suppose you come in to town by train with me, and Nolan can drive Jay home. You could do a bit of shopping, and then we could meet somewhere for lunch?”

  “Oh, I’d love it!” said Reggie.

  “I want to go to New York, too,” said Jay.

  “Not today,” said Duff.

  “But I’ll bring you a surprise,” Reggie told the child, and he seemed satisfied.

  Nolan drove them to the station and they got on the train.