The Marlows

by Rosalind Laker

  He threw Judith a backward glance over his shoulder and it seemed to Tansy that Judith’s eyes followed him as though reluctant to see him go. Taking the reins into her hands when goodbyes had been exchanged with Dominic, Tansy glanced sideways at her as they set off down the drive, and she was touched by the unguarded glow in the girl’s face.

  “Wasn’t he nice?” Judith said shyly as the wagonette bowled out of the Hall’s huge gates, there being no doubt whom she meant. “He asked me if I would go with him to a magic lantern show in Ewell a week Saturday.”

  “That’s the weekend of the house party at the Manor,” Tansy pointed out gently.

  “I know,” Judith answered on a faint note of regret that suggested she might envy Roger’s freedom to turn down Edward’s invitation. Tansy refrained from any comment, but was full of sympathy for her disappointment.

  During the days that followed Tansy was too busy to think about the approaching house party, leaving the pressing of her gowns and the packing of the clothes she would need to a willing and helpful Judith. She would have preferred not to stay at the Manor and merely attend from home the festivities planned, but Nina was insistent.

  Tansy, standing on a pair of steps and hanging curtains at one of the attic windows, frowned slightly at the thought of her beautiful sister, who had always been such a contained, self-sufficient person, not given to outbursts of temperament, and yet ever since the night of her betrothal she was continually giving way to displays of wrath, impatience, and self-pity, even shedding tears at the slightest provocation—or seemingly with no provocation at all.

  But there was so much she could not understand about Nina these days: her evening walks for a start. Most evenings she was at the Manor or otherwise socially engaged with Edward, but when she was not thus committed she would go out, sometimes announcing her intention, sometimes not, and always refusing offers of company. What time she returned was anybody’s guess, and Tansy could only hope that it remained in the region of eleven o’clock, the hour when she had first called her to task over it.

  “Where on earth have you been, Nina?” she had demanded, standing in her nightgown at the head of the rear stairs, having heard the back door close. The candle she held gave a fitful light and Nina’s face was only a pale blur at the bottom of the flight. “It’s raining and blowing and I’ve been worried sick about you!”

  Nina’s voice had answered sullenly: “I have to get some liberty from this house every day or I should go mad.”

  “That’s a ridiculous answer. You took morning chocolate at the Rectory and lunched with Sarah and went driving with Edward into Epsom this afternoon. We have hardly seen you.”

  She had retaliated like a wild cat. “You mean I’m not doing my fair share of turning Rushmere into a horrible lodging house? Is that it? Well, I’m helping in another way. I’m not a burden on you anymore. I’m rarely home to eat, am I? Edward is footing the bill for anything I want in the way of clothes. You should be thankful. Thankful for my contribution toward the wellbeing of this family. You don’t know how much you owe me.”

  Tansy had hurried down the stairs to her, but Nina had turned her face away from the candlelight, her hair, wind-blown and untidy, looking as if it had fallen loose and been carelessly pinned up again.

  “Nina, I’m not annoyed that you’re out during the day. I’m glad that you’re having the social round you’ve always wanted. There’s nothing in the house that Judith and I can’t manage between us, and although Amelia rarely does anything anymore except pass an hour or two in the flower garden, that doesn’t matter. I just want to know why you have to go wandering about in the dark until such a late hour. It’s worrying.”

  “This is a peaceful village. Nothing could happen to me.”

  “I know that too. But where do you go?”

  Nina’s voice had been muffled. “It’s a sheltered place. A secret place, I suppose it could be called. I don’t want to talk about it.”

  Tansy knew what it meant to be able to retreat at times into one’s own solitude, and she had been sympathetic. “I understand. Often I like to be alone. It gives one time to gather one’s thoughts when the world seems too busy a place and — in my case — there’re all sorts of problems to think over and decisions to be made. I won’t ask any more questions. I don’t want to pry. But, please, do try not to forget the passing of time when you’re out. Try to get home earlier and never, never later than tonight.”

  “I’ll remember.” Nina had darted past her and up the stairs into the darkness of the landing, her cloak bundled over her arm. It had not been a very satisfying interview, but fortunately Edward was gradually taking up more and more of Nina’s time and the evening walks were becoming less frequent, although no less late.

  A step into the attic room behind her made Tansy turn to see who had joined her, although she continued to slide the curtain rings along the rod. It was Amelia. She sank down on the edge of the bed, which Roger had moved up there on his last visit to the house with some assistance from Tansy. She had a wispy lace handkerchief in her hands, which she twisted about her fingers.

  “I don’t think I’ll go to the Manor house party after all,” she said petulantly.

  “Why, Amelia?”

  “Nina doesn’t want me there.”

  It was impossible to deny the truth of that remark. Friction between Amelia and Nina had become almost intolerable, due as much to the acceleration of the older woman’s uppishness as to Nina’s increasing vindictiveness toward her, which now frequently resulted in shouted words between them, quarrels which ended with Nina flying up to her room and Amelia bursting into tears of rage and stamping her little feet like a spoiled child. Tansy often thought how pleasant it would be to have a quiet sanctuary such as Nina had found in which she could be away from the house’s turmoil, secluded from questions and demands, to be released for a while from acting as a buffer between hostile parties. She could not deny Nina’s need to be alone when she herself felt the same longing for times of peace and solitude.

  “Have you sent your apologies?” Tansy inquired, taking a neutral line, the curtain rings continuing to clink under her fingers. Amelia’s hard-done-by air was all too familiar, an immature demand for attention and consolation. Not for the first time Tansy wondered if this weakness in Amelia’s character, her constant need of cajoling and reassurance combined with her play of helpless feminity, had not held Oliver Marlow to her as much as her physical attributes. It was possible that his wife’s capable independence, her ability to manage perfectly well in his absences, had in some ways emasculated and damaged the protective, loving man that her father had been at heart.

  “No, but a note should go this very day.” Amelia shrugged irritably, annoyed that no persuasive words for her to consider her decision carefully had come from the girl on the steps. “I suppose I’ll have to deliver it myself. It’s insufferable that we do not even have a scullery maid to carry out errands. I almost die — truly, I almost die of shame! — when other ladies are talking over their servant problem and I have nothing to contribute.”

  “You know we have no money to spare for help in the house.”

  Amelia snorted and went grumbling on, pettishly listing all the comforts she had been accustomed to and now had to do without. Tansy thought that in truth Amelia had little to complain about, for she never gave a hand with the less pleasant chores and had not been seen with a duster in hand for weeks, Judith having taken over that extra chore when Amelia complained that it made her shoulders ache. As for money, it seemed that recently Amelia had known no lack of it in her own purse, for she had made several minor shopping sorties into Epsom, and after joining Sarah Taylor on a day’s shopping expedition to London she had returned with a new and expensive bonnet, three pairs of new shoes, and she alone knew what new garments in the box that she had taken straight to her room without opening. A conviction as to the source of this new show of affluence had been growing steadily in Tansy’s mind.

&nbs
p; “Would you hand me the other curtain, please?” she requested.

  The woman gave an elaborate sigh as if there were never-ending demands upon her time and efforts at Rushmere, but she got up to take the curtain from where it lay over the back of the chair.

  “Here you are,” she said holding it up.

  Tansy, turning on the steps to take it from her, looked down into her carefully painted face. “Are you blackmailing Dominic, Amelia?” she asked penetratingly.

  Amelia’s mouth dropped open in complete astonishment, yet at the same time her face dyed a guilty crimson. She blinked, gulped, and blinked again, taking refuge in outrage and anger. “How dare you! What mad accusation is this?”

  “I must tell you that the conversation that passed between you and Dominic on the day I was taken ill came back to me. At first I thought you and he were entering into some kind of plot about the house, and although I couldn’t see any way in which you might prise the ownership of it from me I thought it best to bide my time. Not being unprepared, I was sure I should be able to pinpoint the danger when it came. But I have decided that you were pressing for payment from Dominic. I think that through my father you discovered something about his racing activities that wouldn’t bear being brought to light and you are extracting money from him. Did he not promise to contact his banker without delay when you threatened that you must have his decision then and there?”

  Amelia stared at her for a few moments, seeming to be turning over all that Tansy had said, the first violent colour in her face re-ceding, leaving it blotchy, but still high. “So you heard and remembered.” She spoke slowly, as if playing for time and needing to formulate carefully the full reply that she must give. “With you at market and Nina and Judith gone to the Manor I had thought to see him privately with no chance of being interrupted and not one among you learning of our meeting. I hadn’t expected you to make such an early return, but it hastened a settlement of his decision to pay me the sum I wanted from him.” She licked her lips nervously. “I’m not admitting anything, you understand. Tell me first what you propose to do if I should concede that you’re right in your deductions.”

  “I’ll not accuse you to a magistrate, if that’s what you’re afraid of. For my father’s sake as much as anything else I’ll not see you in a prison.”

  “Do you intend to enter in any discussion about the matter yourself with Dominic?”

  “No, I have reasons of my own for that.”

  Thoughtfully Amelia moved round and tapped the fingers of one hand on the brass rail at the foot of the bedstead. “Oliver did tell me many things about the Ainderly Hall stables. You are right to suspect Mr. Reade. He is an unscrupulous villain. The reason you father wanted to take the colt away from the place was because he feared the animal’s future involvement in shady deals that he knew were going on there. I admit I was wrong to use what I knew to get money from Mr. Reade, but I’m not strong like you, Tansy.” She turned her round eyes in Tansy’s direction. “You would rather starve and go threadbare than turn against your principles. Not many people are like you.”

  Tansy began automatically to slip the second curtain into place. A wave of unhappiness had swept over her at hearing that even her father had known Dominic was not to be trusted, stamping out the single remaining ember of hope that she knew she had cherished deep within her that she might one day discover herself to be wrong about him.

  “How much of that ill-gotten money have you left?” she asked tonelessly.

  “None. It is all spent.”

  “Oh, Amelia!” Tansy let her hands fall to her sides, the curtain trailing to the floor. “How much was it?”

  “Only — only a hundred pounds.”

  “A hundred pounds! Where has it all gone?”

  “As well as a few new gowns and bonnets and shoes and suchlike, I bought a ring, too. Your father always gave me something pretty to wear when it came to my natal day.” She pouted self-pityingly. “You don’t know how much I’ve missed his gifts and many kindnesses.”

  Tansy thought despairingly that it was like talking to a child. “You must promise me never to extort money from Dominic ever again.”

  Amelia nodded, and with a tragic air came to stand meekly before Tansy in the attitude of one who, having received correction with contrition, was bravely resolved to make amends. Almost, Tansy thought, as if she had taken on the role of a character caught up in similar circumstances in one of those past plays during which she had trodden the candlelit boards.

  “I know I must do as you say,” she said stoutly. “I’ll let Mr. Reade know that he need never look to be troubled by me again.”

  “I’m truly thankful to hear you say that,” Tansy replied.

  “I’ll go straight to my bureau now and write a letter to him. I’ll also write to Edward Taylor and withdraw from the house party. It will give you time to enjoy yourself and think less harshly of me and my errors, which I do assure you are committed out of folly and not wickedness.”

  “I happen to believe that. Don’t miss going to the Manor on my account. As long as you put matters right, that is all I ask. We’ll never refer to it again.”

  “Nevertheless I think I’ll keep to my decision to stay away. At least Nina will enjoy the house party much better if I’m not there.” A twinge of regret sounded in her voice as she contemplated the social pleasures she would be missing, but with a lift of her chin and a hand placed lightly across her breasts to emphasize the sacrifice she was making she swept from the room and down the attic stairs.

  Tansy thought wryly that it was an exit that would not have gone amiss on any stage. With a sigh she finished hanging the curtains.

  Amelia watched from the window when the day of the house party came and the three Marlow girls departed in the carriage that had been sent from the Manor to collect them. She looked wistful, but resigned. She realized she had been foolish to spend without caution the money she had received from Dominic Reade, but she never could resist spending when she had sovereigns dancing in her reticule and frilly, feminine clothes tempting her in a shop window. She should have known that Tansy would start questioning her, but it was too late for regrets now, and she must be thankful that she had inadvertently been shown a way of escape from too close investigation into the transaction that had taken place.

  When the equipage had carried the three girls out of Rushmere’s gates Amelia stayed at the window for several minutes after it had vanished from sight, letting her gaze drift over the lawns and flowerbeds and back to the gates. How often she had stood at this very window in the past watching and waiting for Oliver Marlow to return to her. Tears filled her eyes, blinding her with a sparkling sea of them. She swung away from the window and hurried upstairs to her bedroom.

  10.

  The house party lasted five days and was solely for the families of both sides. Edward’s relatives outnumbered by at least ten to one the three girls from Rushmere, who found themselves drawn into social activities from morning till night with various clusters of his aunts, cousins, and uncles. There were even his two grandmothers to talk to and play cards with, both of them having travelled long distances with tremendous stamina, and who hated the sight of each other, holding court in opposite ends of the Manor, only meeting when they had to, which was usually at the family banquets each night.

  Nina flitted between them all like some cool and lovely butterfly, watched by Edward with a proud and possessive eye. She went riding, walking, played bowls, ninepins, cards, and chess, danced with every one of the male relatives and was altogether a huge success. She did not, however, go anywhere near the stables, the rebuilding of which was now in full swing under Adam’s watchful eye, except on Sunday with one of the grandmothers when no work was going on and every shovel, trowel, and hod stood idle.

  Tansy did not join any of the small groups of guests who wandered there to see what progress had been made, but went on her own the last morning before breakfast, finding it impossible to lie abed when the
sun was shining and the birds singing. She found the stables site a hive of activity, workmen everywhere trundling wheelbarrows, sawing planks, and climbing scaffolding. There was the smell of wet cement and sand and dust and new wood. Adam spotted her and came across.

  “Good day to you. You’re the earliest visitor we’ve had so far. How are you enjoying the house party?” He rested his foot on a stack of pipes and leaned his arm across his knee.

  “It comes to an end today after breakfast,” she said, thinking how good it was to see him. “It’s been a little — exhausting.”

  He laughed. “I can imagine that.” His eyes narrowed. “Has Nina made a good impression?”

  “Yes, she has. Even the most snobbish of them — and there’s quite a sprinkling of minor titles, you know — have not been able to fault her. I should hate her to have to run the gauntlet of those people if they suspected the skeleton we have rattling in our cupboard.”

  She had said it half-sadly, half-wryly, and he replied with a curious grin. “It’s fortunate you have friends who know how to keep their own counsel.”

  She nodded gratefully, but wondered at the same time why his remark had made her feel uncomfortable. It was as if there had been mockery behind it, but not necessarily directed at her. “Work appears to be going well,” she said, glancing toward the building in progress.

  He turned to view it with her, running a hand through his hair with satisfaction. “So far we are slightly ahead of schedule. You’re looking at the first step up the ladder for me. One day this whole district and the county of Surrey itself will boast splendid buildings erected by Adam Webster, Esquire.”

  Her eyes smiled at him. “I don’t doubt it. I’m not psychic, but it seems to me that you have an aura of success forming about you.”

  Before he could reply a heavy wagon, loaded with timber, moved into the stableyard, drawn by four enormous shire horses, their brasses tinkling and glinting in the sun. Adam saw he was needed, some confusion occurring with men unloading a handcart in its path, and he bade her a hasty goodbye over his shoulder, leaving her at a run.