SIXTEEN
ALL THAT WAS on Sunday morning, and no one heard anything until Tuesday. Mac and Alan went back to London on the Sunday evening. It was a relief, though Mrs Forbes would not have admitted it. It was not what Mac said, for he said very little, and it was not what he did, for there was nothing remarkable about that. She could have borne it better if he had been upset. He was not, so far as she could see, the least upset. And that frightened her. She didn’t know why, but it did.
And then on the Tuesday morning she went into the village. She had been uncertain as to whether she would go, and then it came over her that it was important she should show herself – let people see her – see that she wasn’t upset – that Jenny’s going had made no difference to her. And why should it make a difference – could anyone tell her that?
She put on a new tweed coat and skirt. It was oatmeal-coloured, and it set off her golden hair and the smooth tints of her complexion. No one but herself knew just how much assistance the complexion and the hair required. No one ever saw her until that assistance had been applied. She put on a golden brown felt hat and a scarf and gloves that matched it and set out for the village.
It was no more than half a mile, but as she walked, the feeling of dread which had been upon her lifted. Mac had been sensible about it, and she hadn’t been sensible at all. There was no need to suppose that Jenny had found out about anything. How could she have? If she had run away, it was probably for some ridiculous schoolgirl reason of her own. There had been some love affair, some quarrel, perhaps a row with Mary the house-parlour maid, and she had lost her head and run away. This last theory relieved her mind very much. It set Jenny where she belonged, on a level with Mary. She hoped very heartily that they had seen the last of her. Her spirits rose, and she turned into the main street of the village with a lighter heart than she had had for two days.
She went first to the general shop, where you could buy everything from bootlaces, the strictly utilitarian kind, to sweets. She came into the shop and was aware from outside of lively conversation that died away as she opened the door and went in. A tall woman in a shabby draggled raincoat was the only one left talking. She had her back to the door and did not see Mrs Forbes. She said in a high dogmatic voice, ‘And as I say, there’s no smoke without fire—’ And there she stopped, firmly checked by Mrs Boddle, a large comfortable woman with a spreading bosom and an imperturbable calm.
‘Good-morning, Mrs Forbes,’ she said, ‘and what can I have the pleasure of doing for you?’
The tall woman swung round with her mouth open. The other people in the shop stood still and listened with all their ears. Mrs Forbes didn’t hurry herself. She came up to the counter and said with a beaming smile.
‘Good-morning, Miss Crampton. Don’t let me interrupt you.’
Miss Crampton rallied.
‘Oh, Mrs Forbes,’ she said in her jerky way, ‘I didn’t see you.’
‘No?’
‘No, I didn’t. I had my back to the door.’
‘Yes?’
Miss Crampton was recovering. She remembered what she had said. There was nothing that anyone could take hold of – nothing at all. She said,
‘How are you, Mrs Forbes? Well, I hope?’
‘Yes, thank you.’ Mrs Forbes turned back to Mrs Boddle.
Miss Crampton was angry. No way to behave – no way at all! Mrs Forbes should remember that she was the late Vicar’s daughter! She wasn’t to be treated with this cool impertinence in front of a shopful of villagers! She turned, an ugly woman with harsh features and not improved by a crushed black felt hat on the back of her head and the drab-coloured raincoat which accentuated her height and her thinness. She turned, and she said in her loud strident voice,
‘I thought you might be glad to have news of Jenny.’
Mrs Forbes said,
‘Of Jenny?’
‘She’s at Hazeldon, isn’t she? I had a letter from my cousin there this morning, and she mentioned having seen her.’
Mrs Forbes said, ‘Oh. It was Jenny?’
‘Yes, I suppose so. But she’s calling herself Jenny Forbes. She shouldn’t really do that, you know.’
A scorching anger shook Mrs Forbes. She dared! Here – in the shop – with three pairs of listening ears attentive! She commanded herself with effort and said coldly,
‘It was certainly very foolish. These things make talk.’
Miss Crampton was delighted. For once she had got in under that icy guard, that air of being so much better than other people. As if she was – as if she could be! Dear Papa … She said,
‘Of course, if it hadn’t been for my cousin living next door to his aunt and being on such very friendly terms with her—’
‘Whose aunt are you talking about?’
‘Oh, didn’t you know?’
‘I didn’t say that. You must excuse me, but I have my shopping to do. We are keeping everyone waiting.’
‘I’ve finished mine,’ said Miss Crampton. She smiled. It wasn’t a very pleasant smile. ‘I’ll wait for you.’
Mrs Forbes turned back to the counter.
‘In a real temper she was too,’ as Mrs Boddle explained to her family afterwards.
Her son Jim said, ‘Well, I wouldn’t work for her, not if she was to pay me a guinea an hour. How old Jackson stands it I don’t know.’
Mrs Boddle gave a little crow of laughter.
‘Mr Jackson just takes his own way. He says, “Yes, ma’am” and “No, ma’am,” and then he just does as he chooses. A very opinionated man is Mr Jackson. But he knows his work, and Mrs Forbes she don’t know a thing about gardening. It was her husband that had it all at his fingers’ ends.’
‘Ah – he was a gentleman the old Colonel was,’ said Jim.
At the time Mrs Forbes continued her shopping. She bought what she had to buy, queried a price which was a penny dearer than the stores in London, and finally withdrew, only to find Miss Crampton waiting for her outside the shop.
‘So difficult to talk with your shopping on your mind and those women listening to every word!’ she said. ‘They are such a gossipy lot. My father always said that gossip was the prime sin of the English village.’
There was an easy retort to this, and Mrs Forbes was sorely tempted to avail herself of it, but she resisted. If she let fly, Miss Crampton would take offence, and that might quite easily result in the sudden closing of the conversation. And she had to find out more. She said, ‘That’s very true,’ and waited.
Miss Crampton nodded.
‘Oh, yes, he was wonderful at sizing people up. I’ve often thought that it was quite a pity I did not take more notice when he said things like that. They would have been so valuable written down and – and preserved.’
Mrs Forbes came to the point.
‘Could you let me have Jenny’s address?’
Miss Crampton stared.
‘Do you mean to say you haven’t got it!’
Mrs Forbes assumed her best manner. It cost her a considerable effort, because what she really wanted to do was to box Miss Crampton’s ears for her – now in the middle of the street for everyone to see. She said,
‘Well, girls are so careless. It seems she went off without leaving it. I thought she had given it to Carter, but it seems that she forgot.’
‘How very extraordinary! Even in these days I should have thought – but of course it’s not my business.’
‘No,’ said Mrs Forbes. ‘And as the silly child has left half her things behind, I shall be grateful for her address.’
‘Well, I don’t know the name of Miss Danesworth’s house, but my cousin is Mrs Merridew and she lives next door – Mrs Merridew, Ambleworth, Hazeldon. I’m sure she’d be only too pleased to be of any use. She’ll see that Jenny gets the parcel, I’m sure.’
Mrs Forbes made herself give a civil answer. She was about to turn away, when Miss Crampton said,
‘Of course you know this Richard Forbes?’
Mrs Forbes was
too taken aback to be altogether wise. She said, ‘What Richard Forbes?’ and she said it more sharply than she should have done.
Miss Crampton was delighted. Her smile bordered on the genial as she said,
‘Why, don’t you know him? How very extraordinary! He is Miss Danesworth’s nephew. She has the house next to my cousin Mrs Merridew, and Jenny is staying with her. You surely knew that?’
Mrs Forbes said firmly, ‘Oh, yes. Yes, of course. You confused me. Oh – so Jenny is with Miss Danesworth – and the nephew is staying there too—’
Miss Crampton didn’t know when she had felt so pleased and excited.
‘My dear Mrs Forbes, they arrived together! He and Jenny arrived together at seven o’clock in the morning! What do you think of that?’
Mrs Forbes was brought to a standstill. Her tongue burned with the things which she must on no account say to Miss Crampton. How she restrained herself, she did not know. She stood quite still and gathered herself together.
‘A most inconvenient time to arrive anywhere,’ she said. ‘The young man is a cousin of ours of course, but a very distant one. I’ve never met him myself, but I believe that Jenny has. I forget where. It may have been with those friends she made at school, but I really forget.’
Miss Crampton was enjoying herself. She said, ‘Oh, really?’ and Mrs Forbes said, ‘Yes,’ in her most decided voice. And then,
‘Well, I’ll be getting home. Good-morning, Miss Crampton.’
Miss Crampton went home and sat down and wrote a letter to her cousin Mrs Merridew.
My dear Laura,
Your letter has interested me very much indeed. I met Mrs Forbes in the village shop this morning, and I don’t think there is the slightest reason to suppose that she knew where Jenny had gone. It is really the most extraordinary thing, and I can only imagine that the girl had run away. You know, you didn’t meet her when you were here with me two years ago, because she was still at school then. And you didn’t meet Mrs Forbes either. But I spoke to you about the girl, and you seemed quite interested. Only you seem to have forgotten that her name is not Forbes at all. She is the illegitimate child of the Richard Forbes to whom Alington then belonged. He was killed in the war. And Jenny’s mother came back to her old governess Miss Garstone, right at the gates of Alington House. I must say Miss Garstone behaved in a very peculiar way about the girl. No one was allowed to see her. Miss Garstone said she was ill. And I did hear that she never spoke. Not from Dr Horton, who was most aggravating about the whole thing. He was attending to my dear Father at the time – it was during his last illness – and you would have thought he would have spoken freely to me. But no! Not at all! He simply said, ‘Ah, Miss Crampton, sad things do happen during a war.’ And he went on to say that the only thing to do was to leave the girl alone. Alone! She wanted rousing – I said so all along. And I was perfectly right, because she died when the baby was born. Which shows! But to return to this girl Jenny. From what you say, it looks to me as if she was pretending to Miss Danesworth and to this Mr Forbes that she was legitimate. That is to say, if you are right about her calling herself Jenny Forbes. It doesn’t do to make a mistake about that sort of thing. Please write again without delay and let me know on this point. If Jenny is really passing herself off as a Forbes, Miss Danesworth should be informed and the fraud exposed.
Your affectionate cousin
Melita Crampton
Mrs Forbes walked home. At first indignation lent her a certain force. She moved quickly and with a very determined tread. And then, as she got out of the village, her step slackened and she began to walk slowly and yet more slowly. She had felt as if the time taken to walk up to Alington House was too long. She couldn’t wait to get on the phone to Mac, and to tell him what she had just been told.
And then, as her first fury died down and her step slackened, a change came over her mood. The girl in the telephone exchange – she would be listening. Mrs Forbes didn’t see her missing a call at this juncture. She would know all about Jenny going off, and she would listen her very hardest to any call from Mrs Forbes to Mac. She came slowly up the drive and into the house. She must write – that was what she must do. She mustn’t do anything to show alarm. She must write to Mac.
It was unlucky for Meg that she chose this moment to intrude.
‘Mother—’
Mrs Forbes turned.
‘What are you doing here?’
Joyce would have run away, but Meg stood her ground.
‘I only wanted to know – about Nanna’s kitten. It’s the dearest little thing – black with greeny blue eyes – and it will be ready to come away from its mother in a fortnight. But Nanna wanted to know, because her niece would have it if we don’t.’
Mrs Forbes turned a quite uncomprehending look upon her little daughter. She simply didn’t know what the child was talking about. Her temper had begun to rise.
‘What is it – what is it?’
Meg began again. Grown-up people were very stupid. She had put it quite plainly.
‘It’s Nanna’s black kitten – the one she was keeping for us – for Joyce and me. It’s got a white star on its chest, and it’s the dearest little thing – it really is. Please, Mother do let us have it.’
Mrs Forbes turned on her.
‘I thought I told you to go up to the schoolroom! Don’t you know enough not to disobey me?’
Meg knew danger when she saw it. She saw it now. It was not the time to continue the conversation about the kitten. She scuffled away, and Mrs Forbes turned and went into the writing-room. She wrote:
Dear Mac,
I have just had a very unpleasant experience. I was down in the village at Mrs Boddle’s, and that Miss Crampton was there. She is a most impertinent woman, and I have never had more to do with her than I could help, but on this occasion there was no avoiding her. She informed not only me but Mrs Boddle and everyone else in the shop that Jenny was staying next door to her cousin Mrs Merridew at a place called Hazeldon in the next county. It seems that she arrived at seven o’clock on Sunday morning with a young man. Goodness knows how or where she picked him up. His name, if you please, is Richard Forbes. He is probably no connection, but on the other hand I do seem to recollect your father saying something about a cousin – quite a distant one – who was killed in an air raid with his wife. They left a boy. I remember your father saying something ridiculous about seeing him through his schooling, and then later on saying it wouldn’t be necessary, as there was quite a lot of money and his mother’s sister was willing and anxious to look after the boy. That would be this Miss Danesworth whom Miss Crampton mentioned. She said that Jenny arrived next door to her cousin with this man at seven o’clock in the morning! And she said further that Jenny was calling herself Jenny Forbes! If this is a fact, it can only mean one thing – Jenny knows! How she can, I can’t imagine. I think you should come down for the week-end.
Your loving Mother
When she had finished the letter she went up to the schoolroom, collected Carter and the little girls, and sent them out to the post. Mac would get the letter next morning.
Mac got it. It was lying on his table when he came out of his room whistling. He stopped when he saw the letter, picked it up, and opened it. He read it through twice. Then he lit a match and set fire to it. It burned away to a black ash. He opened the window and crumbled up all that was left of it. Afterwards when he had shut the window again he stood by it for a long time thinking and planning. It wasn’t as nice weather as it had been in the country. The thought went through his mind and was gone again. How many people knew that she had written to him? He must be careful – he must be very careful. He wouldn’t go down – no, certainly he wouldn’t go down. He frowned at his hands. Some of the black ash from the burned paper had smudged them. He went into his room again and washed off the smudges. It was easy enough to have clean hands if you took a little thought.
SEVENTEEN
MRS MERRIDEW HAD not been idle. By the same
post that she had written to Miss Crampton she had also written to another cousin, a Mrs Richardson who had a long family and a short purse.
My dear Grace,
I shall be so glad if you will spare one of your girls on a visit. I think perhaps Miriam if she is free. I think you said that she had left Mrs Nettleby. It’s a great pity she changes so often. A girl is apt to get a bad name. I hope that entanglement you spoke of is quite over. It doesn’t do when a girl has her way to make, as I told you in the summer when you spoke to me about it. Miss Danesworth has a girl staying with her – you remember she is next door – and her nephew who is in the Army is staying there too. So I thought it would be a pleasant change for Miriam …
She went on to meticulous enquiries about the whole family.
Mrs Richardson put down the letter with rather a helpless gesture. She was a large, fair, untidy woman with the vague air of one who is doing her best, but who really can’t see why she should have to do it. She had lost her husband, and though of course she was very sorry, she did find life just a little easier without him. He had been accustomed to so much and had had so little. Every year that they were married he had less, and prices went up and up, and the family grew and grew. Grace Richardson didn’t wish him dead – the idea would have shocked her very much – but she told herself after the funeral that it would be easier to manage now that there wasn’t a man in the house. One of her four girls was adopted by a cousin, and that left three to be provided with clothes, and food, and jobs. Miriam was the eldest. She was also the best-looking. She had curly dark hair, a pair of bold rather staring eyes of a bright blue in colour, and she had a most unfortunate habit of getting into scrapes. She was in a scrape just now. How bad a scrape, she wasn’t quite sure. At almost any other time she would have kicked at going to stay with Cousin Laura, but in the present circumstances it might be just as well.
Mrs Richardson sighed and looked up from her letter.
The Alington Inheritance (The Miss Silver Mysteries Book 31) Page 9
