In the Balance

by Patricia Wentworth - Miss Silver 04 - In the Balance

  “Not very bright, are you, honey-sweet? Not too bright and good for human nature’s daily food, as the poet Wordsworth said. A perfect woman nobly planned, to warn, to comfort, and command. Only Dale does the commanding in this house, and I’m doing the warning. That leaves you the sweet feminine role of comforter. And if Dale has to let Tanfield go, I don’t envy you your job. Have you thought about that?”

  Lisle said, “Yes.”

  “Well, I should go on thinking about it. I gather there isn’t much prospect of unloading any more land on to the government. Now if you really put your back into it, I feel you might Delilah old Robson into parting with enough hard cash to keep us going for another generation—peace in our time, you know.”

  She lifted her eyes and saw that he was not looking at her. He was sitting forward, elbow on knee and chin in hand, staring down at the carpet which his father had brought from China.

  “I’m not good enough at pretending,” she said. “I’ve tried, and it’s no use —he sees right through me.”

  His eyebrows jerked, the kink in them very apparent.

  “Not particularly opaque, are you?” His voice rasped on the words.

  “You don’t know how hard I’ve tried.”

  A shoulder jerked too.

  “My poor benighted child! Are you as dumb as you sound? You can’t try to love, to hate, or to stop loving or hating, or to prevent anyone seeing that you love or hate. I expect Robson’s got you taped just about as well as Dale has. And that being so, suppose you listen to the gypsy’s warning.”

  “Rafe!”

  He leaned forward, pulled her hands apart, and spread them out palm upwards. They were cold and they quivered.

  “A dark man and a fair woman—”

  Lisle made herself laugh.

  “That’s cards and tea-leaves! Hands start with things about the line of life, and the line of heart and all that sort of thing.”

  His fingers tightened on her wrists. She had the feeling that they were stronger than Dale’s for all their slender look.

  “Something perfectly frightful happens if you break the psychic spell by talking. There’s a dark man and a fair woman, and wedding-bells, and a narrow escape—and then—what’s this? ...Oh, a voyage—a long sea voyage. You’re crossing the ocean to the other side of the world—”

  “I’m not!” said Lisle. She tried to pull her hands away.

  “Well, I think you’d better—it comes out best that way. Besides, it’s in your hand.”

  She glanced up and met a look she could not interpret. It teased, but there was something else. She said on a quick impulse,

  “Isn’t there a dark woman in my hand?”

  “Do you want a dark woman? All right, you shall have one. She can be one of the reasons for the sea voyage.”

  The colour ran flooding into Lisle’s face. She pulled and jerked at her hands to get them free.

  “Rafe, let me go! I don’t like it. Let me go!”

  He released her at once. She got up, and stood drawing long, unsteady breaths whilst he leaned back and watched her. She had fought hard for her self-control, but it had slipped.

  “Why did you say that? Do you want me to go away?”

  “I thought it might be a good thing if you went.”

  “To the States?”

  “A pleasant family reunion.”

  She said in a breaking voice,

  “I haven’t got any family.”

  “Cousins can be very delightful. I think you said that there were cousins. They would have all the charm of the unknown.”

  She went over to the glass door. There was an effect of wrenching free and then checking—as if an impetus had spent itself. She said without looking round,

  “You want me to go?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “Least said, soonest mended, my dear.”

  She did turn round then.

  “Why?”

  He shrugged his shoulders.

  “The family reunion—auld lang syne, and hands across the sea.”

  Lisle’s head came up.

  “I am to go?”

  “That is the idea.”

  “And Alicia is to stay?”

  “That seems to be Alicia’s idea.”

  Lisle turned and went out through the glass door. There were four steps down on to the terrace. Just before she took the first one she looked over her shoulder.

  “I don’t think you’re very good at telling fortunes,” she said.

  17

  THE EVENTS OF that evening were to be picked over, sorted out, strained through a sieve, set aside to clarify, and strained again. At the time they seemed quite ordinary, everyday, and dull.

  Dinner was at eight, and over at twenty to nine. Rafe and Alicia talked. She was brilliant with a new brilliance. Her beauty shone. She wore a green jewel at her breast. Dale drank rather more than usual. Lisle made a pretence of eating. At a quarter to nine when they were having their coffee on the terrace she was called away to see Cissie Cole. Afterwards she was questioned and re-questioned about this visit of Cissie’s, but at the time it was just two girls talking, and both of them unhappy.

  Lisle broke the ice by bringing down the green and red checked coat. Even a girl in the throes of an unfortunate love affair can usually extract at any rate a surface pleasure from a new garment. All Mrs Jerningham’s things were expensive and beautifully cut. The coat had only been worn three or four times. Cissie put it on, looked at herself in an eighteenth-century mirror crowned with a gold shell and broke into a wavering smile. The too vivid checks suited her a good deal less than they had suited Lisle. They took the last shade of colour from her face and turned the pale blue of her eyes to a watery grey. But all she saw was the coat itself, quite new, and smarter than anything she had ever possessed.

  “Oh, Mrs Jerningham—it’s lovely!”

  She took it off carefully and folded it inside out. She wouldn’t want to be seen walking away in it, not by that William anyway, but she could slip it on as soon as she got clear of the drive. Some such thought may have been in her mind.

  Lisle for her part was thankful for the change in her expression. Cissie had so obviously been sent to see her and was resenting it. But now that reluctant look had gone. She kept one hand on the coat and said,

  “It’s ever so kind of you. Aunt said you wanted to see me.”

  There was nothing Lisle wanted less. Her heart was heavy with a sense of Alicia’s triumph. She felt beaten and inadequate, but she had to find something to say to Cissie. She said,

  “I think she’s very unhappy about you.”

  Cissie sniffed and tossed her head.

  “She hasn’t any call to be! And if she is she’s not the only one.”

  “You mean you are unhappy too?”

  Cissie nodded, gulped, and fished a handkerchief out of the front of her dress.

  Lisle put a hand on her knee.

  “Do you think you would like to go away for a little? A friend of mine is looking for a children’s maid. She has two little girls, and she wants someone to take and fetch them from school and sew for them. Do you think you would like that?”

  Cissie choked into the handkerchief and shook her head.

  “You don’t think it would make it easier if you went away for a little?”

  “And never see him no more?” said Cissie with a sob.

  Lisle felt the tears come into her own eyes. Cissie’s “never no more” had touched some secret spring of pain.

  “What’s the good of seeing him?” she said.

  “Nothing’s any good,” said Cissie with another sob. She swallowed her tears, stuffed the wet handkerchief inside her dress, and got to her feet, clutching the red and green coat. “It’s no good talking about it anyhow, and I must be getting along. You’ve been very kind, I’m sure—and thank you for the coat.”

  Lisle went back to the terrace. Only Rafe was there. He looked over the evening paper at her and
said in his lightest voice,

  “Dale’s gone off to do a spot of night flying. Alicia’s driving him. I’m going for a walk. Why don’t you go to bed? You look played out.”

  She had picked up her coffee-cup. She drank from it now. The coffee was cold and bitter.

  “Did you know he was going to fly?” she said.

  He shook his head.

  “A sudden idea. He rang up just now.” He went back to his paper. “I think there’s going to be a European war, my sweet.

  Birds in their little nests agree

  Till old enough to fight.

  The big uns kick the little uns out.

  Sarve the little uns right.

  Blessings of civilisation!”

  Lisle put down her cup.

  “How long is Alicia going to stay here?”

  Rafe let the paper fall.

  “That sounds as if you thought she had been here too long.”

  “Hasn’t she?”

  “Too long—or not long enough.” His voice was still light.

  Lisle said, “What do you mean by that?” And all of a sudden he was looking at her hard and full.

  “Do you want me to say?”

  “Yes, please.”

  His eyebrows went up.

  “Have it your own way then. You want Alicia to go. You might have outed her last week. I don’t say you could have, because she’s in a very strong position. This is her old home, and it doesn’t look too good for the new-comer to try and put her out. Then, she had been the unattainable, and is still the unattained. That cuts quite a lot of ice, you know. Still, a week ago you might have had a sporting chance, though I think I’d always put my own money on Alicia, because she hasn’t any scruples, and she’s definitely a lot tougher than you are. Anyhow that’s neither here nor there. Last week has gone and it won’t come back again. Now you’ll have to wait till the glamour wears thin, and that may be a good long time. Alicia’s a very fascinating woman, and she’d give her eyes to get Dale.”

  Lisle stood there and listened. His voice was as cold as an east wind. She was so hurt that she felt as if she was bleeding to death, only what was draining away was not blood but hope, and youth, and love. She heard him say,

  “It may last a good long time, but it won’t last for ever. You don’t want to stay and watch it going on, do you?”

  He got up and came to her.

  “Did you ask my advice, my sweet? Never mind, here it is. Europe’s going to be a fairly unpleasant place for the next few months. If I were you I’d go whilst the going’s good. Get along out to the States. If Dale wants you he’ll come after you, and if he doesn’t, well, it’s quite a handy country to get a divorce in.”

  She stood quite still and looked at him, face colourless, eyes dark and wide. After a moment she said in a quivering voice,

  “Why do you all hate me? Why do you want me to go?”

  His hands came down on her shoulders.

  “Isn’t hate a good enough reason in itself? Why, what more do you want? Isn’t hate enough? Nasty explosive stuff, you know—liable to go off and blow us all sky high. Don’t you know when you’re not wanted, my dear? Better clear out whilst you can.”

  She stepped back with a blind shrinking look. His hands fell from her shoulders. She said,

  “Do you hate me—like that?”

  Rafe Jerningham laughed.

  “Oh, like the devil, my dear?” he said, and ran down the terrace steps and across the lawn.

  18

  MISS MAUD SILVER picked up her evening paper and opened it. Her eye, travelling rapidly across the headlines, was caught by the alliteration of “Body on the Beach,” and having been caught, remained fixed upon the ensuing paragraph: “Early this morning the body of a young woman was discovered at the foot of a steep cliff in the neighbourhood of Tanfield Court. She had apparently missed her footing and fallen. Tane Head, beneath which the body was found, is a bold and picturesque headland much resorted to by picnic parties and courting couples. Tanfield Court is famous for its Italian garden and a collection of statues brought from Italy and Greece in the late eighteenth century. It is the property of Mr Dale Jerningham. The body has been identified as that of Miss Cecilia Cole, niece of the postmistress of Tanfield village.”

  Miss Silver read the paragraph twice before she passed to the next column. It was the name of Jerningham in conjunction with Tanfield and the body of a young woman which had arrested her attention. Just for a moment she had feared—yes, really feared...But Cecilia Cole—niece of the local postmistress...No, there was nothing in it. Just one of those sad occurrences which evoke a fleeting sigh of pity and are forgotten almost as soon as the sigh is spent.

  She began to read about a giant sunflower in a Cornish garden. It was said to be seventeen feet high. Miss Silver’s small, neat features expressed a mild incredulity. She reflected that Cornwall was a long way off.

  The telephone bell rang sharply. She folded the newspaper, placed it on the left-hand side of her writing-table, and lifted the receiver from the instrument on her right, all without hurry. She heard a voice which seemed to be speaking from a considerable distance. It was a woman’s voice. It said,

  “Can I speak to Miss Silver?”

  “This is Miss Silver.”

  “Miss Maud Silver?”

  “Yes. Who is speaking please?”

  There was a pause. Then the voice, faint and hesitant.

  “You gave me your card in the train—no, it was afterwards on the platform —I don’t suppose you remember.”

  “Certainly I remember. What can I do for you, Mrs Jerningham?” Miss Silver’s tone was pleasantly brisk.

  Lisle Jerningham, speaking from a call—office in Ledlington, found herself steadied by it. She said,

  “Could I come up and see you—tomorrow? Something has happened.”

  Miss Silver gave a slight cough.

  “I have just seen a paragraph in the evening paper.”

  Lisle said, “Yes.” Then, hurrying and tripping over the words, “I must talk to someone—I can’t go on—I don’t know what to do.”

  “You had better come and see me. Shall we say half past eleven? That is not too early for you?...Very well then, I will expect you. And please remember that there is always a way out of every situation, and a trouble shared is a trouble halved. I shall expect you at half past eleven.”

  Lisle came out of the telephone booth. She was very glad that she would not have to drive herself home. In the midst of the horror and the trouble of the day two things had been clear to her. She must have help and advice, and she could not go to Mr Robson, because that would not be fair to Dale. If she went to anyone she must go to a stranger, so that the scales should be even —no more weight on one side than on the other.

  Without saying anything to anyone she had gone down to the garage and told Evans to drive her into Ledlington. She couldn’t call Miss Silver up from the house, because the line went through the post office exchange, and whatever she might have to say, poor Miss Cole was the last person who ought to hear her say it.

  Well, it was done now and she could go home. The police Inspector from Ledlington would be coming over to take a statement from her about Cissie. He would want to see everyone who had seen her—everyone. Well, that was only Lisle herself, and William who had let her in. And what could anyone say? Poor Cissie—she was unhappy—very unhappy. What else was there to be said? There couldn’t be anything else. The police were looking for Pell. But what was the good of that? He had made Cissie unhappy. Suppose he had made her so unhappy that she had thrown herself over the cliff—what could the police do about it now? The law doesn’t punish a man for stealing a girl’s heart or killing her happiness. Only why had the police got to look for Pell? He had his job at the aerodrome. Why wasn’t he there?

  These thoughts went round in Lisle’s head as Evans drove her back to Tanfield.

  When she came into the hall Rafe was there. She had not seen him since he had run
down the steps the night before. He came to her now without any greeting.

  “Where have you been? The Inspector is here. He wants to see you.”

  “I know—he telephoned. I said I would be back. Where is he?”

  “In the study with Dale.”

  “Dale?”

  “He wants to see us all.”

  “Why?”

  “God knows.”

  She was so pale that it was not possible for her to lose any more colour. The ash-blonde of her hair under a white fillet, the white linen of her dress, the privet whiteness of neck and cheek—all these, with something in the way she stood as if movement as well as colour had been withdrawn, made her seem a statue among the other statues.

  They stood there without more words and watched the study door.

  19

  DALE JERNINGHAM SAT on the far side of his own writing--table and faced the Inspector across it. They had never met before, but whereas Inspector March knew a good deal about Tanfield and Mr Dale Jerningham, he himself was, as far as Dale was concerned, merely the new Inspector from Ledlington, and until this moment nameless. He sat with formal dignity in Dale’s writing-chair with a notebook open before him and a fountain pen in his hand. It was a well shaped, well kept hand, very strong. It went admirably with the rest of him. He was tall and well set-up—a noticeably good--looking man with clear blue eyes and fair hair burnt brown.

  When he spoke he used the unaccented English of the English public school.

  “Well, Mr Jerningham, I shall be very glad of your assistance. It’s a question of this man Pell. I believe he was in your employment?”

  Dale said, “Yes.”

  “And you dismissed him about a fortnight ago?”

  “Rather over a fortnight ago.”

  “Without notice?”

  “He had a month’s wages.”

  “May I ask why you dismissed him?”

  Dale shifted in his chair. The change of position brought his left arm up over the back of it. He said with a kind of careless stiffness,

  “Why does one dismiss anyone? It didn’t suit me to keep him.”

  The Inspector appeared to consider this. In his own study Mr Jerningham could give or withhold information as he chose, but in a Coroner’s court he would be obliged to speak. He said gravely,