Felix said, “What!” and she nodded again.
“ London first-somewhere Miss Silver told her about. And then I expect it will be a boardinghouse at Brighton. And I think she means to change her name, because letters are all to go to her bank. And anyhow she’s more or less said she doesn’t want us to write.”
Felix gave a harsh laugh.
“The clean cut! Well, that’s something to be thankful for. My God-how I have disliked that woman!”
She put her hand down over his for a moment.
“Well, you needn’t any more. I tried to love her, but I couldn’t. Let her go.”
She lifted the hand that had covered his and made a light throwing gesture with it. Let it all go-the hating and the gloom, the trouble which they had brought, the terror and the strain.
Felix watched her with a brooding look. Presently he said,
“What are we going to do?”
Penny said, “I don’t know.”
Her eyes were very clear and bright. They looked at him with a confidence which troubled him. His frown became portentous.
“I can make something out of my music. There was that song cycle for Carrington-I didn’t go on with it, but I could. He tried two of the songs, and he was rather all over them- thought they suited his voice. We had a row because I chucked it, but I daresay I could get on to him again. He wanted it for his American tour. There’s money in song writing if you make a hit, and I like doing it. I’ve got plenty of ideas again.”
“Yes-”
“My father left me a couple of hundred a year. That woman has the rest of it for her life, and she’ll probably live for ever, so it’s not good counting on anything from there.”
“You’d be all right with what you could make-”
“Yes. I was thinking about you.”
“Were you?”
He gave a jerky nod.
“Everything here belongs to Marian.”
Penny said softly, “She would let us stay-if you didn’t hate it-”
“Why should I? It’s always been a good place to work. Some places aren’t. I’ve always been able to work here. You mean you think we could stay on as we are? She’s going to marry Cunningham, isn’t she? Won’t they want the whole house?”
“I don’t think so. I think we can have-our bit-if we want it.”
All this time she hadn’t taken her eyes off him. Now she looked away out over the sea. Her eyes dazzled so that the blue of the water was mixed with the blue of the sky.
Felix said in an odd offhand voice, “I suppose-we couldn’t get married-”
“I don’t see why not.”
“You wouldn’t be getting much out of it. There would be very little money.”
Still looking away from him, she said,
“I’ve got some too, you know.”
He was so surprised that he sat up and put a hand on her shoulder.
“You! I always thought you hadn’t a farthing.”
“I hadn’t. Uncle Martin gave me some. He settled it on me. I didn’t know until he told me last year when I was twenty-one. It’s-it’s quite a lot. He said not to tell anyone, so I didn’t.”
“Why?”
“I didn’t want to go away, and if they had known it, it would have been very difficult to stay.”
“You didn’t tell me.” His tone accused her.
Her eyelids fell. He saw the lashes wet against her cheek.
“You were away.”
He wasn’t stupid. He knew very well how far away he had been. He wanted her to know that he had come back, and that he never wanted to go away again. He couldn’t find the right words. His grip bruised her shoulder.
“If you’ve got-enough-without me-”
Penny said in a small, quiet voice,
“I’d never have enough without you.”
He said with a groan,
“It would be better for you. When I’m working I shan’t even know whether you’re there.”
“But I’d be there-if you wanted me. And you will.”
“Penny-” He choked on the name. “I’ve got a brute of a temper.”
The wet lashes lifted. She turned round to him with her hands out, laughing and crying.
“Darling, I’ve lived with it for twenty years. I expect I can go on.”
Patricia Wentworth
Born in Mussoorie, India, in 1878, Patricia Wentworth was the daughter of an English general. Educated in England, she returned to India, where she began to write and was first published. She married, but in 1906 was left a widow with four children, and returned again to England where she resumed her writing, this time to earn a living for herself and her family. She married again in 1920 and lived in Surrey until her death in 1961.
Miss Wentworth’s early works were mainly historical fiction, and her first mystery, published in 1923, was The Astonishing Adventure of Jane Smith. In 1928 she wrote The Case Is Closed and gave birth to her most enduring creation, Miss Maud Silver.
***
[1] Manufacturer based in Stoke. Important producers of Porcelain and various types of earthenware under several different partnerships. 1793 to present.
[2] aka “She was a phantom of delight”) William Wordsworth, Poems in Two Volumes (1807) (separate text file enclosed)
[3] The Diverting History Of John Gilpin, Showing How He Went Farther Than He Intended, And Came Safe Home Again. By William Cowper, 1782 (project Gutenberg e-text enclosed)
[4] All right, according to Cocker. According to established rules, according to what is correct. Edward Cocker (1631-1677) published an arithmetic which ran through sixty editions. The phrase, “According to Cocker,” was popularised by Murphy in his farce called The Apprentice. – http://www.bartleby.com/81/3797.html
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Through The Wall Page 27
