‘Oh, it’s very kind. But I’m sure you’ll have lots to say to each other on your first evening. I don’t think I’ll turn it into a trio.’ She thought she must find some way of cutting the threads which seemed to be entangling her pretty thoroughly.
‘I’d like it tremendously if you’d come,’ was the perfectly candid reply. ‘And I know Charles would like you. He couldn’t help it.’
Tina thought, in passing, that ‘Charles’ didn’t sound the kind of person to take a hasty liking to anyone and, equally, she felt perversely sure she would not like him.
But anyway, that was not the really important point. The essential thing was that too many people should not know her as Sonia Frayne.
‘I think I’ll say ‘“no”, just the same,’ she told Earle. It’s sweet of you to ask me, but I’m really tired, and I think I’ll make an early night of it.’
He was genuinely disappointed, she saw, but he said:
‘Another time, then. I’ve got the name of your hotel, and I’ll call you during the next few days.’
She agreed with a perfunctory smile, privately determining to move soon, leaving no address. At the moment, of course, it was impossible to make exact plans because she had next to no money of her own left. But she would go to see the lawyers first thing in the morning. And even if there were some delay about obtaining probate of ‘Aunt Maggie’s’ will, no doubt they would advance her a reasonable sum. Then she could arrange just what she was going to do.
The bus was drawing into Central London now, and people were putting on coats and reaching for luggage. Earle was already concerning himself with her cases, and evidently had no intention of leaving her until she was safely installed in a taxi.
He even seemed confident of being able to find her a porter amid the jostling throng of people at the air terminal.
‘Here, you stand by this pillar for a moment,’ he piled their luggage beside her ‘and I’ll go and find a porter.’
And, worming his way between two family groups who were screaming rapturous greetings to each other, he disappeared in the crowd.
Tina didn’t mind. She didn’t mind being left. She didn’t mind having to wait. She was home back in London. She was home!
Suddenly she saw Earle slowly making his way back to her accompanied, not by a porter, but by a tall man in a light grey suit, who seemed to have as much to say to Earle as Earle had to say to him.
She would have recognised him at once from Earle’s description. She thought she had never seen anything quite so arresting as that keen, slightly arrogant, laughing face. The very square jaw, the humorous mouth, the fine nose with unexpectedly sensitive nostrils, the extraordinarily brilliant blue eyes which narrowed now at the corners because Earle was saying something which evidently interested him enormously.
Tina was astonished that she could take in so much in the few seconds which she had before the two men came up with her. But she realised then, and ever afterwards, that the impression which Charles Linton made on people was instantaneous, clear-cut, and overwhelming.
He looked half startled when Earle stopped before her, as though he had been unwillingly recalled, from something which really did interest him.
‘I’m sorry I haven’t dug out that porter yet,’ Earle explained with a laugh “But here’s Charles. I ran into him almost at once. Charles, this is Miss Frayne Sonia Frayne. We travelled together.’
‘Good lord, how odd!’ was Charles Linton’s somewhat unexpected greeting.
‘That we should have travelled together?’ She looked amused.
‘No. That your name should be Sonia Frayne. I think you must be some sort of cousin of mine.’ And he regarded her with a cool interest which was not, she felt, particularly friendly.
It was as though someone had suddenly rung an alarm-bell which sounded high above all the other noises in the station, and for a moment Tina could do nothing but repeat:
‘Your—your cousin?’
‘What an extraordinary thing!’ That was Earle, sounding as though this was a discovery on which they might well be congratulated. ‘But you didn’t recognise Charles’ name.’
‘That’s not surprising.’ Those slightly narrowed eyes never left Tina’s face. ‘To tell the truth, I’d never heard of her until a month or two ago. But it seems you lived in dear Aunt Maggie’s memory, my charming cousin.’ And he made her an ironical little bow.
‘Why yes.’ Tina spoke a trifle jerkily. ‘Yes. Aunt Maggie has been very good to me.’
She thought it an extraordinary and rather dreadful coincidence that this man with the bright, penetrating eyes should even know about Aunt Maggie’s legacy. He didn’t look as though he were the kind of person to whom a thousand pound legacy would have much importance. And yet it was the first thing on which he commented.
She became aware that Earle was repeating his invitation to dinner that evening, sure that in the light of this new discovery she would reverse her decision.
‘Come, Sonia, now it’s a family affair, don’t you think you might cancel that early night and come out with us? One doesn’t meet a long-lost cousin every day. You ought to get to know each other.’
The long-lost cousin, she noticed, added nothing to this, and she had the distinct impression that he had no special wish to ‘get to know’ her. Which was all to the good!
‘No. No, really, thank you very much. You must excuse me.’ Tina wondered if her tone sounded as agitated to Charles Linton as it did to her. ‘I think the early start and the long journey are about all I can manage for today. A-another time, perhaps.’
‘Another time most certainly.’ Unexpectedly it was her so-called cousin, and not Earle Morrison, who got that in first. ‘As your only relative in England isn’t that about right? I feel bound to do the honours of your home country.’
‘You needn’t feel “bound” to do anything for me,’ Tina assured him, with a sharpness which she immediately regretted.
He didn’t attempt to conceal his amused surprise at her tone, and his quizzical smile made her blush furiously. He had, she noticed annoyedly, that gift, so much prized by those who possess it, of being able to raise one eyebrow without the other. He did it then, and she inevitably got the impression that he thought her a very odd little cousin, but one who might prove an amusing study.
That was the very last light in which she wished to appear to her by no means stupid new relation, and it was with a sensation of acute relief that she realised Earle had at last secured both a porter and a taxi.
Goodbyes were brief though between her and Earle extremely cordial. Ordinarily he might have sought to prolong them, but evidently his thoughts were .already running on to the long talk he was to have with his friend.
She could have wished he would not give the name of her hotel to the taxi-driver with quite such blithe distinctness, and she noticed uneasily that her cousin repeated it thoughtfully as though committing it to memory.
Somehow she maintained the rather strained smile on her face until the taxi drove away, and then she sank back on the worn and shiny seat with a sensation of genuine weakness. The shock of that sudden meeting combined with the necessity of keeping up appearances had been as much as she could bear.
Now she tried to assure herself that nothing really frightening had happened. It had always been conceivable that there would be one or two remote relations with whom she might have to have a casual meeting. If she met them no other way, she might very likely have had to see them at the lawyer’s office. Was it any more alarming to have to meet one at the air terminal?
A pity he was quite such an alert and penetrating sort of person, of course. But he couldn’t really be very much interested in her and her little legacy. If she took care not to see him again or to see him only once there was really not the least reason why he should feel any lively curiosity about her.
By the time Tina reached the quiet, rather old-fashioned hotel she had chosen, she had almost convinced herself that there was
no reason for worry or alarm. She had already surmounted a large part of the difficulties and anxieties. It would be absurd to lose her nerve over a side-issue now. Far better concentrate on being calm and collected for her interview with the lawyers in the morning.
That really would call for cool and steady nerves.
And yet, somehow, the thought of possibly meeting Charles Linton again disturbed her much more profoundly than the momentous interview with Aunt Maggie’s lawyers.
She had determined to make an early call at the offices of Messrs. Medway & Medway, for since she had no appointment, she judged that her best chance of seeing whichever Mr. Medway was concerned with her affairs would be to arrive before he started his appointments for the day.
The result was that she found a couple of typists in sole occupation of the offices of Messrs. Medway & Medway.
Fortunately for Tina, on the very stroke of ten-thirty the door of the outer office opened to admit a tall, grey-haired, severe-looking man, who passed through the room as Jove might have traversed the lower slopes of Olympus, ignoring both the secretaries and herself. Unquestionably this was Mr. Medway.
A few minutes later she was ushered into the Presence.
She was aware that her breath was coming unusually quickly and that her legs felt curiously hollow, but she must have presented a perfectly normal appearance, she supposed, because Mr. Medway greeted her with unexpected affability, a complete absence of suspicion, and a measured flow of conversation which was reassuring.
‘Sit down. Miss Frayne, sit down. I am very pleased to make your acquaintance and in such fortunate circumstances. I assume that you received my second letter?’
‘A second letter?’ Tina felt acute anxiety in spite of his reassuring tone. ‘I didn’t receive a second letter from you, Mr. Medway. Only the one telling me about Aunt Maggie’s death and that she had left me all she had.’
‘Oh, I see, I see.’ Mr. Medway’s affability took on an even richer tone, and every sign of severity had now melted. ‘Then I have good news for you. Excellent news. In my first letter I think I gave you to understand that the late Miss Margaret Freeling’s estate would not amount to more than a thousand pounds.’
He paused as though expecting confirmation of this, and Tina said nervously:
‘Y-yes, that’s right. You said you thought about a thousand.’
‘A thousand,’ agreed Mr. Medway as though that insignificant sum now appeared to him scarcely worthy of mention in a letter. ‘As the facts were known then. Miss Frayne, that sum was roughly speaking correct. Now, however, I am very glad to tell you. Miss Freeling died worth something in the region of ah let me see,’ he put on a pair of spectacles and consulted some papers ‘yes sixty thousand pounds.’
‘Sixty thousand? It’s impossible!’ Tina actually rose to her feet, in something that was more dismay than delight.
Mr. Medway appeared to recognise the reaction for what it was. Looking over his spectacles he observed soothingly: ‘Very sudden, of course. But surely rather a rather an enjoyable shock, Miss Frayne, than otherwise?’
Tina sat down slowly again.
‘Y-yes,’ she stammered. ‘Yes, of course. Only it’s such an enormous sum.’ She meant such an enormous sum to come by not quite honestly! ‘One feels that someone else ought to benefit too.’
Mr. Medway didn’t seem to feel that at all. He looked at Tina in surprise and said, somewhat sententiously:
‘The sentiment does your heart credit. Miss Frayne, but there is really no need for you to take that view.’
Tina smiled faintly.
‘I meant it seems that almost anyone else must have known Aunt Maggie better than I did. She only knew me as a baby. I can’t remember her at all.’ Tina suddenly realised she was unconsciously doing this rather well. ‘I feel as though someone must surely resent an unknown niece coming back after years and getting everything.’
‘Such a view would be absolutely unjustified and most improper,’ Mr. Medway assured her firmly. ‘The terms of your aunt’s will were clear and explicit. We drew up the will for her some years ago,’ he added, as though that finally disposed of any objection.
‘Oh, I didn’t mean that legally there was any doubt. Only that—’
‘Yes, I see what you mean,’ Mr. Medway conceded graciously. ‘You feel that someone else might conceivably have expected to benefit, and experience some disappointment now.’
‘Y-yes.’ Tina supposed that described it as well as anything. ‘Was there anyone who might have felt like that?’ she asked, as though unable to stop herself.
‘No one,’ asserted Mr. Medway firmly, ‘except perhaps your cousin, Charles Linton.’
CHAPTER FOUR
TINA stared at Mr. Medway for a few seconds in silence. Then with rather dry lips she repeated:
‘Charles Linton?’
‘Of course, I make no suggestion that he does entertain any such feelings,’ Mr. Medway hastened to add. ‘I was only answering your ah objection by pointing out that he was absolutely the only person who could conceivably have such a feeling.’
‘Yes I see. Tell me’—Tina was frowning slightly—‘what was his relationship with Aunt Maggie? I mean, were they very friendly? Had he any reason to think she would leave him anything.’
‘We-ell,’ Mr. Medway appeared to give the matter his earnest attention ‘to the best of my belief they were on quite friendly, though hardly intimate, terms, and as of course none of us anticipated that your Aunt Margaret would ever have any great sum of money to leave, there was no reason why Mr. Linton should be greatly interested in the matter one way or another. I imagine he does quite well in his profession. He would hardly be much exercised in his mind as to whether or not he would inherit a few hundred from his aunt.’
‘And how is it that there is suddenly this this extraordinary sum involved?’
‘Ah, now, that is really a very interesting story!’ And Mr. Medway, with whom family histories were evidently a matter of passionate interest, settled down to tell this one with gusto. ‘As you probably know, the late Miss Margaret Freeling was one of three sisters. Your mother, though adopted into the family and regarded always as a fourth sister, was really no blood relation at all.’
‘No, I know that,’ murmured Tina, with a glib untruthfulness that surprised and half dismayed her.
‘Quite evidently, however. Miss Margaret regarded your mother as a favourite sister, and her interest in you was doubtless the result of this. Of the other two sisters. Miss Beatrice married and had one son your cousin, Charles Linton. Though, of course,’ added Mr. Medway, with earnest accuracy, ‘he is not really your cousin. The other sister also married and went to South Africa. I believe she kept up a desultory correspondence with Miss Margaret, but she never returned to England. Her husband appears to have made a considerable fortune, and predeceased her. She herself died a few months ago, and having no family of her own, left everything to your Aunt Margaret.’
‘And poor old Aunt Maggie never lived to enjoy it!’ exclaimed Tina with genuine regret. It seemed hard that the old lady who had been, unwittingly, so generous to her should have missed a comfortable fortune by a few weeks.
‘She never lived to enjoy it,’ Mr. Medway agreed. ‘But,’ he added, intent on the legal aspect of the matter, ‘there is no question but that her sister predeceased her. In other words, Miss Margaret had inherited her sister’s fortune before her own death, and .as she left you everything of which she died possessed, you. Miss Frayne, are unquestionably the heiress to the whole amount.’
Tina nodded slowly, wishing she didn’t feel the most unutterable fraud. To accept a thousand pounds intended for her anyway in rather doubtful circumstances was one thing. It was quite another to accept sixty thousand! But how could one make a graceful retreat at this point?
It was impossible simply to disappear, leaving matters to settle themselves. Mr. Medway was, she could see, the kind of man to pursue things to the bitter end. He was quite capable of
setting on foot all sorts of inquiries and investigations in order to trace what Tina realised with a shudder would then have become ‘the missing heiress’.
And she, of all people, could not afford to have her affairs investigated too closely.
There was no way out of it. She was, as one might say, compelled to accept sixty thousand pounds, whether she liked it or not!
It hardly surprised her, after that, to find that the rest of the interview went with velvety smoothness. She seemed absolutely fated to receive that money, and nothing in her claim, or the documents supporting it, appeared to awake the slightest doubts in Mr. Medway’s thoughts.
He asked her very courteously to leave the papers with him for examination, but his own acceptance of their authenticity was shown by the fact that when she explained the difficulty of having had to arrive in the country with practically no money, he unhesitatingly advanced her a sum of two hundred pounds out of her ‘aunt’s’ estate.
And Tina didn’t think Mr. Medway was at all the man to pay out money which he did not confidently expect to see back again!
If anyone had told her an hour ago that she would leave Mr. Medway’s office with two hundred pounds and a feeling of great uneasiness, she would have thought the idea ridiculous. But that was exactly what she did.
Rather slowly and very thoughtfully Tina made her way along Fleet Street and the Strand, so intent on her present problem that she hardly appreciated the wonderful fact that she was back in dear and familiar surroundings. Crossing the top of Northumberland Avenue and Whitehall, she made her way into the Park, and having found a seat where the alternate sun and shadow made a pleasant pattern, she sat down to consider her present position.
It would be ridiculous to pretend,, even to oneself, that sixty thousand pounds, as such, were unwelcome. Tina made no such pretence. Only she ardently wished that the sum could have come to her unaccompanied by these terrible qualms of conscience.
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