Bargain Wife

by Mary Burchell

  But the impression was gone again, and she was listening to what Earle was saying to Charles about the eagerness of all their visitors to see the place, and to hear all that there was to hear about it.

  Charles turned to the group with that smile of easy friendliness, and began to say something about how pleased he and his fiancée were to welcome them. But as he did so, the man in brown seemed to see Tina for the first time, and exclaimed:

  ‘Why, Miss Fenwick, what are you doing all these miles away from N’York? The last time I saw you you were fiddling very charmingly in my brother Louis’s club, not fifty yards from Fifth Avenue.’

  The blow was so sudden and so utterly unexpected that Tina could think of nothing at all to say. She supposed she gazed at Louis’s brother in fascinated horror, and it was left to Earle to say, quite pleasantly:

  ‘No, there’s a mistake there, I think. The lady’s name—’

  ‘Mistake?’ The other man laughed. ‘Oh no, I couldn’t be mistaken about that. You remember me, don’t you, Miss Fenwick? I remember you very well. You and that little blonde friend of yours. Now, let me see, what was her name? I’ll remember it in a minute—’

  He would, too. Tina could see that. She wondered wildly if it were any good pretending to faint. But even as the idiotic idea crossed her mind, Charles spoke coolly and finally.

  ‘My fiancee’s name is Miss Frayne Sonia Frayne. So you see, there must be a mistake.’

  ‘Sonia Frayne,’ repeated Louis’s brother slowly, and Tina thought she had never heard anything so disagreeable as the note of recognition and understanding in his tone.

  Somehow she recovered her own voice then and spoke, though a little breathlessly.

  ‘Yes you got us mixed. I remember you quite well now, Mr. Collier. It was my friend who was Miss Fenwick. You got us mixed.’

  ‘Sure,’ he said, still speaking slowly. ‘I got you mixed. Isn’t that odd, now? Two such dissimilar names and I got you mixed. You must forgive me; I thought I never forgot a face or a name.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter.’ She believed that she smiled faintly. ‘I’m very glad to meet you again, anyway.’

  And then other introductions were being made, and she was trying to smile again and to make light conversation, and not to realise that everywhere she went, those light, penetrating eyes so reminiscent of Louis followed her with a speculative expression.

  He was not in the least deceived, of course! However well the scene had passed off, and however credulous the others might be, he knew she was masquerading as someone else. And if he were anything like Louis, he would never rest until he knew the reason why.

  Besides she remembered very well now she and Sonia had put him in his place pretty thoroughly, the one other time she had seen him. He probably bore resentment for that. He was what Sonia had called ‘a nasty piece of work’, and they had dealt with him summarily. They were used to holding their own with that type, and the fact that he was Louis’s brother had not made any difference. To tell the truth, Louis would have supported them, rather than his brother, in an argument, because however difficult he might be to work for, he never tolerated any pestering of ‘his girls’.

  It seemed to Tina that they trailed endlessly round, explaining things which had become meaningless and listening to admiration of things which had lost their savour.

  Philip Collier made no further attempt to engage her in conversation, and any questions he asked were addressed to Charles or to Earle. She saw perfectly well that Charles disliked him, and felt pretty sure that he would refuse to have his beloved project ‘written up’ by someone he considered vulgar and unpleasant. Which would probably make Collier even more ready to find out unwelcome truth and exploit them.

  For a moment, while Earle was talking, Charles dropped behind and took Tina lightly by the arm.

  ‘What is it, my dear? Are we tiring you?’

  ‘No! Oh no.’ She was alarmed that her troubled thoughts were so obvious. ‘I’m quite all right.’

  He gave her a puzzled, searching glance, as though he hardly heard her protest.

  ‘Hm, I don’t like our Canadian friend either,’ was his comment. ‘But don’t worry. He doesn’t mean a thing in your life now.’

  ‘Oh, Charles!’ She laughed a little uncertainly and squeezed his arm gratefully, because she saw that he thought she associated some unpleasant memory with Philip Collier, and he was anxious to reassure her. ‘Thank you, darling.’

  She had never called him anything like that before, but he didn’t seem to mind. He smiled at her brilliantly and said:

  ‘No one’s going to trouble you, now you’ve got an able bodied husband to look after you.’

  And she thought: ‘He sees himself already as my husband,’ and realised how happy she would have been if this terrible shadow had not turned up out of the past.

  Charles had turned away again now, to answer a query from the senior member of the party a charming, elderly man, whose perfect manners and slightly deprecating air concealed the fact that he was a very famous surgeon indeed.

  ‘Oh no, Mr. Mason,’ Tina heard Charles say, ‘this isn’t a Government-sponsored scheme at all. It’s all rather in the experimental stage at the moment, you know. We should probably have to prove ourselves pretty thoroughly before there were any question of Government support, or anything of the kind.’

  ‘Remarkable, remarkable,’ murmured Mr. Mason.

  ‘Then is this place financed entirely by voluntary subscriptions?’ inquired one of the others interestedly.

  ‘Entirely,’ Charles agreed with a laugh. ‘In fact, the whole cost of the place was subscribed by my fiancée.’

  There were several polite murmurs of ‘Really,’ and everyone turned an approving smile on Tina.

  ‘Miss Frayne financed the whole thing? My word, that is a news story,’ observed Philip Collier with an emphasis which was so admiring that it was hard to take exception to him.

  ‘I don’t think she wants any publicity about it.’ Charles seemed smilingly inclined to dismiss that. But Collier insisted.

  ‘But you can’t let a story like that just go dead on your hands. Do tell us. Miss Frayne, what first gave you the idea? Were you always interested in this type of surgery or what started you?’

  Tina felt so sick and faint that she thought it must surely show in her face, but somehow she found her voice to reply:

  ‘Well, I didn’t know much about it until I met my fiancé. And then well, he was so much interested, you see, and he’d always wanted a place like this—’

  Her voice trailed away. She knew Collier was consumed with curiosity to know how on earth an impecunious little musician came to have enough money for a scheme like this.

  Then Earle’s voice broke in pleasant and positive:

  ‘I don’t think Miss Frayne’s generosity should go without a little further explanation. She landed here expecting to claim a small legacy, and when it came to the point, the amount was a great deal more man she expected. Instead of launching out on personal spending, as most people would, she put her money into this place. I think that takes a lot of beating, for sheer unselfish generosity.’

  ‘Remarkably generous. Miss Frayne. A really humanitarian action, if I may say so.’ Mr. Mason shook her by the hand, while the others nodded or smiled their approval. All except Philip Collier, who looked at her very thoughtfully, with his eyes slightly narrowed.

  He knew now, of course. Or he thought he knew. He believed that she had deliberately contrived to cheat her friend of her inheritance.

  Mrs. Ardingley brought in tea then, and the conversation became more general.

  It seemed that most of their visitors were on fairly short visits to England and were expecting to go back in a week or so. Tina strained her attention to see if she could catch anything of Collier’s plans any hint that this fearful menace would be withdrawn soon. But he offered no comment, and finally, driven by her frantic anxiety, she boldly put the question:

&
nbsp; ‘And you, Mr. Collier? Are you staying here long, or do you have to be back in your own country soon?’

  ‘I, Miss Frayne?’ He never failed, she noticed, to make that slight hesitation before the name which was not hers. ‘Oh, I’m rather a rolling stone, you know. No settled plans at the moment. I was thinking of going back soon but I don’t know. If I got on to a good thing, for instance, I should probably stay a while longer.’

  ‘I see.’

  She hoped he didn’t guess how dry her mouth had gone. A good thing, indeed! What did he mean by that? she thought. And she wondered if it were melodramatic of her to allow the sinister thought of blackmail to hover in the back of her mind.

  After tea, as a completion to their tour, the party strolled round the really beautiful grounds, and here at last Tina’s most unwelcome visitor found an opportunity to speak to her alone.

  ‘No don’t hurry on,’ his voice said quietly beside her, when she would have hastily joined the others again. ‘We want a little talk, you and I.’

  ‘You’re mistaken, I think,’ Tina retorted crisply. ‘We don’t want to talk, even if you do.’

  ‘Is it possible that I’m mistaken again?’ He laughed, but not very nicely. ‘My second bad mistake this afternoon, eh?’

  She was silent, but she had instinctively slackened her step to suit his.

  That’s better. Miss Frayne.’ And then, as she said nothing: ‘Well, well, times have changed since I saw you last. Who would have expected you to exchange a N’York club for an English country estate? I’ll say you’re a lucky girl.’

  ‘I think so,’ she agreed, as coolly as possible.

  ‘Damned lucky,’ he repeated reflectively. ‘Lucky not to be found out, too.’

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ Tina was surprised that she was able to make that so cold and haughty.

  ‘Oh, you don’t need to do that with me.’ He laughed again in that unpleasant way. The others can call you Sonia Frayne till the cows come home, but the one thing I should like to know is where is Sonia Frayne? If she’s alive, how comes it you’re able to play this little game? If she’s not alive where and how did she die?’

  CHAPTER NINE

  NOT until that moment, Tina felt, had she known the real meaning of panic.

  Scared, nervous, anxious she had been all of those at one time or another during the fantastic weeks since she had taken Sonia’s passport from the drawer in the Brooklyn apartment. But at the cool, menacing note in Philip Collier’s tone she felt a constriction of her throat, a sudden breathlessness, a mad desire to run away. Somewhere anywhere so long as there was no more need to face that bright, suspicious stare or listen to that faintly sneering voice which said such terrifying things. With a frightful effort she controlled her impulse for flight, and faced him determinedly.

  ‘How dare you say such a thing to me!’ She was surprised to find that her voice had grown slightly shrill.

  ‘Such a thing as what?’ He was perfectly cool.

  ‘Implying that I—implying—’ Her voice died in her throat.

  ‘I’m not implying a thing,’ he assured her smoothly. I’m only saying I’d like to know what happened to Sonia Frayne. She struck me as a little lady with a great talent for knowing where there was any money she could lay her hands on. I can’t quite see her resigning a fortune to someone else out of pure friendship.’

  Tina knew that further insistence was useless, yet she spoke with dull desperation:

  ‘I tell you, I am Sonia Fr—’

  ‘Can it,’ he said with an abrupt contempt that was even ruder than the words. ‘Don’t you know when you’re beaten? You’ve done something that means a stretch in gaol if you’re caught or maybe something worse and all you can do is repeat one silly lie, like a frightened parrot.’

  They had long ago dropped behind the others, and she stopped to face him now, her lips dry and slightly parted with the terror of one thing he had said.

  ‘What do you mean?’ Her voice ran up uncontrollably again. ‘What do you mean by “maybe something worse”?’

  He shrugged, and gave that smile which was so much more disquieting than any other smile she had ever seen.

  ‘Depends on what really did happen to Sonia Frayne.’

  There was a heavy silence, because there was nothing Tina could think of to say.

  ‘She’s dead, isn’t she?’ The hateful, sneering voice was almost persuasive, as though he were trying to make her speak.

  ‘Yes,’ Tina said dully, ‘she’s dead.’

  What was the use of struggling for further concealment?

  ‘When? and how?’

  ‘You have no right—’

  ‘When and how? Or shall I talk the matter over with the solicitor in charge of her legacy?’

  ‘You don’t know who he is!’ Panic pricked her into life again. ‘I won’t tell—’

  ‘One can always find these things out. No one is easier to trace than a solicitor, you know.’

  She made a little gesture of defeat.

  ‘She was killed in a plane crash.’ The words came jerkily. ‘In the summer some weeks before I came here. The plane crashed and then was burnt out.’

  ‘All evidence lost, in fact?’ His eyes never left her face.

  ‘Yes.’ And then as she saw his expression, ‘Well, why not? Is there anything wrong with that?’

  ‘Nothing. Except that it disposes of any support to your statements.’

  ‘Is there any necessity for support?’ Again anger swept aside some of her fear. ‘People are sometimes killed in accidents.’

  They are also occasionally killed not by accident. Miss Fenwick. Particularly when a large sum of money is involved.’

  Tina gave a furious little laugh.

  ‘Are you making the preposterous suggestion that I had anything to do with—’

  ‘I’m not making any suggestion, my dear. I’ve told you that already. I’m just wondering how the whole story unsupported would sound to Sonia Frayne’s relations, or solicitor or a suspicious jury, come to that.’

  ‘A jury! What are you talking about? A jury!’

  He shrugged again, insolently.

  ‘Usual form of trial when someone has disappeared in suspicious circumstances.’

  ‘You’re mad!’ Tina exclaimed.

  But she wondered if it were not she instead who was mad, because nothing seemed to have any coherence and meaning any more. The beautiful garden in which she had already begun to take such pride and pleasure seemed to become unreal around her. In the distance, at the end of the centre path, she saw Charles come into view again, explaining something to Earle and their visitors. But they too seemed unreal, like figures in a dream or a nightmare.

  Only this terrible man, with his incredible hints and the spell which his very words seemed to weave around her, was quite real. Deadly real. Much more real than anything that had happened since Sonia was killed and she had taken on Sonia’s identity.

  ‘You see,’ Philip Collier said softly beside her, ‘we shall need to have a little talk, you and I.’

  She hardly knew what she would have answered, only at that precise moment Charles waved to her to come and join them, and as though indeed released from a nightmare, she started forward down the path. She would have run but for the fact that her legs seemed disinclined to obey her.

  But Collier easily kept pace with her.

  ‘Where can I find you in town?’ he asked coolly, still with that touch of insolence.

  ‘I absolutely refuse to see you again.’ At the thought of her nearness to Charles, she suddenly found a little courage and reassurance once more. ‘You have no concern whatever with my private affairs, and you can exercise your impudent curiosity in some other direction.’

  ‘For instance, with the solicitor who’s handling the legacy?’

  Her footsteps slowed as though something had grasped her round the ankle.

  ‘You couldn’t—’

  ‘I could. We’r
e going to talk this thing right out, my dear. Where can I find you in town?’

  They were nearly up with the others now, and it was in a desperate little undertone that she murmured the name of her hotel. He seemed to hear quite well, however, because he actually took out a small notebook and coolly made a note of it.

  ‘I thought we’d lost you two,’ Charles said casually.

  ‘No. We were discussing the planning of the garden how we mean to turn part of it into a fruit and vegetable plot,’ Tina explained, with a glibness which surprised herself. ‘Mr. Collier is very much interested in gardens.’

  ‘Sure.’ Philip grinned with an amusement which the occasion hardly seemed to justify. ‘I was always interested in gardens.’

  Charles’ eyes were suddenly very bright and cold.

  That’s fine.’ His even tone left Collier’s insolence in the shade. ‘But I’m sorry I can’t give you permission to write up anything about the place. We’ve decided to have no publicity at this stage. You’ll understand, of course. I hope you won’t feel your afternoon was wasted, but there it is.’

  ‘No,’ Collier said slowly, ‘I don’t feel the afternoon was wasted.’ And that was all he said.

  Very soon after that the party left, and Tina was not sure whether she was relieved to see the back of Collier or alarmed in case Charles should make inquiries about him.

  Characteristically Charles did mention him, and went straight to the point.

  ‘Poisonous fellow, that journalist, I suppose he made a pest of himself when you were playing in that nightclub.’

  ‘Rather yes. Though I only saw him once or twice, really.’

  ‘Yes, I gathered that from his getting you mixed up with your friend. Did he corner you just now?’

  ‘Corner me?’

  ‘You needn’t look so startled.’ He seemed rather astonished by the expression on her face. ‘I only meant I suppose it was he who manoeuvred so that you got separated from the rest of us.’