The Silent Pool

by Patricia Wentworth

  It was about seven o’clock in the evening. Miss Silver said in her temperate voice,

  ‘If the matter is not immediate, perhaps you will suggest a morning train.’

  ‘The ten-thirty will get you down by half past eleven. You will be met at Ledbury. Since you are an old friend whom I have not seen for some time, it will seem quite natural if I am at the station. Those are the arrangements I should suggest. I hope they suit you.’

  Miss Silver said, ‘Perfectly,’ and the receiver was replaced with a click.

  Since speculation without fact upon which to exercise itself can hardly be considered profitable, Miss Silver did not permit herself to indulge in it. She wrote informing her niece Ethel Burkett that she was going into the country and provided her with the address, and she packed her modest requirements for an autumn visit. Country houses, and especially old ones, were sadly apt to be draughty, and the weather at this or indeed any time of the year very little to be depended upon. She would therefore wear her black coat and fur tippet, trusted friend of many years, over the dress of light wool appropriate to the season. Since it was her invariable practice to use a last year’s flowered silk for evening wear, this was also packed, together with an aged velvet coatee so warm, so cosy, which had on many previous occasions fortified her against such idiosyncrasies as a passion for open windows or a determined economy in the matter of fuel. She could remember large dining-rooms where the draught poured in through an ever open service-door, and drawing-rooms where the windows remained fixed in an open position and were far too heavy to be moved. Inspector Frank Abbott of Scotland Yard, that devoted but irreverent young man, might declare the coatee to be a museum piece, its origin shrouded in a Victorian past, but nothing would have induced her to visit in the country without it, and it was in her opinion both suitable and becoming.

  When she alighted from the train at Ledbury wearing the black coat, the yellow fur tippet, and the hat which had been her best last year brought up to date with a small bunch of shaded pansies mixed with sprigs of mignonette, she was at once, and in the most agreeable manner, approached by a tall, dark young man. He smiled, and said,

  ‘I am sure you must be Miss Silver. My name is Ninian Rutherford. Adriana is waiting in the car.’

  Adriana acted the part of an old friend in the most artistic manner.

  ‘So very nice that you were able to come. After – let me see – how many years is it? Well, perhaps we had better not say. Time does not stand still for any of us. We must just pick up the threads.’

  When she was settled beside her in the back of the car and Ninian was driving them through the narrow Ledbury streets, Miss Silver was able to observe the vast difference between the Mrs Smith who had visited her at Montague Mansions and Adriana Ford with her gleaming hair, her delicate make-up, the handsome fur wrap over a beautifully cut coat and skirt, the flashing rings on an ungloved hand.

  As they came out of the town and began to thread a number of winding lanes, conversation remained on a pleasantly conventional level. There was an old house or two to be pointed out. ‘The fifteenth-century staircase is worth seeing, but of course the front is modern… And that ridiculous castellated place is Leamington ’s Folly. He was a wealthy Victorian industrialist who ran himself into the bankruptcy court and finished up in the workhouse. Nobody has lived there for years, and the place is falling to bits.’

  For the last mile the road ran along by the river, and there was much in the autumn scenery to charm the eye. Miss Silver, whilst duly admiring, could not avoid the conclusion that the neighbourhood of so much water must of necessity increase the tendency to damp so prevalent in country places.

  As they entered the grounds of Ford House, she observed them to lie regrettably low, and opined, though not audibly, that the house must be constantly invaded by the river mists. It was a picturesque building in a rambling style, with autumn roses blooming on the walls and a quantity of other creepers. Not really what she considered desirable in view of the fact that so much vegetation was bound to harbour insects.

  She was conducted to a room in a wing to the right of the main staircase. It was fresh and bright, with flowered chintzes and comfortable chairs. There was also, she was pleased to notice, an electric fire. Adriana informed her that they made their own electricity and were very well served.

  ‘You are next to Janet Johnstone and little Stella, with Meriel and Star Somers across the way. When you are ready, come back to the landing and across it to the west wing. My sitting-room is at the end.’

  It took Miss Silver a very short time to remove her outdoor things, put them neatly away, and unpack her modest suit-case. She washed in the adjoining bathroom, and then, knitting-bag in hand, betook herself to the west wing. She met no one, but as she crossed the landing a young woman in a red jumper passed through the hall below. Glancing at her with interest, Miss Silver observed the dark good looks, the smouldering eyes, the restless step. It was her first sight of Meriel Ford, and it gave her food for thought.

  She found Adriana on her couch. She had changed into a flowing house-coat in a shade of purple so deep as to be almost black. She looked tired in spite of the careful make-up, but the note in her voice was one of exasperation.

  ‘Sit down and make yourself comfortable. Well, I suppose you want to know why I’ve dragged you down here in all this hurry.’

  Miss Silver coughed.

  ‘I imagine that it has something to do with the death of Miss Mabel Prestayne.’

  Adriana gave a short laugh.

  ‘I suppose you saw the notice in the papers. Poor Mabel – how she would have hated to think she would be remembered because she had played Nerissa to my Portia!’

  Miss Silver was opening her knitting-bag. Having taken out of it a pair of needles and a ball of fine fleecy white wool, she addressed herself to the warm shawl destined for Dorothy Silver’s unexpected twin. The bootees and a little coat had been completed and despatched, and she considered that the shawl should now take precedence of the second coat. About two inches of the ornamental border showed like a frill on the wooden needles. She looked over them and said,

  ‘She met with an accident?’

  Adriana looked back frowning.

  ‘I don’t know – we must call it that, I suppose. Look here, I had better tell you what has happened. After I came to see you I decided that I had been making a fool of myself. I thought I had been dead long enough, and that it was time I got up and showed them it was a bit too soon to think of burying me. I went to a specialist, and he told me to go ahead, so I did. I bought a lot of new clothes and started coming down to meals, and I sent out invitations to a big cocktail party just to show people I was still there. Mabel Preston came to stay for it – that’s her real name, you know – Prestayne was just for the stage. Sounded silly to me, but she was like that. I used to have her here every so often. She adored a party. Well, here she was, and so were about a hundred and fifty other people. It went with a bang. Whenever I saw Mabel she was enjoying herself – having lots of drinks and going up and talking to people as if she had known them for years. She was enjoying herself. When everyone had gone I came up here. I tidied up my face, and I thought I would go down for a bit and see what the others thought of the party. But when I got out on the landing something had happened. The first I knew about it, there was a crash. I came to the top of the stairs and looked over. Simmons had just dropped a tray full of glasses and drinks. The front door was wide open, and Sam Bolton, the under gardener, was standing in the middle of the hall dripping wet. Everyone in the house seemed to be there, all looking at him. And no wonder, because just as I came to the head of the stairs I heard him say,’Madam’s dead! She’s drowned in the pool – and she’s dead!’

  Adriana paused. She gave that short hard laugh again.

  ‘And he meant me!’ she said.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Miss Silver employed her strongest comment.

  ‘Dear me!’

&nbs
p; Adriana Ford regarded her with a touch of impatience.

  ‘When I walked down on them they all got the fright of their lives. Sam went the colour of melted tallow.’

  ‘Pray, what made him think the drowned person was yourself?’

  ‘She was wearing my coat.’

  ‘But if it was dark – I gather it must have been, since your guests had left-’

  Adriana said impatiently,

  ‘He had a torch, a wretched weak little thing, but enough to show up the pattern of the coat. I have had it for some time, and it is – pretty noticeable – big squares of black and white with an emerald strip running across them. Quite unmistakable, and everyone knows it. Sam will have seen me in it for years.’

  ‘And how did Miss Preston come to be wearing it?’

  ‘It was hanging in the cloakroom, just by the garden door.’ She hesitated for a moment, and then went on. ‘I don’t know why she went out, but her dress was thin – she would have needed a wrap. And in a way, I suppose, she thought of the coat as her own. You see, I had half given it to her.’

  Miss Silver looked at her in a questioning manner.

  ‘Half?’

  Adriana moved impatiently.

  ‘Meriel made a fuss. She had set her heart on the coat. But it was too marked – I couldn’t have people saying I let her go about in my cast-offs. It’s just the sort of thing she might make a handle of herself! It wouldn’t have done. But she threw a scene, so I thought the best way was to hang it downstairs, wear it a few times more myself, and just let Mabel take it away with her when she went. I didn’t want Meriel to upset her – she was rather easily upset.’

  Miss Silver asked another question.

  ‘Had you worn the coat lately yourself?’

  Adriana looked away.

  ‘The day before.’

  ‘You mean the day before Miss Preston was drowned?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Who saw you in it?’

  Adriana’s hand lifted and fell.

  ‘Everyone,’ she said.

  ‘You mean everyone in the house?’

  ‘Oh, yes. You see I went for a turn in the garden just before lunch, and it was so fine that I went on into the village. I’ve been walking a little farther every day. It’s only about a quarter of a mile, really.’

  ‘Did you meet anyone you knew?’

  Adriana laughed without amusement.

  ‘I could hardly go into the village without doing that! Why are you asking me all this?’ Her voice had risen suddenly.

  ‘Because I think the answers may be interesting.’

  Their eyes met. Miss Silver’s were kind and steady. It was Adriana who turned her head.

  ‘Oh, very well, then – here you are. The Vicar passed me on his bicycle, and I saw his wife and her cousin Ellie Page in their front garden. Ellie Page has a class for children – my little niece Stella goes to it. I stopped and said a few words to them. Whilst I was doing so Esmé Trent went by – I imagine on her way to catch the bus into Ledbury, as she seems to spend most of her time there, and she was made up to the nines. She is a young widow with a little boy whom she neglects, and there is no love lost between her and Ellie Page.’

  ‘Is the little boy in Miss Page’s class?’

  ‘Oh, yes. Anything to get him off his mother’s hands! By the way, you had better not mention her to Edna.’

  ‘Indeed?’

  Adriana nodded.

  ‘I gather that Geoffrey and she have been seen together often enough to prompt the usual kind friend to let Edna know. Very stupid, and it probably means nothing at all, but Edna has no philosophy where Geoffrey is concerned. She’s a fool of course, because he’s like that and she’ll never change him so she had much better make the best of it.’

  ‘Did you see anyone else?’

  ‘Old Mrs Potts was calling her cat in. Her husband is the sexton. I think that was all… Oh, Mary Robertson was in the lodge garden as I came back. She is the head gardener’s daughter. She and Sam Bolton are courting, and she was with him when he found poor Mabel. She had to give evidence at the inquest, and her father is furious because he doesn’t approve of the affair with Sam.’

  Miss Silver gave the slight cough with which she was accustomed to lend emphasis to a remark.

  ‘The inquest has taken place?’

  ‘Yesterday. The funeral was this morning.’

  ‘And the verdict?’

  ‘Accidental death.’ There was a pause, after which she continued in rather a strained manner. ‘She had had a good many drinks. The idea is that she wasn’t any too steady, and that she tripped over the parapet and fell into the pool.’

  ‘Was there any sign that she had struggled or tried to save herself?’

  ‘The Coroner wanted to know about that, but you see Sam had got her out of the pool. The moss and plants on the edge were all dragged and crushed, and there was no telling whether she had done any of it herself.’

  ‘She was drowned?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Were there any bruises?’

  ‘They didn’t say so.’

  ‘There was no suggestion that it could have been anything but an accident?’

  Adriana made a sharp movement.

  ‘Who in the world would want to kill Mabel Preston?’

  Miss Silver’s look was stern and compassionate.

  ‘Miss Preston was bareheaded? Miss Ford – what shade was her hair?’

  All the natural colour left Adriana’s face. She said in a cold, flat voice,

  ‘It used to be fair – but this time – she had copied the colour of mine.’

  Chapter Twenty-two

  A gong sounded, and they went down to lunch. The family was introduced – Geoffrey Ford and Mrs Geoffrey; the dark girl Miss Silver had seen crossing the hall; Miss Janet Johnstone and the little girl Stella. Star Somers, it appeared, was up in London on business – ‘She is just over from America and has so much to attend to.’ A rather daring flight on the part of Adriana, because everyone in the room except Miss Silver knew perfectly well that Star’s ‘business’ was to avoid being dragooned into attending poor Mabel Preston’s funeral. Simmons, serving the meal with dignity, had heard her say as much in the high, sweet voice which carried so -’No, darling, I won’t, and that’s flat! I haven’t any black down here, and if you are going to suggest that I trail round in some archaic garment of Edna’s you have just got to think again. I will admire you all doing your noble duty, but you know, actually, I have got to see Rothstein, just in case anything goes wrong about the New York production – I mean, no one can be quite certain about how soon Aubrey will be able to play.’

  Miss Silver found herself with quite enough people to study. Whilst conversing in her usual amiable and fluent manner she was able to observe a number of points of interest. Mr Geoffrey Ford made himself very agreeable. From what she had heard of him, and from his general air of handsome well-being, she concluded that this was his usual manner. It went smoothly and well, but just once or twice it occurred to her that the pace was a little forced, and the pleasant laugh a shade too frequent. There had, after all, been a funeral from the house that morning. He drank whisky and water, and filled his glass a second time. Mrs Geoffrey on her right was still in the old black coat and skirt she had worn for the ceremony. It hung on her, suggesting that she had lost weight, and it could never have been either smart or becoming. With a dingy grey blouse, it reduced eyes, hair, and skin to a colourless uniformity. The eyes looked as if they had not slept, and the lids were reddened. There are women who always weep at a wedding or a funeral, but they are of an easier and more emotional type than Edna Ford.

  On her other side Meriel’s scarlet jumper struck a defiant note. It emphasized the dark clustering hair, the smouldering eyes, the ivory pallor. She had used a jarring shade of lipstick with the most discordant effect. Miss Silver could readily believe in the selfishness and temper which would make a scene if things did not go just as she wished. She s
at helping herself from every dish and leaving most of what she took upon her plate. Sitting beside her, she was aware of resentment and a fretting impatience to have the meal and her proximity done with.

  Across the way Janet Johnstone and Ninian Rutherford sat on either side of the little girl with the fine eyes who was Stella Somers. Miss Silver regarded them with interest. Miss Johnstone had a very good way with the child, and her brown skirt and fawn jumper struck the happy mean between Mrs Geoffrey’s mourning black and Meriel’s scarlet. Her features were pleasing, her eyes of an unusual and very charming shade, and her whole air that of a sensible and dependable person. With Miss Silver’s experience, it was impossible for her to mistake the fact that Mr Ninian Rutherford was attracted. He took no pains to hide it, and it was equally plain that at least some part of Meriel’s annoyance proceeded from this cause. Adriana, facing Geoffrey down the length of the table, ate little and only spoke occasionally. She looked tired, and the purple house-dress gave her a sombre air.

  For once, no one checked Stella’s flow of conversation. After rehearsing for Miss Silver’s benefit every detail of the six dresses which Star had brought her from New York – ‘and it was very, very good of her, because it meant she had to leave a lot of her own things behind’ – she was brightly informative on the subject of her lessons.

  ‘I read better than Jenny and Molly, and much better than Jackie Trent, but Jenny is better at sums. I don’t like sums, but Jackie says he is going to be an engineer, and Miss Page says they have to know them. She says everyone has to know them, but I can’t see why. I heard Mrs Lenton say she was rotten at sums.’

  Edna Ford said reprovingly, ‘Oh, Stella! Not a nice word at all! I’m sure Mrs Lenton never said it!’

  Stella gazed calmly back across the table.

  ‘Well then, she did. I heard her. She said it to the Vicar. She was sort of laughing, and he kissed her and said, “Darling, what does it matter?” ’

  Janet said, ‘Stella, finish up your meat! It’s horrid when it’s cold.’