The Alington Inheritance

by Patricia Wentworth

  Jenny hesitated.

  “Well, I thought if you didn’t mind I’d stay at home and let Carter go. She’s such friends with Nanny.”

  “Oh, yes-I’d forgotten. Well, if they can get there dry they can go.”

  She was gone again without waiting for an answer. It wasn’t her place to wait for answers. She gave an order and it was carried out, as she knew it would be when she gave it.

  The rain was slackening off, when the door opened and Mac and Alan walked in. Meg and Joyce gave squeals of joy and flung themselves on them.

  “Mother seems to be out, and we’ve come to tea.”

  “We didn’t expect you this week,” said Jenny. Her colour had risen. She looked very pretty indeed.

  Mac smiled at her. He might do worse. He might do much worse. She could have been a plain lump, and here she was, very far from being plain. Very, very far indeed.

  Alan had the two little girls one in each arm and was swinging them. Mac leaned a little closer to Jenny and dropped his voice.

  “Have you missed me, Jen?” he said softly.

  “A little-perhaps-”

  “Perhaps a lot?”

  And with that there was a good resounding crash. Alan had tripped over a chair and was down with a tangle of shrieking, excited little girls. Jenny sprang to her feet.

  “Oh, my goodness! What are you up to, Alan?”

  “I’m not up at all-I’m d-down,” he said laughing and got up, his hair rumpled.

  Jenny seized Meg with one hand and Joyce with the other.

  “Shocking children! Now behave, or I’ll send the boys away.”

  “Oh, you wouldn’t do that!” said Meg.

  “Oh, Jenny darling!” said Joyce.

  Mac and Alan struck an attitude and repeated her words, “Oh, Jenny darling!” and the whole group dissolved into laughter.

  Looking back on it afterwards, Jenny thought that was her last happy time with them-her very last, though she didn’t know it. She only felt happy, and as if the old bad times had gone away and would never come again.

  It went on being happy. The little girls, protesting, were removed by Carter. They could go to tea with Nanny any time, they said.

  “Just any time at all, Carter-you know we can! But we can’t have Mac and Alan to tea with us-only once in a blue moon!” they protested.

  Carter was very firm indeed.

  “I don’t know when I heard such nonsense,” she said. “It’s come out quite bright and clear, and the rain over as anyone can see. And Nanny’s been making cakes for you all morning, I shouldn’t wonder.”

  “Will she have made the sort that has chocolate icing on it?” said Joyce in a hopeful tone.

  “I shouldn’t wonder,” said Carter more indulgently.

  Their protests had grown feebler. They hadn’t had much hope of being let off. They went away to be washed and dressed, and finally set out, the very picture of two good obedient little girls.

  When Jenny got back to the schoolroom she found only Alan there. He said,

  “Mac’s gone to the Raxalls.”

  Jenny felt a quite sickening disappointment. He didn’t care-he didn’t care a bit. Oh well, if he didn’t care, then she didn’t either. Or did she? She couldn’t answer that, but the question went on in her as she got tea for Alan and herself and talked to him about his plans for the future.

  Chapter VII

  I’m really very glad that Mac has gone for Mother,” said Alan. “I don’t often get a chance t-to talk to you alone.”

  Jenny smiled in an absent way. She was wondering whether it was a party that Mac had gone to, and whether Anne Gillespie would be there. She had to give herself a little mental pull and to come all the way back from the Raxalls. You couldn’t do that in a moment. She thought that Mac and Anne would make a splendid pair. They were both all fair and golden, with dark blue eyes and the darker lashes which showed up the blue. She came to herself with a jerk.

  “What did you say, Alan? I was thinking of something else.”

  Alan looked hurt. When he was hurt he stammered more than usual. He said with an angry rush of syllables,

  “You w-weren’t l-listening! You n-never do l-listen when it’s m-me!”

  Jenny was conscious of guilt. The consciousness put colour into her cheeks and a soft light into her eyes.

  “Oh, Alan-I’m so sorry. I-I was just thinking of something else.” Her colour burned brighter as she remembered what she had been thinking of.

  That raised colour went to Alan’s head. He took it for what it certainly was not, an interest in him. He reached out across the tea-table and caught at the hand which was offering him cake.

  “Jenny, you’ve got to listen to me. I can’t s-stand back and l-let things happen-I can’t really. No one could expect me t-to. I don’t so often get an opportunity that I can afford to l-lose one when it comes. You c-can’t expect me to.”

  Jenny put the plate down. She hoped that Alan would take the hint and let go of her hand, but he only held on to it harder than ever.

  “Alan, don’t be ridiculous! You’re hurting me!”

  “I don’t want to hurt you. Oh, my God, Jen-I’d do anything to stop you being hurt. It’s because of that-oh, you m-must know-you m-must see!”

  Jenny was shaking. She took hold of herself as firmly as she could. He was just a boy-a silly boy. She said as calmly as she could,

  “Alan, what is it?”

  He released her hand as suddenly as he had taken it. He got up, spilling his cup of tea, and went over to the mantelpiece, where he stood looking down into the little black fire.

  “D-don’t you know that I l-love you?” he said in a muffled voice.

  “Oh, Alan, you can’t-you don’t really!”

  “Because I’m not M-Mac,” he said.

  “Oh, Alan-”

  “Why shouldn’t I l-love you? Will you t-tell me that? I’m no one of c-course-no one to anyone.”

  “Alan-”

  He swung suddenly round and faced her.

  “N-no, you listen to me! I’ve got things to say to you, and this is a good time to say them.”

  He had stopped stammering, and he was very like his father. She had only seen Colonel Forbes angry once. It was a long time ago when she was quite a little girl. There was a man who had frightened a woman. The whole scene flashed back into Jenny’s mind. It had frightened her very much then, but she wasn’t frightened now. All her colour had gone. She lifted her eyes and looked at Alan.

  “What do you want to say?” she said.

  “This. I love you. I’ve loved you for a long time. I can’t afford to marry yet-I know that. But if you’ll be engaged, it-it would be a protection for you. We’ll get married in about three years’ time if-if you didn’t mind starting in a small way. I didn’t mean to say anything, but Mac’s no use to you-he isn’t really. And if you were engaged to me, he’d leave you alone-he-he’d have to.”

  Jenny had got paler and paler. This was one thing she had never thought of. Alan was just Alan, like a brother. She had never thought of him like this. If she had been older she would have reflected that a boy of his age must be in love with someone, but she hadn’t enough experience to know that, and what she didn’t know she couldn’t say. She just sat there at the table and thought, “Oh, poor Alan! What shall I say-what shall I do?” She hardly knew what he was saying. She looked at him as if she didn’t understand.

  “Oh, Alan, please-”

  He came across to her.

  “It’s no good saying ‘Oh, Alan-’ It’s not a bit of use. You’re mine -you’re not Mac’s-I won’t let him. Oh, J-Jenny!” He went down on his knees beside her and caught her about the waist.

  She felt suddenly sure of herself. She wasn’t frightened of him, because he was just Alan whom she had known always, who had been like a brother. That was it. That was why she felt it was all wrong. When she spoke, her voice shook a little, but she felt an inner calmness.

  “Alan, you mustn’t-you
mustn’t really. And it’s no use-it’s no use at all.”

  He looked up at her wildly.

  “Why is it no use? Why should you say that? I’d work for you-I’d do anything. Listen-I’ve got an idea. There’s a friend of mine-his name’s Manning. He’s an awfully good chap. Strong as a bull, and he wants to go in for farming. His father’s got a lot of money, and he was very disappointed because Bertie didn’t want to go into the business. It’s steel or something, and Bertie said he simply couldn’t bear the thought of it. He says he doesn’t want to be rich, he just wants to have enough, and he wants his father to put his younger brother in his place, and to let him have just enough to run a farm on. Reggie is quite different. He’d like to be the elder son, and he’d like to be in the business. He thinks Bertie is a fool, and as Bertie says, if he is it’s his own look out, and it’s all to Reggie’s good. So you see-”

  At this point Jenny made a determined effort and freed herself. She pushed back her chair and walked over to the fireplace. Alan followed. He stumbled as he got up, and upset Jenny’s cup, but he was much too busy with his argument to notice it. He came to the other side of the mantelpiece and stood there frowning.

  “Where was I? I was telling you about Bertie Manning. I don’t know why you wanted to get up. Well, I w-wasn’t going to say anything, but I c-couldn’t help it. If I g-go in with Bertie, we ought to be over the first expenses in three years, and if we w-were engaged-”

  “But you were going into the Civil Service, weren’t you?”

  “It t-takes too long,” he said frowning. “I haven’t said anything about th-this except to you. I’ve been w-waiting for an opportunity, but if you’ll be engaged to m-me-”

  “I can’t,” said Jenny.

  He took a step towards her with his hands out.

  “J-Jenny-”

  “It’s no good. It’s no good, Alan-it really isn’t. I don’t think of you like that. You’d be just like a brother. I couldn’t- couldn’t-”

  He had turned very pale as she spoke. It was like seeing the blood drain away out of something. It was horrible.

  When he spoke again his voice choked.

  “Is it Mac?” he said. And then, quick and hot, “He doesn’t love you -he d-doesn’t. If you’d heard him as I have you’d know I was telling the truth. He doesn’t love you at all. But he wants to m-marry you- I d-don’t know why.”

  Jenny’s heart gave a jump. Mac wanted to marry her. He wanted to marry her, Jenny Hill, with no name except her mother’s, with nothing at all-nothing at all. Her head went round. She turned giddy and held tightly to the mantelpiece. She bent her head down and blinked away the tears which filled her eyes. They sparkled and fell, and she could see again. She heard herself say, “He doesn’t.”

  “He does. I tell you he does. I don’t know why he wants to but he d-does. Th-that is why he’s gone over to get hold of m-my mother. Th-that’s why I had to speak to you. I’d n-never get a chance otherwise.”

  Jenny’s head had cleared. There were no more tears. She said,

  “Why do you say he wants to marry me?”

  “I don’t know. He d-does want to.”

  “Why?”

  “I t-tell you I d-don’t know.”

  Thoughts knocked at Jenny’s brain. She wouldn’t let them in. She wouldn’t let them in, but they were like the wind trying to get through the door, through the window, down the chimney. If she were Jenny Forbes, if she were the lawful daughter of Richard Alington Forbes and Jennifer Hill-if she were their lawful daughter instead of a come-by-chance, then Mac would have a reason for marrying her, a real solid reason. The thoughts clamoured so loudly that she could hear them through all her shuttered windows and closed doors. She wouldn’t listen-she couldn’t, she-mustn’t. She stamped her foot and said,

  “Stop it, Alan! Do you hear-stop it!”

  He came forward a step. Jenny listened.

  “I know Mac,” he said. “You only see him. Well, that’s all right. I wouldn’t say a word, only it’s your whole life. He doesn’t care for you -not like I do. No, I didn’t mean to say that. I’m not talking for myself now, I’m talking for you. You don’t know Mac-I do. He’s my brother, but I’m going to tell you the truth about him. There’s only one person he cares anything for, and that’s himself. He’s got everything-looks, strength, brains. And he’s the eldest son. Do you think he’s going to let that be taken away from him by anyone? By anyone at all? I tell you he isn’t going to. He-he’d wade through blood-” He stopped himself, half horrified by the sound of his own words. The stammer came on him again. “It’s t-true,” he said on an altered note. His voice trembled and died away. There was silence between them.

  After some time Jenny moved. She said in a low voice, “It’s not-your business,” and found him looking at her.

  “I th-think it is,” he said. “I th-think it’s the b-business of anyone who loves you. I do l-love you, Jenny.” The tone of his voice got through her anger. She said, “I know you do. I don’t want you to-not like that.” He gave a groan and put his head down on the mantelshelf. After a moment he said,

  “It d-doesn’t matter about m-me. I don’t want you to g-get hurt- th-that’s all.”

  Jenny stood irresolute. She didn’t know what to say or what to do. And then Alan stood up.

  “You’ll th-think of what I’ve said. It’s all t-true, you know.” The tears were running down his face, but he didn’t seem to be thinking about that. He said, “Oh, Jenny-” and went out of the room.,

  Chapter VIII

  Jenny washed up the tea things and put away the cakes. Her hands moved mechanically over the china. She felt dazed, and she wanted to stay like that. She had had an anaesthetic once when she had fallen out of a tree and dislocated her shoulder. The doctor wasn’t quite sure if there was further damage and she had had a whiff of anaesthetic. She remembered coming out of it, and how she hadn’t had any feeling, and how gradually the pain had come in again and the dreamy feeling had thinned out and gone away. She thought this was the same. It was going to hurt. It was going to hurt very much like her shoulder had done, only worse, because the things that happened in your body were never as bad as the things that happened in your mind.

  When she had quite finished washing up and putting the things away she went up to the schoolroom. She didn’t know where Alan was. She thought he had gone out, and that meant that she was quite alone, because Mrs. Bolton, who went out on Wednesdays, might as well not be there, for she never came upstairs at all and had her bedroom in what had been the housekeeper’s room. It gave her a lonely feeling in one way, but it was rather nice in another. Only tonight the house felt very echoey and lonely. She wished she had gone with the little girls, she wished she had done anything different from what she had done.

  And then she heard the car. It came rolling to a stop at the front door, and she went to the window to look. Mrs. Forbes and Mac got out. Jenny’s heart gave a jerk. At the sight of Mac’s tall figure her heart had begun to ache quite dreadfully. It was just like that time with her shoulder-the pain got worse and worse, until suddenly it was too much for her. She pulled the curtain across the embrasure and sank down upon the window seat behind it in a flood of silent tears. Everything swept over her at once-Garsty-and the loss of her home-and what Alan had said about Mac. She fought against that. It wasn’t true. It wasn’t-it wasn’t true. But out of the depths of her there came a little clear voice that said, “It’s true, and you know it.”

  She had forgotten everything but the bitterness which had swept over her, when she heard footsteps on the stairs outside. Mac-she would have known his step anywhere. She shrank down behind the curtains. She couldn’t meet him-not like this.

  And then there was another step, and a voice-Mrs. Forbes’ voice.

  “Isn’t she there?”

  The door opened and Mac came in. The light went on. Jenny shrank back behind the curtains. He said,

  “No, she isn’t. She and Alan must have gone down to
get the children.”

  Mrs. Forbes came across from her bedroom. The faint scent she used came in with her. It was very faint indeed, like the last reflection in water before the light goes. The thought went through Jenny’s mind like a background to what she was feeling. She didn’t mean to listen. She didn’t know that there was going to be anything to listen to. She heard the click of the closing door, and she thought that she was alone. And then she knew that she wasn’t, because the light was still on, and Mrs. Forbes was so terribly particular about lights being turned off. She sat there frozen with something like terror. Why didn’t they go away? Why should they stay here?

  Mrs. Forbes spoke from the far side of the room.

  “Well, what did you want to say to me, Mac?” The tone was the indulgent one which no one else heard from her.

  Mac didn’t answer at once. Jenny couldn’t see him, but she knew how he would look-frowning, his brows drawn together over the dark blue eyes.

  Mrs. Forbes turned towards him and said,

  “Mac, what is it?”

  “All right, you can have it. I’ve only known for a week. I went away and thought it out. I didn’t know how much you knew-or guessed.”

  Behind the curtain Jenny’s heart beat to suffocation. She didn’t know what was coming. Or did she? Did she? The pulses sounded in her ears, in her throat, in her breast. And then she heard Mac say,

  “It’s Jenny. He married her.”

  Mrs. Forbes was holding her foot to the fire. She turned now and looked at her son.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’m talking about Jenny. What we all knew was that she was the daughter of Richard Forbes and Jennifer Hill.”

  Mrs. Forbes said in a hard voice,

  “Well, isn’t she?”

  “Of course she is. There wasn’t ever any doubt about that. The only thing there was a doubt about was the fact of their marriage.”