She Came Back

by Patricia Wentworth

  CHAPTER 9

  I expressed no opinion,” said Mr. Codrington.

  “You mean you expressed no opinion to her.” Philip’s tone was dry in the extreme. “You’re making it quite clear to me that I haven’t got a leg to stand on.”

  “I haven’t said that. What I do want to put before you is the undoubted advantage of a private settlement. This sort of case brings down the maximum of notoriety upon the people who engage in it. I do not know any family in England who would dislike it more.”

  “I don’t propose to accept Annie Joyce as a wife merely to avoid seeing my name in the papers.”

  “Quite so. But I would like to point out that those are not the alternatives. I made no comment on the suggestion of a family council, but I think you would do well to consider it. Quite apart from its being desirable to avoid washing the family linen in public, the plan has other advantages. A private inquiry of that nature could be held immediately-a dishonest claimant being thereby deprived of the opportunity of gathering information and getting up a case. Then at a private inquiry the claimant would not be protected, as in court, by the strict application of the rules of evidence. Anybody will be able to ask her anything, and the fact that Anne is not only willing but anxious to submit herself to this test-”

  “Anne?” Philip’s voice was bleak.

  “My dear Philip, what am I to call her? If it comes to that, both the girls were baptized Anne.” The words came out a little more warmly than he intended. He checked himself. “You mustn’t think that I don’t feel for your position. I feel for it so much that I am bound to hold my own feelings in check. I would like your permission to discuss the whole matter with Trent. You haven’t met him, have you? He came in as a partner just before the war. Some kind of connection of old Sunderland, who was the senior partner in my father’s time. Rather remote, but it is pleasant to keep up these old ties.” Partly in order to relieve the tension, he continued to talk about Pelham Trent. “A very able fellow-I’m lucky to have him. Not forty yet, but he’s in the Fire Service, so he hasn’t been called up. Of course he is only available every third day-they do forty-eight hours on and twenty-four off- but it’s a good deal better than nothing. I would really be glad if you would let me talk this matter over with him. He has a very good brain, and he is sound-very sound. A pleasant fellow too. Mrs. Armitage and Lyndall saw quite a lot of him when they were in town just before you came home. Lyndall came in for a few hundred pounds from an Armitage cousin, and he handled the business for her.”

  “Oh, tell him anything you like.” Philip’s tone was a weary one. “We shall be lucky if it doesn’t have to go farther than that.”

  Mr. Codrington regarded him with gravity.

  “I was about to draw your attention to that aspect of the case. If this affair can be settled inside the family, a great deal of most undesirable publicity will be avoided. Quite apart from everything else, can you at this moment afford to be involved in a cause célèbre? You are just taking up a new job. Will that particular kind of limelight be acceptable at the War Office?”

  He got an impatient shake of the head. He continued in a manner which had settled into being equable again.

  “I think you may put it this way. The family are going to be a great deal more on the spot than any jury when it comes to the kind of thing that has to be looked out for in a case like this. They’ll know all the ropes, and if she makes a slip, they won’t miss it. If she passes the family, you can be perfectly sure that she would pass with any jury in the world.”

  Philip walked up and down in silence. Presently he came over to the writing-table, leaned on it, and said,

  “I agree to a meeting of the family. Perry’s interests are involved-any doubt as to whether I’ve got a legal wife or not would affect him. He is one of the people who have to be satisfied. He and his wife must come. Then there’s Aunt Milly, and Theresa’s sister Inez-and why on earth Cousin Maude should have given those two aggravating women Spanish names-”

  Mr. Codrington nodded.

  “It used to annoy your father.”

  “Prophetic probably-they’ve always been a damned nuisance in the family. But I suppose Inez had better come.”

  “She will probably be a great deal more troublesome if she doesn’t.”

  “Then of course there is Uncle Thomas-and, I suppose, Aunt Emmeline.”

  Mr. Codrington looked down his nose.

  “Mrs. Jocelyn would certainly wish to be present.”

  Philip gave a short laugh.

  “Wild horses wouldn’t keep her away! Well, that’s about the lot. Archie and Jim are somewhere in Italy, but they’re a long way off on the family tree, and in view of the fact that Perry is married, and that Uncle Thomas has four boys all safely under military age, they don’t really come into it.”

  “No, I hardly think we need take them into consideration.

  And there are no relations of Anne’s on her mother’s side.”

  “And no Joyces?”

  Mr. Codrington shook his head.

  “There was only the one son by the Joyce connection. Roger Joyce’s wife died when Annie was five years old. There were no other children, and he did not marry again. Your father made Mrs. Joyce an allowance, but refused to continue it to Roger. He was a weak, inoffensive creature, rather fond of drawing the long bow about his grand relations.”

  “What did he do?”

  “We got him a job as a clerk in a shipping office. He was the sort of man who gets into a rut and stays there-no initiative, no ambition.”

  “And his wife?”

  “A teacher in an elementary school-an only child and an orphan. So, you see, there is no one to invite on the Joyce side.”

  Philip straightened up.

  “Well then, there we are, all set. You’d better get everyone together as soon as you can. But look here, I’m only consenting to this because it’s the best chance we’ve got of tripping her up. If she brings a case, she’ll have the next few months to find out anything she doesn’t already know-you said that yourself.”

  “Wait! She won’t bring a case against you. She told me to tell you that.”

  “Bunkum! She wants to get her hands on Anne’s money. In the eyes of the law Anne is dead. She’d be bound to do whatever you have to do to get back on the map again. You’ve told her that already, haven’t you?”

  “If unopposed, it would be a mere formality.”

  “And I’d be bound to oppose it.”

  “Unless the proceedings before the family council happened to convince you.”

  Philip shook his head.

  “They won’t do that. But if she breaks down, there would be an end to it that way.”

  “And if she doesn’t-what are you going to do then? I told you her terms-six months under the same roof.”

  “Why?”

  “She wants a chance of convincing you. She told me quite frankly that she wanted to try and save the marriage.”

  “The marriage ended when Anne died.”

  Mr. Codrington made an impatient movement.

  “I am putting her terms to you. If there is no reconciliation by the end of six months, she is willing to divorce you.”

  Philip laughed.

  Mr. Codrington said gravely,

  “Think it over. You might find yourself in a very difficult position if she were legally admitted to be Anne Jocelyn, and you were neither reconciled nor divorced. Supposing you desire to remarry, she could prevent your doing so.” He paused and added-“indefinitely.”

  They were alone together, the deep red curtains drawn, a red glow from the wood fire on the hearth, a single overhead light shining down upon the writing-table with its scattered papers. For a moment both men were seeing an unseen third between them-Lyndall, little and slight, with her cloudy dark hair and her cloudy eyes-grey eyes, but quite different from the Jocelyn grey. Lyndall’s eyes were smudged with brown and green. They were soft and childish. They had no defences. If she was hurt,
they showed it. If she loved anyone, they showed that too. If they grieved, tears rose to brighten them. She was pale because she had been ill. Her colour had been coming back. Now it was all gone again.

  Philip walked over to the fire and stood there looking down.

  CHAPTER 10

  The first headlines appeared next day. The Daily Wire splashed them half across the front page, rather crowding the latest Russian victory.

  THREE AND A HALF YEARS DEAD

  – COMES BACK TO SEE HER TOMBSTONE

  Underneath there was a picture of the white marble cross in Holt churchyard. The lettering stood out clearly:

  Anne Wife of Philip Jocelyn

  Aged 21

  Killed by enemy action June 26th, 1941

  The letterpress contained an interview with Mrs. Ramage, cook and housekeeper at Jocelyn’s Holt.

  Mrs. Armitage went down to the kitchen with the paper in her hand.

  “Oh, Mrs. Ramage-how could you?”

  Mrs. Ramage burst into tears which were a good three parts excitement to one of remorse. Her large pale face glistened and she shook like a blanc-mange.

  “Never said he’d put it in the paper. Got off his bicycle at the back door when the girls were in the dining-room and asked me civil enough if I could direct him to the churchyard, which I said you couldn’t miss it if you tried, seeing it runs next the park, and I took and showed him the church tower from the back door step, and you’d have done the same or anyone else. Well, there it is, as large as life and you can’t get from it.”

  “You seem to have said a good deal more than that, Mrs. Ramage.”

  Mrs. Ramage groped for a pocket handkerchief like a small sheet and applied it to her face…

  “He arst me how could he find Lady Jocelyn’s grave, and I said-”

  “What did you say?”

  Mrs. Ramage gulped.

  “I said, ‘We don’t want to think about graves or suchlike, not now her ladyship’s come home again.’ ”

  Mrs. Armitage gazed resignedly at the front page of the Wire.

  “Mrs. Ramage told me she was thunderstruck-” What a pity she wasn’t!-“ ‘I remember Lady Jocelyn coming here as a bride… Such lovely pearls-the same she’s wearing in her picture that was in the Royal Academy. And she came back wearing them, and her lovely fur coat too… ’ Miss Ivy Fossett, parlourmaid at Jocelyn’s Holt, says, ‘Of course I didn’t know who it was when I opened the door, but as soon as I got a good look at her I could see she was dressed the same as the picture in the parlour…’ ”

  Mrs. Ramage continued to gulp and mop her face. All at once Milly Armitage relaxed. What was the use anyway? She said in her good-tempered voice,

  “Oh, do stop crying. It’s no use-is it? I don’t suppose you had a chance with him really-he was bound to get it all out of you. Only I can’t think how they knew there was anything to get.”

  Mrs. Ramage gave a final gulp. She looked about her. The big kitchen was empty, Ivy and Flo were upstairs making beds, but she dropped her voice to a hoarse whisper.

  “It was that Ivy-but girls are so hard to get. I had it out of her last night. She’d an aunt got a guinea from a paper for sending up a piece about a cat bringing up a rabbit along with its kittens, and that put it into her head. She took and wrote a postcard to the Wire and said her ladyship had come home after everyone thought she was dead, and a cross in the churchyard and all. And I’m sure I wouldn’t have had it happen for the world, not if it was to vex Sir Philip.”

  “Well, I don’t see that it was your fault, Mrs. Ramage. I suppose the papers were bound to get hold of it.”

  Mrs. Ramage put her handkerchief away in a capacious apron pocket.

  “It’s a lovely photo of the cross,” she said.

  Milly Armitage gazed at the paper.

  Anne

  Wife of Philip Jocelyn

  Aged 21

  They would have to alter the inscription of course. Philip would have to get it done. Because if it was Anne upstairs in the parlour with Lyn, then it wasn’t Anne’s body under the white marble cross. You can’t be in two places at once. She wished with all her heart that she could be sure that the inscription on the cross was true. It was probably very wicked of her, but she would much rather be sure that Anne was in the churchyard, and not upstairs in the parlour. The trouble was that she couldn’t be sure. Sometimes Philip shook her, and sometimes Anne shook her. She was as honest as she knew how to be. It didn’t really matter whether she wanted Anne to be alive, or whether she wanted her to be dead. What mattered was that they should be sure. It was perfectly frightful to think of Annie Joyce grabbing Anne’s money and getting away with Philip and Jocelyn’s Holt, but it was even more frightful to think of Anne coming back from the dead and finding out that no one wanted her. Her eyes remained fixed upon the page.

  Annie

  Daughter of Roger Joyce

  That was what it would have to be if Anne were alive… What a frightful business!

  She looked up, met Mrs. Ramage’s sympathetic gaze, and said with the frankness which occasionally devastated her family,

  “It’s a mess-isn’t it?”

  “A bit of an upset, as you may say-”

  Mrs. Armitage nodded. After all, Mrs. Ramage had been twelve years at Jocelyn’s Holt. She had seen Philip married. You couldn’t keep things from people in your own house, so what was the good of trying-you might just as well make a virtue of necessity. She said,

  “Did you recognize her-at once?”

  “Meaning her ladyship, ma’am?”

  Mrs. Armitage nodded.

  “Did you recognize her-” she paused, and once more added-“at once?”

  “Didn’t you, ma’am?”

  “Of course I did. I never thought of anything else.”

  “No more did I.”

  They looked at one another. Mrs. Ramage said in an uncertain whisper,

  “It’s Sir Philip, isn’t it? He’s not sure-”

  “He’s so sure that she was dead-it’s so difficult for him to believe he could have made a mistake. We didn’t see her- he did. It makes it hard for him.”

  Mrs. Ramage considered, and spoke slowly.

  “I’ve seen a lot of dead people first and last. Some looks like they were alive and just dropped off asleep, but some is that changed you’d hardly know them. And if you was to think of her ladyship with all that bright colour gone and her hair gone straight and wet with the sea water coming over like you told me Sir Philip said-well, that would make a lot of difference, wouldn’t it? And if this other lady was so much like her-”

  “I didn’t say anything about another lady, Mrs. Ramage.”

  “Didn’t you, ma’am? There’s been talk about it, as there’s bound to be, because it stands to reason if that’s her ladyship upstairs, then there’s someone else that was buried by mistake for her, and the talk goes it was Miss Annie Joyce, that we all seen when she came here with Miss Theresa a matter of ten or eleven years ago. Stayed here a week, and anyone could see how she favoured the family.”

  “Do you remember her-what she looked like?”

  Mrs. Ramage nodded.

  “Long, thin, poking slip of a girl-looked as if she wanted a deal of feeding up. But she favoured the family all the same-might have passed for Sir Philip’s sister, and if she’d plumped out and held herself up and got a bit of a colour, well, it’s my opinion she’d have been like enough to her ladyship for Sir Philip to make the mistake he did, seeing the difference there is between a dead person and a live one. And that’s the way it was, you may depend upon it.”

  Milly Armitage opened her lips to speak, shut them again, and then said in a hurry,

  “You think it’s her ladyship upstairs?”

  Mrs. Ramage stared.

  “Why, you can’t get from it, ma’am. Looks a bit older of course, but don’t we all?”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Sure? She come in that door and straight up to me, and she says, ‘
I do hope you’re glad to see me again, Mrs. Ramage.’ ”

  Tears came into Milly Armitage’s eyes. Anne coming back, and nobody pleased to see her-She pulled herself up sharply. Lyn was pleased enough-but she’s looking like a ghost now-she isn’t sure either-

  Mrs. Ramage said,

  “A bit hard to come home and find you’re not wanted, ma’am.”

  CHAPTER 11

  The mist which had lain over the churchyard all day had by half past three in the afternoon spread into the park and was creeping up the long slope towards the house. A brief hour of pallid sunshine had failed to disperse the haze overhead. Milly Armitage began to count up bedrooms and rations, because if it was going to be foggy, neither Inez nor Emmeline would want to go back to town, and if they stayed-and of course Thomas-it would really be very much better if Perry and Lilla were to stay too. Three bedrooms… And fishcakes-the cod went farther that way than when it was boiled or grilled… And if Emmeline thought she could keep to a diet in war-time she would have to go hungry, because the next course would just have to be sausages, and they could have baked apples for a dessert… Mr. Codrington would probably prefer to go back to town unless the fog was very bad indeed. Well, if he stayed he must have the blue room… And Florence must put stone hot-water bottles in all the beds… The question was, if Mr. Codrington stayed, did it mean that his clerk would have to be accommodated too? She supposed it did-and he would have the dressing-room at the top of the stairs. A harmless, elderly, confidential person who was to take shorthand notes of everything that was said. Very unpleasant, but of course Mr. Codrington was quite right-it was only fair to everyone that there should be an accurate record. Her mind swung back to food again. If there were going to be two more, Mrs. Ramage would have to put a lot of rice into the fish-cakes, and they had better have potatoes in their jackets… Perhaps it wouldn’t be foggy after all… A glance out of the window dismissed this rather optimistic hope.