“No, I didn’t. He was killed.”
Nicholas was looking at her very hard.
“He was killed. And they sent his things home to his wife—they sent her my letters. Nicko, she was a most dreadful woman. She saw my picture in the paper after we were engaged, and she came to see me, and said if I didn’t buy my letters from her she’d show them to you. And when I said I hadn’t any money, she said, ‘What about those pearls you’re wearing?’ That’s what made me think about the pearls. Anne said I ought to tell you—she always said so. She said you’d believe me. But I couldn’t do it.”
“How old were you?” said Nicholas abruptly.
“Sixteen. Nicko, I didn’t know.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I couldn’t. I minded—so much—what you thought. I cared so much, I couldn’t.”
She sat down again as if the strength to stand was gone.
Nicholas found himself believing her. He said:
“Have you told me everything, Jenny?”
“I think so”—her voice sounded very tired—“I think I have.” Then, after a long pause: “What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know.”
“Are you going to send me away?”
Separation, and a hundred tongues wagging over their affairs; a hypothetical lover for Jenny, or a mistress for himself; Jenny alone and lonely—there would be plenty ready enough to proffer consolation. Nicholas knew his world very well; he was able to see Jenny’s future very distinctly. If their separation was to be final there would be only one result; if temporary, what was there to be gained except a liberal spattering of mud? His mind, working coolly, discarded these solutions. Something fine in him recognized a debt to Anne, whom he disliked, and an obligation to Jenny, whom he loved. He did not feel that he loved her, but he knew it in the clear, cold places of thought. He knew that he could not separate from her, because she had never needed him so much. The need irked him, but it compelled him too.
Jenny had been watching him with eyes in which hope had drowned. He would send her away. He would take Tony away from her. She had lost Anne; now she was going to lose Nicko and Tony. It was her punishment. No one would ever love or admire her again. Everything was going from her except the power to suffer. She thought then of Anne, who had lost everything and been alone.
She went on looking at Nicholas.
After a long time he came over to her, frowning.
“We must have Anne here,” he said. “They must be married from here.”
That was a strange thing for him to say. Jenny thought how strange it was. Anne would be here, but Jenny would be gone. She felt puzzled about it.
“We’d better do it with a splash,” said Nicholas, still frowning. “Ask everyone, and go the limit.”
Jenny put up her hand and touched his sleeve.
“Aren’t you going to send me away, Nicko?”
“What would be the good? You’re my wife. We’ve got to stick it out.”
Jenny held his sleeve.
“Nicko—”
“We’ve got to make the best of things. You’re worn out. We’d better have a meal.”
He pulled away from her and went over to the bell.
Jenny sat back in her chair. Everything seemed to have come to a stop. She heard the door open and she heard Nicholas speaking:
“Emmot! We want something to eat. It’s too late for dinner. I think something on a tray in here—soup and something cold. Her ladyship’s a little faint.”
The door shut again. Nicholas lit a cigarette.
CHAPTER XL
John came into the drawing-room of Aurora’s flat at a little after seven o’clock. He found Anne alone—Anne rather pale, in a blue and silver dress. She turned to meet him with an anxious “What has happened?”
“You look ripping in that dress,” said John.
Anne caught him by the arm.
“John—please—please, what has happened?”
“I don’t know.”
“Haven’t you been down?”
“Yes, I’ve been down. They’d been away for the week-end—Jenny had only just got my letter. I cleared off because I thought I’d be in the way whilst she was telling Nicholas.”
Anne’s hands dropped.
“She won’t tell him,” she said in a low voice.
“Yes, she will. As a matter of fact she had practically told him. She lost her head a bit and said things, and I came away. You will hear from them to-morrow, I expect. Anne darling, don’t look like that!”
“What will Nicholas do?” said Anne in a whisper. “John, he’s proud. If he doesn’t forgive her—Jenny—what’ll happen to Jenny?”
John put his arm round her.
“Nicholas is very fond of Jenny,” he said.” I noticed it a good deal when I stayed there. It’ll be a bit of a facer for him of course. But there you are—Jenny did it; and in the long run it’s much better Nicholas should know. It was pretty bad for Jenny going on telling lies and being everyone’s blue-eyed darling. She’ll be a heap nicer if she can stop lying every second word. I tumbled to it pretty quickly, and I used to want to spank her every time she did it.”
“Oh, John!”
“You bet I did! I hope Nicholas gives it her pretty strong—it’s what she wants. And you needn’t be afraid he won’t come round—Jenny’s a lot too fascinating for that. What I’m afraid of is that he’ll come round a good deal too soon. Jenny’s like that; she get’s round you. I’ve been absolutely mad with her myself, and then when I saw her somehow I didn’t want to hurt her. And when she came into the room this afternoon I was downright sorry for her, though she didn’t deserve it.” He laughed a little. “No, you needn’t be afraid. Nicholas’ll put it across her, and she’ll cry and be dreadfully unhappy for a bit; and then she’ll get round him. If she can get round me, you bet she can get round Nicholas. There’s something about Jenny.”
“Yes, there is,” said Anne. Her eyes were shining.
“She’d better stop telling lies though, or she’ll land in a nasty mess. I hope Nicholas doesn’t let her off too easy—that’s all I’m afraid of. That’s enough about Jenny. Kiss me. You haven’t kissed me yet. Have you stopped being a pariour-maid?”
“Oh, John, it was dreadful!” said Anne in his arms.
“What was?”
“She was—Mrs. Fossick-Yates. She started by having me up after breakfast and saying a friend of hers had seen me coming home with a man. John, she must have had sort of X-ray eyes, because you know how dark it was.”
“There are some lamps.”
John became suddenly aware that Anne had a dimple.
“How stupid you are! It wasn’t—I mean you didn’t. John, she couldn’t really have seen anything; but she said she did.”
Anne had a very pretty blush.
“What did she see?”
“She didn’t—she couldn’t! But she told Mrs. Fossick-Yates she saw you kiss me!”
“How horrible!”
“It’s all very well for you to laugh, but it was horrible for me. She talked in capital letters for about half an hour, and she said the most awful things. And as soon as I could get a word in edgeways, I said I thought I’d better not stay any longer. And then she began to think about not having a parlour-maid, and she said I couldn’t go, because I hadn’t worked enough to pay for the dresses she’d had to get me. John, it was horrid—like being in a street row. I hated it.”
“What did you do?”
“I said I was going to friends, and I’d send her the money for the dresses. Then she said much worse things”—Anne was quite pale—“so I went and packed my box and walked out. My sixpence just got me here. Aurora was an angel. She made me write a letter, and she enclosed the money Mrs. Fossick-Yates said I owed her, and she sent a messenger boy to bring away my box. I shouldn’t have thought of that. She was splendid.”
John’s attention seemed to be wandering a little.
“Could you get
married in a blue dress like this?”
“No—I don’t think so.”
The dimple had returned.
“Oh—” A short pause, and then, “We shall be getting married in about a fortnight. I think to-morrow fortnight would be a good day. It’s a Tuesday. I think I should like to get married on a Tuesday.”
Anne laughed, and was kissed.
“There’s nothing to laugh at. To-morrow we will go and buy your engagement ring, and your wedding ring. And if there’s time before lunch, you can buy something to get married in.”
Anne gave a little scream; and as she did so, Miss Fairlie came in. She was tightly upholstered in a pre-war black satin, and wore three rows of extremely valuable pearls about a brick-red neck.
“Is he beating you already?” she said. “He will if you’re not careful. He’s not a young man I should marry myself. You’ll be a poor, miserable, down-trodden squaw—but I suppose you don’t mind.”
Anne looked rather demurely at John. She had two dimples now. There was a little sparkling something behind the dark lashes which lifted for a moment and then fell.
“I wonder,” she said.
About the Author
Patricia Wentworth (1878–1961) was one of the masters of classic English mystery writing. Born in India as Dora Amy Elles, she began writing after the death of her first husband, publishing her first novel in 1910. In the 1920s, she introduced the character who would make her famous: Miss Maud Silver, the former governess whose stout figure, fondness for Tennyson, and passion for knitting served to disguise a keen intellect. Along with Agatha Christie’s Miss Marple, Miss Silver is the definitive embodiment of the English style of cozy mysteries.
All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 1927 by Patricia Wentworth
Cover design by Mauricio Díaz
ISBN: 978-1-5040-3347-3
This edition published in 2016 by Open Road Integrated Media, Inc.
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New York, NY 10038
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