The innocent Mrs Duff

by Elisabeth Sanxay Holding

  “I want to speak to you about Nolan, Reggie,” said Duff. “You don’t realize how insolent the fellow is.”

  “Honestly, he’s never said anything—”

  “I was shocked,” said Duff, “when I saw him there in the sitting-room.”

  “But he was just fixing the radio. I asked him to, Jake.”

  “I don’t suppose you asked him to take off his coat and light a cigarette, did you?”

  “Well, no. But I don’t think he meant to be fresh.”

  “He’s a good deal more than what you call ‘fresh’, my dear girl. I’m going to let him go.”

  He watched her covertly, to see how she took that, but he could see no emotion in her thin, gentle face.

  “Well,” she said, “I guess he can find another job, easily enough.”

  “That doesn’t interest me,” said Duff. “He’ll certainly get no reference from me.”

  “But, Jake, that seems kind of hard on him.”

  “My dear girl,” said Duff, “he’s a dangerous man.”

  “Dangerous, Jake?”

  “Yes,” said Duff. “I don’t want to go into details, but he made an attempt to blackmail me.”

  “Oh, Jake, how could he? What about?”

  “Let’s not talk about it, Reggie. Fortunately, I knew how to deal with him.”

  “But, Jake, what could he possibly try to blackmail you about?”

  Duff was silent for a moment.

  “I’m not going to tell you, my dear girl,” he said, presently.

  “Jake! Was it something—about me?”

  “I’m not going to talk about it any more,” he said, and patted her hand. “It’s finished.”

  “Jake, if I did do something that looked wrong some way, I’m terribly sorry.”

  “Don’t worry, Reggie,” he said, with his hand over hers.

  All right! he thought. Now let Nolan go to her with his tale about a frame-up – and see where it gets him.

  He saw Reggie into a taxi at the Grand Central, and went off, in another cab, to his office. Eleven o’clock came, and he was pleased that he had not the slightest desire for a drink. I certainly shouldn’t want to make a habit of that, he thought.

  He was to meet Reggie at one, in a midtown hotel; he got there a little early and stopped in the bar for a double Martini. A cocktail doesn’t hurt you, he thought, as long as you eat directly after it. Although, if I’d been having lunch alone, I shouldn’t have wanted a drink. Only, it’s so damn hard to talk to Reggie. She has nothing to say for herself. She’s never been anywhere, never seen anything.

  When he entered the restaurant, Reggie was waiting for him, and he felt a slight shock at the sight of her beauty and her air of distinction. She was wearing a new costume, a grey suit that brought out the long fine hues of her body, a blue blouse, a blue turban with a white band that encircled her broad and candid brow like a coif; grey gloves, a blue pocketbook. Dressed so, with her head set so well on her slender neck, her straight back, her way of sitting so quietly and easily, she looked aristocratic.

  This irritated him, and so did her smile when she caught sight of him.

  “Hello, Jake!” she said. “How do you like my outfit?”

  “Extremely nice.”

  “I telephoned to Aunt Lou and she came with me.”

  “Well, you did a very fine job together,” he said.

  The headwaiter led them to a table with which Duff could find no fault. He took up the menu and studied it.

  “You order for me, Jake,” she said, “You know what’s nice.”

  “There’s nothing nice here,” he said.

  “Why don’t you have a cocktail, Jake, to give you an appetite?”

  “It’s not a good idea, to drink in the middle of the day’.”

  “Well, but just for once—?”

  “All right!” he said, with a good-humored laugh. “A dry Martini, waiter. Or you’d better make it a double. That saves time,” he explained to Reggie. “As long as you’re not drinking, You naturally don’t want to sit here and watch me.”

  “I don’t mind, Jake. Jake, Aunt Lou was asking me how things were.”

  “What things?”

  “I mean, if we were—sort of settling down better. And I told her yes.

  “Oh, did you?”

  “Yes. You were sweet to me, Jake, about whatever it was Nolan tried—”

  “You didn’t tell Aunt Lou about that, did you?”

  “Oh no! I just said I thought things were going better, and she was terribly pleased.”

  “I see!” he said, absently.

  I did the right thing, he thought. It’s better, in every way, to have things pleasant and friendly between us. If Nolan goes to her now with his fantastic tale, she wouldn’t believe a word of it. Only, I’m not going in for any love-making.

  “Reggie,” he said, “if I haven’t seemed very lover-like recently, it’s because I haven’t been well.”

  A burning color rose in her cheeks.

  “Oh, well, but, Jake…” she said. “Marriage isn’t just—that. I mean—that…”

  Good God! he thought. It’s revolting. She’s like a sixteen-year-old girl in a convent. It’s impossible to talk to her about anything.

  “We’d better order now,” he said. “I told Nolan we’d get the two-fifty.”

  He had a little nap on the train, and when he waked he felt greatly refreshed. Nolan was waiting on the platform, handsome and alert. As they drove to the house. Duff kept his eyes upon the fellow’s strong young neck, kept his thoughts upon the fellow’s insolence.

  “I’d like a word with you, Nolan,” he said, when the car stopped.

  “Very well, sir,” said Nolan, and followed him into the study.

  “Close the door,” said Duff. “Now, then. I’ll pay you whatever’s coming to you, and you can clear out.”

  “Very well, sir,” said Nolan.

  “And don’t use me for a reference.”

  “That suits me,” said Nolan.

  His bright composure nettled Duff. Somehow this interview was not going as it should.

  “What’s more,” he said, “if I hear of your repeating that slanderous lie to anyone, I’ll take steps.”

  “What steps?” asked Nolan.

  “I’ve warned Mrs. Duff, so that if you make any attempt to repeat that lie to her—”

  “If I was going to tell anyone about that frame-up,” said Nolan, “it wouldn’t be Mrs. Duff.”

  I must not ask him who it would be. Duff told himself. As if I were anxious.

  But he had to know.

  “Is that so?” he said, with a scornful smile. “The tabloids, I suppose.”

  “No. Mrs. Albany,” said Nolan.

  That was like a blow in the midriff. Now he had to fight.

  “D’you imagine you could collect money from Mrs. Albany on the strength of a preposterous he like that?”

  “We weren’t talking about collecting money. The point is,” said Nolan, “if I wanted to find someone who’d believe that story, I’d choose Mrs. Albany. Once she heard the facts, she’d see just how it was.”

  “You’re trying to blackmail me, eh? Threatening to tell Mrs. Albany—?”

  “I haven’t made any threats,” said Nolan, “and I haven’t asked for any money.”

  “But you intend to later. That’s obvious.”

  “To tell you the truth,” said Nolan, “I’d never thought about blackmail until you brought it up. I thought the whole thing was rather funny.”

  “Funny?”

  “Comic. So damn crude, telling me to stay there till you came, and then calling up to say you weren’t coming. And then coming, late at night, with your witness. And finding the kid there. I thought it was funny. I still do.”

  “You’re insolent!” cried Duff.

  “Could be,” said Nolan, easily.

  Duff could think of no way to cope with this behavior. There were no demands made, no menaces to parry, nothing he
re to fight.

  “I’ll write your check,” he said. “But remember, if I hear anything more of that lie of yours—”

  Nolan said nothing. He didn’t smile; there was nothing to be read in his alert face. He took the check Duff held out to him.

  “Thanks,” he said, and turned away.

  And where was he going? What did he intend to do?

  If he does go to Aunt Lou with that tale, Duff told himself, she’ll make short work of him. I don’t see her listening to servants’ gossip.

  No … he said to himself, with a dreadful sinking of the heart. She’d believe it.

  He was sure of that. She was completely loyal to him, she was fond of him, but, better than anyone else, she knew his weaknesses, his potentialities. If she heard this story, plainly told, all the facts provable, she would believe it, and she would forever despise him.

  He could imagine no greater misfortune than to lose her approval. She was his conscience. Whatever she said was right; what she condemned was wrong. Since his childhood, her opinion had been the important one. His parents had left little impression upon him. He had respected them, he had been grief-stricken at their funerals, hut he had almost completely forgotten them. It was his Aunt Lou who had completely captured his imagination, that spare, energetic woman, back from jungles and veldts. The presents she gave for birthdays or Christmas had an almost mystic value. Above everything else on earth he was proudest of being her heir.

  He knew nothing about poverty, in any degree; he had always had enough money, and he had now. He was not extravagant, nor ambitious. But the money Mrs. Albany was going to leave him represented The Future for him. It was the fortune he was going to leave his son; it was the thing that was going to make him a man of importance. Mrs. Albany’s lawyer had pointed that out to him on his twenty-first birthday. You’ll want to understand something about the science of investment, he had said. You are going to have considerable responsibility one of these days.

  If Nolan goes to her… he thought. It’s the sort of thing she’d never forgive. Never. To set a trap for my wife; to bring Vermilyea along…

  But is Nolan going to her? I don’t know. I can’t make the fellow out at all. He’s got something up his sleeve, that’s certain. But what? I didn’t handle him properly.

  He went up to his bedroom and, locking the door, got the bottle of rye out of the bag. I shouldn’t have fired him, he thought. That was a great mistake. No… I should have taken the whole thing lightly, laughed at him. I should have made him see that I had perfect confidence in Reggie.

  His brain began to work well now; now he could see what he ought to have said, the turn he ought to have taken. I acted like a fool, he thought. Gave myself away completely. I can’t let that fellow loose in the world with that idea in his head. No… I’ll tell him I’ve thought things over, and I’ve decided to let him stay.

  Then I’ll go to Aunt Lou myself, and tell her about Nolan’s idea. Tell her I thought it best to keep him on. Tell her I talked it over with Reggie.

  He locked up the bottle and went downstairs. He rang for the housemaid.

  ‘Tell Nolan I’d like to see him after dinner, please,” he said. “Half-past eight.”

  Then he went into the sitting-room, where Miss Castle was drinking tea. She made a charming picture, with the late afternoon sun shining upon her smooth hair.

  “May I join you?” he asked.

  “Oh, do!” she said. “I’ll ring for another cup. It’s nice to see you home so early. Mrs. Duff’s quite worried about your overworking. She’s so anxious for you to see a doctor.”

  “I have seen one,” said Duff, pleased by her interest. “I’m a little run down, that’s all.”

  “You’ve no appetite,” said Miss Castle.

  “No, I haven’t,” he admitted. “But I’ve got a tonic for that.”

  How much he liked this! Her pleasant well-bred voice, the little ritual of pouring tea, the calm assurance of her manner were balm to him.

  The room was growing shadowy; the air that came in at the open window was cooler.

  “The nicest hour of the day, don’t you think?” said Miss Castle.

  “I do,” said Duff. “Are you going. Miss Castle?”

  “It’s time for Jay’s supper,” she said, “and I’ve promised to read to him. That quiets him before bedtime.”

  She made everything so peaceable and decent. He lit a cigarette and leaned back in his chair, thinking wearily of all the trouble before him, the talk with Nolan, with Mrs. Albany. All this damn fuss and bother – and all on account of Reggie.

  “Hello, Jake!” she said. “Don’t you want a light on? It’s so dark.”

  “Not for me, thanks.”

  “I’ve been addressing envelopes for old Mrs. Vermilyea—”

  “Very nice,” he said.

  “It’s that appeal I told you about. For the fresh-air children.”

  “Oh, yes. That’s very nice.”

  Everything she said bored him and irritated him. We have absolutely nothing in common, he thought.

  “Old Mrs. Vermilyea is just darling, don’t you think, Jake?”

  Old Mrs. Vermilyea was Mrs. Charles Vermilyea, and that was enough.

  “Yes,” he said, rising. “I’ll go up and get ready for dinner now.”

  He was resolved to be very courteous and kind to Reggie, always, but he could not stand much of her company. At dinner he made an effort, a great effort, to talk to her, and with Miss Castle’s help it went well enough. But after dinner he wanted time to prepare for his talk with Nolan. When they went into the sitting-room for coffee, he excused himself.

  “Doctor advises me to cut it out for a while,” he explained, and went upstairs.

  Ridiculous to go upstairs every time I want a drink, he thought. It looks queer, too, I ought to keep something in the study. But the problem was, how to get it there unnoticed. He could not walk along carrying a bottle. He sighed, exasperated by these incessant petty annoyances. He took a small drink of gin; then he put the bottle into a little suitcase, and the bottle of rye into a dresser drawer.

  It was necessary, of course, to explain the suitcase, and he stopped in the doorway of the sitting-room.

  “I’m moving some papers,” he said. “I thought I’d do it all in one trip.”

  “That’s a good idea,” said Reggie. “Would you like to play gin rummy, Jake?”

  “If I finish in time,” he said. “But there’s quite a bit of work to plow through.”

  He went off with the suitcase to his study; only ten minutes. Nolan, he would say, I’ve been thinking this thing over, and it’s a tempest in a teacup. You’re a good chauffeur; we’ve been perfectly satisfied with you. I’ve talked it over with Mrs. Duff, and she agrees… Or maybe I’d better leave her out.

  Nolan was taking his time; it was well after half-past eight. At quarter to nine, he rang for the housemaid.

  “You gave Nolan my message, Mary?”

  “Yes, sir, I did.”

  “You told him half-past eight?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Thank you,” he said, after a moment, dismissing the idea of sending her after Nolan.

  But at nine o’clock a sudden fury rose in him, and he rang again.

  “Just run out to the garage, will you,” he said, “and tell Nolan I want to see him at once.”

  He put a little gin and water into a tumbler, and sat waiting. Damn that fellow! He’s doing this on purpose. But I’ve got to keep my temper. I’ve got to handle him. It’s important.

  “Nolan’s gone, sir,” said Mary with an air of surprise.

  “Gone? Gone where?”

  “I don’t know, sir. I called and called, and then I went up in his apartment and all his clothes were gone and he wasn’t there.”

  “Thanks,” said Duff.

  He was in a panic. I’ll call up Aunt Lou, he thought. I’ll warn her that this fellow’s coming to see her with some cock-and-bull story. No, I can’t. Because
maybe he isn’t. I don’t know… I can’t see my way… I can’t stop him, if he wants to tell her. And she’ll believe him. I couldn’t fool her.

  I don’t give a damn how much I drink now, he thought. I’m sick of the whole thing.

  Chapter 8

  This time I’ve gone too far, he thought. Oh, my God! This must be it. I’ve got DT’s. Oh, God…

  He was trembling all over, his hands, his legs, his mouth. A deadly nausea swept over him in waves. This is it… I don’t dare to take a drink now. Not in this state. I might start yelling…

  What am I going to do? How am I going to face anyone? He remembered that last night he had stumbled on the stairs and Reggie had run out. She had tried to take his arm, to help him. Maybe I was rude to her, he thought. I don’t remember. I need a doctor. But I can’t let anyone see me. I wish I could die. Now. Let me die.

  He was losing all control of himself, he was going to pieces. Aspirin … he thought, and staggered into the bathroom. But the aspirin made him sick. He went back to the bedroom and took the bottle of rye out of the drawer; he took a drink out of the bottle and it strangled him. Oh, God, he groaned, and poured a drink into a glass, with his shaking hand. He added some water and sat down to drink it. It’s too late. I’ve gone too far. This won’t help me now.

  No, he thought. A lot of this is psychological. I feel guilty because Reggie saw me last night when I was pretty tight. All right, I’ll admit I’m ashamed of that. It’s the sort of thing a gentleman doesn’t do. Sit drinking all alone at home. I’ll admit I’m ashamed of it, and it won’t happen again, and that’s the end of it. I’ve got a whale of a hangover this morning, but it’s not as serious as all that.

  His hands were fairly steady now, his lips no longer trembled. He took a cold shower and dressed, and by that time he felt fairly good. He went to knock at Reggie’s door.

  “Who is it?”, she asked.

  “Me.”

  “Oh, come in,” she answered.

  She was barefoot, in a pale-blue satin slip, her dark hair loose about her shoulders; she looked beautiful and delicate as an angel.

  “Reggie,” he said, “I’m very sorry about last night.”

  “Oh, that’s all right,” she said, “I just was worried about your health.”