“And he’ll never forget how badly you behaved,” said her mother with undiminished cheerfulness. “You’ve lost a beau, pet, the quickest way you could do it. And as to the slap, I’d have done it myself if I’d been near enough. Two more of those hysterical screams of yours and the whole house would have been in an uproar and your grandfather would likely have had another stroke. You must learn, chérie, that there is a time and a place for all things. Hysterics are all very charming and ladylike over a mouse, or a dead bird, but in a real crisis a lady should behave like—”
“Like Christina, I suppose you mean to say.”
“Well, since you suggest it, yes, like Christina. And, another thing, my angel, while we’re on the subject, no lady ever did herself any good by criticizing another in front of the gentlemen. It won’t do, you know. It won’t do at all. It’s lucky for you your Cousin Richard was not here. He has very high standards of courtesy.”
“Mother, please.” Christina was alarmed at the fixed look in Sophie’s eyes. But it was too late. Sophie had jumped to her feet. “Cousin Ross! Cousin Richard!” she screamed. “A couple of country bumpkins! As if I was to care what they thought of anything. Oh, God, I wish I were dead—or in Paris.” The door slammed behind her.
“Tant pis” sighed her mother, “how stupid of me. I should have waited. I suppose we’re all a little on edge tonight.”
“She’ll have one of her crying fits,” said Christina. “I’d best go after her. She might bear me more easily than you, Mamma, just now.”
“Yes, I suppose so. I’m sorry, love, but she made me angry.”
Christina laughed. “I can see she did. But”—before her mother could speak—“don’t tell me about it. I’d much rather not know.”
The old house was strangely quiet, as if suspended, waiting.… She moved over to the ledge in the hall where bedroom candles stood ready and was surprised to find that none of them had been taken. Oh well—Sophie had doubtless been in such a passion that she had run upstairs in the dark.
But when she reached Sophie’s bedroom, she found it empty. Where could she have gone? A quick survey of the downstairs rooms showed no trace of her and she hurried back to the saloon. “Mamma, I can’t find Sophie.”
“Oh no!” A look of appalled comprehension crossed Mrs. Tretton’s face. “She can’t have—”
“I didn’t like to say anything,” put in Aunt Tretteign from her seat in the chimney corner, “but I thought I heard the front door slam, after the child ran out just now. But of course if I’d have mentioned it, I’d merely have been told it was my nerves, so I stayed quiet.”
“How could you—” began Mrs. Tretton, but Christina stopped her. “No time for that,” she said. “We must find Ross and Trevis and go after her. She’s done this before, Mother?”
“Yes, when she thought she was—well—misunderstood. But never under circumstances like these. I never thought … if harm comes to her I’ll never forgive myself.”
“I don’t suppose it will.” Christina managed a calm she was far from feeling. “She’ll probably give one of the troopers a terrible fright.”
“Heartless!” sniffed Aunt Tretteign. “Quite heartless. That poor child, goaded, teased into this madness, and all you talk about is fright. But of course you two would never understand what it is to be highly strung.”
“No,” said Christina, ringing a loud peal on the bell, “I believe I never shall.”
Ross and Trevis were still outside, none of the servants knew just where, so Christina began to organize a search party of the men, one group to go with her mother, the other with herself. “I’ll take the cloisters party, Mother, do you work your way round the front.” As she spoke, the front door swung open and Lieutenant Trevis ushered in Ross, who was carrying Sophie. It made a most romantic picture as she clung around his neck, her curls brushing his cheek. Then, he deposited her, unceremoniously, on a settle in the hall “Can you walk now, do you think?” His voice was coldly furious.
“I … I don’t know.” She bent to rub a slender ankle, just apparent below the hem of her dress. But he had turned away to speak to her mother.
“Lunacy, ma’am, and I hope you’ll give her the scold she deserves. A few years younger and I’d beat her myself. This is no time to be indulging in tantrums. She nearly got herself shot by the trooper on guard at the front. And can you blame him? It would have served her right if she’d been killed, instead of merely twisting her ankle.”
“And the shot may well have given warning to the smugglers.” Trevis, too, was furious.
“There’s no sign of them?” Christina did her best to deflect the men’s attention from Sophie, who sat there, a child’s tears streaming down her cheeks.
“None yet,” said Trevis. “But we should be getting back … if you really want to come?” This to Ross.
“Of course I do.”
“But, Cousin Ross.” Sophie put her foot to the ground and winced. “I can’t walk—how shall I get upstairs to bed?”
“Frank can carry you,” said Ross. “Come, Trevis.”
“Well,” said Mrs. Tretton, as the big door closed behind them, “I did warn you, love. How bad is it?” Christina had already bent to examine the ankle.
“It’s hard to tell,” said Christina fair-mindedly, seeing nothing. “I’ll fetch some cold compresses.”
“And sal volatile,” suggested her mother. “The child’s had a hard day. Don’t take on so, pet. There’s as good fish in the sea as ever came out of it.”
“Will Ross ever forgive me? He was so angry!” Sophie was badly shaken—as much, Christina thought, looking back down the stairs, by Ross’s anger as by her injury. Returning with cold bandages and the sal volatile, she found her sister cheering up under the sympathy of her mother and aunt. Mrs. Tretteign was in her element, and had fetched a salve of her own—sovereign, she maintained, against bruising. “We wouldn’t want to have one ankle larger than the other.”
“D’you think I might?” Now Sophie sounded really frightened.
“Of course not,” Christina intervened. “I can’t see much wrong with it, to tell you the truth. Don’t you think, with an effort, you could walk on my arm as far as the fire in the saloon? You’d be so much more comfortable there.”
“Anything rather than have Frank carry me.” Sophie let Christina help her to her feet and limped, with a good many groans, to the sofa nearest the fire. Once established there, with cushions and sal volatile, she put an anxious hand to her tousled curls, and admitted herself to be feeling better. “But what a brute Ross is,” she broke out. “Oh—excuse me, Aunt Tretteign, I quite forgot. But can you imagine anything so unkind as to give me such a scold, at such a time?”
“Quite heartless,” sighed his mother. “But, I tell you, my dear, Ross never had the slightest feeling for a female’s susceptibilities. Many’s the time I’ve been prostrate with one of my migraines, or suffering with my nerves, and got no more sympathy from him than you have tonight. Now, Richard’s quite another matter, he understands about these things. Why—he even suffers with the migraine himself.”
“Very creditable, I’m sure,” said Christina dryly.
But her aunt was not listening, she had turned toward the window. “What was that? I’m sure I heard something!”
“Nonsense.” Christina was very near losing her temper. “How should we hear anything at this side of the house?” And then, with an effort at a lighter tone. “Really, Sophie, love, we should be grateful to you—since it’s no worse. Do you know, worrying about you, I had quite forgotten the smugglers. If they really meant to get here at first dark, they’re very late. Do you think perhaps they have changed their minds?”
“I only know I’m dying for sleep,” said her mother. “Shall we leave them to the tender mercies of the military and retire to bed, do you think?”
“What?” This was practically a squawk from Mrs. Tretteign. “And be ravished in our beds!”
“You have less con
fidence in Lieutenant Trevis than I, Aunt,” said Christina. “To tell you the truth, I merely feel sorry for those poor smugglers, walking into such a trap.”
“Sorry! Christina, how can you speak so? It will serve you right if they fool the soldiers in some way—you know how stupid they are—and reach the house. How do you know there is not a secret passage leading into this very room? At any moment a whole gang of them may burst in here, and then what use will Lieutenant Trevis and his soldiers be?” She looked nervously around, having succeeded in frightening herself quite as much as she had Sophie, who burst into a fresh flood of tears.
“I told you we should have gone at once,” said Sophie, through her sobs. “If you’d only listened to me, we’d have been safe in Rye by now.”
“And you know what Ross said to that,” said her mother.
“Ross is a brute. I really believe he values his moldy old Grange more than the lives of the lot of us.”
Christina was beginning to understand what had gone on while she was away. “I hope you didn’t say that, love.”
“Of course I did. Why not?”
“Well, mainly because I think it’s true, and you know how the truth hurts.”
“Well,” said Sophie unanswerably, “I wanted to hurt Ross.”
“I think”—this was Mrs. Tretton, who had been sitting placidly netting all this time—“that we should have some entertainment. Christina, love, would you rather read aloud or sing for us?”
“I’ll gladly sing,” said Christina, “if you can bear to listen.” And she moved over to the piano, ignoring a mutter of “fiddling while Rome burns” from her aunt.
When Trevis and Ross came back, around eleven o’clock, the first thing they heard was her voice, cool and deep, in “Jesu Joy of Man’s Desiring.”
“Admirable girl,” said Ross. “I knew she’d keep the others from panicking.”
“I imagine she’s had her work cut out, just the same.” Trevis followed him into the saloon.
“Well?” Christina swept her hands up the piano in a soft, conclusive chord. “Are we to be burned in our beds?” She spoke quietly, and, following her eyes, they saw Sophie fast asleep and Mrs. Tretton nodding in her chair. “There’s nothing like music for a sedative.” Still speaking softly, Christina moved forward to greet them.
“Not a sign of them.” Trevis sounded simply disappointed. “It’s getting very late, too. Can they have been warned?”
“Well”—Ross had hardly spared a glance for Sophie, all flushed cheeks and tangling curls on the sofa—“it’s possible, I suppose. With the best will in the world, one can’t move even a small body of troops about in the dark without some noise.”
“You think they heard us?”
“Most likely. After all, it’s life and death to them to know every sound of the marsh.” And then, to Christina, “I really think you ladies could safely call it a day now, and go to bed.”
“Do you?” Her eyes met his speculatively. “I’m sure you know best.” She was indeed. There had been no sign of the boy, Jem, all evening. Doubtless Ross had sent him off, as soon as he got back, to warn the gang that they had been betrayed. Well, in a way she could scarcely blame him, but it seemed hard on Lieutenant Trevis. And on the rest of them. So it had been merely a comedy they had played out all evening. Well, poor Sophie. She gave Ross a chilly look.
“A storm in a teacup, I suppose. And I thought I was being such a heroine. What do you say, Mamma, shall we cut short the melodrama and go to bed?”
“You really think it safe?” Mrs. Tretton addressed the two men equally.
“I believe you should, ma’am.” It was Trevis who answered. “We shall be on guard all night, of course, but I really hardly hope, any longer, that the attack will be made.”
“Hope!” she said. “Thank you, Lieutenant! I’m not sure I altogether like playing bait for your trap.”
“Trap?” Mrs. Tretteign snorted awake. “What’s that? What’s happened? Have they come?”
“No, Aunt,” said Christina. “Lieutenant Trevis was just saying he had given up hope of them. We are going to bed as if nothing had happened, and in the morning, no doubt, it will all seem like a bad dream.” She moved over to where Sophie still lay curled up, fast asleep. “Come, pet, time for bed, and here’s Cousin Ross to carry you up.” It’s the least you can do, her eyes challenged him across the sofa.
“Oh! I had such a dream!” Sophie woke all at once, like a child, bright-eyed and smiling. And then, looking around, “No—it wasn’t a dream? Tina?”
“It’s all right, pet. It’s all over. Either a false alarm, or they heard the soldiers and thought better of it. How’s your foot? Can you walk, do you think, or shall Cousin Ross carry you up?”
“I shall walk.” She had remembered it all now. “No need to trouble Cousin Ross.” She spoke as if he was miles away, and pulled herself upright, holding on to the end of the sofa.
“Nonsense.” Like Christina, Ross had seen her wince as she put her weight on the bad foot. He picked her up as if she weighed nothing and moved toward the door. “It’s been a bad evening for us all. Forgive me, infant, if I was cross?”
“I suppose so. But you were, you know, dreadfully!” She smiled up at him.
“Well, of course I was. Chris, you’re coming?”
“Yes.” It was odd how the atmosphere had changed. It was all over. Good nights were quickly, almost shamefacedly said. Ross was going to watch all night with Trevis. For nothing, Christina thought sardonically. And yet, but for M. Tissot, how different it might have been. The Dark House might be in flames by now. So why could she not feel grateful to him? Impossible, somehow, to believe in his protestations of gratitude, his concern for her safety. What kind of double game, she wondered, was he playing now?
Chapter Sixteen
“Well, what now?” It was not until late next day that Christina contrived a word alone with Ross.
“How do you mean, what now?” He still looked drawn with fatigue from his night’s vigil.
“Well—suppose they try again?”
“Oh, I don’t think they will.”
“You sent Jem to warn them.” It was hardly a question.
“Yes.” He had the grace to look apologetic. “It was the least I could do.”
“I suppose so. A pretty parcel of fools we must all have looked, being heroic. You might have told us.”
“You know I couldn’t.”
“No.” She conceded it reluctantly. “Poor Lieutenant Trevis.”
“Yes. I’m beginning to hate this double game. Chris—you could run the estate perfectly well on your own, could you not?”
“Well—I did, while you were away.”
“Exactly. Will you help me persuade Grandfather to let me go?”
“Go?”
“Back to the army. Pitt as good as said, last time I saw him, that my usefulness here was finished. He told me too that my old regiment is in training for a continental venture. And that friend of mine I told you about, Arthur Wellesley, is on his way back from India to take a new command. Pitt told me that too. I could see he thought I would rejoin there and then. He even gave me a bonus, since spying is not generally well paid, which I am sure he intended to cover the price of a commission. And, of course, he was right. I’m useless here—specially after last night. But—Chris, what a fool you must think me. I—who had no use for women—to be so besotted, and for a child with no more sense … oh, I’m sorry”—he had seen her expression—“it’s hard to remember she’s your sister. You’re so unlike, the two of you. Chris, I think I’ve been a little mad. I couldn’t go away—can you understand that? Specially not when Richard was here. Do you think she cares for him?”
“I doubt if she cares for anyone. You’re perfectly right, she’s a child still. Why should she not behave like one? I thought you were brutal to her last night.”
“I knew you were angry.”
“I intended you to.”
“But, Chris, you
must try to understand. I had imagined her—fool that I was—I had dreamed her into everything I had always wanted. And she’s so lovely—you must see that. Like a nymph, a fairy-tale princess. I think I went a little mad the first time I saw her. They were coming back from a ball … she was in silver … there were raindrops in her hair. And she smiled at me, as if I was—I don’t know—the only person in the world. And all the time, she’s nothing, cares for nothing but dress, thinks of nothing—and a coward, too!”
“She’s my sister.” Oh, how it helped to be angry with him. “You’ve no right to speak of her like that. Just because you put her on some absurd pedestal of your own imagining—”
“God, what a fool you must think me!”
“No, why?”
“An infatuated fool! I suppose I took it for granted that she had all your qualities as well—”
“As being so lovely?”
“Well, she is, isn’t she, Chris? Exquisite. You should have seen her in her ball gown … something so precious. And so silly. Well …” He turned away from her, to stand with his back half turned, looking out at the gray marsh. “At least I can thank God for a rapid cure.”
“If you are cured.”
“Oh, I’m cured all right. She’s confirmed everything I always felt about women—fainting, hysterics, and—I ask you—the crowning folly of rushing out of the house like that. It would have served her right if she had encountered the smugglers. Still, I must admit it was useful to me. I think I have contrived to convince Trevis that it was the stir she caused that alarmed them. He did not much like to think his men had been noisy, and I was beginning to be afraid he might look about for other explanations—”
“Like your having sent Jem?”
“Quite so. Well, Chris, what else could I do? I led them, they’re my responsibility.”
“I know, Ross.”
“You really do, don’t you? You understand so much. You should have been a man, Chris.”
“I’ve often thought so.”
“You’re the only woman I’ve ever respected. When you came out to meet me last night … well, all the time I’ve known I could trust you. Taken it for granted, I suppose. You’ve no idea what that’s meant to me. To know, all the time I was in France, that you were here, looking after things. Do you know, Chris, you’re the first real friend I’ve had? You don’t know what it was like, growing up here, on the marsh, and knowing the whispers that went on behind my back. Oh—I knew all right—trust my mother for that.”
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