by Mary Cummins
Merry ate up her breakfast, her mind already busy with the book.
The next three days passed in a dreamlike state of hard work and snatched meals against Mrs. Cameron’s approval. Merry was aware of her hovering in the background, an air of uneasiness about her, but she put everything but her book out of her mind, and soon it was again ready for posting and Merry lay back in her easy chair, feeling drained but at peace. Whether it was now accepted or not, she felt she had done a good worthwhile job, and her body and mind were soothed with satisfaction.
She jumped up and put on her warm anorak and gloves. She would feel even better when the book was once again in the post.
“Anything from the village?” she asked Mrs. Cameron, peeping into the kitchen.
The woman looked up at her, pale-faced, her eyes clouded.
“Er ... no, Miss Merry ... that is, I’ll be getting it a’ masel’ when I see what’s needed. Er...”
“What?” asked Merry.
“Naethin’,” mumbled Mrs. Cameron unhappily.
But Merry was in the third shop before her suspicions were confirmed that some people were looking askance at her, as though wary and suspicious, while others were over-hearty as though anxious to show that they were on her side.
She walked home, feeling the nightmare begin to close round her again. Surely the whole village didn’t suspect her of being a thief? It was pretty obvious that the story of the missing ring had leaked out, and where it had come from. Jeanie Lumsden, the cook at Rossie House, was a great gossip, and knew practically everyone in the village.
Merry thought of Mrs. Cameron’s unhappy looks, and anger began to rise in her. Surely her own housekeeper hadn’t been listening to tales against her ... and believing them! She remembered that Mrs. Cameron and Jeanie Lumsden were cousins, and the knowledge did nothing to cheer her up.
When she got home she walked straight to the kitchen, where Mrs. Cameron was peeling potatoes.
“Well?” she asked bluntly.
“Oh, Miss Merry!” The older woman’s eyes filled with tears. “I’ve been that mad at Jeanie Lumsden, and we’re not talking noo. But she swears it’s true about ... about that ring. She says they suspect you of keeping it deliberately, though ye took it back rather than get the polis. I’ve tellt them till I’m tired ye couldna hae done sich a thing. It’s far more like that Sylvia, but they say it was you handled the ring. I feel that ashamed anybody could suspect you, and a cousin o’ mine could spread the word, though many a one is sidin’ wi’ me and sayin’ ye couldna hae done sich a thing. There’s been a mistake somewhere.”
Merry looked her straight in the eye.
“You honestly believe that, Mrs. Cameron?”
“I do,” said the other woman simply. “There’s two ladies I’ve served an’ I’d lay my life doon against their honesty and good name. Miss Ellen and you, Miss Merry. But ... but I feel that frustrated. Could ye no get these rumours stopped, Miss Merry? Make that Kilpatrick crowd apologise in public, or something? There was jist something aboot them I never trusted. Mind you I suppose they think it’s a’ still private, an’ forget Jeanie Lumsden is slippin’ roon the hoose when they talk aboot private things. She’s no sense of loyalty, an’ that’s why this is the first place she’s kept, an’ that only because servants are scarce nooadays. Could ye no demand an apology?”
Merry sat down and closed her eyes. She couldn’t let herself be suspected like this! She just couldn’t! Yet what could she do about it now? See Nigel? Would he believe her? She would have to tell him all about Sylvia. Would he suspect it was only a fit of jealousy?
“I thought people would have ... would have known me better, Mrs. Cameron,” she said, a trifle huskily. “I ... I thought I had some friends down in the village.”
“And so ye have,” said Mrs. Cameron staunchly. “I’d like to crack some of their heads together. They’ve little else to think about except scandal, where they can find it.”
Sudden distaste for everything filled Merry’s heart, and she looked round the room she had come to love. Even this beloved house felt alien to her, set amidst pointing fingers and accusing stares, and she felt she could no longer bear it. Ever since she had walked back from Rossie House, after handing back the ring, she felt in her heart that she must leave this place, and start afresh elsewhere—Edinburgh, perhaps, or even London where few people would even have heard of Kilbraggan. She would go into Hillington straight after lunch, and see an estate agent.
The following day a well-dressed middle-aged man arrived in a large comfortable car and was conducted over the house, making notes on a pad.
“It won’t be too easy to sell, Miss Saunders,” he warned her. “It’s a charming house, but not everyone wants old property these days. They like new, streamlined kitchens, and rooms easy to keep clean. Still, I’ll put my board up, and advertise in all the best papers and magazines. We’ll view by appointment only, and that will make it easier for you.”
“Very well, Mr. Grant,” said Merry quietly. “I’ll leave that to you.”
She watched him go, while Mrs. Cameron walked up and down the house, pale and silent, her mouth drawn with disapproval.
“You’re sure to be all right,” Merry told her comfortingly. “I’m sure that whoever buys the house will need someone to help, so you’ll be able to stay on.”
The older woman looked at her levelly.
“If you weren’t upset, ye couldna say sich a thing tae me, Miss Merry,” she said flatly. “Dae ye think that’s a’ I care aboot ... my job? No, I hate to see ye running away, as though ye’re admitting to everybody that the rumours are true. That’s what I hate.”
“I don’t think I care any more what people think,” said Merry wearily. “I’ve tried to be happy here, to work quietly, and mix in with the community, and somehow I’ve made a mess of it I’m tired of it all, Mrs. Cameron.”
“Dear knows what Miss Ellen would have to say if she knew,” said Mrs. Cameron darkly. “She’d sort them out before I could flick my feather duster!”
“Oh, Mrs. Cameron!” wailed Merry, and burst into tears.
The housekeeper sat down beside her, and drew her into comforting arms.
“There, there, ye’re just a bit bairn,” she said compassionately, “and even if the new folk go down on their knees to me, I wouldna stop here and leave you on your own ... wherever you decide to go. Ye need somebody to look after you, an’ that’s a fact.” She stroked the soft brown hair. “It’s time Mr. Benjamin was home,” she said firmly. “He’s another one who can sort them. He’ll not listen to a load of nonsense, won’t Mr. Benjamin.”
Merry only cried more than ever.
CHAPTER 10
LATE on Sunday evening Benjamin returned home again, and on Monday morning he made his way to Beau Ness.
Merry saw him from the window, and had an almost overpowering impulse to rush out and throw herself into his arms. She controlled herself, however. She had been rejected by enough people over the past few days, and if Benjamin didn’t want her, or even if he pretended to want her out of pity, it would be the last straw.
Mrs. Cameron let him in, and he came striding straight through to the study and stood, white-faced, glaring at Merry. She saw that he was in a towering rage, and she stiffened inwardly, her chin firming as she met his eyes squarely.
“I want to know all about it,” he told her quietly. “All. Every word. Tell it ... from the day I left for London.”
“There isn’t much to tell,” said Merry, her voice croaking with nerves.
“Not much? My God! Now, just you start talking, and tell me it all. We’ll start from that damned jewellery exhibition.”
Merry wet her lips and nodded, pausing a little to assemble her thoughts. Her writer’s mind gathered it all together coherently, and quietly she began to tell Benjamin about the exhibition, the checking, the missing ring, and the fact that she found it that evening in her own home.
“How did you come to find it, and w
ho had it?” demanded Benjamin.
“I have nothing more to say,” she told him stubbornly. “The Kilpatricks have their ring back again. They didn’t call in the police. As far as I’m concerned, the incident is over.”
She looked at him and caught her breath. His face was deathly white, and his eyes blazed with furious anger.
“You have nothing to say,” he said, in a very quiet, controlled voice. “You helped the Kilpatricks. They lost their ring ... you recovered it. Now they ... they think you’re a thief. You ... you accept that. You even put Beau Ness up for sale! And you’ve nothing to say!”
The last words seemed to vibrate round the room.
“Sylvia has gone, like a rat deserting the ship,” continued Benjamin, prowling round like a caged bear. “Have Nigel Kilpatrick or Stephanie been in touch with you?”
She shook her head, and Benjamin stopped prowling and stood straight in front of her.
“I’ve never heard anything so ... so ... shameful in all my life,” he told her, in the same quiet, controlled voice. “I ... feel like giving you the spanking of your life ... and as for Kilpatrick...!” Words seemed to fail him. “Don’t move from here, or do anything, till you hear from me again,” he told her, as he made for the door. “Is that understood?”
Merry wanted to ask why he should dictate to her, but she felt too miserable to speak, and could only nod dumbly. She was too numb even to cry. Benjamin found her ... shameful. She sat very still, not wanting even to catch sight of herself in the mirror. Reluctantly she answered the telephone, to find that it was Mr. Grant, the estate agent. He said he wanted to see her, and made an appointment.
Later, at tea-time, Mrs. Cameron tried to tempt her with some tender roast chicken.
“Mr. Benjamin hasn’t stayed long anyway,” she remarked, and Merry shook her head, thinking of the brief, stormy interview. “No, our Isa saw him pelting off for the station again after a visit up to Rossie House. She says he was in a bad mood, too, for he never even looked at Cailleach, and he always has time for that wee dog. Got real fond of him after you saved him from the tinkers.”
That seemed centuries ago, thought Merry sadly. Those days seemed like another world.
“I haven’t seen her for a week or two myself,” said Merry. “She’s such a dear wee dog.”
“Then why don’t you pop over to see Isa this afternoon?” pleaded Mrs. Campbell. “I’ve got some things to send ower to her, and ye could do wi’ a wee walk. Isa would fair welcome you. She’s nearly eaten anybody who had a word to say against you, and that’s a fact.”
Merry considered, then lifted her chin. Why not? Her conscience was clear, and she could look anyone straight in the face.
“Why not?” she asked. “I’d like that, Mrs. Cameron.”
“That’s a good girl,” beamed the older woman.
It did Merry good to have a rapturous welcome from Cailleach, when she arrived at the Campbells’ cottage, and for Isa, too, to welcome her with open arms.
“Come away in, Miss Merry. I’ve been fair wearyin’ to see you again,” she said. “Our Bessie gives me all the news, but it’s not the same as seeing you. I’ve been baking, too, so we’ll just get the kettle on and have a wee cup of tea.”
“That will be lovely, Mrs. Campbell,” sighed Merry, while Cailleach tried to make up her mind whether to settle on her knee or lick her ears and chin.
“She’s full of energy today,” said Merry, trying to settle the little dog.
“Och, she’s been fine ever since her fright,” said Isa, “as though she can never be grateful enough to be back home. She’s easily frightened by anything strange.”
Merry nodded. She knew how the little dog felt. Soon she too would be changing her way of life, going into something strange, and in spite of all that had happened she knew that her heart was still in Kilbraggan.
As though in answer to her thoughts, Isa Campbell turned quickly to look at her.
“We’ll be right sorry if you go away, Miss Merry,” she said, with customary directness. “I could have cried when our Bessie told me. And all thanks to our own kith and kin, too ... Jeanie Lumsden. She got a warming up from me, I can tell you!”
“The circumstances weren’t Jeanie’s making,” said Merry quickly. “It was ... it was ... just an accident.”
“Well, all right-thinking folk in Kilbraggan will not stand by and see you insulted, Miss Merry. That we’ll not! You’ll see.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Campbell,” said Merry humbly. “It’s done me good to come and visit you.”
“Have another bit of cake, then,” coaxed Isa delightedly, and Merry did.
She walked home from the Campbell’s feeling much cheered, till she passed the Cot House again. Where was Benjamin now? Anyway, it didn’t matter. He hadn’t even told her he was sure she was innocent of theft. He’d only been angry at her story.
The following evening Mrs. Cameron showed an unexpected visitor into the sitting-room, where Merry was quietly reading.
“Nigel!” she cried, leaping to her feet.
“Hello, Merry,” he grinned sheepishly. “Sorry I haven’t had time to come before.”
Her chin lifted a little.
“Please sit down, Nigel,” she said politely. “Would you care for some sherry?”
“That would be very nice,” he told her, and she poured a glass with hands which trembled slightly.
“I don’t know how to begin to apologise,” Nigel went on awkwardly. “Father wants to come and see you, too. He’s very sorry he ... he ever accused you...” He broke off with embarrassment.
“It was understandable,” said Merry, feeling slightly bewildered. “I gave him the ring back without ... without explanation.”
Nigel nodded and bit his lip.
“Why didn’t you say it was Sylvia?” he asked, a rough note in his voice.
Merry eyed him searchingly, feeling a pang of sympathy when she saw the look of sadness in his eyes. She was still bewildered. How did Nigel know it had been Sylvia?
“How did you know?” she whispered.
“She ... she telephoned, and owned up,” he said heavily. “I’m going to see her tomorrow. I ... I was beginning to care deeply for her, but this has confused things. She behaves like a child at times.”
“She must be growing up, when she has owned up like this,” said Merry gently. “I must say I hadn’t expected her to do that.”
Nigel stared moodily into the fire, and shook his head.
“She only did so because Benjamin Brendan made her,” he said quietly. “He came to see us in a towering rage on Monday, and asked if none of us had any brains or wits enough to see that you couldn’t be dishonest if you tried, and were obviously covering up for Sylvia.”
“Benjamin did this?” cried Merry, her heart beginning to thud with excitement. Benjamin had cleared her name ... Benjamin!
“He raged at us all, then said if we wanted it from the horse’s mouth, we could have it, and took the train from Carlisle. This morning Sylvia telephoned and spoke to Father, then to me.”
Nigel was silent for a long moment, and Merry watched him, not daring to breathe.
“She sounded ... different,” he said, “and said if we wanted to ... to prosecute or anything, she would take her medicine. She ... she said she hadn’t any excuse to offer.”
“It was just a silly, stupid impulse,” said Merry, but she knew that it meant a great deal more than that to Nigel.
“Be kind to her,” she begged impulsively, as she went with him to the door to show him out, and he looked down on her small, vivid face and smiled gently.
“You’re a dear and wonderful girl, Merry, and I’m a fool,” he said softly. “Sometimes one sees the right path when it’s too late.”
She tilted her head inquiringly, but he only smiled again, obviously not intending to offer an explanation.
“Goodnight, my dear. Are we forgiven?” he asked.
“Of course you are,” Merry told him, a
nd he bent and kissed her swiftly before swinging off down the drive. She watched him go, and looked at her watch, debating. Was Benjamin home now? Was it too late for her to go and see him when every instinct wanted to take her to the Cot House, to thank him for believing in her?
She came back in and shut the door gently. It was too late, but time now seemed to stretch before her into eternity. She now felt so close to Benjamin that she could reach out and touch him beside her. They had all their lives ahead of them, and she could wait patiently for tomorrow. Mr. Grant was coming in the morning, shortly after breakfast, but she would see Benjamin after lunch ... unless he came to see her first!
The morning brought no sign of Benjamin, though Merry hummed happily as she put on a well-fitting tweed skirt and soft cashmere sweater before Mr. Grant came at ten.
The tall, grey-haired estate agent looked very pleased with himself when Mrs. Cameron showed him into the sitting-room, and Merry rose to meet him with a smile. She’d been having second thoughts about selling the house, now that her innocence had been proved, and she no longer felt an atmosphere of suspicion around her. Yet the whole affair had been distasteful to her, and she felt as though Rossie House seemed to tower over her. Besides, she was very much aware of Benjamin close by, at the Cot House, and felt that she wanted to see him before making up her mind.
She explained all this to Mr. Grant, as gently as she could.
“Please don’t think I’m shilly-shallying,” she pleaded. “It’s just that ... well, things have been rather upset recently, and I’d like to feel more settled before I finally make up my mind to sell Beau Ness.”
Mr. Grant pursed his lips.
“I’m very sorry about that, Miss Saunders,” he told her. “Very sorry indeed. As I said before, houses like this one just aren’t easy to sell, and it’s very gratifying to be given a substantial offer for it, very gratifying indeed. I don’t know if our client would be willing to wait a long time while you make up your mind. I doubt if you’re likely to get such a fine offer from anyone else.”