This made her laugh in spite of herself. When Lady Martindale received them she was pleased to observe that they were in a better humour with each other than she had seen before.
After leaving their coats with a servant they were shown into a light, airy room with two windows. Under each was a table with plenty of paper, ink, pens, a slate and chalk practically covering the surface. A comfortable chair was placed at each table in such a way that the sitters would have their backs to each other.
"I thought it safer," said Lady Martindale with a smile. "But you seem to have settled some of your differences? I am so glad, my dear, that Robert has managed to persuade you to work on the ciphers."
"His arguments were...very convincing, Lady Martindale. I found myself unable to refuse."
Robert Dungarran cast a glance at Hester. Her blue eyes were innocent of guile, her voice conventionally polite. His aunt was unconscious of any double meaning. The delicate irony of her words was meant solely for him, he was sure. How could he have missed till now the wit and subtlety of this girl? How many times must he have overlooked the hidden humour, the barbs behind her facade of demure nonentity! How often had she made a fool of him without his even noticing? Well, those days were over. He had Miss Perceval's measure, and they were now battling on equal terms. He said easily, "Don't count on the peace lasting, Godmama. I am still a monster in Miss Perceval's eyes. But we mustn't waste time. Where are the papers?"
"I locked them in the bureau here." Lady Martindale went to a substantial but beautiful bureau in the corner of the room, and opened the front. She took out an untidy bundle of papers and handed them to her nephew, who spread them out on one of the tables.
"The ones I've already transcribed are on top," he said to Hester. "I thought they would be useful for comparison. Do you remember the St Cloud set?"
"St Cloud? I don't think I ever saw..."
"Ah yes! You did, but we didn't tell you what they actually were. Do you remember a rigmarole about Caesar and Gaul and crossing the Alps?"
"Ah, those! Yes. I thought they were nonsense, but they were a real challenge to solve."
"There are more like them," he said grimly. "It's a slow business deciphering them."
Hester hardly heard him. She was already sitting down at the table, eagerly perusing one of the papers. After a moment she took a pen and started jotting down a set of numbers. Lady Martindale smiled, took out a book, and made herself comfortable in an armchair by the bureau. Lord Dungarran looked at Hester, shook his head in a bemused fashion, then sat down at the other table with another of the documents. The silence was complete except for the occasional scratching of a pen.
Chapter Eight
When Hester got up to go at the end of that first morning, she was disconcerted to find both Lady Martindale and her nephew regarding her with amusement. Somewhat stiffly she asked if there was something wrong with her appearance.
"You look delightful, my dear!" said Lady Martindale. "But unless you wish to have your activities questioned on this very first day, you had better remove a telltale spot of ink from the end of your nose!"
"Is there one? Oh, it's too bad! It always happens at home, but I tried so hard not to let it happen here!" Hester took out her handkerchief and scrubbed at her nose.
"Not that side—allow me," said Dungarran, smiling broadly. He took her handkerchief, adjured her to lick it, then carefully wiped the offending stain. "There!" he said. "All gone. But I'm afraid there's some on your dress, too."
Hester gave a cry of horror and looked down. A spot of ink marred the bodice of her simple muslin gown. "I don't know why it should be so," she exclaimed. "I take such pains, but there's always something!"
"I think that you forget to take such pains when you're working, Miss Perceval. I have seldom seen such complete concentration—especially not in a wo—"
"Be careful, sir!" Hester said in warning tones.
"In anyone," he amended. "But what will you do?"
"My maid will wash the muslin if I can just get to my room without seeing .my mother. At home I use a large apron to cover me, but I didn't bring it to London." She looked at him severely. "I never suspected that I should need it!"
"I think I can help there, Miss Perceval," said Lady Martindale hastily. "I can find something for you. It will be here tomorrow. I should hate our little scheme to founder for want of an apron!"
The next morning she produced an ideal garment. It was very like the apron Hester used at home, of coarse material with a front bib, shoulder straps and a tie at the back. The chief difference was that it was in a bright, clear blue, not the dull grey that Hester was used to. Hester eyed it doubtfully.
"Put it on, Miss Perceval. It is not an elegant garment, but it will protect your dress. And the colour will suit you perfectly."
The colour seemed to Hester to be far too vivid, but she shrugged and put it on. Then she thanked her hostess and sat down to work, losing herself almost immediately once more. Lady Martindale exchanged a smile with her nephew and sat down in her armchair by the bureau.
From then on Dungarran and Hester worked together in the room at Grosvenor Street. Lady Martindale read or sewed in her corner, occasionally looking up as one or other of them exclaimed or sighed, or took a paper over to the other table and consulted. There was nothing in the least romantic about their conversations, but Lady Martindale was beginning to think that Hester Perceval would be the ideal wife for her nephew. Though neither was aware of it, their rapport was very strong. In spite of Hester's initial antagonism, each had an almost instinctive understanding of the other's mind, and the sum total of their joint work was far greater than either would have achieved alone. There was as yet no sign of any physical attraction—but, Lady Martindale smiled to herself, that might come with time and propinquity!
Hester soon found that the mind of the unknown French ciphermaster was much in tune with her own. She had considerable success with a passage which had defeated the best minds at the War Office for months, and Dungarran's surprised, but perfectly genuine, admiration went a long way to make up for the humiliation of the past. She began to look eagerly for his approval, and in return was always ready to watch him use his own considerable, more intellectual, gifts to solve a problem which had defeated her. Though she was completely unaware of it, Hester's dislike of him was slowly but surely fading. Zeno, her friend and trusted guide, was imperceptibly becoming one with the figure of Robert Dungarran.
For his part he grew impatient with the tedious consultations at the War Office which kept him from her company. He wanted to be back with Hester Perceval in the room in Grosvenor Street, working with her to fathom the mysteries of the ciphermaster's mind. He rejoiced in the sight of the slender figure in blue, bending over her papers in such concentration. Even the spectacles which she had now taken to wearing for the work became an important part of the scene—and the usual spot of ink on her nose. Euclid, after all these years, had taken on a most surprising form!
The work went on apace, and the pile of papers was growing gratifyingly smaller when their plans received a sudden and unexpected threat.
The news of the Marquis of Sywell's demise had been dealt with in detail in the newspapers. "It is with horror and dreadful dismay," the Morning Post announced, the day after Lowell's revelations, "that this paper has learned of the shocking death by stabbing of the most noble the Marquis of Sywell at his home, Steepwood Abbey, in the County of Northamptonshire earlier this week..." The paper, and others which took up the story, went on to describe in gory detail the scene which met the eyes of the Marquis's "devoted retainer", Solomon Burneck, when he entered his master's bedroom on the fateful morning.
"'Devoted retainer', indeed!" muttered Sir James rustling the paper impatiently. "Partner in crime, more like! A more surly, unpleasant fellow I never met."
"Did Burneck see the assailant? Or is he himself suspected?" asked Lady Perceval.
"The report gives no indication. As usual the pre
ss is short on facts and long on unnecessary and probably imaginary detail!" replied Sir James testily.
But if Sir James regarded the report as unsatisfactory, London did not. It was not long before the sparse details of the real-life death of the Marquis of Sywell were being compared with the fictional and far more sensational account of the murder of the "Wicked Marquis". The coincidences were very quickly remarked and in no time at all the details of the two murders were hopelessly confused. Rumour grew on rumour and soon the public imagination pictured the scene of the crime as a veritable blood bath, with indescribable atrocities inflicted on Sywell's corpse.
As a delicately bred female, Hester was spared the worst of the rumours. But in any case her preoccupation with the French documents left her little energy for the gossip and speculation which were flying round the capital.
Later in the week the newspapers, lacking any firm evidence or further facts, started to debate the consequences of the murder. This unsettled Sir James far more than any gruesome account of the crime.
"Lady Perceval! Listen to this!" he said, some days after the murder. He took up the newspaper and read out, '"The affairs of Lord Sywell are in some disarray, and our correspondent tells us that inhabitants of the surrounding villages, especially the tradesmen, are already worried about unpaid bills and unsettled accounts. The future of the estate must be in doubt. Following the mysterious disappearance of the Marchioness last year, the Marquis lived alone, and he appears to have no obvious heir. Moreover, surrounding landowners will also have their anxieties, as long neglect has already led to disturbing occurrences on the Steepwood estate.'" He got up and walked restlessly round the room. His wife eyed him anxiously. After a while he said, "It's a damnable affair! As if the fellow had not caused enough trouble in his lifetime! There's bound to be unrest in the district. My dear, I must return to Northamptonshire as soon as possible! Things will be in turmoil, and a good many people will be looking to me to help them."
"B... But Sir James! You must not leave London!" exclaimed Lady Perceval. "Just when Hester is at last having some success! Lady Martindale has taken such an interest in her this past week, and Lord Dungarran has been really quite attentive. We cannot take her away now!"
"What makes you think Robert attentive, Mama?'' asked Hugo, who was paying one of his frequent calls on his parents. "I have not seen any evidence of it—and Hester seems to avoid him in public. Are you sure you're not confusing the aunt with the nephew? Lady Martindale certainly seems to have a strong liking for my sister, and I can see why—they are two of a kind! But it would be unwise to resurrect Hester's interest in Robert. Remember what happened last time!"
"I'm afraid I agree with Hugo, Lady Perceval! You set your hopes too high, my dear! I see no change whatever in Dungarran's attitude."
"But given time..."
"You are always so optimistic! Why don't you listen to Hugo? He surely knows better." Lady Perceval set her lips and remained obstinately silent. He sighed and added, "Well, we shall no doubt eventually find out which of us is right...'
"But nothing will happen if Hester is removed from London just at this point, Sir James!"
"No. No, I quite see that." He paused and thought for a minute. "Would it suit if I went alone to Abbot Quincey and you and Hester stayed here?"
"Oh no! That would never do! I should be quite lost without you!"
He patted her hand. "But what else can I do, my love?"
"Could I go, Father?"
Sir James regarded Hugo thoughtfully. "It's certainly time for you to take a greater interest in the estate... But no. You couldn't do this alone. You've been in Abbot Quincey so seldom in the last few years that our people don't know you any more."
Hugo said a little stiffly, "I always promised to come back to Northamptonshire this year, Father. Before my thirtieth birthday."
"Oh I don't blame you, my boy! I was very happy for you to enjoy town life before you settled down. But you couldn't possibly deal with this situation. No, I must go myself."
"Then I shall come, too! As you say, I ought to take up some of the responsibilities."
Sir James beamed. "Excellent! I shall be very pleased to have your support. It won't be an easy matter."
"But what about Hester?" persisted Lady Perceval. "If Hugo stayed in London she could remain with him!"
"My dear, you are talking nonsense! Hester couldn't possibly stay with Hugo in a bachelor's establishment! No, though I'm sorry for it, it looks as if you and Hester will have to come with us." He took her hand and said persuasively, "I should think she would be delighted to come back with us to Northamptonshire. Remember her reluctance to come here in the first place! Now, how soon can we be ready? Two days? One?"
Lady Perceval's pleas were in vain. Sir James remained adamant, and the family was informed that they would be returning to Northamptonshire very soon. But Sir James was wrong about Hester's reaction to the news. Such a short time ago, it was true, she would have given anything to leave London. But now the news dismayed her beyond measure. She was astonished at the depth of her disappointment.
When Dungarran heard of Sir James's plans he first of all swore comprehensively in private, then, in his usual calmly competent way, set about finding a way out of the dilemma. After some thought he went back to his aunt and asked for her help. She was equally unhappy at the prospect of losing Hester Perceval's company, but found what he proposed a little too unconventional.
"Invite Miss Perceval to be my house guest till the end of the Season? I cannot do it, Robert!" she protested. "I like Hester Perceval very much—I am sure I would enjoy her company! But her parents will surely think it extremely odd if a woman they hardly know suddenly invites their only daughter to spend several weeks with her, while the rest of her family return to the country! And I trust you realise what conclusion society would most certainly draw!"
"That I am interested in Miss Perceval? Well, I am, though not in the way they might think!"
"That is all very well—but what of Miss Perceval?"
"Oh, you need have no scruples on that score, Godmama. Hester Perceval has already declared in the clearest terms that she has no interest in matrimony, least of all with me!"
"All the same, she will not enjoy the gossip which is bound to arise."
Her nephew was silent for a few minutes. Finally he said, "Well, perhaps we should encourage such gossip. The idea that Miss Perceval and I are romantically interested in each other would be an excellent alibi for the time we already spend in each other's company."
"Really, Robert, I could get very angry with you! You are so single-minded when it comes to your work! What happens when the Season is over? Does Miss Perceval retire once again to Northamptonshire with a broken heart?"
"That is nonsense, you know it is! Yes, at seventeen she thought her heart was affected, but she soon grew up and recovered. She is now as clear-sighted as I am about the sentimental rubbish talked of love."
"But society will never believe it. And they will say that Miss Perceval has remained in London in the hope of capturing one of London's most eligible bachelors. You know how cruel people can be."
"They won't say that, if we make it clear that I am the one in pursuit. Vain pursuit."
"This is too complicated for me."
Robert Dungarran took his aunt's hand. "My dearest aunt, it will be very simple. I am positive that Miss Perceval is as eager as I am to complete this work. It only needs a week or two, but she must remain in London for that time. I shall pay Miss Perceval a great deal of attention in public, and she will carry on behaving towards me with her normal indifference verging on dislike. I think I could persuade her to act out our little comedy— especially if you were prepared to support us. There will be no danger to her reputation, I assure you!"
Lady Martindale smiled. "If she is seen to reject the advances of London's eligible but elusive Lord Dungarran, her reputation can only be enhanced! You have been the target of every matchmaking mama for t
he past ten years!"
"Stop talking nonsense and tell me if you consent."
"You must consult Hester first," she said warningly.
"I will."
"Then if the Percevals agree, I will help you. But I still think it is a madcap scheme!"
After Hester had most reluctantly agreed to Dungarran's plan, Lady Martindale approached the Percevals with her invitation. Persuasive though she was, it looked for a while as if their scheme would founder on Sir James's notions of what was proper, but she had an ally in Lady Perceval. Left alone with her husband, Hester's mother represented to him all the advantages of Lady Martindale's interest in their daughter.
"I am surprised, Sir James, that you even think of rejecting such a flattering invitation! I would not dream of arguing with your decision that we should return to Northamptonshire. I am sure your reasons are perfectly sound. But I hope I may claim some influence in a matter which so closely affects our daughter's prospects. You not only run the risk of offending one of society's great ladies, but you are also putting Hester's future at risk! I do hope you will reconsider."
Hugo added his voice. "Lady Martindale is just the sort of woman you would wish Hester to be, Father. She is undoubtedly as intelligent and as strong-minded as Hester, if not more so. I believe her to have quite an influence in government circles. But she has such tact, so much charm, that few people suspect this. Hester could learn a great deal from her."
Sir James finally gave in to persuasion and Hester was allowed to accepted Lady Martindale's kind invitation. On the day the Percevals left London for Northamptonshire Hester was installed in a very pretty bedroom in the Grosvenor Street house. Lady Martindale made her most welcome, but spoke seriously to her before they came downstairs.
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