The Silent Pool

by Patricia Wentworth

  Star Somers sat lightly on the arm of one of the chairs. She did not seem to belong to the room at all. She was in grey, but not the storm-grey of the velvet curtains. Her beautifully cut suit had the light silvery shade which went well with her name. A diamond brooch flashed from the lapel, a row of pearls crossed the neckline of a delicate white shirt. She was as exquisite off the stage as upon it. If the light had been twice as bright as it was, it would have disclosed no fault in the perfect skin, the lovely eyes, the pale gold hair. And the perfection owed practically nothing to art. Nature had given her eyelashes just that deeper tinge which flattered the grey eyes, and she wore no rouge and needed none. When she was pleased her colour rose, when she was sad it ebbed. Her charming mouth was emphasized by a most attractive shade of lipstick. At the moment her eyes were wide, her lips parted, and her colour high.

  ‘You weren’t going to tell me!’ she said. ‘You’ve actually let Nanny go off without telling me!’

  Edna Ford, who was her cousin Geoffrey’s wife, looked down a long pale nose. Everything about her was pale – the hair which always reminded Star of sun-dried grass, the light blue eyes with their sandy lashes, the thin colourless lips set in a disapproving line. Even the embroidery upon which she was engaged had a pale and faded look, the background dull, the colours indeterminate, the pattern formal. Every time she put the needle in and drew it out again she managed to convey the fact that Star was making a fuss about nothing. There was going to be a scene. These theatrical people were all so emotional. And why couldn’t Star sit down in a chair like anybody else instead of perching herself up on the arm like that? The covers were showing signs of wear anyhow, and it was going to cost the earth to replace them. Since it was Adriana who would have to foot the bill, there was really no need for her to worry about it. She kept her voice even with an effort and said,

  ‘But you knew she hadn’t had her holiday.’

  Star looked at her reproachfully.

  ‘But I never can remember about dates – you know I can’t. And you didn’t tell me – you didn’t tell me a thing. You know perfectly well that I would never, never go all the way to America unless I was quite, quite sure about Stella.’

  Edna prayed for patience.

  ‘My dear Star, I don’t know what you mean. You seem to forget that Stella is not a baby any longer. She is six years old. I shall be here, and Meeson, and Mrs Simmons, and that nice girl Joan Cuttle who comes up from the village. Surely between us we can look after one little girl – and really Nanny will only be away for a fortnight.’

  The grey eyes brightened, the soft voice shook.

  ‘When six people are looking after a child everybody thinks someone else is doing it, which simply means that no one does it at all! And you know perfectly well that Meeson has her hands full with Adriana! Mrs Simmons is a cook, not a nurse. She’s always complaining she’s got too much to do anyhow! And as for this Joan Cuttle, I don’t know a thing about her, and I’m not leaving Stella with someone I don’t know through and through! This is the most wonderful chance for me, but I’d rather throw it up than not be sure about Stella! Nanny must come back!’

  Edna allowed herself a faint smile.

  ‘She has gone on one of these motor-coach trips – France – Italy – Austria -’

  ‘Edna – how frightful!’

  ‘I have no idea where she is. She can’t possibly come back.’

  Star’s eyes brimmed with tears.

  ‘Even if we did know, she’s as obstinate as the devil – she probably wouldn’t come.’ A bright tear splashed down upon the diamond brooch. ‘I shall just have to cable out to Jimmy and say he must let someone else have the part. It was absolutely written for me, and he’ll give it to that frightful Jean Pomeroy. She’ll ruin it of course, but it can’t be helped. Stella must come first!’

  ‘My dear, you are just being theatrical.’

  Star gazed at her, more in sorrow than in anger. Her colour had faded. She produced a small handkerchief and brushed it across her eyes.

  ‘Of course you wouldn’t understand. I can’t expect you to – you’ve never had a child.’

  An unbecoming flush showed that the thrust had told. The little mournful voice went on.

  ‘No – that is what it will have to be. Jimmy will be furious. He has said all along that there wasn’t anyone else who would be right. It’s just me! But I always have put Stella first, and I always will. I can’t and I won’t leave her unless – unless-’ The handkerchief dropped. Her colour flowed back. She clasped her hands and said with leaping enthusiasm, ‘I’ve got an idea!’

  Edna was prepared for anything.

  ‘You can’t take her with you-’

  ‘I shouldn’t dream of it! Of course it would be fun – oh, wouldn’t it! But I shouldn’t think of it for a moment! No, what I have thought about is Janet!’

  ‘Janet?’

  Really Star was too difficult to follow. She jumped from one thing to another and expected you to know what it was all about.

  ‘Janet Johnstone,’ said Star. ‘She was the minister’s daughter at Darnach – that place where I used to go and stay with the Rutherford relations. Ninian and I used to see a lot of her. Stella would love her. And I shouldn’t have a single moment’s worry – you couldn’t with Janet. Dependable, you know, without being stuffy. You hardly ever get it, do you? But Janet isn’t – not the very least bit. She would be perfect.’

  Edna stared.

  ‘Is she a children’s nurse?’

  ‘No, of course she isn’t! She’s Hugo Mortimer’s secretary. You know – the man who wrote Ecstasy and White Hell. And he’s gone off on a three months’ holiday, shooting, or fishing, or something, so she’ll be on her own, and she could quite easily come down here for Nanny’s fortnight, and I could go off without a care in the world.’

  ‘But, Star-’

  Star jumped down from the arm of the big chair. She was as light and graceful as a kitten.

  ‘There aren’t any buts! I’ll go and ring her up at once!’

  Chapter Five

  Janet lifted the receiver. Star Somers’ charming voice came to her.

  ‘Darling, is that you?’

  ‘It used to be.’

  ‘How do you mean, it used to be?’

  ‘Everything has been rather intensive. We worked up to the last minute – I’ve been a machine. But it’s over. He went off on Tuesday.’

  ‘How grim! You want a holiday.’

  ‘I do.’

  Inwardly Janet reflected that since Hugo had rushed off at the last moment without signing the cheque for her salary, a holiday was not going to be so easy to achieve. She had laid it out before him, she had handed him his fountain pen, and the telephone-bell had rung. It was while she was answering it that Hugo had blown her a kiss and rushed for his train, leaving the cheque right in the middle of his writing-pad without a signature. She had written to him of course, but whether he would ever get the letter was quite another thing. If he made a plan it would not be with any set intention of carrying it out, but merely to have something from which he could break away. The stimulus of the unexpected! It wasn’t always very convenient for other people. It wasn’t being at all convenient for Janet Johnstone. She heard Star say,

  ‘Darling, you can have a marvellous holiday this minute! You haven’t fixed anything up, have you? You told me you hadn’t just before Hugo went.’

  ‘No, I haven’t had time.’

  ‘Then that’s perfect! You can come down here tomorrow! It’s a lovely place, and no one will bother you!’

  When you have played together as children and shared most things in your teens, there is not much you do not know about each other. What Star knew would send her off to take up her part in Jimmy Du Parc’s new musical show with a mind completely at rest. What Janet knew made it perfectly clear to her that Star had a game of her own. She said in the voice which had just the least touch of a Scottish lilt,

  ‘“You had much better
tell me straight out what you want.’

  ‘Angel, I knew you would come to my rescue – you always do! You see, it’s Stella. That fool Edna has let Nanny go away on some ridiculous holiday trip, and I’m due to start for New York tomorrow – no, it’s the day after! But there’s no time – you do see that, don’t you? And I can’t go unless I can feel quite sure about Stella. And I would with you. Edna isn’t any good with children. She hasn’t ever had any. I’ve just been telling her so, and I don’t think she liked it!’

  ‘And how many children am I supposed to have had?’

  ‘Darling, you’re an angel with them – you always were! It’s a gift! You will do it, won’t you? You’ll adore it really! It’s a wonderful old house, and the gardens are a dream. A bit gone off now, of course, from what they used to be, because there are only two gardeners now instead of four, and I don’t suppose there ought to be as many as that. It would be a take-in for everyone if it turned out that Adriana had run through all her capital, and I don’t really see how she can be doing everything out of income – not nowadays. Surtax, you know, darling – it’s frightening! You can’t save a penny! Fortunately for us, Adriana could, and did. At least that’s what we hope! Only we don’t know who she will leave it to – and honestly, what’s the good of splitting it? A little here and a little there, it would just be frittering! You do see that, don’t you?’

  The silvery voice ceasing for a moment, Janet was able to say,

  ‘I don’t see anything at all. Nobody could. And I haven’t said I’ll do it yet.’

  ‘Darling, you did! And you simply must, or I’m sunk! Suppose I don’t go, and that frightful girl Jean Pomeroy gets the part! Jimmy will give it to her – I know he will. And suppose she makes some ghastly kind of hit in it. She might – just to spite me!’

  Janet said,

  ‘Star, stop talking! You’re making my head go round. And you haven’t told me a single thing. Where are you speaking from?’

  ‘Darling, Ford House of course! I came down to say goodbye to Stella and make sure everything was all right, and what do I find? Edna has let Nanny go prancing off to the continent on a motor tour!’

  ‘Yes, you told me that. Ford House – that’s where Adriana Ford lives, isn’t it?’

  ‘Darling, you know it is! Everyone does! You’re just being difficult! And she had an accident six months ago, so Edna runs the house more or less!’

  ‘Who is Edna?’

  ‘She’s my cousin Geoffrey’s wife. Rather distant – the sort where you have the same great-grandfather. No one has been able to make out why he married her. She hasn’t even got money! And they’ve no children. People do do the oddest things, don’t they?’

  Janet let that go.

  ‘Is he there too?’

  Star’s voice ran up to new heights.

  ‘But of course! I told you they hadn’t got a bean. They live here. You’ll probably think him charming – he can be if he likes.’

  ‘Does he do anything?’

  ‘He goes out with a gun. But Mrs Simmons has got to the point when she won’t cook any more rabbits – anyway the staff won’t eat them!’

  ‘I was coming to the staff. Who is there?’

  ‘Oh, plenty really. You won’t have to do a thing. The Simmons are butler and cook, and there’s Meeson who looks after Adriana – she used to be her dresser. Devoted, but she won’t lift a finger for anyone else. And a woman from the village, and a girl called Joan Cuttle – what a name! And of course Meriel does the flowers.’

  ‘And who is Meriel?’

  ‘Well, darling, there you have me! Nobody quite knows. One of those intense creatures with a lot of hair. And no one knows whether Adriana had her surreptitiously, or whether she just picked her up somewhere and adopted her, which is exactly the sort of thing she might have done. When I really want to annoy Geoffrey I tell him I’m quite sure she is a daughter and that Adriana will leave her everything!’

  ‘How old is she?’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know – twenty-three – twenty-four – so I don’t suppose she could be really, because Adriana must be eighty, though no one knows about that either. She has always been a clam about her age. But she’s my grandfather’s sister, and I’ve got a sort of idea she was older than he was, only it’s all rather hush-hush – because of the Scandals, you know, before she blossomed out into being world-famous. I mean, once the public takes you seriously as Ophelia, and Desdemona, and Juliet, they stop thinking about your private life. I believe she was too heart-wringing as Desdemona. And then, of course, later on there were things like Mrs Alving and the other Ibsen females – and Lady Macbeth – quite overpowering! So no one bothered any more about whether she had lived with an archduke or had an affair with a bullfighter. She was just Adriana Ford, with her name in letters about three feet high and people tearing the box-office down to get seats.’

  It sounded a bit overpowering. Janet said so.

  A new flow began.

  ‘Darling, you practically won’t see her. She broke her leg six or seven months ago, and it left her with a limp, so she wouldn’t let anyone see her walk. It was one of her special things, you know, the way she moved and walked, so she’s been saying she couldn’t. Of course the doctors have always said she could if she wanted to, and the other day she went up to town and saw a specialist, and he said she had simply got to lead a normal life and get about as much as she could. Edna was telling me about it before she came out with this horrid thing about Nanny. She said Adriana was going to start coming down to meals and everything, so you’ll be seeing her a little more than I said. But honestly, that will be all to the good, because Edna is the world’s worst bore. As a matter of fact, Adriana always has spent most of her time in her own set of rooms, with Meeson to wait on her and everything just as she likes it. If she takes a fancy to you she’ll send for you, and you must be sure to go. It’s a sort of royal command and frightfully impressive. Darling, I must fly! Come round to the flat at nine o’clock, and we’ll fix everything up!’

  Chapter Six

  That is the very last one of Stella.’ Star held out a large photograph in a folding leather case. ‘You haven’t seen her for simply years, and of course she’s changed.’

  The picture showed a thin, leggy child with straight dark hair cut in a fringe and a face which had lost its baby roundness and was developing features not yet adjusted to each other. The nose had more of a bridge than is usual at six years old. The brows were straight and dark above deep-set eyes. The mouth was wide and rather shapeless.

  ‘She isn’t a bit like me,’ said Star regretfully.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Or Robin. He was terribly good-looking, wasn’t he? And of course Stella may be – you never can tell, can you? But it will be in her own sort of way, not ours. She has got wonderful eyes – a sort of mixture of brown and grey, much darker than mine. Janet, you will write me every single thing she says and does, won’t you? I’m a fool about her – everyone tells me I am – but that’s the way it is. Someone said to me the other day, why didn’t I have her with me instead of leaving her down at Ford House? I nearly scratched her eyes out, and I said, “Oh, it would be a bit of a tie, you know”.’ Tears rushed into her eyes. ‘It isn’t that – I don’t care about anyone else, but I want you to know how it is. I never stop missing her – I don’t honestly. But it’s better for her to be down there in the country. She’s got rabbits, and a kitten, and children do get something out of being in the country that you can’t give them in town. Do you remember us at Darnach? It was heaven, wasn’t it!’

  Janet laid the photograph down upon the bed. There was an open suit-case before her, and she was packing it with Star’s filmy underclothes. She had known perfectly well that Star would have been relying on her to do the packing. The mention of Darnach might have been without any special intent, or it might not. She was to know in a moment, because Star said,

  ‘You don’t ever see Ninian now, do you?’

 
; Janet was folding a pale blue negligée. She laid it in the suitcase and said,

  ‘No.’

  Star brought her over an armful of stockings.

  ‘Well, I can’t see why not. I ran into Robin the other day, and we had lunch. I really didn’t mind – much. And Robin and I were married, whereas you weren’t even properly engaged to Ninian. Or were you?’

  Janet distributed the stockings.

  ‘It depends on what you call properly.’

  ‘Well – you didn’t have a ring.’

  ‘No, I didn’t have a ring.’

  There was a little pause before Star said,

  ‘Did you break it off, or did he? I asked him, and he wouldn’t tell me – just cocked up one eyebrow and said it wasn’t my business.’

  Janet said, ‘No.’

  ‘Because if it was on account of Anne Forester – was it?’

  ‘She was what you might call a contributory cause.’

  ‘Darling, how stupid! He didn’t care for her – not the least bit in the world! It was just a flare-up! Don’t you ever have a pash yourself and get over it? I have dozens! I see a too utterly expensive hat and feel as if I should die if I didn’t have it, or a mink I can’t possibly afford, or anything like that, and after a little it wears off and I don’t give a damn! Anne Forester was like that. He couldn’t possibly have afforded her, and she would have bored him stiff in a week. You see, I do know Ninian. We may be only first cousins, but in a way we’re much more like twins, as our fathers were. It’s something quite special. So I know what it was about Anne. And there’s another reason why I know – because of what happened with Robin and me. We just had a pash for each other, and we got married on it and crashed. There wasn’t anything there really – not for either of us. Only I can’t be sorry about it, because I’ve got Stella, and she is real – I’ve got Stella. Now, with you and Ninian there is something real. He matters to you, and you matter to him – you always did, and you always will.’