Fletchers End (Bel Lamington Book 2)

by D. E. Stevenson

  “You did let the house go to rack and ruin,” said Bel reproachfully.

  He nodded. “Yes, I’m afraid that’s true, but what could I do? I’m a naval officer—and keen on my job—I have to go where I’m sent. How could I look after Fletchers End? I can’t think why Aunt Helen left it to me.”

  “She must have been very fond of you,” suggested Bel.

  “No. At least I never thought she was fond of me,” said Roy Lestrange thoughtfully. “She really was quite nasty to me when I was a boy. Later when I was in the service and had been about the world and become a bit more civilised she changed her tune. I remember I was home on leave one Christmas, staying with some friends in town, and suddenly I thought it would be rather a joke to go and see the old lady. To tell the truth I thought I might be able to touch her for a fiver. So I borrowed a car and set out. I didn’t tell her I was coming, I just walked into Fletchers End with a parcel.”

  “A Christmas present?” asked Bel, who in spite of her annoyance with Mr. Lestrange was becoming interested in his story.

  “Yes,” he said smiling. “It was an Egyptian scarf which I had picked up when we called at Cairo—it was rather striking—all colours of the rainbow. As a matter of fact I got it for a girl I was keen on, but when I came home I found she’d gone and got engaged to another fellow, so I thought it would do for Aunt Helen—soften her heart if you see what I mean. Well, believe it or not, the poor old thing was tickled to bits with that scarf! She put it on then and there and looked at herself in the big mirror which used to hang at the end of the room. I must say it suited her; she looked magnificent;” he chuckled and added, “She was a very good-looking old lady, you know: good features and white hair done in curls on the top of her head and a straight back like a Guardee. You can imagine her, can’t you?”

  Curiously enough Bel found she could imagine the old lady quite clearly.

  “In a way it was pathetic,” Roy declared. “I mean she was so pleased to see me. She said nobody bothered to go and see her and she couldn’t get about much. She said it was so kind of me to think of her when I was in Egypt and bring a present for her. I felt rather uncomfortable about that,” said Roy confidentially. “I mean of course I hadn’t thought about her—but I couldn’t explain, could I?”

  “No, you couldn’t,” agreed Bel. “She would have been terribly hurt and disappointed.”

  He chuckled. “She would probably have taken off the scarf and thrown it at me—she had a temper, you know. Well, I stayed to lunch and she gave me a dashed good meal and an excellent glass of claret. She said nobody appreciated good claret nowadays but her father used to say it was a gentleman’s wine. She said I had become very like my father—he had always been her favourite brother. That pleased me because my father was a very fine man indeed. What with one thing and another we got on like a house on fire. Of course I had no idea she had made me her heir—I never thought of it for a moment. I always thought she would leave Fletchers End to Aunt Dora.” He laughed and added, “Aunt Dora thought so too. Perhaps that was why she didn’t get it.”

  Bel thought this might quite well have been the reason why Miss Lestrange had left the house to her nephew. An old lady with a temper and ‘a straight back like a Guardee’ might have preferred to leave her property to someone who did not expect to get it rather than to someone who did.

  *

  3

  By this time Mrs. Warmer had brought in tea so Bel poured it out. She was beginning to feel more comfortable now, for there was nothing alarming about her guest; he was friendly and pleasant and she found his conversation entertaining.

  “You could have knocked me down with a feather when I heard from Mr. Tennant that Aunt Helen had left me Fletchers End,” continued Roy as he accepted a cup of tea. “I was never so surprised in my life. I didn’t want it——”

  “You didn’t want it!”

  “What good was it to me? It was just a source of trouble and expense. It was a white elephant.” He hesitated and then added, “I can see you’re fed up with me, but honestly——”

  “Oh no, of course not,” said Bel hastily. “I’ve no right to be fed up.”

  “But you are.”

  This was true. She was annoyed with him—or at least she had been very much annoyed. She was not so annoyed with him now. It was difficult to go on feeling annoyed with Roy Lestrange.

  “Oh well, perhaps I was a little annoyed with you,” admitted Bel. “You see it’s such a darling old house and it was so sad and neglected. If only you could have seen what it looked like——”

  “But that’s just the point!” he exclaimed. “I didn’t see it—and I didn’t think about it often. I was much too busy. The only time I ever thought about it was when I got a bill from old Tennant for Mrs. What’s-her-name’s wages and what he referred to as ‘absolutely essential repairs’. When I thought about Fletchers End I remembered it as a miserable prison where I spent my holidays with Aunt Helen.” He looked round again and added, “You’ve made this room perfectly beautiful, Mrs. Brownlee. I can’t believe it’s the same place.”

  Bel was pleased. She loved the whole house but the drawing-room was the pride of her heart for it had required more care and planning than the other rooms. She smiled at him and said she was glad he liked it.

  “I want you to understand,” he said leaning forward and speaking very earnestly. “There was I—hundreds and hundreds of miles away—living an entirely different sort of life. Lieutenant-Commanders in Her Majesty’s Navy don’t get unlimited pay and I needed every penny to go about and to—to have a reasonably good time and enjoy myself. I mean if you can’t have a good time when you’re young . . .” He hesitated and looked at Bel.

  Bel nodded. Obviously he was the sort of young man to make hay while the sun shone. She was aware that he had required a good deal more than his pay to enjoy himself in ‘forrin parts’ but naturally she did not say so.

  “It was all so difficult,” he continued. “I suppose I’m inclined to be a bit extravagant—all the Lestranges are. What happens is you run into debt, without meaning to, and then of course you’ve got to pay interest on it—and all that. I don’t know why I’m telling you this; I expect you’re frightfully shocked, aren’t you? I mean I can see that it’s very difficult for a girl like you who has always had plenty of money to understand.”

  “I haven’t always had plenty of money,” said Bel quickly. “Before I was married I had to work hard—but I never got into debt.”

  “Oh well—I did,” he said sadly. “And I can tell you this: once you get down you can never pull up again however hard you try.”

  Bel said nothing. She could find nothing to say. Debt had always been a bugbear to Bel and she had scrimped and saved and cut down every unnecessary expense to avoid it.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Roy Lestrange knew a good deal about Fletchers End; he had heard about it from his aunt; and although he had not been interested at the time—but intensely bored with the old lady’s reminiscences—he remembered quite a lot about it now and produced some information to amuse his hostess. Bel knew some of it already, but not all, and in any case she was so interested in Fletchers End that she did not mind hearing it again from a different angle. He told her that it was his great-grandfather who had bought the two houses and made them into one, and that the Lestrange family had lived in the place ever since.

  “There were two little staircases,” he said. “One of them used to be here in this room. It led up to my bedroom.”

  “Come and see,” said Bel smiling. She rose and opened a door in the corner of the room, and there were the stairs—but instead of leading to the bedroom, which had once belonged to Roy Lestrange, the little twisty staircase had been made into a cupboard and on every step was an array of bottles and decanters of all shapes and sizes.

  “By Jove, what a cracking idea!” exclaimed Roy Lestrange. “I call that positively brilliant.”

  “It belongs to Ellis. He thought of
it and made it himself,” said Ellis’s wife proudly.

  They sat down again and continued their meal.

  “Tell me more about Fletchers End,” said Bel as she refilled her guest’s tea-cup. “You must know a great deal about it.”

  “I’ve told you all I remember,” he replied. “But of course Aunt Helen knew lots more about its history. She had some old letters and diaries and things like that which she kept in the drawer of her bureau.”

  “All about the house?” asked Bel eagerly. “Oh, I should love to see them.”

  He looked at her doubtfully. “Yes, but I wonder where they are. Probably still in that drawer—and all the furniture is in store, so it’s a bit hopeless.” He hesitated and then continued, “I suppose I ought to go and have a look at the furniture while I’m here; there might be one or two decent pieces that I could sell. As a matter of fact I could use a little extra cash—things are terribly expensive nowadays, aren’t they? Yes, perhaps I’d better go to the store and see what’s there.”

  “Don’t you know what’s there?”

  “Oh, it’s all there except for some silver and jewellery and things, which were special bequests mentioned in Aunt Helen’s will. I was away at the time so old Tennant managed it. I told him to clear out the whole place. Afterwards when I began to get bills for the storage I wished I had told him to have a sale, but I never thought of it at the time.” He sighed and added, “I was an awful fool. I mismanaged the whole affair.”

  “But you sold the house eventually,” Bel reminded him.

  He did not reply and for a few moments there was rather an awkward silence. Bel had an uncomfortable feeling that her visitor was regretting the sale of Fletchers End—or, more likely, he was thinking that he ought to have got a better price for the place. Seeing it now, when so much had been done to it, you could hardly blame him.

  “It was in terribly bad repair,” she told him. “We had to spend a lot of money on it, you know.”

  “Well, I couldn’t afford to spend a lot of money,” he said.

  “I know,” agreed Bel. “It was a pity. If the place had been in good repair it would have been sold long ago. Mrs. Warmer said a great many people came and looked at it—and went away.”

  There was another short silence.

  “Mrs. Warmer,” said Roy Lestrange at last. “Yes, that was the old woman’s name. What’s become of her I wonder.”

  “She’s here. You saw her.”

  “Oh, was that the good lady who invited me to tea?”

  “I’m glad you stayed,” said Bel quickly.

  He laughed rather mischievously.

  “I mean——” began Bel, who realised she had made a gaffe. “I mean——”

  “I know what you mean. You didn’t want me a bit, but of course you had to ask me. You couldn’t get out of it, could you? It was very wicked of me to stay—but I stayed. That’s the whole thing in a nutshell.”

  It was, of course. Bel could not help smiling. She said, “It would be rude to contradict you, wouldn’t it?”

  “Very rude and quite useless,” he replied. “Your face gives you away every time. You should never play poker, Mrs. Brownlee.”

  “Poker?” asked Bel in bewilderment. “I don’t know how to play poker.”

  “Don’t learn,” he said earnestly. “It would be absolutely fatal for you to attempt it. Promise me faithfully that you’ll never never learn to play poker.”

  Bel did not know how to continue the conversation so she offered him the last scone—and he took it.

  “A handsome wife or ten thousand a year?” asked Bel.

  “Oh, both of course,” said Roy laughing. “But if I’ve got to choose, it won’t be the handsome wife. I could get her quite easily if I had ten thousand a year.”

  *

  2

  When he had finished the last of Mrs. Warmer’s wholemeal scones Roy Lestrange rose to take his departure.

  “I must push along,” he declared glancing at the clock. “It’s been delightful meeting you, Mrs. Brownlee. I’m glad I was wicked enough to accept your cook’s invitation. Sorry to dash off like this—but I’m staying with my cousin Leslie Harding. He’s got a very nice little flat in Oxford; he lives there by himself and burrows about amongst old books and documents and sometimes gives lectures. He’s rather an ass but quite harmless. As a matter of fact there’s going to be a terrific binge tonight and I promised Leslie I wouldn’t be late. The binge has been laid on for my benefit, you see.”

  “Oh, you mustn’t be late,” agreed Bel.

  “No, and that means I shall have to get a move on,” he declared. “The party is starting with drinks at Leslie’s flat, then we all go in a body to some place where they give you Italian food—not an expensive restaurant, you know. After that I don’t know what’s happening—some sort of junketing, I suppose.”

  “I expect you’ll enjoy it.”

  “Well, perhaps,” said Roy as they went towards the door together. “Of course all Leslie’s friends are frightfully young—even the older ones seem frightfully young and green—but it’s quite fun to meet an entirely different crowd of people with different ideas from oneself . . . I say!” he exclaimed in surprise. “This hall used to be ghastly; dim and dark and cluttered up with ugly furniture. It smelt of mice.”

  “Mrs. Warmer got rid of all the mice.”

  “Oh, look here! I ought to speak to the good lady. I mean I ought to shake her by the hand—and all that. Do you mind?”

  Bel did not mind in the least. She thought it was kind of him to think of it. She was sure Mrs. Warmer would think he was nice. There was no need for her to show him the way to the kitchen so she waited in the hall while he disappeared through the green baize door, which Ellis had insisted was the correct thing to shut off the kitchen premises from the rest of the house.

  Presently her guest returned, smiling cheerfully. “Funny old bean,” he said. “Very forthcoming. I think she liked me popping in to see her—I’m glad I remembered. Well, I’d better be getting along. I’ve got to go back to London tomorrow morning, and I’ll see if I can find those diaries for you, Mrs. Brownlee.”

  “Oh yes, please do!” exclaimed Bel.

  They were on the doorstep when the telephone-bell rang, so they said good-bye hastily and Bel ran to answer it. The telephone was in the hall and the front-door was open; as she took up the receiver, she saw her guest striding rapidly down the path to the gate. I wonder if he will remember, she thought.

  It was Ellis on the phone to say that he had been delayed by important business and had lost his train so he would not be home until later. She was not to delay dinner for him; he would just have a snack at the station. Bel suggested that he should stay the night in town—it seemed a pity to come down late when he would have to go back early in the morning—he could stay at his club quite conveniently.

  “But I want to come home,” objected Ellis. “I don’t mind the journey a bit. I like getting out of town—even for a few hours. You want me to come home, don’t you?”

  “Yes, of course. I was just trying to be sensible and unselfish,” declared Bel laughing.

  They chatted for a few moments and then rang off.

  *

  3

  When Bel went to shut the front-door she was surprised to hear voices and the sound of laughter. It was Louise laughing; there was no mistaking that gay, merry sound. Bel was expecting Louise but why didn’t she come in?

  Bel went down the path and—lo and behold!—there was Louise chatting to Roy Lestrange—Roy Lestrange, who should have been well on his way to Oxford! Roy Lestrange, who had promised his cousin not to be late for the party!

  The two were so engrossed in conversation that they did not see Bel; so, after a moment’s hesitation she turned and went back to the house. It was natural, of course, thought Bel. It was the most natural thing in the world for a young man to talk to Louise and to forget all his obligations in the delight of looking at her. His cousin at Oxford,
who was expecting him; the terrific binge laid on for his benefit—all forgotten!

  Bel went back to the drawing-room and unpacked the parcel of patterns so that they would be ready for Louise to look at when she decided to break off the conversation and come in. To tell the truth Bel was slightly worried. She did not know why she was worried but—somehow—she was. Of course it was silly to feel worried; Louise was friendly with everyone. It meant absolutely nothing. Besides, Bel liked Roy Lestrange. She had not liked him at first, but afterwards she had liked him. You couldn’t help liking him; he was charming.

  Perhaps that was why she was worried—because he was charming. Could that be the reason? He was charming but not altogether reliable, thought Bel. The more she thought about Roy Lestrange the more worried she became. His explanation for his neglect of Fletchers End had satisfied her completely and she had absolved him from his crimes, but now that she considered the matter seriously without the enchantment of his personality before her eyes, she realised that his behaviour had been irresponsible to say the least of it. Bel valued reliability very highly; she had got herself a thoroughly reliable husband. Would Ellis have enjoyed himself at Hong Kong—or wherever he happened to be—and spent every penny he earned and run himself into debt and neglected his property so shamefully?

  No, Ellis would not.

  How very odd! said Bel to herself. That young man must have bewitched me.

  He had bewitched Mrs. Warmer also. Mrs. Warmer was full of his praises when she came in to clear away the tea-things. “So handsome,” said Mrs. Warmer. “Such a nice brown face—that’s the sea-breezes—and he was so free and easy, so friendly and kind! I do think he’s nice, don’t you, Mrs. Brownlee?”

  “He’s certainly very attractive,” said Bel.

  Of course Bel expected further eulogies from Louise, but when at last she appeared she seemed perfectly calm.

  “Rather an entertaining bloke,” said Louise smiling. “I met him at the gate and he said he had been having tea with you. I suppose he was telling you all sorts of interesting things about Fletchers End. He used to stay here when he was a child. We had a little chat about one thing and another and then he went off to Oxford on a frightful old motor-bike. You never saw such a contraption—he said he had borrowed it from a friend. He’s coming to lunch with us tomorrow—on the same bike.”