by Anne Hampson
‘Very well,’ John agreed, although after some considerable hesitation. ‘I’d much rather bring them in here, but if your father’s heart’s weak then perhaps we’d better keep silent.’
‘I feel awful—’ Delia looked apologetically at Kathryn. ‘I’m keeping you from your guests.’
‘That’s all right, Delia. It can’t be helped, if you’re ill.’
‘But both of you—look, please go back; I’ll be all right here by myself.’
‘We’re not leaving you,’ declared Kathryn firmly. ‘John, perhaps you’d like to go—?’
‘But it’s your party, Kathryn,’ interrupted Delia. ‘Please go in to them. I’ll feel so guilty if you won’t.’ Kathryn looked uncertainly at John, who nodded.
‘Perhaps you should. I’ll stay with Delia—for a while at any rate. You can come back in about twenty minutes or so, if you wish.’
‘I’ll probably be better by then,’ Delia said hopefully, trying to force a smile.
Kathryn went back to the Long Hall, and was just getting up to dance with Bernard when she heard Andrea say to Mrs. Slade,
‘Is Delia ill? I saw John and Kathryn helping her along the corridor—’
‘Excuse me, Bernard,’ Kathryn said swiftly. ‘I’ll be with you in a minute.’ And, leaving him to stare in puzzlement after her, she almost ran back to the sitting-room, intending to warn Delia.
The door was ajar; Kathryn pushed it open ... and stood just inside the room. Delia’s eyes were closed; she sounded as if she were rambling—she was rambling, Kathryn realized, after listening a moment longer.
‘It’s not a very nice thing to say, Kathryn, that his claim was—was weak ... that it’s a pity Mr. Southon never married ... what? He’s marrying you to save his own face?—and not because he’s thinking about you at all? How can you say such things? —and after you’ve admitted you know those moors ... that you knew you should have come away earlier ... only you—you stayed on purpose. ... Oh, my head!’ A small silence and then, ‘You deliberately set out to compromise him? I’d no idea ... when you said you’d go to any lengths to stay...’
White to the lips, Kathryn at last managed to come further into the room. John was standing by the couch, his profile drawn and harsh, his hands clenched by his sides.
‘Mrs. Slade knows Delia’s ill. Andrea saw us helping her along the corridor.’ Kathryn was amazed she could speak at all, and much more that she could be so calm. It was as if she were numbed by the astounding knowledge that Delia could go to these lengths. The scheme had been well thought out to the last detail—even to extracting from John the promise not to let her parents know of the attack. What would she do now? But her eyes were already fluttering open; she stared from John to Kathryn in a dazed and uncomprehending manner. Kathryn felt sick with disgust as she watched Delia ‘come round’. It was all over in seconds. She sat up, passing a hand across her forehead.
‘Have I dozed? I must have—and I feel much better for it.’ She smiled at John and added, ‘I’m fine now, I knew it would pass in no time at all!’
John turned and Kathryn lifted her eyes to meet his. Would he see through this girl? No; for not only was the scheme a clever one, but John, himself so honourable, would never so much as suspect Delia of such malevolent conduct. And in addition to this, John was totally unaware of the enmity existing between his fiancée and the girl who would in all probability have become his wife, had events taken their natural course.
With her fiancé’s condemnation filling the room, and his eyes burning into her, Kathryn turned away. Words were useless, for John believed all he had heard.
CHAPTER VIII
Kathryn lay on the lovely French bed, looking up at the ornate ceiling. Was this the end? It must be, for John would never want to marry her after what he had heard, gossip or no gossip. She turned, glancing at the clock.
Sleep hadn’t come to her at all, and although certain she could now have dozed she got up and, slipping on a housecoat, sat down at the dressing-table and began to brush her hair. The little jewelled stud lay on the tray, and from the ring stand hung one ring—her engagement ring. Should she return it at once? Perhaps that would save both John and herself much embarrassment. Better still, she could just quietly disappear—go back home, leaving John a note. Yes, that would be the best thing to do—and the most dignified.
How long would John wait before becoming engaged to Delia? Kathryn wondered. He would have to wait a little while, naturally, but Kathryn did not think he would delay for very long.
Should she go now, this morning, while John was still in bed? After a little consideration Kathryn decided against that course; it savoured too much of the melodramatic. Moreover, the very action would appear to prove her guilt. She would go down to breakfast; she would face him unflinchingly. With this decision firmly made, she had her bath, dressed herself, and went downstairs. John was not yet up and she went out, wandering in the grounds. The nip of autumn sharpened the air and a faint mist hung above the tallest trees. The only sounds were those made by the waterfowl on the lakes. Kathryn walked about for over an hour, but when she returned to the house there was still no sign of John. She went into the breakfast room. Her eyes scanned the table; he had eaten—eaten alone, something he had not done since their engagement. Breakfast had been a cosy, intimate meal which they had begun to take together, and to which Kathryn eagerly looked forward. She had believed John enjoyed it just as much—in fact, she knew he had ... until now.
The dishes were still on the sideboard, but even the sight of food would have made Kathryn feel ill and she rang for Emily, telling her to remove the breakfast as she wasn’t hungry.
‘Mr. Hyland left a message for you,’ Emily said, looking a little oddly at Kathryn. ‘He’s going into Manchester on business and won’t be back until late. I understand he won’t be back for dinner.’
‘Thank you, Emily.’
‘Your breakfast, Miss Ramsey—are you not well?’
‘Quite well, thank you, Emily,’ she smiled. ‘I just don’t feel hungry, that’s all.’
Had John done this deliberately—in order to give her the opportunity of packing up her belongings and leaving the Hall? It seemed like it, as he had made no mention yesterday of any business he had to conduct in Manchester. Well, she would go, for that was obviously what he wanted.
‘But he could have spoken to me about it,’ she whispered convulsively, five minutes later when, her suitcase open on the bed, she was preparing to pack. ‘He could even have asked if I had any explanation to offer.’ Which is what would naturally have occurred had the engagement been a normal one, had they been marrying for love. With love all misunderstandings could usually be resolved.
Try as she would, Kathryn could not get on with her packing. She had no heart in it, even though her determination to leave today was still very strong. At last, with all her things scattered about on the bed, and even on the floor, she stopped and, sitting down, wrote the note she intended leaving for John. It was short, stating that, in view of what he had heard from Delia., he would no longer wish to continue with the engagement. Kathryn ended with, ‘I’m leaving all the presents Mr. Southon gave me, also my ring and my birthday gift from you.’
The interruption did not have the desired effect, and even when the letter was written Kathryn still had no heart to continue with her packing. At last she left it, but as Emily had not yet been in to tidy the room, Kathryn locked the door. The servants would know soon enough; there was no sense in allowing them to see anything yet.
What should she do? For the first time since coming to Marbeck she was at a loose end. Normally she would clean some of the silver, or wash the china, or perform some other labour of love, but she had no more enthusiasm for any of this than she had for her packing.
Michael... He had bought that Sevres porcelain, and during their conversation last evening he had expressed the wish that she would come along to his shop and look at it. It would be a heaven-sent diversion;
she could take one of the cars, and be back in plenty of time to pack and be gone before John’s return.
She rang Michael, telling him to expect her; he was delighted but puzzled.
‘Are you a lady of leisure already? I thought you were still working for Mr. Hyland, even though you’re engaged.’
The words came as a shock. Yes, she was still employed by John. She ought not by rights to leave him without notice, she realized with a bitter curve of her lips. But he would scarcely expect that—or desire it, even though her departure would undoubtedly inconvenience him, especially as the house was not to be closed for another three weeks.
Michael was in the shop, dusting some weapons he had just bought. After greeting her with a smile he held out one of the weapons.
‘What do you think of this?’ It was a blunderbuss, and in very fine condition.
‘It’s lovely.’ She handled it, examining it carefully. ‘You’ve paid a lot for it, Michael.’ It was a statement, but to her surprise he shook his head.
‘A man brought it in this morning and asked what I’d give.’
‘He didn’t know the value?’
‘Hadn’t a clue. His grandmother had died and this was in the attic—all covered with dust and cobwebs. The man was going to throw it out, but someone told him I was advertising for weapons. I got it for a couple of quid.’
‘Michael,’ she gasped. ‘How could you!’
‘Business, Kathryn,’ he laughed, adding, ‘Perhaps it’s a good thing you didn’t consent to marry me after all. I’ve an idea you’d be no good in business.’
‘I’d have to pay what an article was worth,’ she agreed. ‘I’d feel dreadfully guilty if I didn’t.’
‘Then you’d neither make money nor have the thrill of finding a bargain. This fellow’s delighted—only too relieved that he didn’t throw it in the dustbin.’ He laughed again at her expression. ‘This sort of thing’s happening all the time. If everybody knew everything then we’d have to go out of business.’ Kathryn returned the blunderbuss to him and he put it in the window. ‘Come in the back; we’ll have some coffee and then I’ll show you the Sevres.’
‘Were they a bargain?’ she asked.
‘I’m satisfied, shall we say? But I didn’t get them cheap—for of course they’re marked and people know what they are.’
It was as they were drinking their coffee that Michael suddenly realized Kathryn was not her usual bright self. She saw his expression change as he examined her face and was quite prepared when at last he said anxiously,
‘Are you not very well, Kathryn?’
‘I’m well, yes, thank you, Michael.’
‘But something’s wrong, obviously. It’s not John?’ She swallowed; Michael would have to know, very soon, for the broken engagement would be front page news just as the engagement itself had been. But although he was a good friend she felt strangely disinclined to confide in him. So all she said was,
‘It isn’t John exactly. But I’ve decided I’m not a suitable wife for him and I’m leaving him. I’m breaking the engagement.’
A small silence followed this announcement; Michael looked at her searchingly and then, putting down his cup, he leant forward in his chair.
‘You’re not the girl to get engaged one week and break it off the next. What’s up, Kathryn?’
She flushed, wondering how to rectify the impression she had given him. But there was no rectifying it, for he was too intelligent a person to be fobbed off with some weak equivocation on her part. Resignedly she shrugged, and told him the whole truth.
‘The bitch!’ he exclaimed, in a voice she never thought to hear from him. For Michael was of a quiet, serious disposition, wholly absorbed in his work, which was also his hobby. He was a man not easily ruffled and, until now, Kathryn had never suspected him of any violent emotions whatsoever. But there was no doubt of his fury and, for some quite incomprehensible reason, Kathryn found his anger against Delia strangely comforting. It were as if she had an ally, after fighting alone, with John and Delia ranged against her. That this was not strictly true, she freely owned, but, as she naturally felt a little sorry for herself, the idea had persisted from the moment when, looking up into her fiancé’s face, Kathryn knew that he believed everything Delia had said when supposedly rambling.
‘The rotten, scheming bitch! And John believes it all, you say? Why didn’t you defend yourself, you idiot?’
Kathryn spread her hands.
‘What could I say? I saw at once that he believed her, and so I went back to the guests. When they’d all gone I went straight up to my room. I couldn’t have spoken to him last night, Michael; I felt too sick and disgusted, for I never thought she’d go that far. And besides, it was my birthday and I’d had a lovely time. I couldn’t face a scene after that—’ She shook her head vigorously. ‘No, it would have been too awful.’
‘But this morning? You’ve talked about it, surely?’
‘I haven’t seen John this morning,’ she quivered and, as he stared at her in surprised inquiry, she went on to explain how she and John had missed each other.
‘He didn’t ask for you—send one of the maids out for you?’
‘Perhaps he didn’t know I was outside,’ she returned. ‘He might have concluded I was still in bed.’ Michael’s anger had subsided as swiftly as it had arisen. He was thinking and appeared not to have absorbed Kathryn’s last words.
‘So I was right in surmising the engagement resulted from your being together on the moors all night,’ he said musingly, and Kathryn flushed.
‘I know I said John loved me,’ she confessed, ‘but I think it was more that I tried to deceive myself rather than you—because I wanted it so much.’ She averted her head, half regretting that confidence, while at the same time sensitive of the fact that Michael was thoroughly reliable and she could be very sure that anything she said would be kept entirely to himself.
‘You really love him, Kathryn?’ he asked seriously, his eyes holding hers in a steady searching gaze.
‘I love him, Michael, I don’t know how I’m—I’m going to—to live without—without—’ She looked across at him, her lovely eyes glistening with tears. ‘Why did I have to meet him? I wish I never had!’
‘Well, you have met him, and you’re engaged to him,’ Michael returned practically. ‘And if you love him you’ll fight for what you want.’
‘Fight?’ she queried hopelessly. ‘I’m not fighting, Michael. I’m just getting out and leaving them to live their lives together.’
‘You’re not taking any steps at all to defend yourself?’ he queried on a note of disbelief, and, when she shook her head despairingly, ‘You’d let her win? By heaven, Kathryn, I’d have expected you to have more mettle than that!’
‘But what can I do?’ she returned helplessly.
‘You can fight, as I’ve just said. John hasn’t asked you for his freedom, so why give it to him?’
‘He hasn’t yet, because we’ve not even spoken to one another since it happened. But he will ask me to release him; it’s only natural.’
‘I wonder...’ Michael spoke to himself and Kathryn gave a little start of surprise.
‘There’s no doubt about it,’ she assured him swiftly. ‘John can’t possibly have any wish to marry me now.’
‘I’m not so sure. He thought of the gossip before, and unless I’m very much mistaken he’ll consider that again.’
‘No, Michael, you’re wrong. Remember that, before, he had nothing against me personally—well, nothing serious,’ she added, recalling the disastrous start she had made with him. ‘But now he has all this; my character’s completely blackened in his eyes. I’m a scheming woman, according to Delia. John knew I desperately wanted to stay at the Hall, and so he’d readily believe I deliberately planned the whole thing up there on the moors—’
‘Nonsense! Now I come to think of it, Kathryn, I’m not so sure at all that Delia’s little ruse was all that convincing. How, for instance, could you
have planned the whole thing when you didn’t have any idea about the fog?’
‘No, but as the fog did come, I should have been cautious and advised John to leave. It looks as if I took advantage of the situation to compromise John. It does, Michael, no matter what you say,’ Kathryn added, shaking her head in a little gesture of conviction.
‘These other things she’s attributed to you—did you say them?’
‘I did say John’s claim to the estate was weak, but I didn’t mean it in a nasty Way; Delia’s twisted it to suit her own ends.’
‘And what about your saying John is marrying you to save his own face? Was that true?’ he asked, and again Kathryn had to admit it was. ‘You know, Kathryn,’ said Michael admonishingly, ‘you’ve been a very foolish girl. You’ve known for some time that Delia Slade’s poison, and yet you said these things to her—things that could be twisted in this way. Forgive me for saying it, but you should have had more sense.’
‘I did try to be on my guard.’
‘She was too clever for you—you’re not up to that sort of invidious behaviour.’ The shop bell sounded and Michael left her for a moment. When he returned she was staring despondently into the fire. ‘You’re not giving in, Kathryn,’ he stated almost angrily. ‘You’re going to follow your natural instinct and fight this damned woman.’
‘Natural instinct?’ she queried uncomprehendingly.
‘To fight for what one wants is a natural instinct. Delia’s fought, but hers are dirty ways and she’s not hesitated to stab you in the back. However, you still possess the strongest weapon. You’re engaged to John—and if you’ve an ounce of common sense you’ll stay that way. For John Hyland might be deceived now, but he’s no fool. Some day he’s going to see through that one!’
‘I can’t insist on remaining engaged to him,’ protested Kathryn impatiently. ‘Life would be unbearable for us both.’