Heaven is High

by Anne Hampson

  By a quarter to five the house was almost empty, but as always a few stragglers remained. A little group were in the Compass Room when Kathryn went up to take a look round. They were admiring the four-poster bed and as she entered one of them passed some remark. It was plain they were seeking for information, and although she wasn’t feeling at all up to it Kathryn obligingly told them something of its history.

  ‘It came from Lymphe Castle,’ she said. ‘But at some period it has been in the Boswell family, for here you have the Boswell arms.’

  ‘Not the family of Boswell the diarist?’

  ‘The same. Johnson’s biographer could have slept on this bed; he probably did.’ Kathryn stayed in the room and presently the small group of people drifted out, leaving her alone. But almost at once Delia entered; she must have been hastening, for she said with undisguised sarcasm,

  ‘How clever you are, Kathryn. You know everything about this house, don’t you? And the history of every stick of furniture?’

  ‘It’s my job to know these things.’ Her voice was a little husky, revealing her tiredness, and Delia’s eyes glinted with satisfaction.

  ‘John’s making you work, and very sensible of him!’

  ‘Why have you come up here?’ Kathryn asked, moving across the room with the intention of closing the window. ‘If you want John he’s in the Chapel—or was, a moment ago.’

  ‘I came to speak to you.’

  ‘Oh?’ Kathryn turned inquiringly.

  ‘How long are you going to persist in this stubborn attitude?’ she rasped. ‘John’s going to hate you more and more as time goes on, so it’s not as if it’s going to do you a bit of good.’

  ‘I’m not discussing my fiancé with you,’ returned Kathryn quietly. She closed the window and then moved to the door, standing there waiting for Delia to leave. When Delia made no attempt to do so Kathryn went on to say she was closing the room and locking the door. ‘I don’t want anyone in here at this time; it’s almost five and I want everyone out of the house by then.’

  ‘Fiancé!’ Delia’s eyes blazed. ‘And you don’t want anyone coming in here! You want everyone out by five—Who do you think you are?—the mistress here already! I suppose John’s changed attitude’s given you confidence. You think you’ve got him where you want him, but we’ll see.’ Her face was a mask of hate and frustration as she added, ‘You’ll never be mistress here, Kathryn Ramsey, never—so you might just as well get out now!’ Kathryn’s face was white; never had she imagined anyone could so lose control as to talk and act in this disgusting way. It was unthinkable that John should become bound to such a woman, and this outburst only served to strengthen her resolution to save John from the disaster into which his own folly, and his ignorance of Delia’s character, could lead him.

  ‘I’m engaged to John,’ she said with quiet dignity, ‘and, as I’ve already told you, I’m staying engaged to him. And now, if you’ll allow me to close the door...?’ Her tones and manner added fuel to the fire of Delia’s wrath and, with a vicious swing, she turned and made for the door. Behind her an exquisite little pot-pourri jar which had stood on the table by the bed lay on the floor, smashed to fragments. Delia stopped and looked around.

  ‘How careless you are, Kathryn,’ she exclaimed before Kathryn could even open her mouth to speak. ‘John was telling me the jar was very valuable. He’s not going to be pleased about the breakage, is he?’

  ‘Delia, how could you! This was so beautiful—’

  ‘Me?’ Delia lifted her eyebrows in mock surprise. ‘I’ve just remarked on your carelessness.’

  ‘I understand.’ Kathryn spoke to herself, for Delia had gone. Stooping, she began to pick up the pieces. John had liked this jar, and even decided to take it into one of the private rooms where he could enjoy its beauty. Delia was right, he wasn’t going to be pleased. And it was evident that she, Kathryn, would bear the brunt of his anger, for Delia would never admit to breaking it.

  The pieces were scattered everywhere, and Kathryn searched carefully, hoping she had found every one. Then she went to her room and fetched her own little jar. She had bought it some time ago, believing it to be exactly the same as the one in Mr. Southon’s possession. They would make a pair, she thought, but on getting it home, she discovered one or two slight differences. They were hardly discernible, but Kathryn changed her mind about putting it in the Compass Room with the other.

  Placing it on the bedside table, Kathryn stepped back, eyeing it critically. It was almost identical and she could only hope that John had not examined the other so minutely that he would detect the substitution.

  The first real frosts came as a shock, putting the abrupt end to the Indian summer. Every golden leaf was stripped from the trees, and the fields and hedges were thickly coated with rime. But in the sitting-room all was cosy, with shaded wall lights adding to the glow from a fire of blazing pine logs.

  Kathryn sat alone, one of the account books open on her lap and several others on the floor beside her. For some reason there was a difference of quite a large sum of money between the takings at the turnstile and the actual amount Kathryn had given to John. He himself had done the books, but had now passed them to Kathryn for checking. She had sat down feeling confident of discovering the mistake and anticipating a word of praise from John. But to her surprise she had not found the mistake, and now it appeared that the sum of money was missing. The implications of this did not at first strike her, but when it did she found herself trembling and going through the books once more, with almost frantic haste. The result was the same, and she stared at John anxiously when, just before lunch time he came in to her and glanced down inquiringly.

  ‘It’s a mystery,’ she admitted. ‘I can’t imagine what’s happened.’ She paused and added reluctantly, ‘It can’t be due to mistakes in the change; the sum’s far too large.’

  He looked thoughtfully at the books on the floor.

  ‘I hadn’t much hope of your finding it. I’d already gone over the figures several times.’

  She could very well imagine his doing so, and she now wondered at her initial confidence in discovering a mistake. It seemed to Kathryn that he looked curiously at her and a tremor of actual fear entered her voice as she said,

  ‘We must find it. It can’t just have disappeared.’

  ‘That’s exactly what it seems to have done.’ The drawl was there, but his voice, was also sharp and curt and, to Kathryn’s imagination, it carried a hint of accusation.

  She felt helpless and could only say, in deeply distressed tones, that with the handling of such large sums of money invariably there must be times when discrepancies occurred.

  ‘You’ve been short before?’ This time there was no mistaking the sharpness of his tone. His eyes bored into her; Kathryn could not hold his gaze and she inclined her head, miserably aware that this could very well be taken as an indication of guilt on her part. She was almost ready to cry. For this to happen, just when she had decided to talk to him, to try and convince him of her innocence.

  ‘We have been short,’ she owned. ‘But the amounts were very small.’

  A pause followed; John seemed to be trying to read her thoughts and this only served to make her feel more flustered—and guilty.

  ‘Well,’ he sighed at last, ‘I’m afraid we shall have to write it off, Kathryn, for despite what you say it has in fact disappeared.’

  ‘But we can’t leave it,’ she cried. ‘That would be unsatisfactory for us both!’

  ‘Can you remember having left the money—if only for a moment—before handing it to me?’

  She shook her head.

  ‘No, I didn’t leave it,’ she replied miserably. ‘That is—’ She had left the money, she recollected. But only for a moment or two, while she went upstairs to close a window. The last of the visitors had gone, though, and in any case Delia was there all the time, so no one could have tampered with it.

  ‘Yes? You remember something?’

  ‘No—well
, that is, I did leave it for a short while, on the table in the hall, but Delia was there, otherwise I wouldn’t have left it. And there were no visitors in the house.’

  He frowned in thought.

  ‘You’re sure all the visitors had gone?’

  ‘Quite sure; I’d locked the front door. Besides,’ she reminded him, ‘no one could have touched it while Delia was there.’

  ‘No...’ His eyes kindled strangely. ‘What makes you so sure she was there all the time?’

  ‘She was looking at the old map on the wall; I only went up to the first landing to close a window, and she was still looking at it when I came down.’

  ‘I see.’ Again that odd kindling of his eyes. Kathryn wished with all her heart that she could read his thoughts. Was he blaming her?—silently accusing her of theft?

  ‘Well, as you say, it’s a mystery, and all we can do is forget it.’ Stooping, he picked up the books lying on the floor, then he held out his hand for the one she had on her knee. She gave it to him, her eyes dark and unhappy. His expressionless gaze met hers for a long moment and then without another word he left the room, closing the door softly behind him. There seemed such cold finality about the click of the latch; it was as if that very sound conveyed to Kathryn the hopelessness of the task she had set herself.

  And as she sat there staring unseeingly into the fire, she gradually accepted defeat, for this mysterious disappearance of the money had taken every bit of fight out of her. It was enough to combat the wicked machinations of Delia, but to have fate against her too ... A frown suddenly crossed Kathryn’s brow. It was too much of a coincidence ... Delia was in the hall, alone...

  ‘I mustn’t think such things,’ she whispered, beginning to tremble. ‘No, I must not...’

  The following day her parents paid an unexpected visit. They had been into Macclesfield and had decided to come along and see her and John. Although glad to see them, Kathryn felt some dismay at the idea of the four of them sitting there conversing, with her parents in sublime ignorance of the real situation. However, there was nothing to be done about it and she smilingly let them in, closing the door behind them.

  ‘If it’s not convenient we won’t stay,’ her father began, glancing towards the stairs. John was just coming down and, turning, Kathryn drew a deep breath. How handsome he was! And the way he carried himself; once again she likened him to the aristocratic Fittons. He caught her glance, and the most odd expression entered his eyes. ‘We don’t want to inconvenience you, John. Don’t hesitate to say if we’ve come at an awkward time.’

  ‘Kathryn’s parents are always welcome,’ he told him graciously, holding his hand out to take Mrs. Ramsey’s coat. ‘After ah, we are soon to be related.’ Kathryn’s eyes flew to his. He was looking at her with a most odd expression, and his mouth had curved into a tender line. What could have happened? she asker herself breathlessly.

  John led them into the sitting-room and told Kathryn to order tea. She went into the kitchen herself to help and when she came back with the tray she was utterly dismayed to hear her mother saying,

  ‘When is the wedding to be, John? Will it be before the end of the year?’

  ‘It’s for Kathryn to say, but I’m sure it will be before the end of the year—’ Rising swiftly, he took the tray from Kathryn’s trembling hands. ‘What’s the matter, child? I thought you were going to drop it.’

  And you were right, she said, but to herself. Something had happened, but her mind was in such chaos she couldn’t even begin to fathom what it was. As the afternoon wore on her curiosity increased until it could scarcely be contained, and it was actually a relief when at last she and John stood at the door watching the car disappearing round the curve of the drive.

  No sooner had John closed the door than she turned to him. ‘John, what is it?’

  ‘What’s what, my dear?’ Taking her hand, he led her into the Drawing Room, where a fire glowed brightly in the grate. ‘What made you change your mind about leaving me?’ he asked without preamble, and Kathryn stared at him in blank astonishment.

  ‘How do you know I intended leaving you?’

  ‘That day—when I’d looked round for a while and couldn’t find you I went up to your room; you had obviously been packing—or attempting to pack,’ he amended with some amusement.

  ‘The door was locked,’ she began.

  ‘I’ve a master key, you know that.’

  ‘I forgot.’ She felt the gentle movement of his fingers on the back of her hand and she looked up at him again, bewilderment in her eyes.

  ‘Why didn’t you say something then—when I came in, I mean?’

  ‘That was my intention, because there was so much I didn’t understand. That exhibition of Delia’s, for example, any fool could see it had been rehearsed—’

  ‘You knew!’

  ‘I knew the whole scene was put on so that I could be acquainted with certain things you’d said, and also hear about your nefarious scheme for—er—trapping me into marriage.’

  ‘You didn’t believe her?’ Kathryn shook her head dazedly. ‘But you did believe her, John. You must have because of the way you treated—I mean—oh, you must have!’

  ‘I admit I was stunned at the time—and more so because you made no effort to defend yourself. That was why I cleared off the following day. I wanted to think. However, as I knew the “rambling” was a sham, I concluded that Delia had probably lied into the bargain. Your acceptance of the situation still puzzled me, but by this time I had an open mind—I neither believed Delia nor disbelieved her. You were the one who could explain, and I came back here to talk to you.’

  ‘To talk?’ So those suspicions she had so swiftly dismissed were correct. He had been going to ask for an explanation. ‘Why did I act so impulsively?’ she cried. ‘If only I’d let you speak first!’

  ‘It would have saved ah the misunderstandings. You see, the discovery that you’d intended leaving me strengthened my belief in you. I was convinced of your innocence, convinced that even had you said any of those things attributed to you, they had been exaggerated, twisted by Delia.’ He stopped and suddenly the softness went from his eyes and he glowered down at her. ‘Then you came in and confounded me by giving me to understand that you had in fact taken advantage of that situation up on the moors. So I had to believe Delia, even though I still knew she’d staged the whole scene. Obviously then I wanted my freedom, but you stood there, defiant, and blatantly informing me that you’d never give me up, and there wasn’t a thing I could do about it. You as good as said I’d have to marry you—marry you? I could have killed you!’

  Kathryn put a trembling hand to her cheek. Although dazed by ah he said, she could hear one sentence ringing out clearly above all the rest. ‘I could have killed you!’

  ‘John,’ she faltered, looking up at him wonderingly, ‘do you l-love me?’

  ‘Love you—!’ He still glowered at her—and his kisses were far from gentle. ‘Does that tell you whether I love you or not?’

  ‘Yes—yes, it d-does,’ she managed, thoroughly shaken. Gradually his arms relaxed and she was in a gentle embrace, her head against his breast. ‘What happened?’ she asked at length. ‘Something happened today ...?’ She felt his lips caressing her hair and he did not answer her immediately.

  ‘Were you so afraid of me that you couldn’t tell me you’d broken the pot-pourri jar?’ he queried with faint reproach.

  She tilted her head to look at him.

  ‘You know?’

  ‘I saw a piece of it on the floor. I was completely baffled, because the complete jar was there on the table. But on examining it I knew it wasn’t the original. Then I recalled having seen a similar jar in your room.’ Releasing her, he drew a small note from his pocket. ‘This was what you intended leaving, I presume?’ He unfolded it to let her see.

  ‘You—? She blinked. ‘Where did you get that?’

  ‘It was in the pot-pourri jar. Why were you afraid of telling me?’ he asked again and
, when she remained silent, ‘Did you break it?’

  She shook her head.

  ‘No ... no, I didn’t.’

  ‘Then who—One of the visitors?’ He shook his head. ‘It couldn’t have been, because in that case you’d have told me. You’re shielding someone ... There are only two people whom you would shield, Michael and Delia. But if Michael had broken that jar he’d immediately have owned up. So Delia broke it?’ She merely nodded and he went on gravely, ‘Do you realize if Delia hadn’t broken that jar I’d never have found this note?’

  ‘You wouldn’t, no. But—but I can’t really see what difference the note makes, John.’

  He held it out, pointing to one line.

  ‘Were our engagement based on something stronger than necessity, perhaps I could explain...’ He smiled tenderly at her. ‘What were you really saying, my love? Tell me.’

  She hesitated shyly.

  ‘I was really saying that, if you cared, then I could easily have explained.’

  ‘If I cared ... and you were, by those words, telling me that you cared, that you loved me.’ He took her in his arms again and kissed her tenderly on the lips. ‘When did you know, my darling?’

  ‘I think it had been coming on for some time—’

  ‘Coming on?’ he ejaculated. ‘You sound as if it were some sort of disease!’

  She laughed, but after a little while she confessed that she had known for sure when she had lain beside him, so close, up on the moors.

  John heaved a great sigh.

  ‘It wouldn’t have done for us to have been marooned up there too long,’ he admitted. ‘I shall never know how I resisted taking you in my arms.’

  ‘But you did,’ she reminded him solemnly.

  ‘In a purely platonic manner, though. But I loved you, Kathryn.’

  ‘No—’ She shook her head. ‘You couldn’t have, not then.’

  ‘Why not?’ He was puzzled, and she went on to remind him that he had mentioned their marriage would not be based on love. ‘I did say that,’ he admitted, ‘but I really meant it wouldn’t be based on mutual love.’ And he added, teasingly, ‘You see, darling, how was I to know that with you it had “been coming on for some time”?’ Kathryn’s grey eyes brimmed with laughter, but she said nothing, merely lifting her face, inviting his kiss. ‘You haven’t answered my question,’ he reminded her, some time later. ‘What made you change your mind about leaving me?’