Yet perhaps something had told the child that “Mother was thinking of her,” for Kay’s post cards arrived each morning. “Maths today-awful. I’m sure I must have failed. French not so bad.” “Lovely history paper! I might have a distinction, with luck.” Disappointed in English essay. Such dull subjects. Don’t think I did myself justice.” And so forth. Bell treasured these, although their contents conveyed little to her, as proofs that she had managed at last to establish the line of sympathy between herself and Kathleen for which she had longed.
One morning Bell received a registered parcel on which, to her surprise, she recognized the headmistress’s writing. Opening it, she found another packet, tied with brown tape and sealed with a letter slipped under the tape. On the envelope were inscribed the words, “Please read this before you open the packet.”
Bell found her glasses — which were always a nuisance because her eyelashes pushed them too far down on her nose — and began to read.
DEAR MRS. TIMSON,
I am afraid you will be distressed on receiving this, and I would rather not discuss it fully until I can see you in person. The enclosed book came into my hands today, and in view of the fact that Kay has only another fortnight or so at the Towers I feel it is a matter for you rather than for myself to deal with: particularly as it seems to concern her life in the holidays and has nothing to do with us at school. I do not wish to speak to her about it while she is doing her papers, for I fear the upset it must cause might prejudice her results.
I admit I am astonished, as my knowledge of Kay had not led me to anticipate any such state of affairs as her diary reveals. I would like to talk it over very fully with you before you decide what action to take, and although, as you know, this term, with the examinations and the preparations for Speech Day, is a very full one, I shall be glad to set aside an afternoon if you will let me know when it will be convenient for you to come. I would rather postpone speaking to Kay, if possible, until I hear from you.
I must add how very sorry I am that her last term at the Towers should be clouded by this unfortunate occurrence, for I should have liked to think she took only happy memories away with her.
Yours sincerely,
A. H. MAITLAND
What a long-winded screed! Bell was thinking as she snapped the tape with her scissors. I suppose when a schoolteacher gets a pen in her hand she doesn’t know where to leave off! She was scornful to allay her own uneasiness, for she could not imagine what mischief Kathleen had got herself into. Had she been writing down “dirty” stories, or something the girls talked about in the dormitory? Absurd! Out of the question, in connection with Kay, to whom, she would take her oath, “that sort of thing” meant nothing at all. She fixed her glasses again.
She sat down and read Kays diary from the first to the last page.
Am I mad? wondered Bell when she had finished. Or is Kay mad? Which of us is it?
A better-educated, a more sensitive woman might have been less shocked, might have guessed that those feverishly scrawled pages indicated no state of vice but a mental condition that needed treatment as careful as any ill of the body, that they represented a mind which had outstripped its own strength as rapidly as Kay’s physical growth had outstripped the strength of her limbs. Such a woman — particularly if the matter had not concerned her own daughter-might have censured the action of the headmistress in sending the pitiful record to one like Bell Timson; surely she would have done better to destroy it, to have a talk with Kay, and to let it rest at that. Kay was leaving; the school’s responsibility for her was at an end; responsibility now passed on to Bell — the last person in the world who could be expected to handle it. In fairness to the headmistress of the Towers, she had met Bell but briefly, among the crowds of parents’ days; had probably not noticed her particularly, except as a pleasant, brisk woman, very like her younger daughter Jo, who might, on sight, be credited with behaving sensibly with her children. After all, the head of a large school cannot be expected to analyze the parents as fully as she analyzes the pupils.
Bell sat petrified.
Am I mad? Is Kathleen his mistress? Have the pair of them been fooling me? But what’s this about traveling in France? She’s out of her mind; she’s never been abroad in her life — let alone with Richard Somervell. It’s just a pack of wicked lies: nasty lies, too. To think of a child having such an imagination: Kathleen ... that I thought didn’t know anything; that I’ve brought up so carefully to be pure and clean, taking such care of all she saw and heard, telling her about birth and all that, so she shouldn’t be upset by the nonsense girls talk among themselves; guarding my own tongue so she should never hear anything loose or improper.
And he ... he! What’s his share in this? She’s not learned any of this by herself; what child would? Somebody’s taught her — some man: and what men does she know, besides Somervell and poor old George? George as innocent as a babe — thinking the sun, moon, and stars shine out of Katie — it would kill him to read this. It’s Somervell. My God, I’ll make him pay for this.
Not disturb her in the middle of the examinations? Damn the examinations! I bet they’re at the root of it all; her mind’s given way. She couldn’t write these things unless she was mad — stark, staring mad. I’ll go to Hampshire this very day. I’ll bring her back and get her to a doctor. She’ll have to be examined ... Examined! My Katie! Mother’s own dear girl. I’ll go mad myself. I’ll strangle him with my own hands. So that’s Richard Somervell That was his game, hanging around all these years, pretending to be such a friend of us all — and doing this to Katie. And to think of me not seeing through it. He shall pay for it — my God, he shall pay until his dying day.
Where’s Bradshaw ... ?
That’s no good; it won’t get the connection at Winchester. And what’s the time? There’ll be no chance of a local taxi. I’ll hire a car ...
She was so giddy when she rose to go to the telephone that she staggered and was obliged for a moment to lean on the wall for support. The throbbing in her head almost frightened her; she felt as if she might at any moment lose control of herself completely, might scream, beat the walls, waste herself utterly in some wild outburst which would use up all the strength she needed for herself and for Kay. Gradually she forced herself to remain calm; but she felt her body bent like an old woman’s and the downward drag of age in all the lines of her face as she went to her desk and drew the writing pad toward her.
Kay stood by the headmistress’s desk, on which lay her mother’s wire:
ARRIVING 11.15 HAVE KATHLEEN’S THINGS PACKED AM BRINGING HER HOME.
Maddening woman, Miss Maitland was thinking; she must know’ the child has still got her botany paper. I suppose I should not have written to her so soon, but I wanted to give her time to think things over before coming down to talk to me.
Kay’s face was like chalk, and she swayed a little, because the room kept rising and sinking in dark waves. Her eyes half closed, her lips parted over her chattering teeth, she looked terrible — as if she might be dying.
Miss Maitland was quite kind.
“You understand, Kay, it has been quite as much of a shock to me as it is to you.”
“But it was private ... People aren’t supposed to read private things.”
“People aren’t supposed to leave private things where other people can find them. Supposing one of the juniors had got hold of it? You’re old enough to have a sense of responsibility about these things.”
“Please give it back to me. Please give it to me, and I’ll burn it or destroy it now, if you like” — although I shall be destroying my own self.
“I can’t do that, Kay, because it isn’t really my business to deal with it. It seems to be about something that happens in your holidays.”
“None of it ever happened,” she whispered. “I only pretended ...”
Miss Maitland gave her a quick look, and nodded. It was as she had suspected — a bad case of adolescent fantasia, with which, as
Kay was leaving, she was rather glad to think she would not have to deal. If the mother had common sense she would take Kay to a psychoanalyst. It was not a matter for bullying or being made to feel in eternal disgrace. It would have been a little difficult to cope with in the community of school, but it was a pity, for the girl’s sake, she should not have the opportunities of working it off in the lively and organized society of people of her own age.
“1 believe what you tell me, and I’m sorry you are leaving us this term, for I think we could have helped you.”
Help? Help? What help did she need but the one that was denied her?
“But you see, as you are going home for good, I feel the matter is rather out of mv hands.”
“Yes. Thank you.” A ghost was speaking, a ghost which held out its pitiful hand. “Please may I have my diary?”
Miss Maitland shook her head slowly; she was very sorry for the child.
“No, Kay, I can’t give it to you.”
“I promise I’ll never write anything again.”
Silence.
“Let me burn it! Let me —”
“It isn’t here. I sent it to your mother.”
“You ... sent it ... to ... Mother ...”
For the first time, looking at the terrible little face in which the eyes were like charred holes, misgiving smote the headmistress. She half rose.
“You can explain it all to her, Kay; she will be here in” — she glanced at the clock — “about half an hour — Kay!”
Torn from the scabbard of his limbs ... the powerful, fortress’d house — no more ... No refuge — any more ...
“Kay!”
Lady Emily looked down on the top of her cousin’s bowed head as she laid a crumpled sheet of paper on her writing desk with a movement which suggested, for all its self-control, that she was glad to get it out of her fingers.
“Poor Dick. I am glad you have come to me.”
“What are we going to do, Emily?”
She knitted her brows.
“We must think. I wish I knew of some way to help.”
“If you don’t help me,” he said simply, “I’m done for.”
She laid her hand for a moment lightly on his shoulder.
“Don’t be foolish. Of course I will do whatever I can. But you must give me your word ... She paused; Richard lifted his head.
“That I won’t have anything more to do with Kay?” he concluded her sentence for her. “You don’t suppose I’ll be allowed to — after that?” He pointed to Bell’s letter.
“It’s a terrible letter. An ill-balanced, preposterous letter — possibly libelous.” Her crystalline aloofness banished Bell’s outpourings to some distant plane beyond perspective. “It is such a letter as could only be written by a person who, for the time being, is practically — not responsible. Oh, Dick! You have caused great pain — to others as well as to yourself.”
“Never mind about me — or Bell. What will happen to Kay? What on earth do you imagine has happened? Where has Bell got all this —” He suppressed the epithet which rose to his lips, because to use it was in some way to defile Kay — the innocent Kay.
“We must try to find out. There is certainly some horrible misunderstanding. Of course you could never be guilty ... !”
He was brought so low that he was grateful for her indignation.
“Thank you, Emily.”
“But so far as influence goes,” she pursued, “I am afraid you must be responsible. Oh, Dick!” In her urgency she had clenched her hands. “You must never go near them again! I don’t know what it was — I suppose some instinct — that made me dislike Mrs. Timson. I even wondered at one time — it was wicked of me — whether she deliberately encouraged the friendship between you and Kathleen; one hears of such things —”
“You could not have done Bell a worse injustice,” he told her gravely.
“I see that now! And I’m so anxious to do all in my power to make amends. I can’t see my way at all at present, but there must be some means of straightening it out —”
“If there are, I am sure you are the one to find them, Emily.”
She smiled faintly, touched by his humility, but was quickly grave again.
“But you must leave the matter completely in my hands, Dick,” she urged him. “How can I impress the importance of that on you? In spite of the lack of sympathy between us, I do believe that Mrs. Timson has enough respect for me to listen, if I talk to her. And of course” — she took a few agitated steps about the room — “we shouldn’t leave it a moment longer than we can help. While she is in this frame of mind” — like Richard, she indicated the letter — “I’m very much afraid she might be capable of anything. Dick! She might even take it to the courts!” She faced him, halted by her horror.
He gave a mirthless laugh.
“Surely you noticed? That’s one of the things she threatens — along with horsewhipping and shooting, if I’m not mistaken!
“For God’s sake, don’t make a jest of it. Can’t you see we’re in a horrible position?”
“It’s kind of you to say ‘we,’ Emily. I don’t know why I should drag you into my troubles.”
A quick movement of her hand checked this disclaimer.
“There is another thing to be thought of: Kay herself.”
“So far as I’m concerned, she’s the only ‘thing’ that matters.”
“If she’s unhappy — a girl of that passionate nature — now this crisis has arisen, she might easily run away from home and come to you. Dick, you must go away: leave London — leave England, if possible; it’s not fair to stay here, putting temptation in her way.”
“That’s impossible.” Me faced her stubbornly. “Good heavens, Emily, don’t you see how Bell would interpret it? As a plain admission of guilt!”
“Does it matter what she thinks? I’ll make it my business to see she understands; I’ll even tell her that you acted on my advice. What good can you do by staying? You can’t see the girl —”
“And she never needed me so badly as she does now,” he muttered.
“Aren’t you confusing ‘need’ with ‘want’?” Lady Emily spoke gently. “Of course she wants you — poor child! But what’s the use? My very dear Dick: do try to see this thing straight. Supposing Cynthia were to die: you couldn’t marry Kay Timson.”
“Why not?” he defied her.
“Because to marry her would be to do her a very grievous wrong. You are old enough to be her father; such marriages are very rarely a success, and they are unfair to both sides.”
“That’s nonsense, Emily; we both know cases where they have turned out very well indeed.”
“Not with men of your type. You’re not a dotard, Dick! And you are accustomed to very sophisticated society. That is probably why Kay’s simplicity has such charm for you — at present. Oh dear, why had this wretched thing to happen? I cannot help thinking it need never have been, but for these unsettled times we live in, your own boredom —”
He could not help smiling a little.
“No, Emily; you have it wrong if you imagine this is a matter of boredom!”
“Then the boredom will come later” — she spoke sharply, for her — “when you have exhausted the charms of Kay’s youth and come to the gulf between her traditions and yours! Seriously, Dick, can you ever have imagined the Timsons down at Verney?”
“I never proposed to take them there,” was the cold reply. “I’m grateful for your kindness, Emily, but there are certain subjects on which we must differ, and I would rather not discuss them. I know this is the end for me and Kay, but it can’t be left like this. Bell Timson and I have been good friends, and it is right to none of us that she should continue to think of me in the terms of that letter.”
“Such violence spends itself. Her bitterness will die down in time.”
“And in the meanwhile Kay is suffering for it. It’s no use, Emily; we’ve got to think of something. I am not inclined to write, and even less to expose
myself to the snub of being turned away from her door.”
“You would be absolutely wrong to do either! Dear Dick, do acknowledge that your part in this is finished. It has been a disastrous part — let’s admit it; you would not, I know, wish to prolong it for the sake of some imaginary salving of your conscience —”
“Good God, Emily, I haven’t got a conscience! I’ve only got love-love for Kay. There must be some way of making it easier for her — something to tell Bell, if the right person can be found to tell it. I feel it’s not fair to involve you; I know you hate the entire business
“Answer me one question. Have you ever made love to Kay Timson?”
“In fact, no. Verbally, no. So far as looks, tones, gestures are concerned — God in heaven, Emily! You know as well as I do that making love’ does not consist in the obvious things. With my voice, with my eyes, I must often have made love’ to Kay. Now are you satisfied?”
“Not ‘satisfied’ Dick” — there was sadness in her tone — “but grateful to you for being honest with me. Well ...” Her hand went out reluctantly to the telephone. “Shall I give Mrs. Timson a ring and find out if she will see me?”
“One moment. What the devil shall we do if she won’t?” asked Richard with a schoolboy’s helplessness. She shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know. I have no more taste than you for being snubbed!” “Oh — leave it. I won’t have you snubbed by Bell.”
She smiled, holding the receiver toward him.
“I expect you know her number. Will you get it for me?”
The silent room filled with the distant brr-rr of the instrument; Emily had taken it from his hand.
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