Geoffrey Trent looked past Flaxman at the fire. He had the same ghastly pallor which had shocked everybody on the day of Margot’s death. When the normal colouring is unusually strong and bright, its absence is bound to produce a somewhat startling effect. Flaxman, however, appeared quite undisturbed. If Mr. Trent wanted time to think of something to say he could have it-there was no hurry. In the end he would see reason. After all, their interests were identical.
Geoffrey said in a controlled voice,
“Miss Margot had no authority from me-that goes without saying. I should not have dreamed of allowing her to touch those ropes. If she said what you say you heard, it would be just a trick to get her own way. And if she said it, why didn’t Humphreys say so? He was examined on his interview with her, but he never said a word about her having claimed my authority for taking the rope.”
His colour was coming back. He took his elbow off the table, straightened up, and fixed his eyes on Flaxman’s face. He observed there an indefinable trace of complacency.
Flaxman’s tongue was glib to answer.
“The employer’s interests come first, sir. Mr. Humphreys has a long tradition of service in connection with the Ladies’ House. I am sure you can rely upon him not to repeat what was said.”
The touch of complacency had deepened. Geoffrey Trent said,
“Are you blackmailing me, Flaxman?”
An archbishop could not have looked more shocked.
“Mr. Trent! How can you say such a thing!”
Geoffrey’s eyebrows rose.
“As easily as you yourself.”
“Mr. Trent, I never expected! I bring to your notice a circumstance of which I consider you should be apprised-”
Geoffrey laughed harshly.
“For God’s sake, man, stop talking like a grammar book! I never gave that poor girl any authority to take one of those crazy ropes. I did give her a good talking to about the trick she played on Miss Muir and myself the day before, and I hoped I had made an impression. It seems I didn’t. She was like a weathercock, poor child. I certainly never told her she could take one of those ropes. They were rotten.”
“A story of that kind can be very damaging, sir.” Flaxman’s tone was without any expression. “So far as I am concerned, you can of course rely on my discretion.”
“The employer’s interests!” Geoffrey could not keep the sneer out of his voice.
An expression of pain appeared upon Flaxman’s face.
“Yes, sir-the employer’s interests. But I am sure it is not necessary for me to point out that these things are, if I may use the expression, reciprocal. Loyalty on the one side is stimulated and encouraged by generosity and trust upon the other. In fact, sir, if you take me, the benefits are mutual.”
Geoffrey Trent threw back his head with an angry laugh.
“Oh, I take you, Flaxman, I take you! You needn’t worry about that-you have made yourself perfectly clear! It is just a question now of how much you expect me to pay you for holding your tongue!”
“Mr. Trent, I must beg of you to be more moderate in your language. I have declared myself to be a loyal servant who is devoted to your interests. There would, I think, be nothing inappropriate in the suggestion of a rise in salary.”
“And what do you mean by a rise?”
In a manner that was at once firm and respectful Flaxman said, “Double for Mrs. Flaxman, and the same for myself, with a bonus to be agreed upon between us.”
He went out of the room and shut the door.
CHAPTER 23
For the moment all that Geoffrey Trent could feel was relief. Flaxman was gone. He had not to take any immediate decision. He was being blackmailed-skilfully, delicately, and respectfully blackmailed. There were severe penalties for blackmail, but if he were to ring up the police at this moment and accuse Flaxman, it would only be one man’s word against another. He had no doubt at all that Flaxman would keep his head and produce the perfect explanation. He and Mrs. Flaxman had been at least two years with Mr. Trent. They hoped that they had given satisfaction, and they considered that they were due for a rise. As for the matter of Miss Margot saying that about the rope, he would not have dreamed of bringing it up if Mr. Trent had not done so.
It would have been brought up. If he sent for the police he would have brought it up himself, and once it had been spoken aloud it could never be taken back. “Miss Margot, she said, ‘Geoffrey says I can have it.’ ” Hearsay words, but just what Margot might have said, making a mischievous face and throwing the words at Humphreys as he stormed at her. Chance, idle words-just something to throw at Humphreys-but once they were repeated they would never be forgotten. The whispers would follow him everywhere. “That poor girl, his ward, she went climbing with a crazy rope and was killed. They say she told the gardener she had Trent ’s leave to take it. She had quite a lot of money, and he came in for it.” Nothing that would hold water in a court of law perhaps, but enough to damn him socially from one end of his world to the other. That sort of thing stuck. He began to know inside his own mind that he couldn’t face it.
Flaxman went out to the kitchen. He was whistling, and he looked pleased. Mrs. Flaxman wondered what had pleased him. She was mixing a cake without hurry. Cooking done in a hurry was cooking spoiled in her opinion. She could have taken a job as a chef, but it wouldn’t have suited her-not all that rush and bustle. She liked to have her mind easy, and all her ingredients of the best. She looked up from her smooth, creamy mixture and said,
“What’s got into you? I don’t know when I heard you whistle.”
He said good-humouredly,
“Inquisitive, aren’t you, old dear?”
She went on stirring.
“Meaning I’d better not ask?”
“That’s your meaning, not mine.” He picked up a sultana from the table and nibbled it.
She began to put in the fruit. When she had the consistency to her liking she turned the mixture into a buttered cake-tin and slid it into the oven. Then she came back to her place at the table, wiping her hands upon her apron.
“I hope you’re not up to nothing, Fred.”
He put his hand in his pocket, jingled some money that was there, and said,
“Why should I be?” Then, sharply, “Where’s that girl Florrie?”
She stared at him.
“It’s her half day-you know that as well as I do. She’s been gone this quarter of an hour.”
There were two more doors to the kitchen. He opened them both and came back laughing.
“Nothing like making sure. And now, Mary, you just listen to me! I’m not up to anything, and you’ll be careful you don’t as much as think that I am! We’ve been two years with Mr. Trent, and I’ve asked him for a rise, and that’s all there is to it-you can just remember that!”
She was a very large woman. Everything about her lacked colour-her hair, her skin, her eyes, the short thick lashes which had been sandy when she was young. She looked steadily at her husband for a while before she said,
“You’re up to something, and I don’t like it.”
“Now, Mary, I ask you-have I been a good husband to you, or haven’t I?”
Remembering a number of times when she hadn’t thought so, but not being wishful to bring them up, Mrs. Flaxman made brief reply.
“In reason.”
“Well, there you are! What more do you want? I never ran off and left you, did I?”
“Men don’t run off and leave a woman that can cook the way I can. They are fools, but they’re not such fools as that. Leastways I never heard of one that was.” She dropped her voice to an almost indistinguishable mutter, but he thought what she said was, “More’s the pity.”
“What’s that?” he said sharply.
“Oh, nothing, Fred.”
“Do you think I didn’t hear? Want me to clear out, do you?”
She shook her head.
“I wouldn’t go as far as that. All I’ve got to say is, if you’re up to a
nything, you can leave me out of it. Crooked ways and crooked plans, they come to crooked ends, and I’m not getting mixed up in any of it, Fred Flaxman!”
He laughed.
“Now you’re trying to get me angry with you. But not today, my girl, not today. You see, you’ve done me a good turn without knowing it, so I don’t mind letting you have the run of your tongue.”
“I’ve done you a good turn?” The words came out slowly, as if she could hardly believe in them.
“Yes, you. And it only goes to show you never can tell. Many’s the time I’ve put it across you over that stupid jealousy of yours-couldn’t see me speaking to a good-looking woman without thinking all sorts of things you didn’t ought to!”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I’m talking about you being jealous, my dear, and the day Miss Margot had that accident and we had to wait for the bus on account of its being held up at West Eldon. You wasn’t going to let me have the chance of talking to Nellie Humphreys for that twenty minutes-was you? So you had to say your coat was too thick and you wouldn’t be wanting your raincoat now the weather was clearing, and had to ask me in front of all those people to go off up to the house and bring you something light. Well, I couldn’t say no, could I-not with everyone listening. But I was going to take it out of you afterwards. Didn’t you ever wonder why I didn’t? You must have known you’d got it coming to you-doing a thing like that to me! But as it happened, you done me a good turn, and you needn’t ask how, because I’m not telling.”
She sat there at the kitchen table, rubbing a finger up and down on it. Her face had a brooding look.
“That Nellie Humphreys is no better than she ought to be.”
“She’s a handsome woman, my dear, which is more than anyone could ever have said of you.”
Mrs. Flaxman flared suddenly.
“Then why didn’t she marry and get a man of her own? Forty if she’s a day! And Miss Humphreys here, and Miss Humphreys there! She did ought to have had a wedding-ring on her finger these twenty years, bringing up a family respectable like other people! But no, she stays on with her father and keeps herself free to turn anyone’s head that’s fool enough to let her! A bad lot-that’s what your Nellie Humphreys is, and I wouldn’t mind telling her so if I got the chance!”
He walked over to her and slapped her across her face. It was a hard stinging blow and it left her dizzy. She blinked up at him as he stood over her.
“That’s all for now!” he said. “Because you’ve done me a good turn-see? But you keep your tongue off Nellie Humphreys!”
He went out of the kitchen whistling.
Mrs. Flaxman put up her floury hands and covered her face.
CHAPTER 24
Allegra woke quite refreshed and not at all the worse for her adventure. She was, in fact, brighter than Ione had yet seen her. They returned home by bus, which she declared to be more amusing than having a car. But when they had said goodbye to Miss Silver and were walking up the drive to the Ladies’ House she said after rather a long silence, “I don’t know whether to tell Geoffrey or not.”
Ione had a startled sensation. She said, “Why?” and found her voice a little more urgent than she had meant it to be.
“Oh, well-I don’t know-he might fuss and say that I wasn’t to be trusted to go out alone-and that would be a bore, wouldn’t it?” She had a quick sidelong look for her sister.
Ione didn’t like it. Was she still bent on getting hold of the drug which had been destroying her? She pushed the thought away vehemently. As for telling Geoffrey about that near-accident, she intended that he should know. Allegra could tell him or not just as she liked, but he was going to hear all about it from Ione Muir. There were horrible things stirring on the fringes of her mind. She meant to bring them to the test of Geoffrey’s reactions. There might be no reactions at all except the natural ones of shock and relief. If there were anything more, she thought she would not miss it. Everything in her was so tense, so much on guard, so keyed to the point of discernment, that she felt it would be impossible for her to miss even the slightest indication of what she feared.
Allegra went up to her room. Ione after a moment’s hesitation turned in the direction of the study. If she was going to talk to Geoffrey she had better do it at once.
To reach the study she had to pass the sitting-room which had been shared by Margot and Miss Delauny. The door stood open, and as she went by she was arrested by a sound from within. She could not have said quite what sound it was-an exclamation or a cry but muffled as if it came from a distance. She stepped into the room and looked about her. There was nobody there. The afternoon was a bright one, and in spite of the dark panelling there was still plenty of light. But there was certainly no one in the room. She was just about to leave it, when the second sound reached her. This time it did not resemble a cry so much as a deep and angry vibration. It seemed to come from the direction of the fireplace. A wide oak panel covered the chimney-breast, flanked on either side by much smaller panels which extended from ceiling to floor.
As Ione stood looking in the direction from which the sound had seemed to come she saw that a panel immediately to the right of the chimney-breast had started and stood an inch away from the wall. Before she did anything else she went to the door and shut it. Then she returned to the panel. It measured about eighteen inches by two feet, and it stood about five foot from the floor. It looked to be what she thought it probably was, the door of a cupboard. Pulled on, it opened like a door, and as soon as it was open the sound of voices on the other side of the wall became not only unmistakable but insistent. The wall, like all the walls of the Ladies’ House, was thick enough, but this odd cupboard, if it was a cupboard, had made use of a stone shaft which ran between the rooms, Ione had seen similar openings in the chancel of more than one old church. They were called Lepers’ Squints, and existed to enable the leper to view the Elevation of the Host without mingling with the other worshippers. For what purpose this shaft had been made she could form no idea, but there it was, closed at this end by a stout oak panel, and at the other by something which must have been a great deal thinner, since the sound of the voices was hardly impeded at all.
Staring into a dark space which appeared to be empty except for a couple of exercise-books and one or two loose sheets of paper, Ione heard Geoffrey Trent say in an agitated voice.
“No! No, Jacqueline!”
Miss Delauny’s response was one for which Ione was really unprepared. Had it been other than it was, she would, or at least she hoped that she would, have closed the panel and come away, but when she heard Jacqueline Delauny reply to Geoffrey’s “No!” with a warm and heartfelt “Oh, Geoffrey, my darling!” it was beyond her. The ugly things which she had been telling herself could not possibly be true all came a step nearer. It might be Allegra’s life that was in question, it might be her own. She leaned into the shaft and listened for what Geoffrey would say. He said, “No,” again in the tone of a man who has a woman crying in his arms and doesn’t know what to do about it. Jacqueline was certainly crying, or as near as makes no difference. She sobbed his name, and there was the sound of more than one kiss.
Il y a toujours l’un qui baise et l’autre qui tend la joue. Ione didn’t think that it was Geoffrey who was doing the kissing. She thought it was the weeping Jacqueline, and she considered that she had probably got her arms round Geoffrey’s neck. It was at any rate Geoffrey who said with a commendable approach to firmness,
“Jacqueline, you really mustn’t-you really mustn’t! Suppose anyone were to come in. Allegra and Ione may be back at any moment.”
“We should hear the taxi.” Miss Delauny’s tone was crisp, but she sounded as if she had released Geoffrey. His voice was farther off as he said,
“It won’t do, Jackie, and you know it. You can’t stay on if you are going to make these emotional scenes. You must see for yourself how dangerous they are. It only needs a whisper, a single whisper about the
relations between us, and I should be sunk. If Ione thought there was anything, she would only have to go to that solicitor of hers, and I should never see a penny of Allegra’s money. I want it for the house, and if you don’t know how much I want the house, you don’t know very much about me after all.”
Ladies’ Bane Page 14