Ladies’ Bane

by Patricia Wentworth

  She seemed to have come nearer to him again. Her voice was low but perfectly distinct.

  “How much do you want it, Geoffrey?”

  “As much as anyone can want anything.”

  She said, “As much as you want me?” and then broke into a ripple of sobbing laughter. “Oh, you need not answer that, my dear! There is always something that men want more than they want any woman. And since the men that are not like that are not worth loving at all, I shall just have to put up with it. But if you were free, Geoffrey-if you were free-would I at least come second to this house which you adore?”

  “What is the good of saying that kind of thing?”

  “I say it because I want to know the answer. If you were free, would you marry me, Geoffrey? Or would you put me off as you did before?”

  “Jacqueline-for God’s sake!”

  She laughed.

  “I did you one or two good turns in the old days, but you didn’t marry me. Allegra had money, and I was getting to be an old story. But you were very much in love with me once, and you could be again. Try-and see! And I can help you. I can give you your heart’s desire-not me or any other woman, but the Ladies’ House. You won’t get it without me. I won’t tell you why, but you won’t. You may do your damnedest, but you won’t! You’ve done quite a lot already, haven’t you? Do you ever dream about Margot and that crazy rope you told her she could take? I didn’t think you would go as far as that, you know.”

  “Jackie, you’re mad!”

  “Oh, no, my dear. And I’m not a fool either. You told her she could take the rope, and that is that. You will have to shut Flaxman’s mouth, but nobody will ever hear about it from me. Unless you were to do something stupid like trying to send me away. I couldn’t bear that, you know. Oh, Geoffrey, I couldn’t!”

  She had thrown herself into his arms again. Their voices murmured. There were kisses. For the moment at any rate Geoffrey was responding to these warm currents of emotion.

  Ione stepped back from the panel and shut it. One part of her wanted to slam it hard, the other guided her fingers to a careful noiseless closing. She stood back in the middle of the room and drew a very long breath.

  So this was what had been going on behind Jacqueline Delauny’s air of superiority-an old affair with Geoffrey, or perhaps not quite so old. It had sometimes been a matter of surprise to Ione that so obviously poised and competent a person should content herself with such a trying job. She thought she must have been a fool not to guess before now that Geoffrey Trent was the gilding on the pill. Standing there, she began to try to sort out what she had overheard. There was the affair with Geoffrey. If it was to be resumed, it would give Allegra grounds for leaving him. Would Allegra leave him? Even if she knew that he was unfaithful? Ione doubted it. There was the indifference following upon the drug which she had used. There was improvement in this direction, even great improvement, but she was still far from normal in her reactions. And what evidence was there? Nothing that you could take to a solicitor. Jacqueline Delauny had been flinging herself into Geoffrey’s arms, and for the greater part of the interview he had been doing his best to stop her.

  Ione frowned. She couldn’t upset Allegra, and there wasn’t anything that you could really call evidence against Geoffrey. He was too good-looking, and too fond of trying to please. Jacqueline had fallen for him in a big way and carried him off his feet, as she was probably doing at the moment. The horrible thing which was now beginning to emerge from all this welter of emotion was the fact that, in love with him and alone with him, Jacqueline had not hesitated to assume that Geoffrey Trent had connived at Margot’s death. “Do you ever dream about Margot and that crazy rope you told her she could take? I didn’t think you would go as far as that, you know.” Geoffrey had certainly exclaimed in a tone of horror. He had said she must be mad. To which she replied that she wasn’t a fool, and that he had told Margot she could take the rope. Too horrible to be true? Even Jacqueline had said, “I didn’t think you would go as far as that.” Suppose he had gone as far. Suppose he was ready to go farther still. Suppose there was nothing he wouldn’t do to get the Ladies’ House-his heart’s desire. She thought, “If I had gone under that bus this afternoon, all my money would have come to Allegra.” If she had not moved just those few inches to the right, the blow which had struck Allegra would have landed fair and square between her own shoulders.

  Geoffrey? Impossible! Why? Because he wouldn’t? Or because he couldn’t? What did she know about the mind of a man who had set his heart on something to such an extent that he would allow nothing and no one to stand between him and his desire? That it could not have been his hand which delivered the blow went for just nothing at all. She knew very well whose hand it was which had done that, and she remembered that she had heard The Great Prospero making his terms for the risk of his neck. “Two thousand pounds, and I’ll not do it for less.” The voice that whispered and gave him his orders had not left her with a single word to remember. It remained what it had been from the beginning, a whisper in a fog. It had no sex, no character, but it was briefing a man to take a life. It came to her now that the life was her own.

  CHAPTER 25

  Ione did not know how long she stood there. The time might have been long, or it might have been short. It went by her. She came back from the distance to which her mind had retreated and began to think what she was going to do next.

  There were two things.

  She could walk into the study here and now and confront Geoffrey and the Delauny woman.

  She could go quietly away and tell Allegra what she had overheard.

  She couldn’t tell Allegra. The minute she thought of herself doing so it became a flat impossibility. Neither she nor anyone else could say what effect that kind of shock might have upon the balance of a wavering mind. She knew with a most positive certainty that nothing would induce her to risk it.

  If she were to walk into the study it would force the situation with a vengeance. Did she want to force it? She thought she did. She thought whatever else happened, Jacqueline Delauny must go.

  All at once her mind felt clear. It was foreign to her nature to allow a decision to remain in the balance. One way or the other the scales must be tipped, and once this happened, she would never look back. She came out into the passage, to see that the door on the left was opening. She was able to retreat some little way and be walking back again by the time that Jacqueline Delauny emerged, eyes shining, cheeks glowing, and with some slight disorder of the usually perfect setting of her hair. At the sight of Ione she did not exactly check, but there was a change-an attempt at the usual composed manner-which did not quite come off.

  “Why-Miss Muir! Is Mrs. Trent back too? I thought we should have heard your taxi-”

  “We came by bus.”

  “Oh-I hope Mrs. Trent is not too tired-”

  “No, she seems quite fresh. My brother-in-law is in the study, is he not? I want to speak to him.” (“And if she likes to go next door and listen she can, and much good may it do her!”)

  With this thought flaring in her mind, Ione went into the study and shut the door behind her.

  Geoffrey was standing by the hearth gazing moodily down at the sunken fire. He looked up with a hint of impatience which changed to rather a half-hearted smile.

  “I didn’t hear you come.”

  “No-we took the bus.”

  “Allegra all right?”

  “Oh, quite.”

  Her tone roused his attention. He threw her an anxious glance.

  “Ione-is anything the matter?”

  “A good deal, I think.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I am going to tell you.”

  She gave him the incident on the island at Wraydon in as few words as possible.

  “There was a violent push-it came from behind us. Allegra couldn’t keep her hold on my arm-she went tottering out into the road. Nothing could have stopped her falling under one of those motor-buses
if a man in the crowd hadn’t caught her arm with the crook of his stick and jerked her back.”

  Nobody could have looked more horrified.

  “Ione-you don’t mean it! How horrible! Is she hurt? You shouldn’t have left her! I must go to her at once!” He came across the room almost as if he could not see his way.

  Ione went back against the door and stood there. She said briskly,

  “She isn’t hurt, and she isn’t suffering from shock. I took her to the George, where we had lunch, and afterwards she went to sleep on a very comfortable sofa.”

  “Who could possibly have pushed her?” said Geoffrey Trent in a bewildered voice.

  “I wonder. Anyhow I do not think the push was meant for Allegra. I think it was meant for me. I had just moved about six inches to the right so that I could take hold of the foot of one of those awful statues-there were too many people on the island, and I was afraid we might be crowded off it. If I hadn’t moved just then, that push would have taken me right in the middle of the back.”

  “But who-but why? You can’t mean you think-there was anything deliberate!”

  Ione said,

  “I am not really thinking about it at present, Geoffrey. There are other things-”

  “What do you mean?” Tone and expression held a mixture of alarm and surprise.

  She dropped her voice.

  “Did you know that there was a shaft in the wall between this room and the one next door?”

  “A shaft?”

  She walked towards the fireplace.

  “This end of it would be covered by one of those latticework panels… Yes, I should say it would be this one. That would account for the voices being so plain. The other end has a solid oak door. It must have been left ajar by mistake, and just now as I was passing I heard someone calling out. There wasn’t anyone in the room, but the panel was open, and I could hear Miss Delauny addressing you as ‘Geoffrey, my darling.’ ”

  He turned abruptly and walked to the window. The failing light was thick and cold. In the study it was already dusk, Ione went over to the door and switched on the overhead light. As if it startled him, he said,

  “You listened?”

  “I did. I hope you don’t expect me to apologize?”

  “I don’t expect-” He flung round suddenly. “Ione, for God’s sake let me explain!”

  “I heard everything she said to you, and everything you said to her. I don’t know that there is anything very much left to explain.”

  “But there is!”

  “Then I will listen.”

  He began to walk up and down in the room.

  “If you heard what she said you must have realized that she was in a very emotional state.”

  “Oh, yes, I realized that.”

  “She wasn’t herself at all-you must have seen that. In the ordinary way she is one of the most sensible and controlled people I know.”

  “Do you want me to say that she was being sensible and controlled just now?”

  “No-of course not. She had completely lost her head. You have got to remember that Margot’s death was the most frightful shock to her. She had known her since she was a child. She was, as a matter of fact, my cousin’s secretary, which is how I first came across her. When my cousin died and the business went down in the war, she was at a loose end, and when she offered to take charge of Margot I was more than grateful. The old nurse was retiring, and I didn’t know what to do-”

  He came to a standstill. Ione wondered whether he thought he had really explained anything.

  Seeing that she continued to wait in an expectant manner, he flushed and went on.

  “We were thrown a great deal together, I suppose we got fond of each other. It didn’t last very long. I had to go out to the Middle East on business, and when I came back I think we both took it for granted that the affair was over. I ought never to have begun it. For one thing, Margot might have noticed.” His colour deepened considerably. “I couldn’t take the risk of that. You know, in some ways she was very quick. She seemed to have a sort of instinct-” There was another pause.

  Ione said, “Yes?”

  “Well, then I met Allegra.”

  “Yes?”

  “I suppose you heard what Jacqueline said about the money?”

  “I heard everything.”

  And it wasn’t going to be easy to explain some of it away. It wasn’t being easy. His hands were clenched as he said,

  “Ione, I swear it wasn’t just the money-it wasn’t, really! You know how she was before all this drug business started-little and appealing and-sweet. It got me. But it’s true that I couldn’t have afforded to marry her if there hadn’t been some money. When I went out to the Middle East I found my cousin’s affairs in the most frightful mess. Well, I had put quite a lot of money into them. It was a question of what could be saved from the wreck. I couldn’t have asked any girl to marry me who wasn’t financially secure. That is how it was.”

  Ione looked him straight in the face.

  “You married Allegra, and brought your mistress to live under the same roof.”

  He threw up his head.

  “You have no right to say that! She didn’t come here as my mistress-such a thought never entered either of our heads! She came here as Margot’s governess, and to help me with Allegra!”

  What fools men were! “It never entered either of our heads!” Did he really believe that! He looked and sounded as if he did. Could he have lived in the house with Jacqueline Delauny for two years and not been aware that she had a devouring passion for him? It had rung in every tone of her voice in the scene which Ione had overheard. But that wasn’t all. Looking back, she knew that she had rather taken it for granted that Delauny had what schoolgirls call a crush on Geoffrey. She had supposed such things would be apt to happen when a man was as “sinfully good-looking as Geoffrey Trent”-Fenella’s expression came back to her. She had been a little amused, a little contemptuous, but somehow it had never occurred to her to think that the feeling might be reciprocal.

  He was watching her now to see if she was going to believe him. Those very blue eyes of his were like those of a dog who isn’t at all sure whether he is going to get the bone on which his hopes are fixed. Had he put it across, or hadn’t he? Ione wasn’t sure herself-not under that pleading gaze. She said,

  “Well, that’s your case, Geoffrey. I don’t know whether I believe it or not. It could be true, or it could be”-she made a slight pause-“very well put together. I would much rather believe that it was true.”

  He said in a despondent tone,

  “It’s true-but I can’t make you believe it.”

  “Well, anyhow it leaves a good deal unexplained. When Jacqueline Delauny asked you whether you would marry her if you were free-just what did she mean? You see, there are two ways in which you might be free to make a second marriage-Allegra might die, or she might divorce you. Which of those two things was Jacqueline suggesting?”

  He broke in, voice and manner very much disturbed.

  “Ione-you’ve got it all wrong! Don’t you see Jacqueline was just upset? She’s a very controlled person as a rule-you must have noticed that. But this business about Margot has really thrown her right off her balance. She was fond of her, and of course it was a constant occupation. Now she is all at a loose end. What you overheard gives a very unfair picture of what she is really like. It was an emotional outburst, and when she gave way to it she believed that we were quite alone. After all, I’m fond of her, you know-and I suppose she is of me. We have known each other for a long time, and she just let herself go.”

  Ione agreed.

  “Oh, yes, she let herself go. But I still want to know how she thought you were going to be free. Had you ever discussed a divorce?”

  “No-no-of course not!”

  “Then the alternative would be Allegra’s death. If she had been pushed under that bus this morning, you would have been free, Geoffrey.”

  He stared at her with an
effect of stupidity. Ione repeated her words.

  “If she had gone under that bus she would have been killed, and you would have been free.”

  He still went on staring at her. When words came they were hoarse and choked.

  “You can’t-possibly-mean what you’re saying-”

  “You would have been free.”

  He went down suddenly on his knees by the table and hid his face against his outflung arms. His shoulders heaved with sobs. He kept saying Allegra’s name and choking on it. It was the most complete and sudden breakdown Ione had ever witnessed. She hoped with some fervour that Jacqueline Delauny was not listening. If she were to be added to the scene, she did not feel that she could continue to cope with it.

  There was, however, no dramatic entry. Geoffrey’s sobs became quieter. He lifted a ravaged face, got to his feet, and sank into the armchair by the fire. There had been no tears. That ravaged face bore no sign of them, but it was horribly drawn. There was no doubt that he had received an overwhelming shock. She did not mean to speak first, and she had to wait for some time before he said in a low stumbling voice,

  “You-mustn’t-say-things like that. I love Allegra. When you spoke of her going under that bus it was just as if you were telling me that it had happened.”

  Two voices spoke in Ione. One said, “He was shocked through and through. He really loves her.” And the other, “If Allegra had been killed today, her money wouldn’t have gone to Geoffrey-it would have come to me.”

  She came over to the fire and stood there looking down at him.

  “What did Jacqueline mean when she said you had let Margot take that crazy rope?”

  His face twitched. He said in a tone of utter weariness,

  “It just shows you how off her balance she was.”

  “She said it twice, and she laughed when you denied it.”

  “Am I to deny it to you? The thing nobody seems to understand is that I loved Margot. She was a child, and I’m-fond of children. I want them. Some day, I hope, Allegra-” He broke off, lifting his head. “You see, that is how it was-she was just a child that I was fond of. Sometimes she was a naughty child, but you don’t stop loving children because they are naughty. That was one of the reasons I’ve been fond of Jacqueline-she loved Margot too. You don’t know how patient she was. You heard her today at her worst, but she has lived with us for two years, and I have seen her at her best.”