Hunter's Green

by Whitney, Phyllis A. ;

  “Marc needs me,” she went on. “He has always needed me. Perhaps that’s the greatest hold he’s had on me. There was no one else who did. I’d lost my husband, and I had no children. Even as a boy Justin was independent and never one to lean. Marc is the only person I’ve ever known who has needed me so desperately—and still does. More, perhaps, than he realizes.”

  “What about Nigel?” I said. “Haven’t you someone new to need you now?”

  Her laugh was a little too careless for my liking. “In a different way perhaps. Not that Nigel and I don’t have a need and affection for each other. And we’re wonderfully good friends. After all, we’ve known each other for a long time and we’ve both been lonely. Besides, he can help Marc.”

  Always the twisted force of her love for this only “son” she would ever have came sharply through. This was a primary drive with her. She could not help herself. I knew now that she would sacrifice Justin, and Athmore too, in order to assure her darling’s safety. In this respect she could not be trusted at all. Of the words she had spoken about her relationship with Nigel, only the last had an honest ring. Nigel would be able to rescue Marc—that was what mattered. Perhaps not even Nigel, for all his quiet awareness, truly understood how she would use him to help Marc.

  She went on again quite brightly, unaware of how thoroughly she betrayed her single-minded obsession. “Of course Nigel would help us now, if Justin would let him. But Justin won’t have that. Once we’re married, this will change. Nigel will settle enough in my name and I have my ways of making it easier for Justin to use some of what will then be my money. There will be no need for him to marry Alicia. He can’t do that—he can’t! It would be horrible if she came here to live. If she were mistress of Athmore, I would have to move away, and I couldn’t bear that. This is my home, too. I’ve earned the right to live here for the rest of my life, and I won’t have Alicia spoiling everything!”

  Her outburst was so impassioned that I felt increasingly disturbed. Her antipathy toward Alicia seemed neurotically extreme, and the discovery that the poised, usually self-possessed Maggie Graham hid a volcano beneath that controlled exterior, made me feel a little ill. I did not need to look far for the reason.

  “Alicia is using Marc!” Maggie blurted out. “She means to bludgeon Justin through him if it becomes necessary. She’ll stop at nothing.”

  “Do you think Justin would be easily bludgeoned?” I asked.

  She shrugged my words aside and turned on me. “What a fool I was to welcome your return! It was stupid of Nigel to think you might help. He believed that you could turn Justin your way as you did once before. But all you’ve done is stir up dreadful trouble. You’ve enraged Justin and you’ve tried to injure Marc. We were wrong about you—altogether wrong!”

  She rushed across the room toward me with a suddenness that startled me, and caught up both my hands, turning them palm up so that she could pore over them. Her grasp was that of a woman who could hold a spirited horse in check, and I did not try to twist away.

  “Justin hates palm reading,” she said. “He would never let me look at your hands in the old days. So let me see them now. Come here to the light where I can look at them.”

  She frightened me a little, but I went with her to the window, rather than struggle, and held out my hands reluctantly, so that she could study the palms. I remembered this as an amusing party trick she had sometimes produced in the year I had lived at Athmore. Now she seemed in deadly earnest.

  Whatever she saw she did not like. She told me to flex my fingers, relax my right hand. Then, cradling it lightly in one of hers, she traced a line with a finger, pointed to a mark across it.

  “This comes while you are still young. I don’t like it at all. It spells something dreadful, something—destructive. Either to you or to someone close by because of you.” She looked at me intently. “Do you know what you are to Athmore? You’re a lighted fuse. That mark is the explosion. Perhaps it won’t happen if you go somewhere else. Consider that, Eve. How much harm are you willing to bring down on our heads? How much risk for yourself are you willing to run?”

  She dropped my hand and I put it behind my back. “Palm reading doesn’t convince me,” I said. “But what happened last night on the roof, and what nearly happened to me today, tells me a great deal. Who else but Marc can be behind these attempts on my life?”

  “Attempts on your life!” The words were scathing, but the tide of bright color that rushed to her face alarmed me further. It was fortunate that Nellie appeared in the doorway just then and caused her to check herself.

  Mr. Marc was ringing from the hospital. Nellie said.

  Maggie hurried off to take the call and left me alone with Nellie.

  “I fetched your negative into town,” the girl told me. “Enlargements take longer, but you should have it in a week. I’ll pick it up when it’s ready.” She studied me anxiously. “You’re all right, Miss Eve?”

  “Not exactly,” I said. “We’ve had a shock over what has happened to Miss Dacia.”

  Nellie nodded vigorously. “A hit-and-run! It’s plain horrible. And right on our own premises. Of course we don’t believe anyone in this house would do such a thing.”

  I wished I could take comfort from her words, but there was no comfort for me anywhere, except in the knowledge of Justin’s love.

  During the following days it was this I clung to. No matter how guarded he was with me, the truth was there to warm me and I could not be wholly despondent. There had to be a way out.

  Marc was in London much of the time and he did not return for the sad occasion of Old Daniel’s funeral. The rest of us went to the cemetery in a small group, and the funeral brought back to me vivid reminders of the beginning of this time of terror. Fear walked with me night and day, and was all the greater because Justin still did not believe in any real cause for the way I felt. I knew now that it had begun when I met Old Daniel in the woods. The accidental falling of a wall no longer convinced me. The old man had been hunted too.

  Every night I slept with Deirdre beside my bed, and during the day I hurried through my empty wing with the dog always near me. She was my guardian and protector, my friend.

  What the police believed by this time was evident. They thought that someone at Athmore had struck Dacia down by accident and panicked, and that the family had closed its ranks to protect the driver of the car. If Dacia died there would be an inquest and further investigation, but as things stood, pursuit of an answer seemed futile, and no charges were being brought. Thus we were not harassed to the extent we might have been. Should have been!

  Dacia was moved to a London hospital at her mother’s insistence, and Marc had gone to the city to stay as near her as possible. The time of her mending was uncertain, but as the days slipped by, her condition improved and we all breathed more easily. I could not believe that anyone at Athmore meant to harm Dacia.

  Since her talk with me, Maggie seemed to have had second thoughts. But even as she made more friendly overtures toward me, she did not seem herself, and I had the growing feeling that something was happening beneath the surface as far as Maggie was concerned. Something not even Justin was aware of. I was paying her enough attention to note her plotting look.

  As reports of Dacia’s improvement came through, I began a plot of my own. I knew that I must get to London and pay her a visit. There was still the matter of her note to be considered—as soon as she was well enough to talk to me. Justin himself played into my hands. He had to go up to London himself on business, and on the morning he planned to leave, I packed my suitcase with overnight things and put it in the back of his car. Then I got into the front seat and waited for him. I said nothing to anyone. Later I would phone, but for the moment I wanted no one alerted.

  When Justin came out and discovered me he put his own bag into the car and started to take mine out.

  “Please!” I begged him. “I need to go to London to shop. Maggie has loaned me a coat, but I must buy one
of my own. I can’t go on wearing that orange thing of Dacia’s. Besides, I’d like to look in on her at the hospital.”

  My purpose must have seemed innocent and reasonable enough. He put back my bag and got behind the wheel, wearing his most unattractive scowl. I said nothing more until we were on our way, with Athmore well behind us. I took care to sit close to the door and I kept my eyes ahead upon the road. We drove for a half hour of scowling silence on his part before I spoke.

  “I do need to talk to you,” I said. “Some other time, if not now. Because of what happened to Dacia, you’ll have to hear me out eventually. But can’t we call a truce for today and pretend we’re friends instead of enemies? We can always go back to being angry with each other later.”

  His scowl did not fade at once, but it smoothed out gradually. The day was beautiful and I watched the hawthorn hedges run by, and delighted in glimpses of hill and meadow country, all abloom with that wonderful lushness of springtime in England. On a sunny day the green had a touch of gold to it and was never oppressive.

  By the time we stopped for lunch at a wayside inn which had several hundred years of history behind its wavering floors and low, beamed ceilings, Justin’s mood had turned almost agreeable. I tried not to irritate him. I stayed away from all dangerous subjects. He had the matter of his work very close to him and he was ready enough to talk about that. A breakthrough had come, he felt sure. Because of this, he must see some of the men in his company and talk over his progress. Even though he was now working for himself, the company would be behind him when it came to final production. Several of the safety features of his car were ready to be tested, and there must be no more delay.

  When he spoke of his work his interest was electric and I listened with my mind, as I had never listened before. What Justin did, what he cared about, meant everything to me now.

  We talked at leisure over English roast beef and Yorkshire pudding, unimaginative, but good. I ate the savory and did not turn my nose up at trifle, as once I had done. I found that this time around I was neither idealizing all that was English, nor flying to the opposite extreme of decrying it vigorously, as I had when I left. I could live with England more comfortably now, and perhaps the English could live more comfortably with me—if ever I had the chance to try again.

  After lunch we did not return to the car at once. Justin knew this inn and wanted to show me about. A stream meandered pleasantly out behind, with a rustic bridge that took us across to a garden abounding in trellises and leafy arbors. The azaleas were in bloom and it was a lovely place, empty at the moment except for us. We walked in the sun and I needed no coat in this welcome warmth. I lived for the moment only, hoping that this unexpected gift would not end and drop me into emptiness again. Somehow, briefly, we were friends, if not lovers, and while this was hardly enough, I accepted the gift of the moment. In the past we had loved too recklessly without being friends.

  We found smooth grass to sit upon near the edge of the stream. A great lilac bush, heavy with purple blooms, shielded us from view of the inn and shed its sweetness around us. We tossed pebbles and twigs absently into the water, and for a long while we said nothing and were strangely content. Then Justin broke the quiet spell with words which once more brought pain.

  “The other day,” he said, “when I saw Dacia lying on the road in your green coat, I thought it was you. I thought you were dead.”

  “I know,” I told him.

  “I felt as though half of myself had been cut away.” He spoke almost wonderingly.

  “You called me your darling,” I reminded him.

  He did not scowl or turn away from me. “And so you were to me—my very dear, lost darling.”

  “Yet not if I’m alive? Not at any other time?”

  “Too often you are still my darling,” he said gently. “Come here to me, Eve.”

  The way he put his arms about me told me all the truth. Yet his kiss frightened me. He did not kiss me angrily, but with tenderness, almost sadly. As if he were saying farewell.

  “How can we ever work this out?” he murmured against my hair. “How can I love you, knowing how hopelessly we failed at marriage? How can I want you near me when I know what I must do to save us all—you and me and Alicia? I am to blame for the harm that has been done to both of you. I must not worsen everything now.”

  “But you love me and I love you!” I cried, close to tears at his gentleness. “So why must we pretend anything else?”

  “Unfortunately, everything in life can’t be divided as easily between the true and the false as you want it to be, my darling. There’s a good deal of shading in between.”

  “Is it still what happened with Marc before I left Athmore that you hold against me? There were shadings there, too.”

  “I know,” he said.

  “You mean Marc told you what he did?” I asked in surprise.

  Justin shook his head. “No one has told me anything. I’m past needing to be told. I know you better now. You may behave badly, foolishly, when you’re angry, but I think you’d never let me down. If the outcome rested only on what you are to me, I’d have no worry. But it doesn’t.”

  “Because you had an affair with Alicia? But that’s in the past? Why must it matter now, if—”

  He almost smiled as he interrupted me. “I seem to remember that Alicia mattered a great deal to you once.”

  “She still does,” I said. “I won’t pretend she doesn’t. But I can live with what’s past if I know it isn’t the present.”

  “She will always matter to me,” he said more gravely. “She doesn’t deserve unkindness from me, and I can’t shrug her off brutally.”

  I was growing impatient again. “While you try to decide what you must do, how am I to stay alive? That may be more difficult than anything else.”

  He turned to stare at me. “What are you talking about?”

  “I’m talking about something you’ve closed your eyes to because it concerns your brother,” I said. “I’m talking about what nearly happened to me the other night on the roof, and again when Alicia’s car struck Dacia. I’m not supposed to be alive. Can’t you see the truth of that? Next time it may be the end of me.”

  Still he would not accept what I claimed. “Maggie has told me about these notions of yours. I’m sure you believe in them. This second thing coming so fast on the heels of your nightmare experience on the roof must seem to you indisputable proof. But Eve, darling, this sort of terror isn’t real. Why would anyone at Athmore mean you harm?”

  “Because someone is afraid I know who killed Old Daniel,” I said bluntly. “How can you be sure he was killed by an accidentally falling wall? What if he was struck unconscious and then dragged over to where the wall could be pushed down on him?”

  I had his full, serious attention now, though I knew I had not convinced him. Such a statement, made so abruptly, must seem altogether wild to him.

  “Is it because you can’t bear the thought of what Marc might be trying to do that you won’t believe me?” I demanded.

  “Marc saved your life that night on the roof. You could thank him for that.”

  We were back on the old treadmill. Our pleasant day was slipping hopelessly away while hostility and disbelief grew between us. I took Dacia’s letter from my handbag and gave it to him.

  “This was left in my room. I found it after Dacia went off to the hospital. I didn’t read it in time to meet her as she wished. My going out there was pure chance. Someone saw her through the rain and thought it was me because she was wearing my coat. If not Marc—who? Alicia perhaps? She is the one who most wants me gone, and she knew the car was there, waiting. When she joined us she was outdoors and wet from the rain she’d been running about in. Do you believe her story?”

  He must have questioned it, because he did not fly at once to her defense. Nor did he dismiss my words with his usual anger.

  “I don’t know,” he said at length. “Something is troubling Alicia. She has been hurt by your
coming, and frightened, I think. Now I must hurt her more.”

  I held my breath in an effort to bite back the words that wanted to pour out. If he meant what I hoped he meant, then life might begin all over again for me—for us. And this time I must deal with it more wisely. Yet what I had told Justin was true—my first purpose now was to stay alive until we could live as husband and wife again. If only I could be in Justin’s arms for good, nothing could touch me.

  He cast his last pebble into the stream and sprang up to pull me to my feet. Then he put both hands on my shoulders and looked at me long and quite lovingly. I let him read my eyes. I had nothing to hide from him any more. He would work this out somehow. I did not think he would let me go again.

  Nevertheless, we walked to the car without touching each other, and the specter of Alicia Daven walked between us.

  Once we were on our way, he said, “I’ll take you to the hospital first, so you can see Dacia. You mean to ask her about the note, of course?”

  I nodded. “If I can see her alone, and if she’s strong enough to talk to me.”

  “I’ll wait for you,” he said shortly. “I’ll want to know what she says.”

  For the rest of the drive to London I relaxed almost completely. For the moment I was safe. Danger had remained behind at Athmore, and I had a feeling that the burden was being taken from me. There was nothing to fear on this sunny day. Not even London traffic appalled me, as it had once done. There was no fear in me as we walked through the hospital door together and Justin spoke with authority to the woman at the reception desk.

  At the door of Dacia’s private room we met Marc coming out. He glanced at Justin and then regarded me in open dislike.

  “What a surprise,” he said. “Do you plan to go in there, Eve, and tell Dacia that I rode her down thinking it was you?”

  “I’m not going to tell her anything,” I said. “There are some things she wants to tell me.”

  He hesitated as though he would have liked to prevent me from entering, but realized there was nothing he could do to stop me. Not with Justin there. He would have gone past us down the hall without another word if Justin had not stopped him.