Fear For Frances Part 6

'Yes, I think I must. There may be nothing in it, but we cannot be too careful when the education of the young is at stake.'

'Young Doctor Green seems to think highly of her. By the way, if that new Will hasn't been sent off to the solicitors yet, I'd be glad of another look at it.'

Hugo's hand went to a certain drawer in the bureau while his fingers sought for the key on his key-ring. The drawer, which ought to have been locked, opened under his hand. He rose from his chair, and looked inside the drawer. 'It's not there,' he said. And then, 'But it must be! You saw me put the Will in there, didn't you? And I'm sure I locked the drawer, afterwards.'

He ransacked the bureau, but the Will, like the money which had been left there by Richard, had disappeared. The bell was rung and Spilkins, who had been on the point of announcing luncheon, was cross-questioned instead about visitors to the gun-room. Spilkins declared that he knew nothing about the new Will, and neither - or so they said - did any of the servants when they were questioned by Hugo. What did emerge from the enquiry was that a spare key to the bureau was usually kept in a tobacco jar on the mantelpiece in the gun-room, and that everyone knew of it. It had been put there because Master Richard had once lost the key to the bureau, with all his papers locked up inside it. As to visitors to the gun-room, it was impossible to tell. The servants would pa.s.s its door a dozen times a day on their way to the Great Hall and the dining-room. As for the family, Spilkins could not - or would not - be drawn.

'Quite right,' said Mr Manning to Hugo, in an undertone. 'We cannot ask the servants to inform on their employers. We must ask the family ourselves.'

The Broome family were waiting in the Great Hall for lunch to be announced. The vicar and his curate had suspended their prayers to join them. Mr Manning broke the news to them of the Will's disappearance, while Hugo chewed on an unlit cigar. Mrs Broome cried out, and reached for her salts. Lady Amelia's jaw dropped, and she blinked. Isabella wondered aloud if she would be restored to her previous position as heiress.

Maud sprang to her feet and stared at Hugo. She wanted to know if he intended this development to make any difference to his conduct towards her. Was she as desirable to him without her inheritance? Hugo seemed unable to answer. For the first time since his arrival at the Court, he was less than composed. Whether or no he intended to repulse her, Maud evidently thought that he did. She closed her eyes, opened her mouth and screamed. Such a breach of good manners was bad, but what followed was worse. Her skirts swinging, Maud leaped upon Isabella and, seizing her by the shoulders, began to shake her.

'You! You stole it!' she panted. 'You thieving snake! You ...!' She pulled Isabella out of her seat. 'Give it back!'

A red mark appeared on Isabella's cheek and her hair tumbled down as Maud slapped her. Isabella began to weep. She begged Maud to let her go. Maud did not hear her. Twining her fingers in her cousin's curls, Maud threw Isabella to the floor and began to beat her head against the floor. All was uproar. The vicar was calling upon Maud to desist, Mr Manning was trying to seize one of Maud's hands.

'I'll tear it out of you! Tell me where you put it! You ...'

It took the combined efforts of Mr Manning, the vicar and the curate to pull Maud off Isabella, and by that time the poor girl was a s.h.i.+vering wreck of her former self. As soon as she found herself physically restrained, Maud commanded herself sufficiently to stand still.

'Send for the police,' she said. 'Search her room. Look in the writing desk that she uses. Strip her bed. Strip her. Maybe she's got it on her at the moment.'

'Oh, Maud!' cried Mrs Broome, in tears. 'How could you!'

Isabella hobbled to her G.o.dmother, and sank in tears at her feet. Lady Amelia, white-faced, helped the trembling girl to her feet and announced that if someone would be so kind as to summon their maid, she thought they had better retire to their rooms. They would naturally be leaving the Court as soon as their things had been packed. Mr Manning made as if to help Lady Amelia, who was trembling almost as much as her granddaughter, but the old lady refused his a.s.sistance as she led Isabella from the room.

'I shall go for the police myself if you don't send for them,' said Maud. 'I do not intend to be defrauded of my rights by that - that whey-faced chit. If none of you are men enough to protect me, I must take steps to protect myself.' And here she looked at Hugo, who had taken no part in the scuffle, but was standing in his usual place on the hearth-rug.

'No police,' said Mr Manning. 'We can settle this without a scandal. I think I can persuade Amelia to stay, and to agree that a search is made of their rooms, provided that we also agree to a search being made of our own rooms. You may start with mine, if you wish. Hugo ...?'

'Yes,' said Hugo heavily. 'That's a good idea. If only it hasn't been destroyed already. I can see no other reason why it should have been taken.'

'If you please, sir,' said Spilkins. He had been an interested but unnoticed spectator of the scene. 'Would this solve your problem?' He proffered a silver salver on which lay a folded sheet of paper. 'I found this note in the pocket of my coat just now. Someone must have put it there while it was hanging on its peg in the pantry. Or perhaps it's been there since last night. I didn't look in the pocket until just now, when I wanted a pencil. It seems to explain everything.'

Hugo took the note and read it to himself. He exclaimed, 'Gracious Heavens!'

He held up his hand to attract everyone's attention. 'Listen to this, everyone. I'll read it out to you. "Are you so stupid that you can't see what's under your nose? Benson is carrying the stolen gold on him, in a body belt. Nothing went wrong till he arrived, and he's been at the bottom of everything that's gone wrong since. Can't you see that he made up that story about two men getting into the carriage at Lewes? Can't you see that it was he who attacked and robbed his master?" There's no date on it, and it's signed "A Friend".'

CHAPTER FIVE.

The idea of searching the Court was abandoned. A message was sent up by two of the footmen to the sick-room, to ask Benson to present himself forthwith in the Great Hall. Frances was not there; worn out, she had given Polly her stained dress and lain down on her bed to sleep. The agency nurse was not there; although recovering, she was still in her room. Lord Broome was fast asleep; he had not moved since he was laid back in his bed, and he was so deeply asleep that he did not even hear the altercation over his head.

'I don't care what Mr Hugo wants me for,' said Benson. 'I'm not leaving the Major alone.'

One of the footmen volunteered to take a turn at the bedside. Benson scrutinised him from head to toe, and demanded to know his name. It was Abel, the lad who had been suspected of dressing up as a monk the other night. Benson hummed and hawed and said all right, he supposed Abel would do for a while, and that if the Major stirred, someone must go for Miss Chard at once.

In the Great Hall the family were still waiting for their luncheon. Lady Amelia and Isabella had been called back to witness the confrontation with Benson, and a good many of the servants had managed to crowd into the doorway to hear and see what they could.

Mr Manning read the anonymous note out to Benson, and asked if he had anything to say.

'No,' said Benson, more annoyed at being taken from his post than afraid. 'Except it's obviously a load of nonsense. What would I want to harm the Major for?'

'For the legacy he'd left you in his first Will. When you found out he'd made another Will you were very upset, weren't you?'

'Well, I did wonder what was going on. It wasn't like him to change his mind without telling me.'

'So you stole the second Will from the bureau, as you'd previously stolen your master's money, and the money Lord Richard had left there.'

'What the blazes ...?' demanded Benson.

'If you are innocent, you won't object to being searched, will you?'

'Stop!' cried Benson, as hands were laid on him. 'Of course I've got his money on me. I don't mind showing you, if you keep your hands off!'

'You admit it, then?'

'He gave it me to carry for him when we landed ...'

'A likely tale!'

Benson pulled up his s.h.i.+rt and took off a body belt that was girt around him. In silence, Hugo Broome took the belt off the batman, and counted out twenty-seven gold sovereigns from the belt on to the table.

'Where is Mrs Broome's bracelet?' he asked. 'And the rest of the money you stole from the gun-room? This is only part of it. And where is the missing Will? Have you destroyed it already? Confess, or it will be the worse for you.'

'I have nothing to confess. And give that money back. It's not yours, it's the Major's.'

'We are very well aware of that. All right,' to the footmen. 'Take him away. Lock him up in some secure place - one of the store-rooms in the old part of the house will do. And send Arling to fetch the police from Lewes.'

Only then did Benson realise the danger of his position. He did not go quietly when they laid hands on him, and his shouts and the sound of the blows he gave and received echoed round the Great Hall. Unfortunately for him, the Court was solidly built, and the noise did not penetrate to the schoolroom, or to the State Bedroom. Those who might have defended him were sound asleep.

Over lunch, Hugo summed up the position.

'So, now we have the evidence to prove that Benson attacked his master, and that he made up that story about two men entering the compartment at Lewes. I must say it is a relief to have that business cleared up. But we don't have my aunt's bracelet, the balance of the money from the gun-room, or the missing Will.'

'Meakins told me that Benson has been seen playing cards in the village with a bad type of man. Perhaps he's lost the rest of Richard's money, gambling. And maybe Mama's bracelet went the same way.'

'And he would have destroyed the second Will,' said Mr Manning. 'Knowing that it cut him out of any share of Gavin's money. I wonder what he did to cause Gavin to disinherit him. Perhaps if Gavin had learned that his batman was addicted to gambling ...?'

'What about the Will?' Maud asked the question which was in all their minds. 'Does Isabella inherit? Doesn't the fact that we all know there was a second Will and can testify to it in court, mean that the second Will should stand?'

Mr Manning signed for the servants to leave the room. 'I think,' he said, 'that we should have a family conference on the matter. I do not think any of us would wish to go to law about it. Perhaps some adjustment within the framework of Gavin's known intentions ...?'

'You mean that I have to give Isabella a portion of the money, to keep her quiet? Well, I won't, and that's flat.'

'Maud, dear,' said Mrs Broome nervously. 'Perhaps I could have a word with you in private ...'

'That money is rightfully mine,' said Isabella. 'If Maud had been nice to me about it, I might have considered giving her some few hundred pounds, but considering the way she has treated me ...'

'Isabella,' said Lady Amelia. 'There is much in what your uncle says. You could easily spare two hundred a year, say ...'

'Two hundred!'

Everyone began to talk at once.

Frances woke in the early twilight. She had only one other day dress, also grey, also home-made. As she put it on she suppressed a sigh. Isabella and Maud both talked of poverty, but Frances would have given a great deal for one of their cast-off dresses at that moment. To have been able to appear before Lord Broome in one of Maud's trousseau dresses, for instance; there was one of pale yellow velvet with a pleated underskirt which would have suited Frances better than it suited the person for whom it had been made.

The house seemed unearthly quiet as she made her way down to the sick-room. She was not to know that at that very minute practically all the servants in the house were watching as Benson was hauled into a closed cab by two large policemen sent out from Lewes to arrest him for attempted murder and robbery. Abel, the footman, was sitting outside the sick-room door; he sprang to his feet when he saw her. He did not realise that she knew nothing of Benson's arrest. He told her that he was taking the afternoon watch for Benson, but that his lords.h.i.+p had told him to wait outside the door. She accepted his explanation without thinking anything of it.

Lord Broome was sitting upright, away from the pillows. He had taken his left arm from the sling which Theo had contrived for him, and his crippled hand lay hidden under the bedclothes. He looked very much alive, and as if he were in pain.

'Your arm is hurting you?' she asked, aware of the dangers of infection.

'I'm done for,' he said.

She did not understand. She touched his forehead and judged the fever to have left him.

'Did you know all along?' he asked. 'Why didn't you tell me? No, that's not fair. I knew, myself. Right from the beginning. But I didn't want to admit it.'

'You're not to talk like that. You're not going to die. You are the type who lives to be eighty and d.a.m.ns the younger generation and tells everyone the world is going to the dogs.'

He smiled, briefly. 'Just like my grandfather. No, I wasn't talking about dying, but about my hand. It's no good, is it? Taking the bullet out hasn't made any difference to my thumb and forefinger. I'm crippled.' He repeated the words to himself, silently, as if trying to get used to the idea. 'I made you an offer of marriage on the understanding that I'd come through the operation all right. Well, I release you from that. You won't want a one-handed man. Who would? The Army won't, either. I've been trying to think what the devil I'm going to do with the rest of my life. I've never thought of being anything but a soldier since I was twelve, and now ... Politics are out, at least until people have forgotten what happened last year. I've done for myself there. I didn't realise at the time ... Perhaps I'll go on a world tour. I've always wanted to go to Greece. But what would I do when I got there? I've no taste for an idle life.'

Frances stopped trying to pretend that she was a disinterested nurse. She took his injured hand out from under the bedclothes and tried to rub life into the thumb and forefinger. They remained limp and unresponsive.

'You see?' He smiled, without mirth. 'Dead as my career.

'I told myself that when the splints were removed ... when the bullet was taken out ... but I knew all along. I've seen injuries like this before.'

'I don't see that it matters that much. It's only your left hand.'

'Theo didn't tell you? I'm left-handed. I can't write, or do anything properly with my right hand. I know, because I tried as a child.'

She cried out, and put the maimed hand to her cheek.

'Some women have no sense at all,' said his lords.h.i.+p. 'Didn't you hear me say that my offer of marriage is withdrawn?'

'I couldn't accept it, anyway.'

'Why not?'

She tried to make a joke of it. She took herself over to the window and looked out. 'Oh, because you'd always want the last word in an argument. What woman would stand for that?'

He laughed, this time genuinely amused. 'There's that,' he admitted. 'But then, I don't want a woman who is incapable of forming an opinion of her own. I want someone who is prepared to stand up to me, and tell me if she thinks I'm overstepping the mark. A companion, as well as a wife.'

She thought: This is dreadful; he really cares for me. I must stop him, before he goes any further. If only ...

'Is it because of what happened last summer?' he asked. 'I give you my word that I did not drown that girl.'

'Oh, I believe you.'

'You do? No one else does.'

'The more fools they.'

'Agreed. Then, if it is not that ...? Ah, I've got it. You want me to make you long flowery speeches on my knees, about how beautiful you are, and how I'd go to the ends of the earth to fetch you a rare flower and all that rot. Well, it, may be the accepted method of proposing for a young, romantic idiot, but I'm neither young nor romantic and I'm hanged if I'll go down on my knees to any woman, even you. Even if I could manage it without falling flat on my face.'

She had to laugh. 'It isn't that. But you can't really expect me to take you seriously. Miss Seld treated you badly, you are temporarily at a standstill, perhaps you feel some grat.i.tude towards me for nursing you. In a few days' time, when you are feeling better, you will be ashamed of what you have said to me. So let us say no more about it. Think instead of what you can do on the estate when the weather improves; it is a beautiful place, but much neglected, as you must know. The tenants complain that repairs are never done, and the Court itself needs modernising. Could you not concern yourself with these matters in the immediate future?'

'And live in my brother's shadow? No, thank you. Granted, he would be delighted if I did. While I'm around, he doesn't have to trouble his head with business or money matters. Don't misunderstand me, I'm very fond of Richard, as he is of me, but I'll not live here as his agent. No, I think I'll go abroad. Doesn't the idea of a cruise in the Grecian Islands appeal to you?'

For a moment she was tempted. Why shouldn't she accept him? She would make him a good wife. She could be the sort of wife he wanted. And as for what the world might think ...? She drew back.

'You know nothing about me, or you wouldn't make me a proposal of marriage. I was dismissed from my last place without a character, and heaven only knows how long Mrs Broome will keep me on, once she realises ... Let us talk of something else. Shall I fetch a newspaper and read it to you?'

'So your last employer's husband tried to kiss you?'

'Much worse than that,' she said, with grim gaiety. 'I was accused of stealing, or rather, of putting a young man up to steal from his aunt, and of trying to trap him into marriage. The police were called in. I a.s.sure you that I am the wickedest creature alive; depraved, corrupt, unworthy to cross the threshold of a decent household. You see what I mean?'

'That's almost as bad as what they said about me,' said his lords.h.i.+p. He seemed to be amused, rather than alarmed, by her disclosures. He patted the bed beside him, and leaned back on his pillows. 'Sit down and tell me all about it.'

'Will you, in turn, tell me all about Lilien Jervis?'

'Not at the moment. But I promise that one day I will tell you everything. Now, talk!'

'Well, about a year ago I went as governess to a Mrs Palfrey, of Gloucesters.h.i.+re. She had two small children; darlings, both of them. She treated me well, and encouraged me to join her in the drawing-room when there was company. Her husband was in India, and she had no relatives near, but about a mile away an old friend of hers lived, who was not strong and rarely left her own house. This lady - Mrs Donne - was very rich, and quite alone in the world except for her nephew, Walter. Mrs Palfrey was very fond of Mrs Donne, and we often took the children to Mrs Donne's for afternoon tea, or Mrs Palfrey would send me over with a book or a basket of fruit to Mrs Donne's. Walter was not always there. He was employed as a clerk by a distant relative in the City, but he did not like the work. He used to visit his aunt at weekends. Then, in June last year, he suggested to Mrs Donne that she make him an allowance so that he could give up his job and devote all his time to her. She agreed. I was flattered. I knew ... he told me ... that he had done this thing so that he could see more of me. He was young and good company, and at the time I thought him everything a gentleman should be. I admired him for his devotion to his aunt. I believed him when he said that he wished, one day, when his aunt could be brought round to the idea, that he wished, in short, to marry me. It was very foolish of me to listen to him, but he was the first person from my father's world ... from the world in which I thought I had a right to move ... to wish to marry me. I did encourage him to hope. I thought I loved him enough to wait for him, but ... then he wanted me to run away with him. I was terribly upset. I could not understand why he wanted to be so precipitate. He had only to wait. Mrs Donne was very fond of me at that time, and my family background was not at all despicable. My father was a Colonel in the Army, and his family have lived on their estate near Taunton for six generations. It would not have been too unequal a match. Besides, I could not run away and leave Mrs Palfrey and my two darling little boys without notice.

'He apologised for upsetting me. He said a great many things about my having driven him to distraction and ... well, you know the sort of things men say. He gave me a piece of jewellery and asked me to wear it, as a token that I forgave him his foolishness. I wore it, without attempting to conceal it. Why should I? I had no idea ... But one day Mrs Donne came with Walter to call on us. It was the first time she had been out of her house for months. She saw the pendant and claimed it as hers. She had been missing pieces of jewellery over a period of some months. A maid had fallen under suspicion and been dismissed, but it was he - Walter - who had been taking her things all along. He had been gambling and got into debt. He'd stolen something of hers, and the theft had gone undetected, and he'd gone on stealing and grown careless enough to give me something he'd stolen.

'I couldn't believe it at first. I kept saying that there must be some mistake. The police came. Mrs Donne could not believe that Walter would have stolen from her on his own initiative. I told her everything, of course. I had notes from him to prove that he wanted to marry me. She was furious; she said she had plans to marry him to a G.o.d-daughter of hers who had a large fortune. She said some very hard things to me; that I had seduced Walter, and trapped him into ... Oh, it was dreadful. At first I was indignant. But Walter, when he came face to face with me, he acted in such a weak manner, he could not look me in the eye ... I could not believe that this was the same man who all summer had been urging me to ...

'His aunt said that I had been to blame for everything. She forgave Walter, and said she would not bring charges against him provided I left the district at once and did not attempt to communicate with him ever again. I did not wish to see him again after that, but I did not want to be thrown out of the house like that. The two little boys cried when they heard I was to go. Mrs Palfrey cried, too. She believed my story, but nevertheless she refused me a reference because Mrs Donne was such a very old friend of hers and influential, and, after all, I was only a governess, a n.o.body. So I went back to my aunt's school in Bath, and started writing around for another job. I lied to Mrs Broome and to your brother, saying that I had been at my aunt's all last summer and autumn. They will find out some day, of course.'

'Undoubtedly. You must get in first with your side of the tale. Benson and Polly tell me you are highly regarded by my aunt, and are considered to have worked wonders with that brat Agnes. My aunt won't want to lose you. I believe she even boasts to guests that you are of gentle birth. Are you related to the Chards of Somerset? I know a Rupert Chard slightly.'

'My cousin. He has six sisters, one about my age and the rest younger. They all have to be married off somehow. My father's family quarrelled with him when he married my mother because she was only a teacher and had no dowry. My mother's sister brought me up after my father and mother died. My aunt wrote to my Uncle Chard when I was eighteen, hoping that he would do something for me. He and my aunt Chard visited us in Bath. They brought two of their daughters, my cousins, with them. I quite understood, after that, why they could do nothing for me.'

His lords.h.i.+p frowned. 'Bella and Ruth Chard? I think I've met them, too, at dances in Town. Both as plain as flat biscuits. No wonder your uncle and aunt didn't want you in the house, with that lot to marry off.'