The Misses Mallett (The Bridge Dividing) Part 32

On her way from the stables she met Charles Batty going home for his midday meal, and she stopped him. 'Charles!' she said. She presented to his appreciative eyes a very elegant figure in the habit looped up to show her high slim boots, with her thick plait of hair under the hard hat, her complexion defying the whiteness of her stock; while to her he appeared with something of the aspect of an angel in a long top coat and a hat at the back of his head. 'Charles,' she said again, tapping her boot with her whip, 'I'm in trouble. Would you mind walking home by the hill? I want you to help me, but I can't tell you how. Not yet.'

He walked beside her without speaking and they came to the place where he had stood with Henrietta and she had flouted him; whither she had wandered on her first day in Radstowe, that high point overlooking the gorge, the rocks, the trees, the river; that scene of which not Charles, nor Rose, nor Henrietta could ever tire.

'Not, yet,' she repeated. 'Will you meet me this afternoon?'

'Look here,' he remonstrated, 'if Henrietta found out--'

She had not time to smile. 'It's for her sake.'

'I'll do anything,' he said.

'Then will you meet me this afternoon at five o'clock? Not here. I may not be able to get so far. Where can we meet?'

'Well, there's the post-office. Can't mistake that.'

'No, no, I may have something important, very important, Charles, to say to you. At five o'clock, will you be on The Green? There's a seat by the old monument. It won't take a minute to get there. Are you listening? On The Green at five o'clock. Come towards me as soon as you see me and at once we'll walk together towards the avenue. Wait till six, and if I don't come, will you still hold yourself in readiness at home? Don't forget. Don't be absent-minded and forget what you are there for, and even if there's a barrel-organ playing dreadful tunes, you'll wait there? For Henrietta.'

'I don't understand this about Henrietta.'

'That doesn't matter, not in the least. Now what are your instructions?'

He repeated them.

'Very well. I trust you.'

They separated and she went home, a little amused by her melodramatic conduct, but much comforted by the fact that Charles, though ignorant of his part, was with her in this conspiracy. She was met by reproaches from Sophia.

'Oh, Rose, riding on such a day! And Henrietta out, too! Suppose we'd wanted something from the chemist!'

'But you didn't, did you? And there are four servants in the house.

How is Caroline now?'

'Very quiet. Oh, Rose, she's very ill. She lets me do anything I like.

She hasn't a fault to find with me.'

'Let Henrietta sit with her this afternoon while Nurse is out.'

'No, no, Rose, I must do what I can for her.'

'I should like Henrietta to feel she is needed.'

'I don't think Caroline would be pleased. I'll see what she says.'

Caroline was distressingly indifferent but, as Henrietta went to her room on her return and sent a message that she had a headache and did not want any food, she was left undisturbed. Sophia became still more agitated. What was the matter with the child? It would be terrible if she were ill, too. Would Rose go and take her temperature? No, Rose was sure Henrietta would not care for that. She had better be left to sleep. If only she could be put to sleep for a few days!

Now that she was in the house and locked into her room, Rose was alarmed. She was afraid she had done wrong in making that confession; she had played what seemed to be her strongest card but she had played it in the wrong way, at the wrong moment. She had surely roused the girl's antagonism and rivalry, and there came to Rose's memory many little scenes in which Reginald Mallett, crossed in his desires, or irritated by reproaches, had suddenly stopped his storming, set his stubborn mouth and left the house, only to return when need drove him home.

But if Henrietta went, and Rose had no doubt of her intention, she would not come back. She had the unbending pride of her mother's cla.s.s, and Rose's fear was changed into a sense of approaching desolation. The house would be unbearable without Henrietta. Rose stood on the landing listening to the small sounds from Caroline's room and the unbroken silence from Henrietta's. If that room became empty, the house would be empty too. There would be no swift footsteps up and down the stairs, no bursts of singing, no laughter: she must not go; she could not be spared. For a moment Rose forgot Francis Sales's share in the adventure: she could only think of her own impending loneliness.

She went quickly down the stairs and sat in the drawing-room, leaving the door open, and after an hour or so she heard stealthy sounds from the room above; drawers were opened carefully and Henrietta, in slipperless feet, padded across the floor. Rose looked at her watch and rang the bell.

'Please take a tray to Miss Henrietta's room,' she told Susan, 'with tea, and sandwiches and, yes, an egg. She had no luncheon. A good, substantial tea, please, Susan.' If the child were antic.i.p.ating a journey, she must be fed.

A little later she heard Susan knock at Henrietta's door. It was not opened, but the tray was deposited outside with a slight rattle of china, and Susan's voice, mildly reproachful, exhorted Miss Henrietta to eat and drink.

At half-past four the tray was still lying there untouched. This meant that Henrietta was in no hurry, or that she was too indignant to eat: but it might also mean that she had no time. Only half-past four and Charles Batty was not due till five! He might be there already; in his place, she would have been there, but men were painfully exact, and five was the hour she had named. But again, Charles Batty was not an ordinary man. Trusting to that fact, she went to her room and provided herself with money, and, having listened without a qualm at Henrietta's door, she ran out of the house.

The church facing The Green sounded the three-quarters and there, on the seat by the old stone, sat Charles, his hands in his pockets, his hat pulled over his eyes in a manner likely to rouse suspicions in the mildest of policemen.

He rose. 'Where's your hat?'

'No time,' she said.

He repeated his lesson. 'We were to walk towards the avenue.'

'Yes, but I daren't. I want to keep in sight of the house. Come with me. Here's money. Don't lose it.'

He held it loosely. 'Some one's been playing "The Merry Peasant" for half an hour,' he said. 'I'll never sit here again.'

'Charles, take care of the money. You may need it. There's ten pounds--all I had--but perhaps it will be enough. I want you to watch our gate, and if Henrietta goes out, please follow her, but don't let her see you.'

'Oh, I say!' he murmured.

'I know. It's hateful, it's abominable, but you must do it.'

'She won't be pleased.'

'You must do it,' Rose repeated.

'She's sure to see me. Eyes like needles.'

'She mustn't. She'll probably go by train. If she goes to London, to this address--I've written it down for you--you may leave her there for the night and let me know at once. If she goes anywhere else, you must go with her. Take care of her. I can't tell you exactly what to do because I don't know what's going to happen. She may meet somebody, and then, Charles, you must go with them both. But bring her home if you can. Don't go to sleep. Don't compose music in your head. Oh, Charles, this is your chance!'

'Is it? I shall miss it. I always do the wrong thing.'

'Not to-night.' She smiled at him eagerly, imperiously, trying to endue him with her own spirit. 'Stay here in the shadow. I don't think you will have long to wait, and if you get your chance, if you have to talk to her, don't scold.'

'Scold! It's she that scolds. She bullies me.'

'Ah, not to-night!' she repeated gaily.

He peered down at her. 'Yes, you are rather like her in the face, specially when you laugh. Better looking, though,' he added mournfully.

'Don't tell her that.'

'Mustn't I? Well, I don't suppose I shall think of it again.'

'Remember that for you she is the best and most beautiful woman in the world. You can tell her that.'