The Shrouded Walls (13 page)

The silence flared, lengthened, became unbearable. Then:

“Just remember, won’t you,” said Axel, the door to the hall clicking as he opened it, “that you and your family live here for as long as I wish—and not a second longer.”

The door snapped shut; his footsteps crossed the hall to the stairs and were soon inaudible. In the heavy silence that followed I was just about to push back the curtains and leave the window-seat when the communicating door from the library burst open and Vere came into the room.

He could not see me; the long curtains before the window hid me from view, and as he slammed the door shut behind him the curtains trembled in the draft of air. I found a chink in the curtains, and not daring to move or display myself I remained where I was, frozen into immobility as I watched him.

He had taken the wine decanter and was pouring himself a drink. A minute later, the glass empty, he poured himself a second measure and then slumped into a hearthside chair and put his head in his hands. I waited, scarcely daring to breathe, hoping he would go, but he remained motionless by the fire. I began to worry; how long would he stay there? If Axel had gone to our rooms he would discover I was missing and wonder why I had not returned.

He had just finished his second glass of wine and was to my despair pouring himself a third when there was an interruption. The door opened and through the chink in the curtains I saw Alice enter the room.

“What happened?” she demanded, and her soft country voice was indefinably harder and more resolute. “What did he say?”

Vere sat down in the chair again, seeming to crumple into the cushions. In a sudden flash of insight I saw then as clearly as I saw them both before me that Alice was the stronger of the two.

“It was no good.” Vere was drinking again as she sat on the arm of his chair and put an arm around his shoulders. “He’ll pay the debts but he won’t advance me any more than the bare necessities. I’m reduced to the role of bailiff, it seems.”

Alice’s face was very set. “Tell me exactly what was said.”

He told her, omitting nothing. When he had finished he half-rose with a glance at the decanter on the sideboard but she took the glass from him and poured the wine herself. I noticed that while he had his back to her she diluted the wine with water from the jug on the sideboard.

“Well, at least,” she said as she brought the glass back to him, “we still have a roof over our heads.”

“Temporarily.” The wine was making him morose and apathetic. He seemed a mere pale shadow as he sat huddled in the vast armchair.

“It was a pity,” said Alice, “that you had to go losing your temper and accusing him of murder.”

“I didn’t! All I said was—”

“He took it as an accusation, didn’t he?”

“Well
...”

“You really should be careful, dear,” said Alice. “You really should. Let sleeping dogs lie. They decided Rodric killed your father, so leave it at that. Resurrecting old grudges and angers can only be dangerous to us, and if you offend George again—”

“He was having an affair with Mama, I swear it.
I
know when she looks at a man as she looked at him last year
...
Supposing Papa found out, threatened—”

“You really should let it be, dear. Just because your mother may have wished to have George as a lover, you’ve no proof that he did as she wanted, and you’ve no proof that he killed your father, nor will you ever have. Let it be, dearest! If you start resurrecting the past, who knows what might happen? Supposing someone found out that you came back earlier to Haraldsdyke that afternoon than you said you did? You told me you went straight to our room and lay down for a while as you weren’t well, but I never saw you, did I, dear, and no one else saw you either. Supposing someone saw you slip into the house before your father was killed that afternoon and supposing they spoke up and said so if you went accusing George of murder—
”

“Who could have seen me?” He was nervous; the wine spilled from his glass and stained the carpet. “No one saw me!”

“Mary might have done.”

“She would have said so before now.”

“Perhaps.”

“Besides,” he laughed uneasily “I had no reason for killing Papa.”

“No, dear? People might think you did, though. He knew it was you, you know, and not Rodric who was involved with the Frenchies in the smuggling.”

The glass jerked right out of Vere’s hand and smashed to a hundred pieces. Vere’s face went from a dull white to the color of ashes.

“He never knew that!”

“Rodric told him. Your father discovered the contraband hidden in the Thirty-Acre
barn
—”

“I know that, but he suspected Rodric! He never suspected me! He thought it was another of Rodric’s escapades—he never suspected that his meanness over money had driven me to smuggling to help raise money for my plans.”

“Yes, dear,” said Alice, “he suspected Rodric, but Rodric denied it, why else do you suppose they had such a violent quarrel? In the end your father half-believed him, but not entirely. He shouted out: ‘Neither of you will inherit anything under my new will! I’m finished with both of you!’ he shouts. ‘To hell with you,’ said Rodric, shouting back, ‘alter your will as you lik
e
—I no longer care!’ But of course he didn’t know that your father had already altered the will and made a new one the day before, leaving everything to George. I suppose he’d had his suspicions ever since he discovered the contraband two days earlier in the
barn
.”

“But my God!” cried Vere, his voice trembling. “Why didn’t you tell me before that you knew this?”

“I didn’t want to worry you, dear. I saw no point in worrying you. And the less it was talked of the better. I didn’t want anyone getting ideas and suspecting you of Lord knows what terrible things when it’s quite plain Rodric was guilty.”

“You really believe he was guilty?”

“He must have been, dear. He had the cause and he was there with your father in the library and both of them in towering rages.”

“I suppose so. Lord knows I had no love for Rodric, but I hardly thought he’d be fool enough to kill the source of all his income.”

“He didn’t know your father had already altered his will to leave everything to George. He thought he would inherit money.”

“True
...
But supposing George knew the will had been changed in his favor? He was the only one of us who really benefited from Papa’s death.”

“You benefited too, dear. If he had lived he would have told the Watch at Rye that you were in league with the Frenchies.”

“But my God—”

“Let it be, dear. Do as I say and let it be. Whatever happened in the past doesn’t alter the present situation—it doesn’t change the fact that we live here on George’s charity only and if we offend George we’ll find ourselves with no roof over our heads.”

“Oh Alice, Alice
...
’’He turned to her in despair and I saw her broad arms gather him to her as if he were a little child and stroke his hair as he buried his face against her breast.

“There, there, dear,” she said, much as she had spoken to her own children in the nursery that day. “There, there, my love
...”

“I feel so helpless, so inadequate.”

“Hush, don’t say such things
...”

They were silent, he clinging to her, she still clasping him in the comfort of her embrace, but presently he lifted his face to hers and kissed her on the lips. The atmosphere changed; there was passion in their embrace now, and such fervor in their gestures as I had never seen before between husband and wife. I glanced away, feeling that I was trespassing, and at the same time I was conscious of desolation as I saw the emptiness of my own marriage in a sickening moment of revelation. I was just wishing with all my heart that I could escape when Vere said suddenly: “I can’t bear the insecurity of my position! What’s to happen to our children? Even if we stay here, you nothing but an unpaid housekeeper and I nothing but a mere bailiff, there’s no future for the children. George’s children will inherit Haraldsdyke.”

“If George has children,” said Alice. “If he doesn’t, our children will inherit.”

“Why shouldn’t George have children? He’s fit and vigorous and the girl is young and healthy. She may already be pregnant, for all we know.”

“I think not,” said Alice. “Not at present.”

“She will be before long.” He buried his face in his hands again. “I don’t know what to do,” he said, his voice muffled, and then he raised his head in anger. “Why did George have to take up his inheritance? He had money in Vienna—and property too! What interest has he ever shown in Haraldsdyke? If he hadn’t troubled to fulfill the conditions of the will by marrying an English girl within the year, the estate would have passed straight to Stephen, and I would have been trustee in my son’s name till he came of age.”

“It’s no use saying that now, dear, not now that George has successfully claimed his inheritance and fulfilled the conditions of the will.”

“And if the girl gets pregnant, it’s the end of all our hopes! The devil take George Brandson! I wish—”

“Don’t despair so, dear! You despair so easily. Why, a multitude of things may happen yet. Even if she does get pregnant, the child may be sickly and die. Or she may have a miscarriage. Or she may be barren. Or she may herself die.”

A chill seemed to strike through that warm room. My blood seemed to run to ice and my mouth was dry.

“You’re always so calm,” Vere was saying, and to me at that moment it seemed as if he were speaking from a long way away, “so sensible
...
I don’t know what I would ever do without you, Alice. Truthfully, I don’t know what I would ever do if I didn’t have you beside me at times such as these
...
”

They kissed. There was silence for a while. I glanced out of the window and saw my reflection in the glass pane, my eyes wide and dark in my white face.

“Come upstairs, my love,” said Alice. “Come to bed. Don’t sit here any more.”

He rose obediently. The light caught his face and made him look haggard and drawn, and then he turned aside into the shadows and I could only see the gleam of his bright hair as he walked with Alice to the door.

They were gone; I was alone at last.

I was so stiff with tension, so unnerved by all I had overheard that I had to sit down and drink some of the wine from the decanter. Even after that
I had difficulty in controlling my trembling limbs. However, finally I felt sufficiently recovered to return upstairs, and moving cautiously I stole outside and across the hall to the staircase.

The corridor above was in darkness and I stumbled unsteadily towards our rooms. When I reached the door of our sitting room at last I was so relieved I nearly fell across the threshold, but as I opened the door, I froze immediately in my tracks. For Ester was with Axel before the fireplace and it was obvious even to me in my confused state that she was very angry.

“
...
chit of a girl,” Esther was saying as I opened the door and halted abruptly on the threshold.

They both swung around to face me.

We all looked at one another in silence. Then:

“So there you are, my dear,” said Axel, moving towards me. “I was wondering what had happened to you.
“
And he drew me across the threshold and kissed me lightly on the forehead.

Over his shoulder I saw Esther bite her lip. “I must go,” she said sharply. “Pray excuse me. Goodnight to you both.”

“Goodnight, Esther,” Axel said courteously and held the door open for her.

I said goodnight faintly as she swept past us out into the corridor without another word.

Axel closed the door again and we were alone together.

“Are you all right?” he said at once, and no doubt he was wondering why I had chosen to go wandering about the house in a robe with my hair trailing loose upon my shoulders. “You look a little pale.”

“I—couldn’t sleep.” I went past him into the bedroom. “In the end I went downstairs for a glass of wine in the hope that it would make me sleepy.”

“Did you find the wine?”

“There was a decanter in the dining room.”

“Ah yes, of course, so there is. There’s also a decanter kept in the saloon in case you should ever need it. The saloon is nearer than the dining room.” He followed me into the bedroom. “I’m glad you arrived back when you did. I was having a rather difficult time with Esther.”

I could not look at him for fear I might betray my knowledge of his past relationship with her. Taking off my robe and laying it aside, I slipped into bed once more and closed my eyes.

“What did she want?” I managed to say.

“She seemed to have some idea that she was no longer wanted here and would prefer to take a house in Rye. Naturally I had to assure her that she was mistaken.”

I knew instinctively that he was lying. I thought I knew all too well why Esther had chosen to come to his apartments to talk to him and why she had left immediately I had arrived on the scene. If she was angry, it was not because she felt she was now unwanted at Haraldsdyke; she was angry because she felt she was now unwanted in his bedroom. Only a fool would have chosen such a time to fan the flames of an old love affair, and certainly whatever else he might be, Axel was no fool.

“I think she’s bored with country life,” he was saying. “Vere has entertained very little during the past year, and Esther lived for her dinner parties and social occasions. To be honest, I think she wishes to take a house in Rye less because she feels unwanted here than because she is anxious to escape from this way of life now that she’s free to do so.”

“Why should she feel unwanted here?” I watched him through my lashes. He was undressing slowly, examining the fine linen of his shirt for any soiled marks.

“She was the mistress here for more than twenty-five years. Some women under such circumstances are reluctant to give way to a younger woman.”

It was a clever excuse. It explained Esther’s anger and her withdrawal as soon as I appeared.

“But why did she come to our apartments? She knew I had retired to bed.”

“I had found you weren’t in bed and as I went to the landing to look for you she came out of the drawing room and I asked her where you were. She said she had something to discuss with me in private and I suggested she come here.” He took off his shirt and went into his adjoining dressing room.

I lay very still, my eyes half-closed, my limbs slowly becoming tense and aching again. I was appalled how smoothly he could invent plausible lies.

At length he came out of the dressing room, snuffed the candles and slid into bed beside me. His limbs brushed mine.

“How cold you are,” he said, drawing me closer to the warmth of his body. “I hope you haven’t caught a chill.”

“No
...
” I longed to press myself even closer to him and feel secure, but I was only conscious of nervousness and panic. “Axel—”

“Yes,” he said. “Your state of health is delicate just now. I remember.”

He did not sound altogether pleased. I sensed rather than felt his withdrawal from me.