Dorothy Eden (19 page)

If that were so, Alice thought slowly, then it must have been that the fur coat hadn’t succeeded in keeping Camilla’s mouth shut. Anyone who knew her would realize that it would only be under the greatest stress that she could prevent her artless chatter. She must have talked…

Why was it, she wondered, that suddenly she so completely disbelieved that letter from Sydney?

Her thoughts were interrupted by an old gentleman with snowy hair cut long and the look of an early saint coming into the room.

‘You wished to see me?’ he said in a soft mild voice.

As with Mr. Smale, Alice saw no point in beating about the bush.

‘I wanted your help in connection with a friend I am trying to trace. I understand she came here three or four weeks ago to arrange for her wedding, and since then she has gone away without leaving any trace.’

The old man sat down.

‘And if this is so, how can I help you?’

‘I thought she might have told you something about the man she was going to marry. If I knew who that was it would help tremendously.’

‘I think you must be a friend of the young man who came here two or three days ago. A very impetuous young man with black hair. Indeed, he was so imperative that I fancied he must have had a personal interest in this mysterious young woman himself. But now I see you—perhaps—’

Alice dismissed his romantic wandering. The old man was almost in his dotage; it would seem his weakness might be for young couples about to be married. He no doubt gave them long rambling homilies. But being romantic about Felix and her was wasting his time.

‘Yes, he’s a friend of mine,’ she said shortly. ‘He told me to come and have a talk to you. He knows I am very anxious about Camilla. You see, it wouldn’t be reasonable if she had arranged her marriage in Hokitika to rush away and be married in Australia. Did she go to great lengths in her plans with you?’

‘Oh, very great lengths. She was a very talkative young woman. In fact, I formed the sad conclusion that she was making the mistake of, alas, too many young brides. She was placing all the significance on the pomp of the wedding itself—a pretty but vain show, my dear—and little on the serious side of marriage. Sometimes a girl takes refuge in all the fuss and frippery to hide her nervousness. But I don’t think your friend was the nervous type. She was just going to enjoy a little limelight, perhaps?’

Alice could imagine Felix’s impatience if the old man had talked to him in this strain. She smiled a little, thinking of his angry brow. Thoughts of Felix would always stir her to tenderness, then to that horrible inconsolable pain…

‘Then she had made definite plans for her wedding?’ she suggested.

‘Oh yes, indeed. It was to be held in my church in the first week in February. She hadn’t fixed the exact date and she didn’t wish banns to be called, which is a little irregular. She was going to come back and see me, but I’m afraid she never did. And now you tell me she has gone away. Ah, the impetuous child! I hope she will be happy.’

Alice leaned forward. Getting information from this elderly cleric was like penetrating a soft thick mist.

‘But tell me, did she ever mention the name of the man she was going to marry?’

‘She did, my dear, but there my memory serves me badly. She talked such a great deal. I do remember that she said she would be spending the rest of her life down at the glaciers and that the mountains terrified her—gave her the jim-jams was her exact expression.’ The old man gave his gentle smile. ‘I thought that she must have seriously contemplated the problems of marriage if she were willing to live in an environment that gave her the—er—jim-jams—all the time. Now I seem to remember this name she spoke of. I think it began with a D.’

There it was, the vicious circle. It had begun with the letter D and now it had come round to it again. Of course, Camilla might have intended marrying Dalton—or Dundas—or even Felix, her Dod, and then this exciting stranger had come along and swept her off her feet. There was nothing to prove that this hadn’t happened.

But why those mysterious bribes that were being made now, when Camilla, to all intents and purposes, was thousands of miles away?

Alice resisted the Reverend Mr. Manners’s gentle wistful suggestions that perhaps she would soon be contemplating the state of holy matrimony herself, and came away with the feeling that her head was full of wool.

The only definite sensation that emerged was one of anger with Felix for going away, leaving her to this unsolved problem, throwing her to the wolves. He knew there was much more in it than was apparent on the surface. Perhaps he knew too much… She was suddenly feeling again the limp body of the magpie in her hands, its feathers hard and cold, and remembering Felix’s voice, ‘Tell me what you know, confound you!’ Perhaps Felix had thought it wise to disappear… He had issued his formal invitation to her, and then, relieved that she had not accepted it, had gone.

Alice shivered in the grey street, and longed for Dundas. She could no longer think straight (because if Felix had been the man Camilla had intended to marry he wouldn’t have told her to go and see that parson and listen to Camilla’s flowery plans for a white wedding). She didn’t want to think any more at all. She wanted to listen to Dundas saying, ‘You’re tired out, my sweet. You must let me look after you.’

It didn’t turn out like that at all. When she reached the hotel both Dundas and Margaretta were in the lobby. Margaretta was looking frightened. When she saw Alice she exclaimed in a relieved voice, ‘Oh, there you are at last. You see, Daddy, I told you she would be here any minute.’

‘That’s all right,’ said Dundas curtly. ‘Go up to your room and wait for us. I want to talk to Alice.’

With an uncertain backward glance—she was the awkward overgrown schoolgirl again—Margaretta went. And Alice, looking at Dundas, saw the dark brilliance of the stranger in his eyes again. Suddenly she realized that he was a middle-aged man, and that she was scarcely older than Margaretta and just as bewildered and frightened.

‘Where have you been?’ he asked in his curt voice.

‘Why, what’s wrong, Dundas? I’ve just been for a walk through the town.’

‘Margaretta said you were faint and were coming back here to lie down. How could you be walking about the town if you were faint?’

There were people coming in and out, and because they were not alone Dundas had lowered his voice to an angry hiss. It was like a stranger speaking to her.

‘I thought the fresh air would do me good. Dundas, you sound as if you’re cross-examining me. Why?’

He had the grace to look a little abashed.

‘I don’t like to let you out of my sight. You’re so precious to me. Promise me you won’t go off like that alone again.’

‘But, Dundas, that’s ridiculous! In a small town like this. Really, if you’re going to watch me like that it’s no use at all.’

‘I’m not watching you. It was just that your faintness seemed an excuse.’

‘Well, if you must know, it was. There was someone I had to see.’

Instantly his face was tight again, with a curiously sunken look as if the flesh had been drawn into the deep groove on either side of his mouth.

‘Who?’

‘Tottie’s father. He’s a butcher here. I wanted to see Tottie, really, but she’s left Hokitika.’ The mystery of it was sweeping over her again, and she burst out, ‘Dundas, there’s something awfully queer about the Thorpes. They seem to have bribed Tottie to go away in case she talked. There’s something she knows. What could it be?’

Had Dundas’s face been so tight and wary and strange? Surely she had imagined it, for now he was smiling tolerantly and tucking her hand through his arm.

‘Silly little conscientious girl, so you thought you should find out what it was. Actually the facts are that it’s absolutely none of your business. I admit you ran into something queer when you stayed there. I admit I’ve often thought there was something queer about that household. But leave well alone, my dear. Don’t go sticking your pretty nose into trouble.’

That bland soothing voice was having its usual magnetic effect on her. Had Dundas really been that angry stranger? Always, after one of those moods of his, she had the impression that it had all existed in her own imagination.

‘But Camilla—’ she began.

His brows rose.

‘Surely, darling, you’re not still worrying about Camilla? We know where she is. I’ve had her things sent on.’ He began to look uncertain. ‘Or do you think I’m being a little simple? A little gullible? Do you think the Thorpes—Ah, no, that’s fantastic. Come, we can’t dwell on morbid ideas like that. We’re here to enjoy ourselves. I’ve ordered a little celebration dinner tonight. I’m afraid the wine isn’t very good. You can’t get it at these small hotels. But it’s the best they have. Run along and rest for an hour, and then meet me down here at seven.’

He pressed her arm lovingly, and now it was as she had expected it to be. She was being absorbed in Dundas’s gentle kindness. But she found it all quite unreassuring. She couldn’t think why she had deliberately refrained from telling him about the clergyman and his wandering chatter about Camilla’s white wedding.

It was as she came down to dinner that she saw Mrs. Jobbett. The woman was standing in the doorway of the lounge with her back towards Alice. There was no mistaking her squat strong figure, the arrogant masterful turn of her head. She was neatly dressed in black. She looked full of respectability. She could have been anybody’s mother come to have an innocent evening out. But something about her filled Alice with terror. If Mrs. Jobbett were here the Thorpes must be here, too.

Even as Alice hesitated she turned and her hard black eyes rested on the girl standing uncertainly on the bottom step of the stairs. A fleeting look of surprise crossed her face, then she gave a faint smile and said quite pleasantly, ‘Good evening, Miss Ashton. We didn’t expect to see you here.’

If the Thorpes were here perhaps she could contrive to see Katherine after all—if she had the courage.

‘No, indeed,’ she murmured.

‘You’re on your way home, then?’

‘No. I’m going back to the glaciers again.’ Even now Alice found it necessary to defy this woman.

But Mrs. Jobbett seemed to be in an unusually pleasant mood. She nodded and said sympathetically, ‘I declare I don’t know how you can stand all that rain. Gives you the glooms. I can tell you I’m thankful enough to get away.’

Before Alice could make any answer she stepped past her and walked purposefully up the stairs. Was she alone, or had she, too, a diamond brooch as a bribe to go away? Alice was debating asking the girl at the reception desk if the Thorpes had arrived, when Margaretta and Dundas came down, and it was too late.

Margaretta wore the new dress she had bought. It made her look grown-up at last. She was a tall young lady, not an overgrown child. But her appearance was ruined by the old childish sulky look that had come back to her face. It was as if she had never been happy, carefree and excited.

Alice sighed. Things were difficult enough without having Margaretta’s peculiar brand of contrariness to cope with. She hoped the wine Dundas had promised them would do something to brighten up the girl.

Fortunately Dundas was his affable self again. He ordered a sherry each for them, and then lavishly repeated the order. Margaretta’s cheeks were already flushed when they went in to dinner. When she saw the burgundy that the waiter brought with the roast duckling she gave her father a quick glance of perplexity and nervousness. If she was unaccustomed to wine this was going to have an effect on her, Alice thought, sipping her own burgundy and enjoying the warm relaxed feeling it gave her. If she were losing her private fear that Dalton Thorpe would walk in at any moment, then Margaretta must likewise forget whatever it was that troubled her.

Sure enough it was so, for presently, when Dundas had finished a long affable speech about the success Margaretta would be in her new clothes, Margaretta lifted her eyes, now purely defiant, and said to Alice, ‘When are you going to get your wedding dress?’ Suddenly she giggled. ‘Don’t get it too soon, because if you should decide not to marry Daddy it will only be another relic for him.’

Dundas’s eyes flickered.

‘What are you talking about, Margaretta?’ he asked pleasantly.

Margaretta giggled again.

‘Alice knows.’

‘I’m afraid my daughter isn’t accustomed to burgundy,’ Dundas said to Alice. ‘Can you tell me what she is talking about?’

‘I expect it’s that wedding dress you have upstairs,’ Alice said. This was a subject she had meant to raise, and, like Margaretta, she found that the wine gave her courage. ‘Who was Miss Jennings, darling? You never told me about a Miss Jennings.’

Dundas picked up the burgundy bottle and refilled Alice’s glass.

‘What devious tale has Margaretta been telling you, my sweet? If I remember rightly I never discussed the unfortunate matter with her. She was only a child at the time.’

‘I remember Miss Jennings,’ Margaretta said in her defiant voice. ‘She used to have her hair in tight curls, like a little girl. But she really wasn’t very young, was she, Daddy? I thought she was quite old.’

‘Her age has nothing to do with it,’ said Dundas. He spoke in the controlled voice of someone humouring a child. ‘Actually she was a little older than me. Perhaps that was one of the reasons why we decided the whole thing was a mistake. I don’t remember being particularly conscious that five years or so made a lot of difference, so much as I realized that marriage with her would have been a failure. Fortunately, we both became of one mind on that.’

‘But how did you come to keep her dress?’ Alice asked. Miss Jennings as a person was quite unreal. To Alice she was just a white lace dress going a little discoloured and smelling of mothballs. Even had she been deeply in love with Dundas the thought of so inanimate an object as Miss Jennings would give her no uneasiness.

‘She didn’t tell me where she was going when she left. To be quite frank, she left in rather a state. It was all very upsetting. When I found she had left the dress, naturally I kept it in case she should send for it. But I suppose the whole thing was too painful for her to want to be reminded about it. Anyway, there it is mouldering in the attic. I must have a clearance up there. Really I must. You’ll think you’re marrying a second-hand junk dealer, darling.’