Envious Casca (18 page)

You must have a cup of coffee and a sandwich!" he said. "Do let me persuade you!"

"Well, if you insist! But this is spoiling me, you know!"

Paula, seeing no other way of escape, said that she would give the necessary order, and vanished, leaving Mathilda to cope with a situation that appalled her. oseph trotted upstairs in search of Maud, and Mrs. Dean disposed herself in a chair by the fire, and began to peel off her gloves.

Mathilda, who had had time to observe the lady, had not missed the calculating light in the prominent blue eyes, and now noticed with malicious amusement the quick, appraising glance Mrs. Dean cast about her, at her surroundings.

"Mummy, I simply won't be bullied by that ghastly policeman any more!" said Valerie.

"No one will bully you while Mummy is here to protect you, my pet," responded her parent. "But, childie dear, you must run up, and change out of that frock!"

"Oh, hell, Mummy, why?"

"Hush, dear! You know Mummy doesn't like her girlies to use that sort of language! You shouldn't have put on the priMr.ose today: it isn't suitable."

"I know, but I haven't got anything black, and anyway no one else is bothering."

"No, dear, Mummy knows you haven't anything black, but you have your navy. Now, don't argue with Mummy, but run off and change!"

Valerie said that it was a foul nuisance, and the navy suit made her look a hag, but Mathilda was interested to see that she did in fact obey Mrs. Dean's command. She began to suspect that that lady's smile and sugared sweetness masked a will of iron, and looked at her with misgiving.

Mrs. Dean, having smoothed out her gloves, now extricated herself from her fur coat, revealing a figure so tightly corseted about the hips and waist, so enormous above as to appear slightly grotesque. As though to add to the startling effect of this method of dealing with a superabundance of fat, she wore a closely fitting and extremely short skirt. Above the confines of the hidden satin and whalebone, her bust thrust forward like a platform. A short neck supported a head crowned with an elaborate coiffure of rolled curls. Large pearl studs were screwed into the lobes of her ears; and the hat that perched at a daring angle over one eye was very smart, and far too tiny for a woman of her bulk. She was quite as lavishly made-up as her daughter, but could never, Mathilda decided, have been as pretty as Valerie.

Mrs. Dean, having taken covert stock of Mathilda, said: "Such terrible weather, isn't it? Though I suppose one mustn't complain."

"No," agreed Mathilda, offering her a cigarette. "The weather is about the only seasonable feature confronting us. Will you smoke?"

"I wonder if you will think me very rude if I have one of my own? I always smoke my own brand. One gets into the habit of it, doesn't one?"

"Indeed, yes," said Mathilda, watching her extract an enamelled case from her handbag, and take from it a fat Egyptian cigarette with a gold tip.

"I expect," said Mrs. Dean, "you are all quite disorganised, and no wonder! On Christmas Eve, too! Tell me all about it! You know that Val was only able to give me the barest details."

Luckily for Mathilda, who did not feel equal to obeying this behest, Joseph came down the stairs again ust then, saying that Maud was dressing for church, and would be with them in a few minutes. Mathilda said that she too must get ready for church, and made good her escape. As she rounded the bend in the stairs, she heard Mrs. Dean say in confiding accents: "And now, dear Mr. Herriard, tell me just what happened!"

Chapter Ten

By the time that Maud, dressed in her outdoor clothes, had come downstairs into the hall, Mrs. Dean had drawn from Joseph an account of Nathaniel's murder, and was looking considerably startled. It was plain that she had not, from Valerie's agitated telephone communication, grasped to what an extent Stephen might be implicated in the crime. She heard Joseph out with the proper expression of horror and sympathy on her face, but behind the conventionality of her speech and bearing a very busy brain was working fast.

"I'm prepared to go to the stake on my conviction that Stephen had nothing whatsoever to do with it!" Joseph told her.

"Of course not," she said mechanically. "What an idea! Still, it's all very dreadful. Really, I had no suspicion! We must just wait and see, mustn't we?"

At this moment Maud appeared from above, descending the stairs in her unhurried way. No greater contrast to Mrs. Dean's somewhat flamboyant smartness could have been found than in Maud's plump, neat figure. She might, in the days of her youth, have adorned the second row of the chorus, but in her sedate middle-age she presented the appearance of a Victorian lady of strict upbringing. There was nothing skittish either in the style or the angle of the high-crowned hat she wore on her head. She carried a Prayer-book in one hand, and an umbrella in the other; and on her feet were a pair of serviceable black walking-shoes, with laces. Mrs. Dean, running experienced eyes over her correctly deduced that the frumpish fur coat, which made her look shorter and fatter than ever, was made of rabbit, dyed to resemble musquash.

"Ah!" cried Joseph, jumping up. "Here is my wife! Maud, this is dear little Valerie's mother!"

Maud tucked her umbrella under one arm, and extended a nerveless hand. "How-do-you-do?" she said, politely unenthusiastic. "I am just on my way to church, but Joseph will see to everything."

Joseph, Mathilda, and Paula had all assumed, on Mrs. Dean's arrival, that Maud would abandon her expedition to church, but Maud, although she listened to their representations, had no such intention. To oseph's plea that she should bear in mind her duties as hostess, she replied that she did not consider herself to be a hostess.

"But, my dear!" expostulated Joseph. "In your position you are the only married lady here, besides its being your home -"

"I have never thought of Lexham as home, Joseph," said Maud matter-of-factly.

Joseph had given it up. Mathilda put the affair on another basis by saying that Maud, as doyenne, could not leave the rest of the party to cope with Mrs. Dean.

Maud said that she did not know what a doyenne was, but she had always made a point of non-interference at Lexham.

"Darling Maud, this isn't a case of interference! Who's going to look after the woman? Show her to her room, and all that sort of thing?"

"I expect Joseph will manage very well," said Maud placidly. "It occurred to me last night that I might have left my book in the morning-room, but when I looked today it wasn't there. So tiresome!"

Mathilda too had given it up, and since, like Maud, she did not consider herself a hostess, she did not volunteer to deputise in the part.

So here was Maud, dressed for church, allowing Mrs. Dean to clasp her unresponsive hand, and saying: "You see, I always go to church on Christmas Day."

"You mustn't dream of letting me upset any of your plans! That I couldn't bear!" said Mrs. Dean.

"Oh no!" replied Maud, taking this for granted.

"I ought to apologise for thrusting myself upon you at such a time," pursued Mrs. Dean. "But I know that you will understand a mother's feelings, dear Mrs. Herriard."

"I haven't any children," Maud said. "I am sure no one minds your being here in the least. It is such a large house: there is always room."

"Ah!" said Mrs. Dean, struggling against the odds. "The joy of always having a room for a friend! How I envy you, living in such a beautiful place!"

"I believe thee house is generally very much admired," said Maud. "I do not care for old houses myself."

There did not seem to be anything to say to this, so Mrs. Dean tried a new form of attack. Lowering her voice, she said: "You must let me tell you how very, very deeply I feel for you in your tragic loss."

The defences remained intact. "It has all been very shocking," said Maud, "but I never cared for my brother in-law, so I do not feel much sense of loss."

Joseph fidgeted uncomfortably, and darted an anguished look of appeal at Mathilda, who had by this time joined Maud. But it was Sturry, entering the hall from the back of the house, who came to the rescue. "The car, madam, is At the Door," he announced.

"Oh!" cried Mrs. Dean. "I wonder what has happened to my car? There is just a suitcase in it, and my hat-box, and dressing-case. Could someone bring them in, do you think?"

"The chauffeur, madam," replied Sturry, contemptuous of overdressed women who expected to see their luggage carried in at the front-door, "drove round to the Back Entrance. Walter has taken up the luggage to the Blue Room, sir," he added, addressing this last remark to Joseph.

Sturry's grand manner, followed so hard upon Maud's damping calm, quite cowed Mrs. Dean. She said Thank you, in a meek voice.

Sturry then moved with a measured tread to the front door, which he opened for Maud and Mathilda, and Joseph unwisely asked him if he had seen Mr. Stephen anywhere.

"Mr. Stephen, sir," said Sturry, in an expressionless voice, "is Knocking the Balls About in the billiardroom."

"Oh tut, tut, tut!" said Joseph involuntarily, and with an apologetic glance towards Mrs. Dean. "These young people are so - so thoughtless! He doesn't mean any harm, you know. He just doesn't always think!"

"Oh, I never mind a little unconventionality!" declared Mrs. Dean, with a wide smile. "I know what an odd, wayward creature Stephen is. Let's go and rout him out, shall we?"

Joseph looked a little dubious, but presumably he thought that Stephen must be accustomed to his future mother-in-law's breezy tactics, for he made no demur, but led the way to the billiard-room.

The Christmas tree, still decked with tinsel, at once caught Mrs. Dean's eye, and she exclaimed at it admiringly before sailing forward to greet Stephen. "My dear boy!" she uttered. "I came as soon as I could!"

Stephen, who was practising nursery-cannons in his shirtsleeves, carefully inspected the disposition of the balls before replying. Having assured himself that they were still lying well, he straightened his back, and said: "So I see. How-do-you-do?"

"Oh, I am perfectly well!" she said. "But you, my poor boy! What you must be going through! Don't think I don't understand!"

"Yes, it has been a greater shock to Stephen than he perhaps realises," agreed Joseph. "But billiards on this day, old fellow? Do you think you should? It isn't that I mind, but you don't want to give people a wrong impression, do you?"

Beyond casting an exasperated glance in Joseph's direction, Stephen took no notice of this. He asked Mrs. Dean if she had seen Valerie.

"My poor girlie! Yes, she ran straight into my arms when I arrived. This has been a dreadful shock to her. You know what a sensitive little puss she is, Stevie! We must do our best to spare her any more unpleasantness."

"That oughtn't to be difficult," he replied. "The police aren't likely to suspect her of having killed my uncle."

Mrs. Dean gave a shudder. "Don't! The very thought of it - ! I must say, Stephen, that if I had had any idea what was going to happen I should never, never, have allowed her to come here!"

"If," said Stephen, with an edge to his voice, "you mean to convey by that air of reproach a suggestion that I ought to have warned you, I must point out to you that my uncle's murder was not one of the planned entertainments for the party!"

"Naughty boy!" Mrs. Dean scolded, giving his hand a playful slap. "If I didn't know that wicked tongue of yours, I should be very cross with you! But I understand. I've always said that you're one of those shy people who hide their real feelings under a sort of bravado. Aren't I right, Mr. Herriard?"

"Quite right!" Joseph said, trying to slip a friendly hand in Stephen's arm, and being frustrated. "Stephen loves to try to shock us all, only his old uncle won't be shocked!"

"Ah, that's the way with so many of the young people today," said Mrs. Dean, shaking her head.

"Let me point out to you that there is no fire in this room, and that you could both discuss me in greater comfort elsewhere!" snapped Stephen.

Mrs. Dean's eyes might acquire a steely look, but her smile remained. She said: "You conceited boy, to think I should waste my time discussing you! I have much more important things to do! Indeed, I must unpack the few bits and pieces I brought with me, and just tidy myself a little after the journey."

Joseph at once offered to escort her to her room, and led her away before Stephen could say something even more outrageous. In the hall, Valerie, now clad in the navy-blue suit which her mother thought more proper to the occasion than priMr.ose-yellow, was flirting mildly with Roydon. As Roydon's mind was preoccupied with the possible consequences of Nathaniel's murder, the flirtation was a desultory affair, but the sight of her daughter, tete-a-tete with a young man whom one glance assured her was ineligible, made Mrs. Dean intervene at once. She said that she wanted her girlie to come up and help her to unpack.

"Oh, Mummy, why on earth?" said Valerie petulantly. "The housemaid will do all that."

"No, my pet; you know Mummy never likes the servants to meddle with her things," said Mrs. Dean. "Come along!"

"Oh, all right!" said Valerie sulkily. "See you later, Willoughby!"

Once in the seclusion of the Blue Room, which was a spacious if somewhat sombre apartment over the library, Mrs. Dean wasted no time in beating about the bush, but asked abruptly: "Who is that young man, Val?"

"Willoughby? He's a playwright. He's written the most marvellous play called Wormwood. He read it to us yesterday."

"I've never heard of him," said Mrs. Dean.

"Well, he hasn't actually had anything put on yet, but he's frightfully brilliant, and I expect Wormwood will run for simply years!"

"I'm sure I hope it may," responded Mrs. Dean. "But you know you can't afford to waste your time on penniless young writers, my pet, and I didn't quite like to see you being so friendly with him."

"Oh, Mummy, what absolute rot! As though I couldn't be friends with other men just because I'm engaged!"

"You must let Mother know best, my pet. You don't want to make Stephen jealous, now, do you?"

"I don't care," said Valerie sullenly. "Besides, I don't believe he would be. He simply pays no attention to me. The only person he's more or less decent to is that sickening Clare-woman. And she isn't even moderately good-looking, Mummy!"

"Is she the one who went off to church with Mrs. Herriard? Such manners! I wonder what Mrs. Herriard was before she was married? I'm sure my little girl has nothing to fear from anyone as plain as Miss Clare. You mustn't be silly, childie. I can see it's high time Mother came to keep an eye on you. I've no doubt you've been getting on the wrong side of Stephen. He isn't the sort you can play tricks with."