Fragile Mask (34 page)

‘
Ossie is in the right of it,’ said Denzell. ‘You can be
certain of nothing at this present.’

Verena gazed at him in dumb wretchedness for a
moment. Then, in a helpless, pathetic sort of way, she said, ‘What
shall I do? I don’t know what to
do
.’

Unice got up and came over to her. ‘Poor Verena. You need
do nothing, I am sure. Osmond and Denzell will take over this
investigation. You will stay here with me.’

But Denzell was frowning in thought. ‘Wait a moment!
Verena, has your mama taken all her things?’

Verena gazed at him. ‘I—don’t know.’

‘
You said she left the house in her bonnet and cloak, but
carrying nothing else.’

‘
It did not occur to me to look.’

Denzell smiled. ‘You jumped to a very natural conclusion,
but perhaps there is some simpler explanation.’

Her hands went up to her temples again. ‘What other
explanation could there be?’

‘
I don’t know that,’ he admitted, ‘and to tell the truth my
head is none too clear just now. But it does occur to me that if
she had intended to go home, she must have taken her clothes. And
in all conscience, do you believe that your Mama would use you in
such a way after all you have done for her?’

Verena blinked at him. That aspect had not even crossed her
mind. Something came back to her. Had not Mama said that she would
not leave without letting Verena know of it? Yes, she had. Was she
allowing her own dread fears to overcome her common sense? She no
longer knew. She looked from one enquiring face to another, and
came back to Denzell’s concerned features.

‘
You make me seem foolish.’

‘
Not in the least,’ he said. ‘You have every reason to be
troubled by this matter, and it is no surprise to me that you
should have allowed yourself to become panic-stricken at such an
unprecedented absence.’

Verena sighed. ‘Well—thank you for that. But now…I don’t
know what to think any more.’

Unice had reseated herself, but she leaned forward.
‘Verena, do you indeed think—should it be the case that your mama
has gone back—do you indeed think your stepfather will misuse her
again? Will not your brother prevent it?’

‘
He would if he were by,’ Verena answered, her face clouding
over again. ‘But you see, he is unlikely to be present on these
occasions. Besides—’ twisting her fingers in her lap and looking
down ‘—we have been neither of us in the habit of
interfering.’

The bitter inflection twisted Denzell’s heart, and he
reached out to cover her unquiet hands. It was Osmond who answered
her, indignant.

‘
Dash it, you were only children! How could you
interfere?’

A trifle shamefaced, Verena glanced up at him. ‘It was not
childhood that prevented it, Osmond. It was fear.’

‘
I knew it!’ Denzell uttered, gripping her hands. ‘He had
hurt you, too, hadn’t he?’

Verena’s eyes came round to his face. ‘On the one occasion.
I should have been warned, for Adam had attempted it now and then
and suffered Nathaniel’s vengeance.’

Denzell’s blood was up at the very thought of what she
might say. Yet he persisted, for he felt her need to relate the
tale, to relieve her heart.

‘
What happened to you?’

Her fingers tightened in his grasp. ‘I think I was about
twelve. I could not endure it all at once, and I ran into the room
and tried to stop him. I remember I hit at his chest. Mama shrieked
at me to stop, but Nathaniel snatched up his whip—he had but a few
moments before come in from riding and thrown it down on the
bed—’

‘
Don’t tell me he used his whip on you?’ uttered Unice,
aghast.

Verena nodded. ‘But I received only two or three blows, I
think. For Mama threw me down and lay on top of me and—and took the
blows herself.’

Her voice shook, and her eyes pricked at the memory. The
others were silent, but the movement of Denzell’s fingers on hers
eloquently spoke his feelings. Her glance, as she looked at him,
was luminous with unshed tears, pleading for understanding in a
matter for which she had suffered years of pointless
guilt.

‘
Mama made me promise—afterwards—that I would never do so
again. She said she had rather suffer ten times the torture than
see me hurt.’

‘
Which is why you are willing to sacrifice your own life on
her behalf,’ Denzell guessed.

‘
More than that.’ She gritted her teeth. ‘I would
have taken
his
life, if I could.’

‘
Surely not!’ protested Unice.

‘
Pooh!’ scoffed Osmond. ‘You delude yourself.’

‘
No, she does not,’ Denzell cut in. He remembered her words
of the previous day, that she had wished to scar his wicked ‘love’
upon Nathaniel’s person, and he knew she was speaking nothing but
the truth. He picked up her hand and held it between both his own,
asking, ‘Did you try?’

Verena nodded, and the hatred gleamed in her eyes. ‘Once. I
took his pistol. I loaded and primed it—Adam had taught me how. I
did it with the utmost deliberation, and then hid it under my
pillow. In the night, I went into his room and held the pistol to
his head where he was sleeping.’

‘
And?’ Denzell prompted.

‘
I cocked it.’ She let out a short, despairing sigh. ‘But I
had not the courage to pull the trigger.’

Denzell lifted her hand and held it to his cheek a moment.
‘You are a woman of infinite courage, and I love you
deeply.’

Her eyes filled, and Denzell leaned towards her. But before
he could speak, there was another flurry of activity at the rear
door to the house. This time Mayberry was pipped at the post and
Betsey lumbered out onto the lawn.

Verena saw her, and rose, Denzell beside her. ‘Betsey, what
news?’

‘
You’re to come home, Miss Verena,’ announced the maid
tersely. ’The mistress is there, and—’

‘
Mama is at home? Oh, thank heaven!’

Verena sank in relief, falling against Denzell as of
instinct. He caught her, steadying her with one arm about her
shoulders. But his attention was back on the maid.

‘
She had not gone away then?’ he asked.

‘
No, sir. She’s all in pother, howsomever, and I’m to take
Miss Verena back straight.’

‘
But where had she gone?’ demanded Verena, recovering again
and taking in the suppressed air of excitement that hung about her
trusty maidservant.

‘
What’s to do, Betsey?’

Betsey threw her eyes to heaven. ‘Oh, deary me. I was told
off to keep my mouth shut, but I’m danged if I can, Miss Verena.
The mistress has a gentleman with her.’

Both Ruishtons cried out at this, and Denzell frowned as
Verena’s countenance blanched.

‘
Not Peverill?’ he rapped out.

‘
Not he,’ said Betsey, on a note of scorn. ‘Two of ’em,
there are, in fact.’

‘
But who is it, Betsey?’ Verena demanded, catching a little
of the maid’s mood. ‘For the love of heaven, tell me!’

‘
Come, Miss Betsey,’ added Denzell, ‘has she not borne
enough suspense already this day?’

Betsey looked her young mistress up and down, and made up
her mind. She nodded in a determined way.

‘
That’s right enough, sir. Well then, my dove, I’d not add
to your troubles, but you’d best brace yourself.’

Unable to stand any more,
Verena seized her wrist.

‘
Who, Betsey? Who is it?’

‘
The mistress says as how it’s him as was papa to your own
father, Miss Verena. It’s your grandfather Chaceley.’

***

The two visitors seemed to dwarf the little parlour. As of
right, old Mr Chaceley occupied the prominent position before the
fireplace, his stiff figure, immaculately suited in plum-coloured
cloth, fronting his granddaughter in an attitude of defiant pride
that was mirrored in Verena’s own pose.

To one side, a kindlier look in the features that ran
appraisingly over his niece, stood Bevis Chaceley, discreet in a
dark blue frock-coat and buff breeches. He was taller than his
sire, larger in every aspect, but the dominating charisma of the
old man cast the son into the shade.

A somewhat flustered Mrs Peverill had performed the
introductions, seizing on Verena the instant she entered the room,
Denzell hard on her heels, and drawing her forward.

‘
My daughter, Verena. She has a great look of Lambert, don’t
you find? My love, this is your grandfather.’

Verena stood mute, staring at the old man, taking in the
prideful arrogance that emanated from his very posture, and the
hard eyes that raked her from her head to her heels.

‘
Make your curtsy, Verena,’ hissed Mrs Peverill.

But Verena barely heard her. So this was the man who had
cast off his son for marrying Mama. Oh, she could readily believe
it. A surge of resentment flooded her breast, and flashed in her
eyes.

Old man Chaceley’s brows rose. ‘Looking daggers, eh? Don’t
think I’ll answer to a chit of a girl for my actions, for I
won’t.’

Old habits died hard. Suddenly aware of her own reaction,
Verena donned her mask. She dropped a curtsy, demurely lowering her
eyes.

‘
How do you do, sir?’ she murmured.

Her grandfather looked somewhat taken aback, and Denzell,
an interested observer, was obliged to suppress a grin. Chaceley
had a deal to learn of his granddaughter.

Bevis Chaceley stepped into the breach, coming forward and
holding out a hand, reassurance and kindness in both smile and
voice.

‘
We are delighted to meet you at last, my dear child. I am
your uncle Bevis, and I am bound to agree that your mother is in
the right of it. You are very like my poor young brother, as I
remember him.’ He had covered the hand she gave him with both his
own, and he pressed it. ‘He must have been more or less your own
age, you know, when I saw him last. I can vouch for it he would
have been enchanted with you.’

Verena softened, smiling in genuine gratitude. ‘You are
very kind, sir, and I thank you.’

Bevis shook his head, releasing her hand. ‘No, no, no, my
dear child. If you must thank anyone, let it be young Denzell
here.’

‘
Denzell!’ exclaimed Verena, turning to look at him as Bevis
Chaceley moved to shake hands with him.

‘
Glad to see you, my boy,’ said the elder man, smiling. ‘And
we thank you for bringing the matter to our attention.’

‘
I am only glad it has resulted in your presence here, sir,’
Denzell said, ‘although that was scarcely my intention at the
time.’

‘
But I don’t understand,’ Verena said.

‘
You see, dearest,’ explained Mrs Peverill, coming up to her
daughter and putting an arm about her waist, ‘it seems that Mr
Hawkeridge mentioned our presence here, and your uncle, believing
that perhaps you might be related—’

‘
Stuff and nonsense!’ broke in the old man. ‘No perhaps
about it. Knew it at once, the instant the boy mentioned your name,
ma’am.’ He addressed himself to Verena. ‘Think I haven’t been aware
all these years of your situation, girl?’

Verena released herself from her mother’s grasp and turned
back to him. She could not control the rough hostility in her
voice, for the speed and turn of events had ripped her erstwhile
mastery to shreds.

‘
How should I know, sir? I have certainly been unaware of
yours!’

‘
Don’t be pert with me, girl!’

Verena faced him, her figure as stiffly erect as his own.
‘By what right, sir, do you censure my conduct? You did not choose
to own me these many years, yet you expect to assume all those
rights of obedience you have abrogated.’

‘
Verena!’ gasped her mother.

‘
I expect common courtesy, young lady, if nothing else,’
snapped the old man, his eyes narrowed and glaring.

That pulled Verena up. She could not abate one jot of the
pent-up emotion within her, but she bit down on another retort, and
tried for a milder note, which only partially succeeded.

‘
Every stranger has a right to that, sir.’

Mrs Peverill seized her arm, uttering almost tearfully,
‘Verena, that is not at all a proper way to speak to your
grandfather. Pray beg his pardon, do!’

There did not look to be very much expectation
of
Verena
doing any such thing, Denzell decided. He waited,
almost breathlessly, for the outcome. If he’d had any doubts about
Verena’s identity, this encounter must have laid them all to rest.
She was all too plainly old man Chaceley’s
granddaughter.

He was glad he had insisted on accompanying Verena back to
the lodgings, although it had not been entirely for her sake. If
the Chaceleys were indeed in Tunbridge Wells—assuming they were the
Chaceleys he knew so well—there could be no doubt those casual
words of his to Bevis had been instrumental in bringing them
here.