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“Naturally,” he replied coolly. “I’m relying on that.”

That ended all attempts at conversation and, the roads being clear at that time in the morning, he was able to put his foot down so that they arrived at Heronshaw House in record time.

It was the first time that Meg had seen the place by daylight and involuntarily she gave a little shiver. Built of the local grey stone, it had a grim look which was increased by its almost fortress-like strength. Just the sort of home one would expect a man like Hector Heronshaw to have, and fleetingly she wondered if it was the house which had helped to form the character of the man or the other way about.

Last night he had stopped outside the big front door of the house and Meg had not realised that actually, it was shaped like the letter “E” with the middle stroke missing. Now, as he passed the main entrance and swung round to the right, she realised that it was a far bigger place than she had thought. Well, all the better —they would be able to avoid one another that much more easily.

He stopped the car in the courtyard which was bounded on three sides by the house and its two wings and where an expensive-looking white sports car was already parked. As he did so, a door opened and Mrs Laidlaw came out. Seen in the morning light Meg was struck by the marked resemblance she bore to her own Aunt Ellen. Not facially, but in her upright carriage and her manner of being fully in command of the situation—and probably, Meg thought, of any other in which she might be concerned.

She took over now from Hector with calm assurance which he seemed to accept as perfectly natural. Indeed. Meg thought, he even seemed relieved to leave things in her hands, for he made no attempt to follow them in through the door by which Mrs Laidlaw had come out.

“This way, my dear," she said, leading the way indoors again. “This used to be the servants’ quarters,” she explained as Meg followed her up a flight of stairs which, though not as imposing as those which led from the great hall, none the less had the same look of solid permanence about them. “Not as impressive as the main part of the house, of course, but rather more homelike on that account, I think. And very comfortable now that central heating has been installed. Now—” she opened a door and ushered Meg in, “I’m sorry I can’t offer you and your aunt separate rooms, but at the moment my young cousin, Fiona Heronshaw, is staying with me and I simply haven’t got the accommodation. But at least this room has its own bathroom.” And she indicated a door to one side of the room.

“Oh, please!” Meg said quickly. "Neither of us will mind in the least.” And found, a little to her surprise, that it was quite easy to thank her hostess with a warmth she had not been able to accord Sir Hector. “It’s very good of you to come to our rescue like this.”

Mrs Laidlaw regarded her with eyes which held a certain curiosity as well as kindness.

“My dear, I’m only too glad to be of use,” she said with unmistakable sincerity. “I’ve been in Ellen’s and Andrew’s debt for many years.” She hesitated and then went on softly: “They were incredibly good to me at the time of my husband’s death.”

“Were they?” Meg said in surprise. “But I don’t remember ever having met you before.”

“You haven’t. You were away at school at the time,” Mrs Laidlaw explained. “And now,” she went on briskly, “I’ll leave you to settle in. The people at the hotel have sent over all your luggage and Agnes, who looks after me, has unpacked for you. I hope you don’t mind?”

“I’m very grateful,” Meg said shakily. She hadn’t given a thought to that particular problem, and the relief which she felt at knowing it had been dealt with for her was so great that it made her realise just how near she was to the end of her tether. She sat down rather suddenly in the nearest chair, not at all sure that she wasn’t going to faint.

Mrs Laidlaw didn’t seem in the least put out. With a calm efficiency which it was impossible to resist, she helped Meg change from the crumpled clothes she had put on the previous evening into a nightgown which was pleasantly warm from having been wrapped round a hotwater bottle. Meg sank thankfully back on the soft pillows, her toes comfortably tucked against that same hotwater bottle.

“That’s better!” Mrs Laidlaw said approvingly. ’“Now, it will be at least four hours before Hector can get back from the airport with your aunt. I promise you faithfully that I’ll wake you up in ample time for you to be ready to greet her, but only on condition that even if you can’t sleep you’ll rest for a while. Promise?”

And what could Meg do but promise? Not that she thought she could possibly sleep, her mind was in too turbulent a state for that. But what a relief it was just to surrender to the comfort which had so thoughtfully been provided for her. Mrs Laidlaw, watching her from the doorway, saw the heavy lids droop and smiled with satisfaction. After all, it hadn’t been as difficult as Hector had warned her it might be!

Meg slept solidly for well over two hours. Then slowly she surfaced to feel a sense of momentary shock at her unfamiliar surroundings. Then memory slowly returned and she lay still, turning the whole situation over in her mind. But principally she remembered what Mrs Laidlaw had said about her indebtedness to Aunt Ellen and Uncle Andra. It certainly made it easier to accept kindness at her hands even if one couldn’t quite forget that Hector Heronshaw was somewhere in the background.

And there was something else as well. As soon as Aunt Ellen arrived Meg knew that though she herself would be no less anxious about Uncle Andra, she would be relieved of the responsibility for making any decisions. And that meant that if cause arose, it would fall to her aunt to do battle with Sir Hector, not herself.

She was still thinking this over with considerable satisfaction when there was a gentle tap at her door and in reply to her summons, a maid came in carrying a
silver tray. She was a woman in, probably, her middle fifties, immaculately neat and erect and carrying herself with a certain dignity. Evidently she felt that she had an assured position in the household and saw no necessity for showing any hint of subservience.

“Good morning, miss,” she greeted Meg pleasantly. “Madam asked me to tell you that if you wish to be ready to greet Mrs Farmer, you should really get up now. That is, of course, unless you’re too tired—”

“No,” Meg assured her, sitting up. “I had just decided that it was time, I think you must be Agnes? Mrs Laidlaw told me that it was you who unpacked for me. I appreciated that.”

It was evidently the right thing to say, for Agnes smiled and plumped the pillows with competent hands. Then, going to the table where she had set the tray down, she made enquiries about Meg’s tastes in milk and sugar and brought the cup over to her.

“Shall I draw your bath for you, miss?” she asked.

“Yes, please,” Meg replied, sipping at the piping hot tea. Having her bath drawn for her was not a luxury to which she was used, but evidently in this household the standards of comfort were high even if, in these servant-less days, somewhat old-fashioned. The brightly polished tray and the delicacy of the china on it told the same story. So did the well polished old furniture that she had been tired to notice before.

And all these things spoke of something else as well. There was a quality of security about everything she had met with in this house. A security which was built up on long establishment and tradition. She didn’t know how she knew that so surely, but she did. There was no doubt about that.

Agnes came out of the bathroom a little later and Meg, regarding her more intently, realised that the maid’s own manner had contributed to her feeling—

“When you’re ready, miss, Madam said would you come to her sitting room. You turn right on leaving this room and it’s the second door along.”

“Yes, I’ll do that,” Meg promised, and as soon as Agnes had gone, she slid out of bed and went to the bathroom. Her eyes widened slightly. She had realised that this was a home where old and beautiful things were valued, but not to the extent that modern comfort wasn’t appreciated too. The bathroom was the last thing in up-to-date furnishing just as her bed had been anything but old-fashioned in its comfort.

Half an hour later, refreshed and trim in a suit and a hand-knitted jumper, she went out into the corridor and, following Agnes’ instructions, had no difficulty in finding Mrs Laidlaw’s sitting room. Like Meg’s bedroom, the furniture was old and beautifully cared for, though again there was the same concession to modem standards. The armchairs were comfortable and well sprung and there was a television set.

“Ah, there you are, my dear!” Mrs Laidlaw welcomed her. “All the better for your little rest, I hope?”

“Very much, thank you,” Meg told her, and sat down at the table, laid for one, which her hostess indicated with a gesture of her hand. Almost immediately Agnes came in bearing a covered plate and a silver toast rack. She set them before Meg, removed the cover to reveal an appetising meal of grilled ham and a perfectly fried egg.

“This looks delicious,” Meg said appreciatively, and the two older women exchanged a look of satisfaction. When the meal was over and cleared away, Mrs Laidlaw remarked that she must go and see Cook.

“It’s a daily routine,” she explained, her eyes twinkling. “In theory, I give her instructions about the meals. In fact, she tells me what we’re going to have and I meekly agree!” She was just on the point of leaving the room when she turned. “If the telephone should ring, do you mind answering it? I wouldn’t bother you, only Agnes isn’t very good on the telephone. Just write down any message, or the number if someone wants to ring me back.”

For perhaps ten minutes nothing happened. Then the telephone bell rang and rather reluctantly Meg answered it.

“My name is Jeavons,” said a man’s voice. “Will you be so good as to take a message for Agnes Prior?”

“Yes, of course.” Meg picked up the pencil which lay beside a small pad. “Ready !”

“Just tell her that her sister isn’t so badly hurt as was at first feared and she’s going on well, will you?”

Meg wrote the message down, read it back and rang off. Then she went in search of Agnes and delivered the message.

“Just what I told Alec would happen,” she commented with satisfaction. “It takes more than a car accident to finish off one of us Priors. Well, thank you very much for taking the message, miss. I’m not too good on the telephone, I must confess. It really put me out last night when Alec phoned me to say what had happened and then asked me to ring up your uncle to explain why he couldn’t keep his appointment at the old Sturt cottage today! Of course, I understood that Alec wanted to get off as quickly as possible and I was glad to be of any use, but I didn’t really feel I made Mr Ainslie understand what had happened—why, miss, whatever’s the matter? You’re as white as a sheet!”

UTTERLY aghast at Agnes’ revelation, Meg stared at her in silent consternation.

Not Hector’s fault at all! Nothing to do with him. Simply a series of events for which no one could be blamed, disastrous though they had been.

“What is it, miss? Can I do anything—?”

With a tremendous effort Meg pulled herself together. From the way in which Agnes spoke it was clear that her concern was entirely due to Meg’s shocked condition, which puzzled her. Not in the least did she realise that she was in any way responsible for it, and instinctively Meg knew that she couldn’t enlighten her.

“It’s all right, Agnes.” Meg forced herself to speak steadily. “Just—I felt a little bit dizzy. I’m all right now.”

“Well, of course, one can’t deny you’ve had a very trying time,” Agnes conceded, briskly sympathetic. “But you don’t want to worry Mrs Farmer when she gets here by looking like a ghost, do you? So just you take it easy for a bit, and try not to worry too much.
That
never helped anyone yet! I’ll get you a cup of black coffee. That’ll help if anything will!”

She hustled Meg back to the sitting room, promising to be back in no time at all, and Meg, left to herself, tried to face up to this new and disconcerting situation.

Her first reaction had been one of sheer exasperation that all the fuss which had so upset Uncle Andra had been totally unnecessary. But hard on the heels of that had come the realisation that she had got to apologise to Hector for having accused him, point blank, of being responsible for Alec Jeavons’ default and so for Uncle Andra’s stroke. What made it all the worse was that Hector had denied her accusation, but even then she had refused to believe him. If only, instead of losing her head, she had let him explain then and there—

But even then, would she have believed him? She was not at all sure that she would, for from his lips the story might well have sounded like an unconvincing and even fabricated excuse to exonerate him from responsibility. Coming from Agnes it was a different matter. Meg thought it probable that she felt a very deep and sincere loyalty towards the Heronshaw family, but she certainly wouldn’t lend herself to lying on their behalf. She had too much self-respect for that, as Hector must of course know. No, though she had admitted that she wasn’t too sure that she had got her brother-in-law’s message over to Uncle Andra, she certainly hadn’t connected that in any way with his stroke. Meg was quite sure of that.

So there was no way out. She owed Hector an apology, and the prospect wasn’t at all pleasant, for he wouldn’t be human if he didn’t see to it that she grovelled pretty thoroughly!

But at least she could defer the humiliation for the time being, and that without needing to accuse herself of cowardice. Shortly after she had finished the cup of coffee which Agnes brought to her, Aunt Ellen arrived. Hector had driven the car round to the courtyard and he carried her luggage up. Then, evidently confirming an arrangement which they had already made, he remarked that he would be back in an hour’s time to take her to the hospital. After that, he prepared to leave the flat having, whether by chance or design, taken no notice of Meg who had, admittedly, taken care to remain in the background. However, just as he reached the door he turned and addressed her directly.