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“Blame me?” Jeremy exclaimed indignantly. “Why the deuce should anybody do that? I had nothing to do with that—”

“Isn’t that what I said?” Meg reminded him. “But the fact remains that Uncle thought they wouldn’t work for him because Sir Hector had told them they weren’t to. Actually, it was because they were quite genuinely too busy—doing your work, Jeremy!”

“I don’t see any parallel—” Jeremy began, and stopped short “You know, the fact of the matter is, you don’t want Heronshaw to be at fault—you’d believe any cock and bull story to exonerate him! ”

“I don’t want him to be blamed for something that isn’t his fault,” Meg insisted obstinately. “That’s all!”

“Is it?” Jeremy retorted grimly. “I’m not so sure of that!”

“No?” Meg challenged, her chin in the air. “Then just tell me what other reason there could be!”

“I will!” Jeremy declared. “I think the fact of the matter is that you’re in love with Heronshaw. I thought so even before you told me all this. But now I’m sure! And it’s no use, Meg. Heronshaw is on the point of announcing his engagement—”

“I know,” Meg told him, her voice very calm though her hands, thrust deep in her coat pockets, were tightly clenched. “To his cousin Fiona, isn’t it?”

To her amazement, every drop of colour drained out of Jeremy’s face.

“Who told you that?” he demanded hoarsely.

“Miss Heronshaw. And I don’t see why it should upset you so since you’ve just told me that it’s true,” Meg said critically. “What made you do that, Jeremy, if you weren’t really sure?”

“Because—” he began, and stopped short. "What else did she say?”

“No,” Meg said dispassionately. “If you want to know that, you must ask Miss Heronshaw. I’m not too sure whether what she said was in confidence or not, but I’m not going to repeat it in case it was. And now, unless you’ve anything
really
important to say, I must be going. Oh, I forgot. Thank you for bringing the car over.” And without waiting for him to reply, she turned her back on him and walked away.

“Here, no, wait a minute, Meg!” he called after her. "You don’t understand—”

"Don’t I?” Meg turned and surveyed him with eyes in which scorn and pity were equally blended. “I think I do. I think that—someone—has hurt you pretty badly and rather than believe that that someone could behave in such a beastly way, you’re trying to convince yourself that Sir Hector is to blame for anything and everything. But in your heart, Jeremy, you know that isn’t true— and you’re just living in a fool’s paradise if you—”

“Be quiet!” Jeremy shouted, his fists clenching and unclenching. “If anybody’s living in a fool’s paradise, it’s you—”

Meg didn’t stop to hear more because she knew that if she did, she would lose her temper completely, which would almost certainly mean that she would say things which she would afterwards regret and which, in any case, wouldn’t do a thing to persuade Jeremy in his present mood that he was being utterly absurd.

In love with Hector, indeed! Why, she’d hardly known him any time at all, and in any case, much of what she did know about him wasn’t exactly to his credit. Oh, he was willing enough to accept responsibility, and when he did he was reliable. But that didn’t alter the fact that he was arrogant and dictatorial. Even Aunt Ellen, for all that she found excuses for him, admitted that he was pigheaded and liked his own way.

And then both Jeremy and Fiona had added their quota of evidence, each in their different ways. Of course, one had to discount some of that as prejudice, but as against that there was her own experience at his hands. She had never really forgotten that stinging slap he had administered—

In love with the man ? Sheer nonsense!

SHEER nonsense it might be that she was in love with Hector, but none the less, Meg couldn’t put what Jeremy had said out of her mind.

What puzzled her most was how on earth he could have got such an idea into his head. Certainly nothing that she had said or in any way indicated for they hadn’t met until now since she had left the hotel. Nor could she for the life of her see how anyone else could have put such an idea into his head. And why should they want to anyhow?

It was at that point that Meg realised she would have to leave the puzzle unsolved, but at least she could—and did—make up her mind that nothing she did or said should give any encouragement to such an idea, least of all to Hector himself.

Fortunately, that wasn’t very difficult. Now that she had her car at Heronshaw House there was no need to call on him for transport to the hospital and one way and another, she contrived to keep out of his way. It wasn’t very difficult, for Hector was undoubtedly a busy man. From odd remarks which Mrs Laidlaw let fall she soon realised that he didn’t employ an agent but did all the supervising of his estate himself. She also learned that the Heronshaw estate was a large one. With the exception of the home farm, there were four or five farms run by tenant farmers, quite a large area of forest land and a much smaller area which was a game preserve. Then there was the rough, outlying land similar to that on which he had caught her trespassing —yes, Hector certainly had enough to keep him busy both out of doors and at his desk.

None the less, despite all this preoccupation, Hector found time to visit the flat occasionally, sometimes for an evening meal, sometimes for no longer than an evening drink. Realising that this was in all probability an established custom Meg realised that it must be accepted, although she felt ill at ease in his presence. For one thing at least she could be thankful. He never attempted to return the hospitality he received by doing any entertaining in his part of the house. That would have been a very real strain, Meg felt.

So, in the main, life settled down into some sort of a routine. Meg wished, though, that she had more to do to fill in time. Uncle Andra’s condition was improving sufficiently—though very slowly—for the time spent visiting him to be increased, but even so, she had time on her hands and the flat was too well run for there to be much that she could do. Besides, the staff were of the old-fashioned sort who were inclined to regard proffered help as an implied slur on their own efficiency. And it would hardly repay all Mrs Laidlaw’s kindness to upset such stalwarts as Agnes and Cook, let alone the daily woman who came in from the village.

But Meg had been used to a busy life and she began to wonder just how long the present situation was going to continue. Mr Messiter held out strong hopes that, given time, Uncle Andra would almost certainly recover from the paralysis to a large extent. He might even make a complete recovery.

“In fact,” he told Aunt Ellen and Meg, “he’s lucky in that this has been what Sir Hector calls a warping shot across the bows. But make no mistake, it’s a warning that mustn’t be ignored. As, of course, Mr Ainslie knows perfectly well, and for that matter admits. But that doesn’t make it any the easier for a man who has lived as full a life as he has to accept that from now on, he’s got to live very quietly. No, it won’t be easy— I know how I’d feel in his shoes. But there it is.”

"Yes, there it is,” Aunt Ellen agreed soberly. She considered for a moment. "You say that my brother admits that you’re right, Mr Messiter. But
does
he accept it?”

“Ah, that’s another question,” Mr Messiter replied. "And one to which we mustn’t expect an answer yet.

You see, until it becomes more clear just how good a recovery Mr Ainslie is going to make he can’t know what his limitations will be, and until he does know that, he can’t come to terms with himself. That he eventually will do that I don’t doubt. He’s too fine a man to shirk such an issue. In the meantime, however, we must consider the more practical aspects of the situation. For instance, have you made any plans for when your brother leaves hospital ?”

“When will that be?” Aunt Ellen asked, and Mr Messiter looked slightly doubtful.

“I can’t say very exactly,” he admitted. “I’d like him to stay here for another two or three weeks, but even after that, I’d like him to be close at hand so that I can keep an eye on him. Is that possible?”

“Yes,” Aunt Ellen said unhesitatingly, and Meg, guessing what was coming, felt her heart sink. “I’ve already had the offer of hospitality for him, should such a situation arise, at Heronshaw House. The only difficulty is—” she shook her head doubtfully, “I’m not too sure that he’d accept such an arrangement. At least, not so long as he feels he owes Sir Hector a grudge.”

“Quite,” Mr Messiter agreed. “Then it would appear, Mrs Farmer, that the time has come for him to be disabused on that point. I know I can rely on you to do that as tactfully as possible and I leave it to you to decide just when the right moment comes.”

Their drive back to Heronshaw House after that interview was an almost silent one. Aunt Ellen was clearly thinking over what Mr Messiter had said with some trepidation, while Meg was considering just what it meant in terms of a far longer stay at Heronshaw House than she had anticipated.

“I’ll have to find something to do,” she said, unconscious that she spoke aloud. Aunt Ellen gave a little start.

"What do you mean, dear?” she asked vaguely, and when Meg explained, she looked dubious. “There will be more to do when your uncle leaves hospital,” she pointed out. “And of all things, I want to make sure that we don’t put too much of a burden on Millicent. She’s done so much already. And so has Hector.”

“Yes, but even so—” Meg said restlessly. “I was wondering if, perhaps, I could do anything at the hospital—there always seemed to be odd jobs I could do when we were in London—”

"Yes, that might be an idea,” Aunt Ellen conceded. “But don’t do anything in the meantime, dear. Not until I’ve had a talk with your uncle, at any rate. Then we’ll know just how things are—and what arrangements we can make if Andra won’t accept this offer, I really don’t know,” she added worriedly. “There doesn’t seem to be anywhere else—”

Which was so true that Meg felt there was nothing more to be said, so she dropped the subject and it was actually Aunt Ellen who returned to it.

“Don’t think that I don’t realise how dull it must be for you to be entirely surrounded by elderly folk—with the exception of Hector, of course. One can’t possibly call him elderly, but then one sees so little of him. Still, Fiona is returning tomorrow, so you’ll have young companionship to help pass the time.”

But this was news which, to Meg’s mind, didn’t in the least offer the possibility of improving the situation. Not even by the utmost stretch of the imagination could she see Fiona and herself enjoying one another’s company, and when, the following day, she returned to Heronshaw House, it was quickly apparent that friendliness towards Mrs Laidlaw’s guests was the last emotion she felt. She was reasonably polite in company, but she seized the first opportunity available to speak her mind to Meg.

Meg was polishing her car when Fiona strolled out to join her and began her attack without waste of time.

“I suppose you think you’re pretty clever, you and your aunt, scrounging free board and lodging here,” she began offensively.

“Actually, neither of us has looked at it that way,” Meg told her without troubling to turn round. “We’ve just been very grateful to Mrs Laidlaw for her kindness, though naturally we’d prefer that Uncle Andra’s illness hadn’t been the occasion for us accepting it”

“Mrs Laidlaw’s kindness!” Fiona repeated ironically. "You don’t imagine she’s doing the paying, do you?”

At that Meg turned so sharply that involuntarily Fiona took a step backwards.

“What do you mean?”

“Just
that when Aunt Millicent’s husband died, he left her without two cents of her own to rub together,” Fiona explained graphically. “If it weren’t that Hector has her living here and makes her an allowance, she’d be on the breadline. It’s Hector’s charity you’re accepting, my dear!”

Aghast, Meg stared at her in silence, and Fiona’s eyes glinted maliciously.

“So you honestly didn’t know that,” she remarked. “And I gather that you don’t like it now you do know. Well, I can’t say I blame you. I wouldn’t like to be beholden to Hector, believe me!”

Meg did her best to rally her forces.

“Accepting Mrs Laidlaw's hospitality is one thing,” she retorted. "She and Aunt Ellen are old friends and Mrs Laidlaw herself told me that in the past Aunt Ellen and Uncle Andra did her a great kindness. But Sir Hector—he’s been practically forced into helping us—”

Fiona laughed with what sounded like genuine amusement.

“Don’t you worry your little head about that,” she advised coolly. “Nobody ever forced Hector into doing something he didn’t want to! On the contrary, my dear, you’ve played right into his hands and he’s got you just where he wants you! Don’t you remember I warned you. Hector isn’t a man who gives anything for nothing. You and your family are deeply in his debt now, and from what I hear, are likely to be even deeper. Well, he’ll want payment for that, my little innocent Oh, not money. Nanny’s cottage, of course!”

“I don’t believe it!” Meg gasped, and again Fiona laughed.

“All right, don’t take my word for it,” she shrugged easily. “Just wait and see!”

And she strolled off, leaving Meg the prey to such conflicting thoughts that her head seemed to spin.

She had , told Fiona that she didn’t believe her—but it
could
be true. Hector did like having his own way, and if he had really persuaded himself that he ought really to be the owner of the cottage, then probably he had also persuaded himself that any means available to bring that about were justifiable, however mean and underhand they might be.

Well—she squared her shoulders resolutely—he was going to find that he wasn’t the only person who had a strong will! Somehow or other she would force him to show his hand. That would be the first step, and according to what he said, she would be able to decide what to do next.

Mechanically she finished polishing the car/ her thoughts tumbling over each other like squirrels in a treadmill. Then, at last, she felt that she knew what she must do. Her job finished, she went indoors and changed into more attractive clothes than the old dungarees she had been wearing. Then she went in search of Hector, knowing that at this time of day he was usually in his office.