chapter Seven
Alex was up early the following morning. Although most of his guests thought the forthcoming ball was nothing more than a housewarming gesture, there was one person who knew that it had been arranged in order to snare the man who had almost ruined his sister’s life by framing her for a theft she didn’t commit. That person was Miss Eugenie Postlethwaite - or, as she was more usually and correctly known, Mrs Eugenie Dortmeyer.
Alex went down to the library as soon as he was dressed. He had arranged to meet Eugenie at half past seven. As the long-case clock struck the half hour the door opened and Eugenie, looking magnificent in a long tailored skirt and high-necked blouse, entered the room.
‘Eugenie.’ Alex smiled. Taking her hands, he kissed her on the cheek. ‘It was good of you to get out of bed so early. I thought we had better meet at this hour so that we would not be in any danger of being interrupted by any of the other guests.’
Eugenie returned his greeting. ‘I understand.’
‘In fact, it was good of you to come to the house party at all,’ he said, indicating a chair for Eugenie and then, when she had settled, sitting down himself. ‘Especially at such short notice.’
‘To help you catch that rat I’d have come a lot further,’ she said, not mincing her words. ‘And done it at the drop of a hat.’
There was a hint of an American twang in her voice. After growing up in the same neighbourhood as Alex, Eugenie had set out to explore the world. She had fallen in love with, and eventually married, Hyram Dortmeyer, an American magnate, and now spent most of her time in Boston or London. But she had responded to Alex’s plea for help and had been only too happy to join him at the Manor.
She ran her eyes appreciatively round Alex’s study, taking in the splendid book shelves and large mahogany desk before turning to look out of the French windows. ‘You’ve found a beautiful place here,’ she said, as her eyes roved over the sweeping lawns.
‘Yes. It’s perfect.’
‘It’s lucky your Miss Haringay had to sell.’
‘My Miss Haringay?’ He raised his eyebrows. ‘She is not my Miss Haringay.’
‘No?’ Eugenie gave him a knowing look.
He returned her gaze. ‘No.’
‘That’s funny. From the way you were looking at her -’ began Eugenie.
‘And what do you mean by that?’ he interrupted.
She laughed. ‘Why, nothing, Alex . . . except that every time you look at her your eyes smoulder and your hands clench, as though you want to sweep her off her feet and carry her up to the bedroom,’ remarked Eugenie with a mischievous look in her eye.
Alex gave an exasperated sigh. ‘Ever since you’ve married you’ve become incorrigible,’ he said.
‘I have, haven’t I?’ she asked innocently. ‘Marriage does that to a person.’ She twinkled at him. ‘You should try it yourself.’
‘If I thought I’d be as happy as you and Hyram I’d marry tomorrow.’
Eugenie was unperturbed. ‘You would be.’
‘Perhaps. But even if I asked Miss Haringay to marry me tomorrow – which I have no intention of doing - I doubt if she would have me. She regards me as a cross between a Philistine and Attila the Hun.’
‘Really? I haven’t seen that in her face when she looks at you. What I’ve seen is her looking at you as though you’re forbidden fruit: tempting, but dangerous,’ she said. ‘What makes you so sure she doesn’t like you ?’
‘First of all, because I knocked her off her bicycle and then laughed at her when she fell into the duck-pond -’
‘In that case, I’m not surprised,’ said Eugenie.
‘Secondly, because I wouldn’t let the Sunday school hold their picnic here -’
‘That’s not like you,’ said Eugenie, surprised. ‘You’re usually so thoughtful where other people are concerned. Especially children.’
‘Not when I have a lot on my mind,’ Alex admitted. ‘And not when I’m ordered to do it by a busybody who hardly lets me unpack before ordering me about. And thirdly —’
‘Yes?’
‘Thirdly, she doesn’t like businessmen.’
‘A few obstacles have never stopped you getting what you wanted before,’ said Eugenie. ‘Why don’t you make her change her mind?’
‘It’s tempting, I have to admit,’ said Alex, remembering every delicious encounter with Cicely. ‘But marriage involves more than physical attraction, it involves trust and respect, and there was no way I could ever trust someone from her world. Not after what they did to Katie. And now, to business. We are here to catch Goss.’
‘Ah, yes, Goss. I came here to help you catch a thief, not to tease you about Miss Haringay, although I have to admit, I’ve kind of enjoyed it!’ Eugenie looked appreciatively round the room again. ‘The Manor’s the perfect place to catch him.’
Alex stood up and strode over to the fireplace. ‘It is. It’s the perfect setting in which to spring the trap, and it’s near enough to Goss’s own place to make it seem natural for me to invite him. He can just, without too big a stretch of the imagination, be considered to be one of my new neighbours.’
‘And he’s accepted the invitation, you say?’ asked Eugenie.
‘Yes.’ Alex gave a twisted smile. ‘Mr Goss will be delighted to attend.’
‘Then we’ve got him.’ Eugenie spoke with confidence.
‘Not yet,’ said Alex cautiously. ‘There’s still a long way to go before we can say that. But we’re well on the way.’
‘And what about the bait?’
‘I’m picking the necklace up from the jewellers tomorrow. I meant to go yesterday, but — ‘ He hesitated, as he thought of Cicely’s exploding range ‘— something came up. But you’ll have it in time for dinner. That way it will have a chance to excite gossip, and once Goss hears about it he’ll be sure to want to steal it. He’s in low funds at the moment, and he needs something to get him out of the clutches of the moneylenders. The necklace will appear like a dream come true to him.’
Eugenie sighed. ‘It’s just a pity Hyram couldn’t be here,’ she said. ‘He would have loved to see us catch the rat. But it wasn’t a good idea, not after he was at the last house party where Goss stole something. If Goss saw him he might decide it was too risky to steal something else in case Hyram put two and two together. And that’s why I wanted to come as my maiden self, because if he was introduced to Mrs Hyram Dortmeyer, it would be just as likely to make him decide it wasn’t worth the risk. Besides, I like being Miss Eugenie Postlethwaite again for a few days, it makes me feel young.’
‘You will always be young!’ said Alex.
‘Flatterer,’ she said, but she smiled.
‘If I can’t flatter my oldest friend, who can I flatter? It’s not everyone who would help me catch a thief. And I want to catch him so badly. I want to hand him over to the authorities so that he’ll be made to pay for what he did to Katie - and, incidentally, to make sure he doesn’t do it to any other innocent young girl. For the duration of the party you will be Miss Postlethwaite, proud possessor of a fabulous necklace.’ He stood up. ‘I should be back from the jewellers by three o’clock, but to be on the safe side I suggest you meet me here at four tomorrow. I will hand over the necklace, and you, my dear Eugenie, will wear it every day until it’s stolen.’
Cicely, having finished her breakfast, was putting the finishing touches to her toilette. Being Sunday, the assembled company was going to church, and Cicely was to be one of their number.
As she settled her plumed hat on her head she caught sight of Alex walking down the drive and as she saw him her spirits lifted and she realized that her feelings towards him were now wholly different to what they had been when he had arrived in the village. She had thought he would be brash and heartless and humourless, but as she had come to know him she had come to realise that he was no such thing. He was strong and brave and ambitious, but he had a softer side, too, and, like her, he loved to laugh. and he made her light up whenever he was near.
He was also someone she could rely on. It was a novel experience. Her father, dear though he had been, had in many ways been more like a child than a grown man, and he had always looked to her to see to the practicalities of life. And since his death the burden of sorting out the muddle he had left behind had fallen entirely on her shoulders.
Even better was the way Alex made her feel whenever he was near, and the way he made her feel inside when he touched her. She had never known such wonderful feelings existed.
To make her pleasure complete, she saw that he did not escort Miss Postlethwaite, who had just emerged from the house. Instead, he escorted one of the married women. So there was nothing between the two of them after all!
The day seemed impossibly bright. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, the sky was blue, and she had a whole week of Alex’s company to look forward to.
‘Ready?’ asked Alice, coming into the room.
‘Ready,’ said Cicely.
The day passed in an agreeable haze. After church came luncheon, and then a whole host of entertainments, at which Alex always seemed to be by her side, and the following morning, too. Alex excused himself in the afternoon, saying he had some urgent business to attend to in town, which reminded Cicely that she, too, had business to attend to, for she wanted to walk down to the Lodge and see how the repairs were progressing.
Reassuring Alice that she did not need any company she set off down the drive. The builders - local village men, trustworthy and reliable - were hard at work, and told her they expected to finish the job by the end of the week. Cicely was relieved. At least she would have a house to return to when the party came to an end. It was with a spring in her step, therefore, that she returned to the Manor.
The summery sound of leather on willow greeted her as she walked up the drive, and she realized there must be a cricket match going on. As she rounded a bend this was confirmed by the sight of the gentlemen, in their white flannels, playing the traditional game. They made an attractive spectacle against the green of the lawns, which Cicely had to admit were far better tended under Alex’s care then they ever had been under her father’s.
Underneath the chestnut tree, a number of ladies were watching the game. Cicely looked for Alice and Mrs Babbage, but her friends did not appear to be spectating. They would be in Alice’s room, she guessed, altering their evening dresses.
She crossed the terrace and headed towards the side door, intending to join them so that she could alter her pale pink chiffon gown, making it a little different so that Alice could wear it in a few days time. But as she passed the study something flew past her ear and fell with a thud! into the flower bed. She looked round, startled, but on seeing old Mr Hart running towards her she realized it must have been the cricket ball.
She was about to walk on, so as not to interfere with the game, when she noticed that Mr Hart was clutching his side. He was puffing and blowing, and she decided he needed a bit of help. Abandoning the idea of not interfering, she lifted her skirt an inch or two and stepped daintily across the flower bed in the direction of the thud.
‘Oh, Alex, it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen!’
The words drifted out of the open French windows.
Cicely looked up, surprised. Just inside the windows, their backs towards her, were Eugenie and Alex.
Cicely felt her heart beginning to beat faster. Eugenie was holding aside a few stray tendrils that had escaped from her fashionable pompadour hairstyle and Alex was fastening the most exquisite emerald necklace round her neck.
Cicely watched, transfixed, as Eugenie turned to face him, arranging the necklace across her high-necked blouse.
‘It’s enchanting!’ said Eugenie with stars in her eyes. She kissed Alex on the cheek.
Cicely went red to the roots of her hair and she wanted to run away as fast as she could. She looked round for the ball, seizing it as soon as she laid eyes on it, then hastily returned to the terrace and gave it to Mr Hart.
‘Thank you, my dear,’ he said with a gasp. ‘I’m not as young as I was, I fear.’
Cicely handed him the ball with a fixed smile and an encouraging word, then hurried into the Manor.
It is none of my business, she told herself, as her mind replayed the events she had witnessed in the study. It was only by the most unlucky chance that she had seen and heard anything untoward, and she ought to forget about it at once.
But she could not forget. She could not wipe away the memory of Eugenie’s look of joy when Alex had given her the necklace, or the kiss Eugenie had bestowed on his cheek. There could be only one reason why Alex had been giving Eugenie such a valuable piece of jewellery: they must be about to announce their engagement.
Either that, or . . . Cicely flushed, as she remembered that fashionable house parties often provided illicit lovers with a chance to meet and indulge their passion. What a fool she had been to read anything into Alex’s attention to her! It had meant nothing at all; perhaps it had even been a blind, to disguise his relationship with Eugenie.
Cicely took a firm grip on herself. Whatever the reason, she must not allow herself to think about it. Alex’s private life was his own affair, and if she had read anything into his attentions, then more fool her. He had never said anything to her of his feelings, and that was surely proof that the electrical connection they shared was ultimately unimportant to him.
She fought down an urge to go to her own room, where she had the inexplicable feeling that her spirits would sink still further, and she went instead to Alice’s room, where Alice and Mrs Babbage were hard at work altering the dresses they had worn the evening before.
‘Cicely,’ said Alice, looking up. ‘You’re just in time! We were wondering what you would think of adding a lace frill to your pink chiffon.’
Cicely made an effort to take an interest. She looked at the dress critically as Alice held a band of lace around its neckline.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I think that would be a good idea. It doesn’t seem out of place, and makes the dress look quite different.’
Pulling out her hatpin and putting it on the dressing-table, Cicely laid her hat beside it and then set to work.
The three ladies spent the next hour cutting and sewing, adding frills, removing flounces and attaching silk flowers, until the dresses they had already worn had been altered in some slight but noticeable way.
‘There,’ said Cicely, looking at her pale pink gown when she had finished. It now had a wide flounce of lace around its neckline and a similar trimming round its hem.
‘It looks quite different,’ said Alice, pleased. She held up her own delicate primrose gown, which had been adorned with silk flowers.
‘Very good,’ said Mrs Babbage looking closely. ‘It will not fool someone who has been looking at your clothes closely, of course, but to the casual observer your gowns will appear to be new, particularly as you will be swapping them between you, and wearing them three or four days apart.’
Mrs Babbage, too, had altered her gown. She had removed the train, which had been attached at the shoulder, and had removed the sleeves. It would not pass close inspection, but with luck it would be taken for a new outfit.
‘And now I suggest we go out and watch the cricket,’ she said.
Cicely and Alice agreed. By this time Cicely had regained control of her emotions, and she was determined not to let her foolishness spoil the joys of the party for Alice and Mrs Babbage. She would have to spend the next five days in Alex’s company, it was true, but given his interest in Miss Postlethwaite it was unlikely she would see very much of him.
But that prospect, so satisfactory to her head, made her spirits sink.
The succeeding days quickly fell into a regular pattern. In the mornings the ladies kept to their rooms, writing letters or gossiping, or - in the case of Cicely’s party - altering their evening gowns. In the afternoons the guests, both ladies and gentlemen, played croquet or tennis, or sat beneath the spreading chestnut trees that dotted the lawn, enjoying the shade. And in the evenings they met for dinner, and afterwards whiled away the time by playing bridge.
Cicely saw little of Alex. He was a courteous host and enquired after her welfare several times, but his manner was preoccupied and he spent most of his time with Miss Postlethwaite, so that Cicely was relieved when her week at the Manor drew to an end. She had only to endure the ball, she told herself on the Friday morning, and then it would all be over. On the following morning she could go back to the Lodge, which had now been repaired, and forget all about Alex - at least, until Monday morning, when she would have to take up her duties again.
‘I’m so glad we saved our best gowns for this evening,’ said Alice as she wafted into Cicely’s room, dressed in a beautiful dress of lavender tulle with a delectably swishing train. ‘I would not have liked to wear an altered gown tonight.’
Both women had saved their best dresses for the festivity. Cicely was already dressed in a most beautiful gown. Cut off the shoulder with narrow ribbon straps to hold it in place, it was the height of elegance. It was made of pale blue mousseline de soie which perfectly suited Cicely’s complexion, bringing out echoing flashes of blue in her grey eyes. The silky fabric draped itself elegantly around her curves. It was nipped in at the waist with a decorative sash before flaring out into a long skirt which trailed elegantly into a flounced train.
Cicely pulled on her long gloves and accompanied Alice downstairs, together with Mrs Babbage. As she reached the foot of the staircase, she was glad she was wearing her best gown. It gave her a boost of confidence, for which she was grateful, as the idea of watching Alex drifting round the ballroom with Miss Postlethwaite in his arms filled her with dread.
She had no time to dwell on it, however, as the guests from the surrounding neighbourhood were already beginning to arrive. Most of them were old friends, and she was soon absorbed in interesting conversations about local life.
And then the music started. Her hand was claimed by Roddy, who had clearly been enjoying the house party, and after that it was claimed by Lord Chuffington. Chuff Chuff was looking splendid in evening dress. He was a good dancer, being light on his feet, and Cicely found it a pleasure to be whirled around the floor by him.
More dances followed, and then, just as she left the floor with Mr Carruthers, she found herself whisked back onto it as the orchestra struck up the opening chords of a waltz.
‘May I have the pleasure?’ asked Alex, smiling down into her eyes as one arm glided round her waist whilst the other took her hand in a firm, sure grasp.
‘It seems I have no choice,’ said Cicely apprehensively. Although she knew that dancing with Alex would be glorious, she also knew it would not be wise.
‘Only object, and I will escort you to the side of the room,’ he said teasingly.
For one moment she almost asked him to do so, but the temptation to feel his arm around her was too much for her and she smiled, caution forgotten as she looked up into his velvety brown eyes. ‘I fear, I cannot.’
He smiled. Then, settling his arm more possessively round her waist, he whirled her onto the floor. Cicely had just enough time to catch up her train before they joined the other dancers. His hold was so sure and his guiding arm was so strong that she felt herself relax.
‘And how are you enjoying the ball?’ he asked. ‘You are not sorry I persuaded you to come?’
‘Persuaded?’ she said. ‘As I remember it, you traded with me.’
‘So I did. Well? Was it a bad deal?’
‘I will let you know after the Sunday school picnic,’ she said.
He laughed, and she felt her spirits lifting. Her head knew it was madness to forget about Eugenie, but her treacherous heart told her to live for the moment and enjoy the dance.
‘The picnic will be held here in the last week of September, as usual. You see, I kept my side of the bargain. But you still haven’t answered my question. Are you enjoying the ball?’
She hesitated. To admit that she was seemed madness, and yet in all honesty how could she do anything else?
‘Yes, I am,’ she said.
‘Good.’
There was a profound satisfaction in his voice, far more so than she would have expected, and it sent a tingle down her spine and she hoped he had not felt the tingle as it passed through her.
Whether he did or not she could not tell, but the pressure of his hand in the small of her back increased and she felt a smouldering heat radiating from it. She had a sudden urge to pull away from him and run out of the ballroom, coupled with an equally strong yet contradictory wish that he would pull her closer still. It was these kind of confusing thoughts that made it so difficult for her to be with Alex, and yet made it so exhilarating at the same time.
‘And how have the repairs been coming along at the Lodge?’
‘Very well,’ she said, glad to seize on this ordinary topic of conversation. Having Alex’s arms around her was proving even more unsettling than she had anticipated, and the practicalities of the Lodge formed a much-needed diversion. ‘The kitchen has been thoroughly cleaned and the hole in the wall has been repaired. The range itself has been disposed of, as unfortunately it was beyond rescue.’
‘A good thing. It was old and unsafe.’
Cicely sighed. A good thing in a way, perhaps, but in another way a sad blow, because now she would have to find the money to replace it.
He looked at her in concern. ‘What’s wrong?’ he asked.
‘Oh, nothing,’ she said quickly. She had no desire for him to learn how poor she was.
He looked at her closely. ‘If something is worrying you, I hope you know you can tell me,’ he said. ‘If you need any help . . . ’
‘What help could I possibly need? It is simply that . . . ’
‘Yes?’ he asked.
She thought hard for an excuse. She did not like misleading him, and yet her pride demanded that she come up with some innocuous reason for her sigh.
‘It’s just that it seems such a pity the party will be over tomorrow.’ Adding hastily, in case he read anything particular into it, ‘Alice was saying so as we came downstairs, and her mother and I both agree.’
He looked at her intently, as though realizing she was hiding something, but then decided not to press her.
‘I’m glad you feel that way. And Alice and her mother, too,’ he added with a wicked smile.
The music drew to a close. Alex bowed over her hand then led her to the side of the room. Cicely’s heart sank as she saw that Eugenie Postlethwaite was waiting for him and the poisonous memories, pushed aside during the waltz, returned with full force. But the sight had come as a timely reminder. She would be unwise to allow herself to entertain feelings towards Alex that could not possibly be returned.
‘Thank you,’ she said formally. ‘That was most enjoyable.’
He frowned at her cool manner, but made a polite rejoinder before she excused herself, greeting Lord Chuffington who had just wandered over to her and accepting his hand for the next dance.
The evening was almost over. Cicely felt a flood or relief. Although it had been enjoyable, it had also been something of a strain, and she would be glad when she could return to the safety of the Lodge. There were no perplexing feelings there. Everything was straightforward and safe.
She went out onto the terrace. Though late - supper was over - it was not yet completely dark. A dusky light still lingered, enhanced by an almost-full moon and the yellow gas light that streamed out from the Manor. A number of other people had also taken to the terrace. Among them was Alex.
Cicely was about to draw back when one of the group, Mrs Weston, hailed her.
Realizing she could not slip away unseen she went forward to join the small party.
‘ . . . take it down altogether,’ young Mr Phelps was saying. ‘It blocks the view, Evington, you know it does.’
‘Perhaps. I might do that,’ replied Alex, as he smoked a cigar and swirled a brandy in his glass.
Cicely looked enquiringly at Mrs Weston, wondering what they were talking about.
‘The chestnut,’ said Mrs Weston.
‘Ugly thing, and completely unnecessary,’ said Mr Phelps, waving towards a magnificent chestnut which had stood in the centre of the lawns for time out of mind.
Cicely felt her stomach lurch. Not the chestnut, she wanted to cry, but she had no right to do so. Alex was entitled to do whatever he wanted with the house and grounds. The Manor belonged to him.
Even so, Cicely could not remain to hear her beloved chestnut tree talked about in that way. It had too many memories for her. Mumbling an inarticulate excuse she ran down the steps of the terrace and onto the wide lawns, away from the chattering group.
But she had not gone far when she became aware that there was someone behind her. She began to run more quickly. She knew without looking who that someone was, and she did not feel equal to talking to Alex whilst her emotions were running high. Lifting the hem of her gown with one hand she sped across the lawns. But the sound of footsteps grew louder behind her and she began to fear she would not escape.
‘Cicely!’
She ignored his voice and ran on.
‘Cicely! Stop!’
She glanced over her shoulder and saw that he was almost upon her. She ran forward again but it was no good. He caught her arm and spun her round.
‘Cicely, what is it?’ he asked. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘Nothing,’ she said.
‘Not nothing,’ he returned. ‘You’re as white as a sheet. And you’ve been crying.’
‘No. You’re mistaken.’
He pulled her close, taking her chin in his hand. Turning her face he revealed the remains of her tears glinting on her lashes in the moonlight.
‘Something’s upset you.’
‘No. I assure you it hasn’t.’ She spoke sharply, not feeling equal to having a conversation with him until she was in control of herself once more.
‘Yes, it has,’ he said, matching her sharp tone with one equally harsh, ‘and I’m not letting you go until I know what it is.’
‘You have no right to keep me here,’ she said, shaking her arm free and picking up the hem of her gown once more.
‘To hell with rights,’ he said, his eyes locking onto her own. Such was the intensity of his gaze that she was held motionless. ‘I want to know what made you go pale back on the terrace just now, and you are going to tell me.’
‘I am . . . ’ she began, intending to say I am not, but suddenly her feelings got the better of her. ‘How can you do it?’ she suddenly burst out, no longer able to contain herself.
He looked taken aback. ‘How can I do what?’ he asked.
She dropped the hem of her gown. ‘Cut down the chestnut tree.’
He looked at her uncomprehendingly. ‘You’re upset about a tree?’
‘It isn’t just a tree,’ she said rashly. ‘It’s the tree my great-great-great-grandmother planted when she was a little girl of three years old. My family have played in it and sheltered under it for over two hundred years, generation upon generation of them. My mother and I hid in it when we played with my father. She lifted me into the branches and then climbed up beside me, whilst my father searched for us high and low, and in the end we had to call to him or he would never have found us. It was summer, and the leaves were thick,’ she said defiantly. Then her face paled again. ‘But you wouldn’t understand.’
She turned to go.
‘You’re wrong,’ he said.
She was already walking away from him, but his words halted her. She hesitated. Then turned.
His eyes were burning with a strange intensity. ‘I do understand,’ he said.
She almost believed him. But then she said, with a shuddering sigh, ‘No, you don’t. You are going to cut it down.’
The air was suddenly still. Not a tree rustled. Not a leaf stirred.
‘No.’
‘N . . . no?’ she asked hesitantly.
‘No.’
He shook his head, and the gesture caught the moonlight, which lit the side of his face and painted silver streaks into his hair. ‘I’m not going to cut it down.’
‘But you said . . . ’ she began.
‘That’s before I realized what it meant to you.’
There was a light in his velvety eyes that neither she, nor anyone else, had ever seen there before.
‘You would spare it . . . for me?’
He reached out his hand and pulled her gently into his arms. He stroked a stray tendril away from her face. ‘Yes. I would.’
She relaxed against him, and felt him pressing his lips against her hair, then against her forehead. He lifted her chin, and his eyes roamed over her face. Her hands rose of their own volition against the lapels of his dinner jacket. The fabric was warm and soft to the touch. Beneath it, his muscles were firm.
She shuddered, overcome with his nearness. She was unnaturally aware of him: his hair, with one lock falling across his forehead; his eyes, with their fine lines at the corners; and his chin, with its day’s growth of beard.
And he was unnaturally aware of her. She could tell by the way his eyes trailed over her body, lingering on the whiteness of her shoulders.
He took her face between his hands, and -
‘Thief!’ The cry cut into the night like a knife. ‘Someone has stolen my necklace!’
Cicely’s eyes flew open.
Alex cursed under his breath. His eyes held Cicely’s as though unable to let them go.
Then, ‘Thief!’ The cry came again. It could no longer be ignored. Nor could the hubbub coming from the direction of the house as more voices took up the cry.
‘I have to go. But you’re coming with me,’ he said. He took her by the hand and ran towards the Manor, with Cicely running alongside him.
‘What is it? What’s happened?’ he said, playing his part, as, dropping Cicely’s hand at the last moment, he strode into the house.
‘My necklace,’ said Miss Postlethwaite, playing her own part to perfection. ‘My beautiful emerald necklace. Someone has stolen it.’
By now, all the guests had assembled in the ballroom, drawn there from the terrace and the supper room by Miss Postlethwaite’s cries. They were busily exclaiming over the theft, and cries of, ‘Her necklace!’ and ‘Those magnificent emeralds!’ pierced the night.
‘If I could have your attention,’ said Alex, taking control. He strode into the middle of the ballroom and addressed his guests. ‘It seems that a most unfortunate incident has occurred.’ He turned to Miss Postlethwaite. ‘You are sure you were wearing your necklace tonight? Forgive me for asking, but it is as well to examine every possibility before we consider theft.’
‘Quite sure,’ said Miss Postlethwaite.
‘And the necklace could not have slipped off?’
‘No.’ Miss Postlethwaite spoke definitely. ‘Absolutely not.’
‘Then, ladies and gentlemen,’ said Alex, looking round the company, ‘if I might ask you all to remain in the ballroom. Unfortunately I feel it is my duty to call the police, and that being so, I feel sure they will be able to clear this matter up more speedily if we are all in one -’
A rustle of conversation, which had started as a whisper at the back of the room, now found full voice, and someone said, ‘The maid. The maid took it.’
All eyes turned to the hapless maid who stood with a tray full of oysters in the middle of the room.
‘Who said that?’ demanded Alex.
But no one knew where the voice had come from.
‘Might as well search her, just to be on the safe side,’ said Mrs Yarrow sensibly.
‘Go ahead,’ said Gladys, the maid. ‘I ain’t got nothing to hide. Look, all I’ve got in my apron pocket,’ she said, plunging her hand deep into that article of clothing, ‘is . . . ’ Her face changed, and out of the pocket she drew . . .
‘Miss Postlethwaite’s necklace.’ Mrs Yarrow’s voice broke the silence that had filled the room.
A hubbub of voices broke out.
‘I shouldn’t stand for it, Evington,’ came a voice from the crowd.
‘Dismiss her!’ came another.
Alex felt himself rapidly becoming caught up in a nightmare. He had no wish to dismiss Gladys, but he knew that unless he did so - or at least appeared to do so – then Mr Goss would not relax.
Inwardly cursing, Alex said, ‘Gladys, you are dismissed. You will wait in my study until the police arrive.’
‘But I never . . . ’ began Gladys, before she realized it would do no good, and her voice tailed off in a sob. ‘Yes, sir,’ she said brokenly.
‘Take over here,’ said Alex in an aside to Roddy, as Gladys left the room. ‘Soothe everyone’s ruffled feathers and get the evening back on an even keel. It’s no good. Goss has been too slippery for us - this time.’
‘But we will get him?’ asked Roddy anxiously.
‘Oh, yes.’ Alex’s voice was steely. ‘We’ll get him. It’s just a matter of time.’
Seething, Cicely followed Gladys from the room. How could Alex have treated the girl so disgracefully? she thought angrily. Following Gladys into the study, she found the poor girl wiping her eyes on her apron and sobbing bitterly.
‘Oh, miss, I never took it!’ Gladys cried, as Cicely slipped into the study behind her.
‘No, of course you didn’t,’ said Cicely soothingly. ‘I never for one moment thought you did.’
‘Oh, miss, I’m that relieved,’ said Gladys, beginning to sob less violently. ‘I thought you suspected me like everyone else and I couldn’t bear it. Not after you was kind enough to get me this job at the Manor.’ Her face crumpled again. ‘But what’s going to happen now, miss? I’ll never get another job. Mr Evington won’t give me a reference, and word of this’ll be all round Little Oakleigh, and Greater Oakleigh, too, by tomorrow, if I don’t miss my guess, so who will employ me now?’
‘Hush, Gladys. Dry your eyes. It is not as bad as you think. If the worst comes to the worst, you can always come and work for me. I have been thinking for some time that I need a maid at the Lodge.’
‘Oh, miss, it’s that kind of you, but everyone knows how hard it’s been for you since your father died. There ain’t no way you can afford to take on a maid, not even with your job at the Manor.’
‘My job at the Manor?’ asked Cicely faintly. She had no idea that anyone else knew about it.
Gladys nodded. ‘Yes, miss. You needs what you make from your job to pay Tom to help Gibson.’
‘How did you know?’ asked Cicely, mystified. ‘I thought I had kept my secret so well.’
‘Ain’t no such thing as a secret,’ sniffed Gladys. ‘Not in Little Oakleigh. Everyone’s known for ages but no one’s said anything to you, miss, they know you have your pride.’
Cicely gave a rueful smile. The village was a small place, and sooner or later even the best-kept secrets slipped out. ‘Well, never mind, Gladys, I will help you to find another position. Meanwhile, I intend to speak to Mr Evington on your behalf. Once he realizes that you are not the sort of girl to steal a necklace I am sure he will relent.’
Gladys looked unconvinced. Nevertheless, her conversation with Cicely had done much to soothe her, and when Cicely said she meant to go and find Mr Evington and speak to him that very minute, Gladys said nothing to detain her.
Straightening her shoulders, Cicely passed out of the room . . . not noticing Alex standing in the shadows in the hallway, stunned.
The conversation he had overheard had shaken him to his foundations. It had made him reconsider all his preconceived notions about Cicely, and acknowledge that he had been completely wrong about her. He had come to Oakleigh Manor prepared - no, if he was honest with himself, he had come to Oakleigh Manor determined - to dislike her, and he had attributed to her thoughts and feelings she did not possess.
Before he had even met her he had classed her as one of the people who had made life so impossible for his sister, but that was completely wrong. Far from turning against Gladys, as others had turned against Katie when she had been falsely accused, Cicely had gone out of her way to help the girl. And if Cicely had been present when Katie had needed help, she would have helped Katie as well.
And just what other preconceived notions had he been clinging to for the past few weeks?
The notion that Cicely’s father had been an arrogant and careless man, happy to ruin innocent tradesmen by never paying his bills - that had been one of his totally unjustified thoughts. For instead of being an arrogant and careless man who felt himself too grand to settle his accounts, Mr Haringay had instead been a harmless eccentric who had retreated from the world after his beloved wife had died. He had been guilty of nothing worse than absent-mindedness.
Then again, there was the idea that Cicely was a wealthy woman who had taken a job as his secretary out of boredom, when such was not the case. She had taken a job in order to pay the salary of a boy to help her ageing butler, as the conversation he had just overheard had revealed.
And what of his idea that she had been glad to get rid of the Manor, seeing it as a white elephant? Her distress at the thought of the chestnut being cut down showed that her feelings were quite otherwise. Far from viewing the Manor as a draughty old barn of a place, as he had assumed, she had loved it as her home, for that was what it had been. To her, it was the house in which she and her family had lived for generation after generation, and it carried with it happy memories of her childhood, and the mother she had lost at an early age.
From beginning to end he had built his judgements of her, not on fair and just observation as he usually did, but on prejudice.
It was not pleasant, but it must be acknowledged for all that. He had been wilfully blind.
The realization brought other feelings in its wake. Warm, deep feelings for Cicely which he had too long denied . . .
The sound of Gladys sobbing brought him back to the present, and forced him to put his other thoughts aside - for now. Entering the study, he quickly reassured the girl that she would not lose her position.
‘I never meant to dismiss you,’ he said, ‘but I had to say it in order to calm my guests. You have nothing to fear, however. I know you did not take the necklace and you will not suffer for it having been found in your apron.’ Then, on a different note, he asked, ‘Do you know how it got there, Gladys?’
‘No, sir, I’m sure I don’t.’
‘Did any of the guests bump into you? Might one of them have dropped it in your apron pocket?’
Gladys’s face creased in concentration. Then she shook her head. ‘I couldn’t rightly say, sir.’
‘Very well, Gladys. I suggest you go to your room, and we will speak of this again in the morning.’
‘Very good, sir.’
Gladys went out, shutting the door behind her.
Leaving Alex to ponder anew the warm and fulfilling emotions that were flooding his breast.
Cicely had looked all over for Alex, but he was nowhere to be found. The orchestra was playing again and people were dancing. She had expected an air of constraint to be hanging over the party, but the opposite had happened. The theft of the necklace had given people something to talk about, and now that the culprit had been found and punished - or so they thought - the guests could enjoy reliving the sensation.
But none of that helped Cicely. She still needed to find Alex and convince him that Gladys had nothing to do with the theft. But she had the feeling that she knew who had been responsible.
At last, being unable to find Alex, she returned to the study in order to tell Gladys that she should go to bed. To her surprise, she found Alex there.
He turned round as she entered the room.
‘Come in, and shut the door.’
Cicely did as he said, preparing herself to stand up for Gladys, but his first words told her that would not be necessary.
‘You have no need to worry,’ he said. ‘I know Gladys is innocent.’
She looked at him in surprise. Then asked, ‘How?’
‘Because,’ he said, ‘I planned tonight’s robbery. Oh, not its execution,’ he hastened to reassure her. ‘But I planned for it to happen. Miss Postlethwaite is - let’s just say, she is a friend of mine - and her necklace was the bait. You see, it is not the first time this has happened, that a valuable piece of jewellery has been stolen at a fashionable gathering.’
‘I know.’ Cicely sighed, and sat down. ‘And I believe I know who the culprit is.’
It was his turn to look surprised. ‘You do?’
She nodded. ‘I can’t prove it, unfortunately, but I believe the thief is the Honourable Martin Goss.’
She saw the blank look of astonishment on his face. Misunderstanding his expression, and thinking that he was astonished at the fact she had accused an Honourable gentleman of being a thief, instead of realizing that he was astonished that she knew the thief’s identity, she went on to explain.
‘A few years ago, I had a Season in London, thanks to the generosity of one of my aunts. I went to stay with her, and we attended many balls and soirées. At one of the soirées a valuable brooch was stolen. It was never recovered. But just before it disappeared I had seen the Honourable Goss bump into the lady who owned it. The next second it had vanished.’
‘The next second, you say?’
‘Yes. You see, I had just been looking at the brooch, and admiring it from a distance. Then Mr Goss bumped into the lady, and when he had excused himself her brooch was no longer there.’
‘And you think he took it?’
‘I am certain of it.’
‘And so am I.’
Briefly, he explained about the theft that had occurred whilst Katie had been in service, and the conclusion of the painful episode.
‘I see.’ Cicely let out a long sigh. ‘So that is why you dislike the landed gentry. Because they treated your sister unfairly, and cast her off without any means of support. No wonder you were so hostile when you came here.’
‘I was wrong to be so. I was judging you on something you had had no part in.’ He gave a wry smile. ‘My only consolation is that you also judged me.’
She said ruefully, ‘You’re right. I did.’
‘Is it really so terrible?’ he asked, suddenly serious. ‘My being a cit?’ His eyes scanned her face, as though he would find the answer written there.
She swallowed. ‘It isn’t terrible at all.’
A wave of relief washed over his face. To break the tension that was rapidly gathering he said with a smile, ‘But you didn’t like me. Admit it. You were as prejudiced against me to begin with as I was against you.’
Cicely shook her head. ‘No. I wasn’t prejudiced. Or, at least, it wasn’t entirely prejudice. It’s true I didn’t have a high opinion of cits - they have no idea of how to behave in the countryside, and they have no sensitivity - but my dislike of you wasn’t based on something someone else had done. I disliked you because of what you yourself had done - or rather, not done.’
He looked at her enquiringly.
‘I disliked you because you didn’t come to look at the Manor. Everyone else came to look. They commented on its grandeur, and its picturesqueness, and its lovely views. But none of them bought it. Then you did. But you purchased it as though it were something of no consequence. You didn’t even bother to come to look at it yourself, and that hurt me. You sent your agent to look at it instead. You didn’t value the Manor as I wanted you to. And so I thought you were a man without heart or soul.’
He let out a long sigh. ‘What you say is true, up to a point - but only up to a point. The reason I didn’t come to look at the Manor was because I never meant to settle here. I simply needed a grand house in which to set the stage for another robbery to take place. That being the case, one house was as good as another.’
Her spirits lifted as she realized he was not the insensitive person she had supposed. But then they quickly sank again as she took in the full implication of his words. ‘Then you don’t intend to settle here?’ she asked. Her voice sounded hollow to her own ears. ‘You will be going back to London once you have caught the thief?’
And why did that thought make her stomach clench? she wondered.
But before Alex could answer her, the door opened and Roddy entered the room.
Cicely stepped away from Alex, immediately brought back to her senses. She was in a small room far from the main body of the company with a gentleman. If word of it got out, it would give rise to gossip of a malicious kind, and although she was too well liked in the neighbourhood for it to do her any real harm, still it was something she would rather avoid.
‘I must go,’ she said.
She suited her actions to her words and slipped out of the room.
‘Sorry,’ said Roddy sheepishly.
‘Your timing is atrocious,’ said Alex, trying to make the remark humorous, but with an edge of tension in his voice.
‘It’s just that your guests seem about ready to leave.’
Alex nodded. ‘I’ll join you in a minute,’ he said.
Roddy left, and after straightening his bow tie Alex followed him out of the room.
Only to bump into Lord Chuffington.
‘I say,’ said Chuff Chuff, ‘have you seen my fiancée anywhere?’
‘I didn’t know you had a fiancée,’ remarked Alex.
‘Good lord, yes. Had one for ever.’
‘Congratulations,’ said Alex, keen to make up for his earlier unjustified resentment against all of the landed classes by being particularly affable to Lord Chuffington. ‘And when is the wedding to be?’
‘Oh, soon,’ said Chuff Chuff amiably, ‘Not easy - funerals and what not - but all that’s over with now. Dare say it will be any time now.’
‘I wish you every happiness,’ said Alex. ‘As to having seen your fiancée, I won’t know whether I’ve seen her or not until you tell me who she is.’
‘What? Oh, yes, it’s Cicely. Cicely Haringay.’
Alex felt every limb grow still. ‘Cicely Haringay?’ he repeated.
‘Yes. You know. Used to own the Manor. Lives down at the Lodge. Moving to Parmiston soon, though, of course. Wouldn’t want to live at the Lodge for ever.’
‘No.’ Alex’s voice was faint. ‘I don’t suppose she would.’
‘Used to better things,’ said Chuff Chuff.
Alex forced the words out. ‘As you say. She’s used to better things.’ Then, rousing himself, he said, ‘No. I’m sorry, Chuffington, I don’t know where she is.’
‘Oh, well. Better cut along then.’
And so saying he ambled off in search of Cicely.
Leaving Alex feeling as though Chuffington had struck him a body blow. Chuffington? Engaged to Cicely? It couldn’t be.
But why couldn’t it be? They were two of a kind. Both from the landed classes and both from the same neighbourhood, it was just the sort of marriage that was taking place all the time.
Cursing himself for having thought . . . but never mind what he’d thought. He’d been a fool. Cicely was engaged to Chuffington. He refused to recognise the hollow emptiness that swept over him, or acknowledge what it meant. Cicely was to marry Lord Chuffington. And that was the end of it.
‘We failed.’
Eugenie sounded as tired as Alex felt. He had just said farewell to the last of the guests who had spent the evening at the Manor for the ball, whilst his house guests had retired upstairs to bed. Now Eugenie and Alex, together with Roddy, were sitting in the drawing-room discussing their failed attempt to catch Goss.
‘I know.’
‘It was my fault. I should have checked to see that Gladys hadn’t come back into the room before I raised the alarm,’ she said.
‘That wasn’t your job,’ said Roddy morosely. ‘It was my job to make sure there were no maids present, so that Goss couldn’t frame another innocent young girl, and then give you a sign so that you could cry thief. And that’s what you did.’
‘It was no one’s fault,’ said Alex. ‘We couldn’t have foreseen that Gladys would slip back into the room at such a critical moment.’
‘Why did she return?’ asked Roddy curiously. ‘Have you asked her?’
Alex nodded. ‘It was because she found Mrs Godiver’s handkerchief. Mrs Godiver had dropped it in the hallway and Gladys recognised it, so she was going to return it.’
‘Unluckily for us,’ said Eugenie. ‘Because Goss took advantage of the situation and put the necklace in her apron pocket. He’s an even more accomplished thief than we thought.’
‘I wish we could have caught him,’ sighed Roddy.
‘But we didn’t,’ said Eugenie despondently.
‘We will,’ said Alex. ‘We’ll just have to come up with a better plan - one in which he will have no opportunity to slip the stolen article into the pocket of an innocent maid.’
‘It’s no good,’ said Roddy, thrusting his hands deep into his pockets and scowling at the carpet. ‘He won’t come here again.’
‘Cheer up.’ Alex did his best to sound confident, although he was far from feeling it. ‘We’ll think of something. But we’ll do it better after a good night’s sleep.’
‘You’re right,’ said Eugenie, standing up. ‘There is one good thing. We might not have caught Goss, but at least we didn’t lose the necklace. It would have been the last straw if he’d managed to evade capture and get away with the jewels as well.’
‘Although — ‘ Although then we would have had a chance of catching him when he tried to dispose of them, Alex had been about to say. But he thought better of it. Eugenie’s remark had lifted both hers and Roddy’s spirits, and Alex did not want to cast them down again.
Roddy looked at him enquiringly.
Alex shook his head. ‘Oh, nothing,’ he said. ‘It’s late. We’re all tired. I suggest we leave any further discussion until the morning.’
Eugenie and Roddy, worn out from the night’s events, agreed.
‘Time for bed,’ said Eugenie, yawning. She stood up. ‘Good night, Alex.’
Alex bade her and Roddy goodnight, but when they went upstairs he did not go with them. Instead, he lingered in the drawing-room. It was no use him going to bed, he knew he would not sleep, because Cicely was engaged to Lord Chuffington. Try as he might to get it out of his head he couldn’t do it. It was on his mind the whole time. Despite all rational thoughts to the contrary, he still could not believe it. But why not? As Chuffington said, she was used to living in a manor house. No more living in a Lodge. No more faulty ranges. And no more having to work as a secretary in order to make ends meet.
But it seemed so unlike Cicely.
Fool! he told himself angrily as he strode over to the fireplace and stood looking down into the empty grate. You’re doing it again. Investing her with qualities she doesn’t have. First you convinced yourself she was an upper-class termagant who would have dismissed Katie for something she didn’t do, which was completely wide of the mark. Now you’re trying to convince yourself she wouldn’t marry for a position in society, and again you’re completely wrong.
What was it about Cicely that provoked such strong reactions in him? Why should he care if she married? Or who she married? He had never been interested in young women before - in a casual way, yes, or in a brotherly way, like with Katie, or a friendly way, like with Eugenie, but never in this distracted way, seeing things that simply weren’t there. If she wanted to marry Chuffington, why should it bother him? And not just bother him, cut him into little pieces?
He strode across the room and stood looking out over the lawns. What Cicely did with her life was up to her. There was nothing between them but an electric physical attraction - and yet in all honesty he had to acknowledge that for him it was more than that. The feelings which had been churning round in him for some time now were becoming clearer . . . but he must get over them. Cicely had made her choice. So all he had to do now was forget her.
Yes. That was all . . .
The door opened, breaking in on his thoughts. He looked round, and there was Cicely. Standing in the doorway, with the gas light from the hallway casting a golden halo round her, she looked more lovely than he had ever seen her. Her dark hair was soft and inviting, her slight curves appealing in her fashionably low-cut gown. Her skin was golden, and her eyes were full of beauty.
‘You can’t do it,’ he said.
He shouldn’t have said it, but he couldn’t let her throw herself away on Chuffington.
Her lips parted in surprise.
He couldn’t take his eyes away from them. She had the most kissable lips he had ever seen. And how he longed to kiss them again.
She seemed to know exactly what he was talking about. ‘It will work,’ she said.
It will work. Could she really believe that? he asked himself.
‘But how did you know?’ she queried.
His voice was tight. He made an effort to make it sound normal. ‘It was Chuffington. He told me.’
She looked perplexed. ‘But Chuff Chuff doesn’t know. I haven’t told him about my plan.’
‘Plan?’ Alex frowned. How could marriage be a plan? Unless they were at cross purposes. ‘What plan?’ he asked cautiously.
‘My plan for catching Mr Goss.’
Her words stunned him. Her plan for catching Mr Goss?
And then he was out of the strange state that had gripped him when he had seen her enter the room, and back in the real world. He gave a sigh, though whether it was of frustration or relief he didn’t know. He had been about to tell her that she couldn’t marry Chuffington; to sweep her into his arms and prove it to her with hot words and impassioned kisses; but her unexpected words had brought him back down to earth.
‘I can’t be sure, of course,’ she said. ‘Perhaps I should have said, I think it will work.’
‘Come in. Have a seat. I was surprised to see you,’ he said by way of explanation of his strange behaviour. ‘I thought all the houseguests had gone to bed.’
‘They have. But I wanted to speak to you, and I did not want to leave it until tomorrow, so I stayed behind. I have already seen two innocent young women blamed for Mr Goss’s crimes, and I don’t want to see it happen again. I won’t rest until he has been put behind bars.’
His surprise quickly gave way to understanding. ‘I feel the same. Unfortunately, I don’t see what else I can do,’ he said, sitting down opposite her. ‘Goss will not attend another party given at the Manor, nor, I suspect, any other party given by me. I haven’t given up hope of bringing him to justice, but at the moment I cannot see a way to do it.’
‘But I can.’
He looked at her with interest. ‘Go on.’
Cicely took a deep breath, and then began. ‘According to Gibson, who hears all the local servants’ gossip, Mr Goss is badly in need of money, and I believe he will soon strike again. He is deeply in debt and needs to get out of it as quickly as possible. It is my belief he will attempt to steal something of significant value when he goes to Marienbad.’
‘Marienbad?’ Alex raised his eyebrows. He did not know the name of the town.
‘It’s in Austria. It’s a spa town,’ she explained. ‘High society goes there to take the waters. They used to go to Bath, but Bath has fallen out of fashion and now they go abroad, to Marienbad, instead. Marienbad attracts all the best people. King Edward himself is a regular visitor.’
‘And you think Goss is likely to go there?’ he asked.
‘I know he is. Mrs Capstone was complaining about it only last week. "We are going to Marienbad at the end of August," she said. "As you know, we go every year. I do so enjoy it, and I’m convinced it does Herbert’s bronchitis good. My only regret is that the wretched Martin Goss will be there. His mother is the most charming of women, but Martin is a cad." So you see, I know he is going.’
Alex’s eyes became alert. He pushed himself out of his chair and strode over to the fireplace. ‘It has possibilities,’ he said, turning the idea over in his mind. ‘Distinct possibilities. Once out of England, Goss might well grow careless. It’s worth a try.’ He drummed his fingers on the marble mantelpiece. ‘But I don’t see how we are to know where and when he will strike.’
‘I have already thought about that. We will have to lay another trap.’
Alex looked at her searchingly. ‘I don’t see how we can do it. He won’t come to another of my parties, and I doubt if he will come to one of yours. We were both present when Eugenie’s necklace was taken, and it will be too risky for him to carry out another theft if we are there. ‘
‘That is not what I was thinking of.’
He looked at her enquiringly.
Taking a deep breath, Cicely began to outline her idea.
Alex’s eyes grew admiring as her plan unfolded. ‘It might work,’ he said. ‘Yes, it just might.’ Then his eyes became penetrating. ‘But are you sure your cousin will help us?’
‘Positive. Sophie is an accomplished actress. If her mother would let her, she would go on the stage! She will relish the opportunity of playing a part.’
‘Then we’ll give it a try. But we will have to be careful. We must make sure Goss does not see us in Marienbad. If he does, he might not take the bait. Which means we will have to stay elsewhere.’
‘I will be staying with my Aunt Hilda in her villa on the outskirts of Marienbad, as I have already explained to you, and I suggest you stay at the neighbouring town of Karlsbad. The Hotel Savoy has a good reputation, and you should be comfortable there. That way, we will be able to escape Goss’s notice and he will not see us until it is too late - if indeed he sees us at all, which, if all goes to plan, he won’t.’
‘And when is he going to Marienbad?’ asked Alex. ‘Do you know?’
‘Yes. He will be going within the next few weeks.’
Alex nodded. ‘Then I suggest we get there as soon as possible, so that we can lay our plans.’
Cicely agreed. ‘I will write to my aunt straight away, so that she will be expecting me.’ She stood up. ‘But now, it is late.’
He stood as well.
‘I will bid you goodnight,’ she said.
He fought down an urge to stop her, and she walked out of the room.
The house party broke up amongst cries of thanks the following day, and Cicely, taking her leave of Alex with Alice and Mrs Babbage at her elbow, added her own to the general clamour.
‘Yes, indeed, thank you so much for having us, Mr Evington,’ said Mrs Babbage. ‘We have had a wonderful time.’
‘I’m glad you enjoyed it,’ said Alex.
He was all that was polite and urbane, but Cicely couldn’t help missing the intimacy of the previous day. There was nothing left of it now, however.
She remembered the closeness of Alex and Eugenie; the shared glances, the touches on the arm; and using the memories to bolster her defences, she took her leave with a befitting coolness.
‘Well, that was most enjoyable,’ said Mrs Babbage, recalling Cicely to the present. The three ladies began to walk down the road to the Lodge. ‘And how kind it was of Mr Evington to send our luggage home for us by motor car. He really is a most agreeable man.’
This talk of Alex’s virtues did nothing to help Cicely put Alex out of her mind, and she was grateful therefore when they reached the door of the Lodge.
‘You are sure you will not come and stay with us for a few days?’ asked Mrs Babbage.
‘No, thank you, it really isn’t necessary,’ said Cicely. ‘The repairs have gone well and the Lodge is habitable again.’
‘Then in that case, I will bid you farewell.’
Cicely and Alice took an affectionate leave of each other, and then Cicely went into the Lodge. After the turmoil of the previous week she was looking forward to a little peace and quiet before leaving the Lodge again, this time for Marienbad.
But before then she had plenty to do. Peace and quiet did not mean inactivity, and she set about checking the kitchen thoroughly to make sure that it had been properly repaired; for although she had paid one or two visits to the Lodge during the week, it was only now that she was home again that could she give it the scrutiny it really needed.
To her relief she saw that, apart from the fact that the kitchen now lacked a range, the room was as good as new. The hole in the wall had been closed up, and only a slight difference in the colour of the paintwork showed that a repair had taken place. Which left her with only one problem: the lack of a range.
She knew she would have to have one sooner or later, as the range provided all the hot water and all the cooking facilities for the Lodge, but she could not think how she was going to pay for it.
Ah well! she thought bracingly, she would just have to find a way of solving this problem as she had found a way of solving all her others. Fortunately, as it was summer, she could manage for a little while without one.
In the meantime, she had her visit to Marienbad to occupy her mind, and she settled down to make her arrangements.