Here Comes a Candle (21 page)

“
Yes, for my sins.
”
He laughed his boyish laugh.
“
My dear Miss Ffynch—I beg your pardon, Mrs. Crosway—don
’
t tell me you have turned Yankee since last we met.
”
How could he refer to that night? Angrily aware of a sudden rush of color and of Arabella
’
s eyes on her, she said merely,
“
I cannot imagine that my ideas are of the slightest interest to you, Captain Manningham.
”

“
No. Why should they be?
”
Arabella leaned forward, her eyes bright with anger under the plumed hat that matched her riding habit.
“
And now, Mrs. Croston, if you have quite satisfied yourself that I am not helping a prisoner to escape, or whatever melodramatic notion you have been entertaining, perhaps you will be so good as to pay a little attention to the child so that we may be on our way in safety. The horses will take cold, standing so long.
”
And then, a casual afterthought:
“
Best, perhaps, that we say nothing of this affair. Sarah seems to mind you—God knows why—and I do not particularly want to get you dismissed, which must be the outcome if I tell Mr. Penrose how careless you are with her.
”

Was this a threat, or a bribe, or a bit of both? Kate gave her look for look.
“
I shall tell Mr. Penrose myself,
”
she said.
“
He must do what he thinks best for Sarah.
”

“
Of course.
”
And then, with malicious carelessness:
“
Bu
t if
you
’
ll be advised by me, Mrs. Croston, you
’
ll at least comb your hair—and the child
’
s—before Jonathan joins you.
”
And as an afterthought,
“
How are you, Sarah?
”

Kate
’
s nails bit deep into the palms of her hands. Even through the shock of this meeting she had been aware of a deep undercurrent of delight because Sarah
h
ad borne it so well. Now, would her mother
’
s direct address spoil
everything? But Sarah merely lifted her eyes from her busy hands to look past Arabella for a moment with that strange, unfocused stare of hers that seemed always to see something on the far horizon, then bent again to her work of decoration.

Arabella shrugged.
“
You see what I mean,
”
she said to Manningham.
“
Quite hopeless.
”

“
Poor little thing.
”
He said it entirely without interest. Then, with the nod that dismisses a servant:
“
Good-by, Mrs. Crossley. I doubt if we will meet again.
”
He whipped up his horses without giving her a chance to reply and drove off at the old furious speed across the beach.

Kate
’
s first thought, even now, was for Sarah. But—miraculous sign of the extent of her recovery—the meeting seemed to have made little or no impression on her. She was already hard at work smoothing out the horses
’
tracks, which crossed the patch of sand she had designed for her castle
’
s garden. Helping her, with hands that trembled, Kate
’
s thoughts whirled chaotically through the implications of this horrible meeting. Charles Manningham, the devil of her nightmares, here. Even if he said nothing of what had passed between them, was not she in honor bound to do so? Of course she was. She heard her own voice, clear and satisfyingly steady:
“
I shall tell Mr. Penrose myself.
”
But—what would she tell him? She put gritty hands to her hot cheeks. If she could not bring herself, except in those nightmares, to
think
of what had happened, how imagine telling Jonathan? And yet, face it, somehow, she must make him see that Manningham was no companion for Arabella.

Memory, flashing from scene to scene, brought up now the picture of Manningham
’
s hand set firmly, possessively, on Arabella
’
s. He was sure of her. Well
_r
there had never been any doubt about Manningham
’
s charm—or his looks, for the matter of that. She remembered— she would rather not remember how she had felt about him, once, herself. But no doubt about it, he and Arabella had made a striking pair and had been, it was subtly evident, pleasantly aware of this themselves.

Well then, was it not already too late to warn Jonathan? Was not the kindest thing to say nothing, to spare him the knowledge of betrayal? Here was a temptation worthy of Bunyan
’
s devil. Let it go: do nothing: stay quiet: least said soonest mended. Might that not really be best? But no, here her own honesty brought her up against a crucial point: Manningham might have charmed Arabella, but that, at present, was as far as it went. The hand on hers, the little liberties he had taken with her were those of a hopeful, not of a successful lover.

So: there it was. It was still possible to save something for Jonathan. For Jonathan, who despite the calls of the factory and his affection for Sarah, had gone so faithfully all winter through snow and storm to see his wife in Boston. Jonathan whose very silence about Arabella must spell adoration. And why not? Another of those devilish
little pictures sprang into Kate
’
s mind: Arabella in Manningham
’
s chaise, her dark green riding habit setting off her golden hair, the. plume of her hat throwing up the clear color of her cheek. No wonder if Jonathan adored her without reason. And no doubt either: no doubt, at least, worth allowing oneself, of where her duty lay.

She would tell him, of course; but not all. Surely that she might spare herself? And, in the meanwhile, she remembered Arabella
’
s parting words and called Sarah:
“
Come here, love. It
’
s time we tidied ourselves a little. Your father should be here directly.
Won
’
t
he be pleased with our splendid castle?
”

For once, Sarah submitted patiently to the combing of her tangled, wiry curls, and let Kate brush the worst of the sand off her muslin. But:
“
We
’
re a pretty pair of ragamuffins, I
’
m afraid,
”
said Kate ruefully, surveying her own reflection in the tiny glass she carried in her pocket.
“
Never mind, love; I don
’
t suppose your father will notice.
”

Although she had taken the whole incident so calmly, it had had its effect, and Sarah
c
lung close to Kate from then on, her bright spirits dimmed. The carriage arrived
at last—very late, as Job had predicted, with Jonathan cheerfully apologetic.
“
I had a good notion, though,
”
he told Kate.
“
Job has procured us the makings of a picnic luncheon which we can eat here on the beach, or on the way home if you
’
d rather. I thought you ladies might prefer it to the Lynn Hotel?
”

“
What a splendid plan.
”
Among her other worries had been the idea of Sarah confronted with the noisy dining room of a small hotel. Besides, they might even meet Arabella and Manningham
there before she had a chance to speak to Jonathan.

Instead, they found a secluded spot on the edge of a blossoming apple orchard and ate cold ham and rolls and spicy apple turnovers among the whirr of insects new
-
awake for spring. To Kate
’
s relief, the morning
’
s air and exercise had given Sarah such an appetite that she fell to with a will. But her father had noticed the change in her, the almost apathetic way she received his congratulations on that magnificent castle. When lunch was over, he sent her and Job
—
a great friend of hers—to pack the remnants back into the carriage, then turned to Kate.
“
Is she just tired?
”
he asked.
“
Or is there more to it?
”

“
More, I
’
m afraid.
”
How uncomfortably quick he was.
“
She was nearly run down on the beach by a carriage.
”
This was extraordinarily difficult. And, after an angry exclamation, he was looking at her as if he knew there was more to come.
“
Mrs. Penrose was in it,
”
she went on painfully,
“
and a friend of hers, an Englishman, Captain Manningham. A prisoner of war.
”

“
And they nearly ran Sarah down?
”
She knew that quiet rage of his.

“
Of course they had no idea who she was.
”
This must, horribly, be said as soon as possible.
“
The trouble was—Captain Manningham saw our castle—thought it would be entertaining, I suppose, to drive through it. And Sarah stopped him.
”

“
Stopped him?
”

“
She stood in front of it. I
’
ve never been so frightened in my life. I thought ... I was too far away to do anything. It was inexcusable of me.
”

“
No—why? A perfectly safe beach.
”
He threw it off carelessly, to return to the main point.
“
And she stopped him?
”

“
She just stood there. He came on, expecting her to run: it was—terrifying. She didn
’
t move; just stood and looked at him. At the last moment, he swerved, missed her, missed the castle. Thank God.
”

“
Yes. Do you think she doesn
’
t know how to be afraid?
”

“
Perhaps. There was that time I found her asleep over the river
...
But—one good thing
’
s come of this—of course she was upset—who wouldn
’
t be? But not, I think—
”
how impossibly difficult it was
...

“
Not by her mother, you
’
re trying to say?
”

“
Yes. She hardly seemed to notice her—went straight back to work on the castle. It was only afterward that she seemed
...
well, subdued. And, of course, it
’
s been a tiring day. I expect she will fall fast asleep on the drive home.
”
She was talking on about Sarah because she could not find words for the other thing she had to say.

He laughed, his face nearly normal again.
“
Well, let us devoutly hope she does, poor lamb. Sometimes, Kate,
I despair of her ever speaking. She did not shout, or cry out at the carriage?
”

“
Nothing. Not a word. Just stood there, looking at them come. But—there
’
s something else! Something I ought to tell you. I don
’
t want to.
”

“
Oh?
”

“
Yes. It
’
s, this.
”
She bolted into it.
“I
knew Captain Manningham, a little, in England. I don
’
t want to talk about it, but—I wonder if he
’
s a safe friend for Mrs. Penrose.
”

“
Safe? For Arabella? My dear Kate, surely you must realize that my wife is very well able to look after herself.
”

“
I
’
m sorry.
”
Furiously now, she wished she had not spoken.
“
I thought it my duty to speak. He was a friend of my father
’
s ... I ... I don
’
t think he
’
s to be trusted.
”
What could she say to put him on his guard, without saying too much?
“
I always thought he helped ruin my father—encouraged him to drink more than he should. He was at home, you see, wounded, with nothing to do
...
”

“
I
’
m sorry.
”
He had seen how hard this was for her to say.
“
And—thank you for the warning.
”
He rose to his feet and held out his hand to help her up.
“
I
’
ll—look into Captain Manningham.
”
And then, as Sarah and Job came laughing back from the carriage,
“
All ready? Good then, let
’
s go.
”

Bending to pick up the carriage rug they had sat on, Kate could only hope that the hot rush of blood to her face was less obvious than it felt. Horrible that his casual touch could do this to her; shaming that he so obviously felt nothing of the kind.

Nonsense, she told herself; that
’
s the only reason you can stay with him.