Ladies’ Bane (14 page)

Geoffrey Trent was writing letters in his study. He frowned over them and drove his pen hard. A letter to his cousin’s solicitor about probate. A letter to Margot’s old nurse, a silly, fond old woman to whom she was still the healthy bouncing baby of so many years ago. A letter to Iris Morley who had practically written to congratulate him. He had had a passing affair with her, and his gorge rose at it. One of those women who look as if butter wouldn’t melt in their mouths and go about distilling poison. He would have liked to tell her what he thought of her now, but it wasn’t safe to rouse that deadly tongue. As he signed his name he became aware of Flaxman at his elbow with the coffee-tray.

“And if you have a moment to spare, sir-”

When anyone said that, it generally meant something fairly unpleasant-a domestic quarrel, or an intention of giving notice. His heart misgave him. Mrs. Flaxman was a very good cook, and Flaxman a very efficient butler. Their wages were high, but everything ran on oiled wheels. He braced himself to hear that Mrs. Flaxman was feeling unsettled-“after the young lady’s death, sir”-and was relieved to find the conversation opening in quite a different though equally time-honoured manner.

“I was wondering, sir, if you would consider the question of a rise for Mrs. Flaxman and myself.”

He had set down the tray and come round to the far side of the table, where he stood in a respectful attitude, his slim figure very neat in the grey linen house-coat, his rather sharp features darkened and thrown into relief by the light from the window behind him.

Geoffrey said, “Well-” in a tone which he contrived to make as doubtful as possible. They had been with him for the best part of two years, and they had been more than satisfactory. He supposed he would have to give them their rise, or they would be wanting to go elsewhere, but he had no intention of making things too easy, so he put all the doubt he could into his voice,

“Well, I don’t know, Flaxman-”

Flaxman went over to the fire and began to make it up.

“After two years we thought you would consider it. The young lady’s death has been a good bit of a shock to Mrs. Flaxman. Not that either of us is wishful to leave, having your interests at heart the way we have.”

“That is very nice of you,” said Geoffrey in a half-absent tone.

“Not at all, sir. Just the motto we’ve always gone on-the employer’s interests first.”

Geoffrey came back with a start. Was there, or was there not, a meaning note in Flaxman’s voice? He thought there was, and found himself saying sharply,

“What on earth do you mean, man?”

Flaxman turned round from the fire, dusting his hands. He kept his eyes down.

“The employer’s interests come first,” he said. “If it hadn’t been for me making that my motto, there were things I could have stood up and said at the inquest.”

“What things? Speak up man!”

“Well, sir, I’m saying to you what I’m not thinking of saying to anyone else. You’re a gentleman, and you’ll know how to treat us right. The Sunday afternoon Miss Margot had that fall-” He paused, not hesitating, but as if to give time for this preliminary to sink in.

Geoffrey Trent, very nearly facing the light from the window, was, and perhaps felt himself to be, at a disadvantage. He drove his chair back and turned it so that he now sat sideways to the table. He leaned an elbow upon it and screened that side of his face with his hand. The movements were natural enough, the position he now assumed an easier one.

Flaxman stood where he was upon the hearth. When Geoffrey said, “Well?” he continued in his previous respectful strain.

“On the Sunday when Miss Margot had that fall, sir, you will perhaps remember that the morning had been very wet.”

Geoffrey Trent had certainly not forgotten. He said,

“Yes.”

“Mrs. Flaxman and myself, we were catching our bus-two forty-five from the church. Mrs. Flaxman, she don’t like to be hurried, and we were there by the half hour. And right about then the rain began to clear off, and there she was, with her thick mackintosh over her coat and the sun coming out as hot as you please. Mrs. Flaxman, she says to me she can’t drag those two heavy coats all around Wraydon and I’d have time to nip up to the house and bring her down her light fawn coat instead. She feels the heat, sir, being so stout. Well, I says, ‘I don’t want to miss the bus,’ and we were having what you might call a bit of an argument about it, when Ted Boulter comes by on his bicycle, and he says the bus has had a hold-up at West Eldon and he’s got a message to say it’d be all of three o’clock before they got to Bleake. Well, that meant I had plenty of time, so I took Mrs. Flaxman’s things up to the house and got her the coat she wanted. Very troublesome things ladies’ clothes, if I may say so. I was coming out by the back way, when Miss Margot come running past me. She was laughing to herself, and I thought she was up to something. She called out, ‘I thought you’d gone, Fred. Don’t tell anyone you saw me!’ Well, I looked at my watch, and it wanted a minute or two of the quarter, so I’d a quarter of an hour in hand, and I thought I’d see what she was up to. She was off in the direction of Mr. Humphreys’ potting-shed. Well, I thought he would be wild if she got up to any of her mischief there. She must have known where to find the key, because she was inside when I come along. The church clock went the quarter, and she come out laughing and holding something up inside her raincoat. She didn’t see me, and I didn’t want to start anything that was going to make me late. I was just thinking it wouldn’t be anything that mattered, when Mr. Humphreys come along. He was in a fine taking, but no matter what he said it only made her laugh. I was just going, when he says, ‘That’s one of my ropes you’ve got there, and you’ve no business with it!’ and she makes a face and calls back. ‘Well then, Geoffrey said I could have it!’ And I didn’t wait to hear any more because of not running any risk with the bus.”

Geoffrey Trent looked past Flaxman at the fire. He had the same ghastly pallor which had shocked everybody on the day of Margot’s death. When the normal colouring is unusually strong and bright, its absence is bound to produce a somewhat startling effect. Flaxman, however, appeared quite undisturbed. If Mr. Trent wanted time to think of something to say he could have it-there was no hurry. In the end he would see reason. After all, their interests were identical.

Geoffrey said in a controlled voice,

“Miss Margot had no authority from me-that goes without saying. I should not have dreamed of allowing her to touch those ropes. If she said what you say you heard, it would be just a trick to get her own way. And if she said it, why didn’t Humphreys say so? He was examined on his interview with her, but he never said a word about her having claimed my authority for taking the rope.”

His colour was coming back. He took his elbow off the table, straightened up, and fixed his eyes on Flaxman’s face. He observed there an indefinable trace of complacency.

Flaxman’s tongue was glib to answer.

“The employer’s interests come first, sir. Mr. Humphreys has a long tradition of service in connection with the Ladies’ House. I am sure you can rely upon him not to repeat what was said.”

The touch of complacency had deepened. Geoffrey Trent said,

“Are you blackmailing me, Flaxman?”

An archbishop could not have looked more shocked.

“Mr. Trent! How can you say such a thing!”

Geoffrey’s eyebrows rose.

“As easily as you yourself.”

“Mr. Trent, I never expected! I bring to your notice a circumstance of which I consider you should be apprised-”

Geoffrey laughed harshly.

“For God’s sake, man, stop talking like a grammar book! I never gave that poor girl any authority to take one of those crazy ropes. I did give her a good talking to about the trick she played on Miss Muir and myself the day before, and I hoped I had made an impression. It seems I didn’t. She was like a weathercock, poor child. I certainly never told her she could take one of those ropes. They were rotten.”

“A story of that kind can be very damaging, sir.” Flaxman’s tone was without any expression. “So far as I am concerned, you can of course rely on my discretion.”

“The employer’s interests!” Geoffrey could not keep the sneer out of his voice.

An expression of pain appeared upon Flaxman’s face.

“Yes, sir-the employer’s interests. But I am sure it is not necessary for me to point out that these things are, if I may use the expression, reciprocal. Loyalty on the one side is stimulated and encouraged by generosity and trust upon the other. In fact, sir, if you take me, the benefits are mutual.”

Geoffrey Trent threw back his head with an angry laugh.

“Oh, I take you, Flaxman, I take you! You needn’t worry about that-you have made yourself perfectly clear! It is just a question now of how much you expect me to pay you for holding your tongue!”

“Mr. Trent, I must beg of you to be more moderate in your language. I have declared myself to be a loyal servant who is devoted to your interests. There would, I think, be nothing inappropriate in the suggestion of a rise in salary.”

“And what do you mean by a rise?”

In a manner that was at once firm and respectful Flaxman said, “Double for Mrs. Flaxman, and the same for myself, with a bonus to be agreed upon between us.”

He went out of the room and shut the door.

For the moment all that Geoffrey Trent could feel was relief. Flaxman was gone. He had not to take any immediate decision. He was being blackmailed-skilfully, delicately, and respectfully blackmailed. There were severe penalties for blackmail, but if he were to ring up the police at this moment and accuse Flaxman, it would only be one man’s word against another. He had no doubt at all that Flaxman would keep his head and produce the perfect explanation. He and Mrs. Flaxman had been at least two years with Mr. Trent. They hoped that they had given satisfaction, and they considered that they were due for a rise. As for the matter of Miss Margot saying that about the rope, he would not have dreamed of bringing it up if Mr. Trent had not done so.

It would have been brought up. If he sent for the police he would have brought it up himself, and once it had been spoken aloud it could never be taken back. “Miss Margot, she said, ‘Geoffrey says I can have it.’ ” Hearsay words, but just what Margot might have said, making a mischievous face and throwing the words at Humphreys as he stormed at her. Chance, idle words-just something to throw at Humphreys-but once they were repeated they would never be forgotten. The whispers would follow him everywhere. “That poor girl, his ward, she went climbing with a crazy rope and was killed. They say she told the gardener she had Trent ’s leave to take it. She had quite a lot of money, and he came in for it.” Nothing that would hold water in a court of law perhaps, but enough to damn him socially from one end of his world to the other. That sort of thing stuck. He began to know inside his own mind that he couldn’t face it.

Flaxman went out to the kitchen. He was whistling, and he looked pleased. Mrs. Flaxman wondered what had pleased him. She was mixing a cake without hurry. Cooking done in a hurry was cooking spoiled in her opinion. She could have taken a job as a chef, but it wouldn’t have suited her-not all that rush and bustle. She liked to have her mind easy, and all her ingredients of the best. She looked up from her smooth, creamy mixture and said,

“What’s got into you? I don’t know when I heard you whistle.”

He said good-humouredly,

“Inquisitive, aren’t you, old dear?”

She went on stirring.

“Meaning I’d better not ask?”

“That’s your meaning, not mine.” He picked up a sultana from the table and nibbled it.

She began to put in the fruit. When she had the consistency to her liking she turned the mixture into a buttered cake-tin and slid it into the oven. Then she came back to her place at the table, wiping her hands upon her apron.

“I hope you’re not up to nothing, Fred.”

He put his hand in his pocket, jingled some money that was there, and said,

“Why should I be?” Then, sharply, “Where’s that girl Florrie?”

She stared at him.

“It’s her half day-you know that as well as I do. She’s been gone this quarter of an hour.”

There were two more doors to the kitchen. He opened them both and came back laughing.

“Nothing like making sure. And now, Mary, you just listen to me! I’m not up to anything, and you’ll be careful you don’t as much as think that I am! We’ve been two years with Mr. Trent, and I’ve asked him for a rise, and that’s all there is to it-you can just remember that!”

She was a very large woman. Everything about her lacked colour-her hair, her skin, her eyes, the short thick lashes which had been sandy when she was young. She looked steadily at her husband for a while before she said,

“You’re up to something, and I don’t like it.”

“Now, Mary, I ask you-have I been a good husband to you, or haven’t I?”

Remembering a number of times when she hadn’t thought so, but not being wishful to bring them up, Mrs. Flaxman made brief reply.

“In reason.”

“Well, there you are! What more do you want? I never ran off and left you, did I?”

“Men don’t run off and leave a woman that can cook the way I can. They are fools, but they’re not such fools as that. Leastways I never heard of one that was.” She dropped her voice to an almost indistinguishable mutter, but he thought what she said was, “More’s the pity.”

“What’s that?” he said sharply.

“Oh, nothing, Fred.”

“Do you think I didn’t hear? Want me to clear out, do you?”

She shook her head.

“I wouldn’t go as far as that. All I’ve got to say is, if you’re up to anything, you can leave me out of it. Crooked ways and crooked plans, they come to crooked ends, and I’m not getting mixed up in any of it, Fred Flaxman!”

He laughed.

“Now you’re trying to get me angry with you. But not today, my girl, not today. You see, you’ve done me a good turn without knowing it, so I don’t mind letting you have the run of your tongue.”

“I’ve done you a good turn?” The words came out slowly, as if she could hardly believe in them.

“Yes, you. And it only goes to show you never can tell. Many’s the time I’ve put it across you over that stupid jealousy of yours-couldn’t see me speaking to a good-looking woman without thinking all sorts of things you didn’t ought to!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I’m talking about you being jealous, my dear, and the day Miss Margot had that accident and we had to wait for the bus on account of its being held up at West Eldon. You wasn’t going to let me have the chance of talking to Nellie Humphreys for that twenty minutes-was you? So you had to say your coat was too thick and you wouldn’t be wanting your raincoat now the weather was clearing, and had to ask me in front of all those people to go off up to the house and bring you something light. Well, I couldn’t say no, could I-not with everyone listening. But I was going to take it out of you afterwards. Didn’t you ever wonder why I didn’t? You must have known you’d got it coming to you-doing a thing like that to me! But as it happened, you done me a good turn, and you needn’t ask how, because I’m not telling.”

She sat there at the kitchen table, rubbing a finger up and down on it. Her face had a brooding look.

“That Nellie Humphreys is no better than she ought to be.”

“She’s a handsome woman, my dear, which is more than anyone could ever have said of you.”

Mrs. Flaxman flared suddenly.

“Then why didn’t she marry and get a man of her own? Forty if she’s a day! And Miss Humphreys here, and Miss Humphreys there! She did ought to have had a wedding-ring on her finger these twenty years, bringing up a family respectable like other people! But no, she stays on with her father and keeps herself free to turn anyone’s head that’s fool enough to let her! A bad lot-that’s what your Nellie Humphreys is, and I wouldn’t mind telling her so if I got the chance!”

He walked over to her and slapped her across her face. It was a hard stinging blow and it left her dizzy. She blinked up at him as he stood over her.

“That’s all for now!” he said. “Because you’ve done me a good turn-see? But you keep your tongue off Nellie Humphreys!”

He went out of the kitchen whistling.

Mrs. Flaxman put up her floury hands and covered her face.