She Came Back (4 page)

Mr. Codrington’s interview was not going according to plan—at least not to any plan of Philip’s. The offer of the late Miss Theresa Jocelyn’s thirty thousand pounds in return for a receipt signed Annie Joyce had been as lightly and smilingly refused as if it had been a cucumber sandwich.

“Dear Mr. Codrington—how could I! It wouldn’t be legal— I mean, I couldn’t sign poor Annie’s name—”

“Philip never intended to keep this money—” He bit his lip. He ought to have said Sir Philip—if he was talking to Annie Joyce he would certainly do so. He found it impossible to believe that he was talking to Annie Joyce. He found it impossible to believe that he was not talking to Anne Jocelyn.

She sat just across the hearth from him, her long slim legs stretched out to the fire, her head with its bright curls thrown back against a cushion which repeated the blue of her dress— a very pleasant picture, softened by the faint haze of her cigarette. She held it away from her in the hand which rested on the arm of her chair and smiled.

“No—Philip never meant me to keep it. That’s what we had the row about. You know, I don’t believe he has got over it yet. That’s why he is being so horrid now. We both lost our tempers—said we wished we hadn’t married each other—” she waved the cigarette—“things like that. Of course he was quite right—Cousin Theresa hadn’t any business to leave me the money after practically adopting Annie. And I wouldn’t have taken it, Mr. Codrington—I really wouldn’t—but there was Philip putting down his foot and saying I wasn’t to, and all the rest of it, and naturally I wasn’t going to stand for that. You do like to refuse your own legacies.” She laughed a little. “Philip was very, very tactless, and of course I wasn’t going to give in, so we had our row, and I dashed off to France. And now—well, I’ve got over it, but I don’t think he has. I don’t see how he can really believe that I am Annie Joyce. It’s silly. He’s just being stiff-necked and obstinate. You know what the Jocelyns are like.”

Mr. Codrington found himself every moment more convinced. The changes which he noticed were those which were only natural in the circumstances. It was just on four years since he had seen her. She was older, she was thinner, she looked as if she had been ill. She had a little more manner, and there were signs that it had been acquired amongst foreigners. Well, she had been living amongst foreigners, hadn’t she? There was nothing in that.

He said, “What do you want?”

She had her cigarette at her lips. She drew at it without hurrying herself. The haze between them deepened. Then she said, looking away from him into the fire,

“I want a reconciliation.”

“I’m afraid that won’t be easy.”

“No. But that’s what I want. I don’t think I ought to let our marriage break up without trying to save it. Philip cared for me enough to marry me, and we had some happy times. I have learned a lot since then—I’ve learned to keep my temper, for one thing. I suppose he has put that up to you as one of the reasons why he thinks I’m Annie Joyce. Well, if I hadn’t learned how to keep my temper out there under the Germans I really should have been dead by now. You can tell Philip that.” She leaned towards him, the cigarette in her hand. “Mr. Codrington, do help us. Philip’s angry because I’ve come back. He’s imagining himself in love with Lyndall, and he doesn’t want me. I want to save our marriage if I can. Won’t you help?”

He made no reply in words, only lifted his hand and let it fall again upon his knee. He was actually a good deal moved.

After a moment she said in a different tone,

“Mr. Codrington—what am I to do? I haven’t any money. I can’t sign that receipt, but can’t you let me have some of the money? You see, it’s really mine whichever way you look at it.”

“Not quite, I am afraid.”

“Well, what happens next? It’s all so strange. I never thought of anything like this, and I don’t know what to do. Is there anything I could do in—in a legal way?”

“You could bring a suit against Philip in respect of Anne Jocelyn’s property.”

She looked distressed.

“Oh, I wouldn’t do that.”

He was watching her keenly.

“Or Philip might bring a suit against you in respect of those pearls you are wearing, and any other jewelry which belonged to his wife. In either case the verdict would depend on whether you were able to establish your identity as Anne Jocelyn.”

The look of distress deepened. She drew at her cigarette.

“Would Philip do that?”

“He might.”

“It would be horrid. It would be in the papers. Oh, we couldn’t do anything like that! I thought—”

“Yes? What did you think?”

“I thought—oh, Mr. Codrington, couldn’t it be settled privately? That’s what I thought. Couldn’t we get the family together and let them decide? Like the conseil de famille in France.”

“There would be no legal value in such a decision.”

Her colour had risen. She was pretty and animated.

“But if we were all agreed, there would be no need of any legal decision. You do not have to go into a court of law to prove that you are Mr. Codrington. It is only because Philip keeps on saying that I am not his wife that there is any talk about going to law.”

Mr. Codrington put up a hand and stopped her.

“Wait a minute—wait a minute—Anne Jocelyn is legally dead. Even if Philip recognized you, there would be certain formalities—”

She interrupted him eagerly.

“But you could see to all that. There wouldn’t have to be a case about it, and a lot of publicity. It would just be that I came back after everyone thought I was dead.”

“Something like that—if Philip recognized you and no one else raised the question.”

She said quickly, “Who else would be likely to raise it?”

“Philip’s next of kin—the next heir to the title and estates.”

“That would be Perry Jocelyn. Would he be likely to do that?”

“I can’t tell you what anyone would be likely to do. It would depend upon whether he believed that you were Anne.” In his own mind he didn’t see Perry raising trouble for anyone, but it wasn’t for him to say so.

She was asking with some anxiety,

“Where is he? Can you get at him? He’s not abroad?”

“No—I believe he’s somewhere near London. He is married you know—two years ago, to an American girl. So you see he is a good deal concerned.”

She nodded.

“I see—it would be to his advantage if Philip was married and separated from his wife.”

Mr. Codrington said drily, “I really can’t imagine such an idea coming into Perry’s head.”

She said, “Oh, well—” There was a graceful movement of the cigarette. She laughed a little. “I thought we were talking from the legal point of view. You mustn’t make it a personal matter. Let us get back to the family council. Get all the family together—Perry, and his wife, and anyone else you can lay hands on, and let them say whether they recognize me. If they do, it seems to me there’s an end of it, and I think Philip must stop being so obstinate, because no one in any case would believe him against all the rest of the family. But if they are on Philip’s side, well, then I will go away and call myself something else. But I will not call myself Annie Joyce, because I am Anne Jocelyn and no one can take that from me!” Those very fine eyes were proudly lit.

Mr. Codrington admired and approved. He was more sure than ever that she was Anne, and that she had developed from being a charming, impulsive girl into a no less charming woman.

After a moment’s pause she went on speaking in a softened voice.

“Mr. Codrington, won’t you help me? I’m only asking for a chance to save my marriage. If there is a court case, it would all be over so far as Philip and I are concerned. It wouldn’t matter which way it went, we’d never be able to pick up the bits again. He’s too proud—” She paused and bit her lip.

Mr. Codrington agreed with her. All the Jocelyns were proud. He thought of headlines in the papers and their probable effect on Philip Jocelyn’s pride. He did not speak, but he very slightly inclined his head.

She went on.

“It would be fatal. That is why I would never bring a case against him even if he turned me out without a penny. Will you tell him so? I don’t want him to think that I’m putting a pistol to his head or anything of that sort. I want you to tell him that in no conceivable circumstances would I bring an action against him. I do him the justice to believe that he wouldn’t bring one against me. But a family council would be quite a different thing—there would be no publicity, no outsiders. I would do my best to satisfy Philip’s doubts. I don’t see how he can really think I’m anyone else, but if he does, I’ll do my best to satisfy him. If the family is satisfied, I want Philip to let me stay here. I don’t ask him to live with me, but I want him to be under the same roof as much as he would be if things were different. If he has to live in town, I’d like to be there too. I just want a chance to set things right between us. I know it won’t be easy, but I think I ought to have the chance. If I don’t pull it off in six months I’ll clear out and give him his freedom. If it comes to that, I’ll leave you to make any money settlement you think fair. Meanwhile I must have something to go on with—mustn’t I? Will you arrange that with Philip, please?” She broke suddenly into a laugh. “It’s too stupid, isn’t it, but I’m an absolute pauper— I can’t even buy a packet of cigarettes!”

I expressed no opinion,” said Mr. Codrington.

“You mean you expressed no opinion to her.” Philip’s tone was dry in the extreme. “You’re making it quite clear to me that I haven’t got a leg to stand on.”

“I haven’t said that. What I do want to put before you is the undoubted advantage of a private settlement. This sort of case brings down the maximum of notoriety upon the people who engage in it. I do not know any family in England who would dislike it more.”

“I don’t propose to accept Annie Joyce as a wife merely to avoid seeing my name in the papers.”

“Quite so. But I would like to point out that those are not the alternatives. I made no comment on the suggestion of a family council, but I think you would do well to consider it. Quite apart from its being desirable to avoid washing the family linen in public, the plan has other advantages. A private inquiry of that nature could be held immediately—a dishonest claimant being thereby deprived of the opportunity of gathering information and getting up a case. Then at a private inquiry the claimant would not be protected, as in court, by the strict application of the rules of evidence. Anybody will be able to ask her anything, and the fact that Anne is not only willing but anxious to submit herself to this test—”

“Anne?” Philip’s voice was bleak.

“My dear Philip, what am I to call her? If it comes to that, both the girls were baptized Anne.” The words came out a little more warmly than he intended. He checked himself. “You mustn’t think that I don’t feel for your position. I feel for it so much that I am bound to hold my own feelings in check. I would like your permission to discuss the whole matter with Trent. You haven’t met him, have you? He came in as a partner just before the war. Some kind of connection of old Sunderland, who was the senior partner in my father’s time. Rather remote, but it is pleasant to keep up these old ties.” Partly in order to relieve the tension, he continued to talk about Pelham Trent. “A very able fellow—I’m lucky to have him. Not forty yet, but he’s in the Fire Service, so he hasn’t been called up. Of course he is only available every third day—they do forty-eight hours on and twenty-four off— but it’s a good deal better than nothing. I would really be glad if you would let me talk this matter over with him. He has a very good brain, and he is sound—very sound. A pleasant fellow too. Mrs. Armitage and Lyndall saw quite a lot of him when they were in town just before you came home. Lyndall came in for a few hundred pounds from an Armitage cousin, and he handled the business for her.”

“Oh, tell him anything you like.” Philip’s tone was a weary one. “We shall be lucky if it doesn’t have to go farther than that.”

Mr. Codrington regarded him with gravity.

“I was about to draw your attention to that aspect of the case. If this affair can be settled inside the family, a great deal of most undesirable publicity will be avoided. Quite apart from everything else, can you at this moment afford to be involved in a cause célèbre? You are just taking up a new job. Will that particular kind of limelight be acceptable at the War Office?”

He got an impatient shake of the head. He continued in a manner which had settled into being equable again.

“I think you may put it this way. The family are going to be a great deal more on the spot than any jury when it comes to the kind of thing that has to be looked out for in a case like this. They’ll know all the ropes, and if she makes a slip, they won’t miss it. If she passes the family, you can be perfectly sure that she would pass with any jury in the world.”

Philip walked up and down in silence. Presently he came over to the writing-table, leaned on it, and said,

“I agree to a meeting of the family. Perry’s interests are involved—any doubt as to whether I’ve got a legal wife or not would affect him. He is one of the people who have to be satisfied. He and his wife must come. Then there’s Aunt Milly, and Theresa’s sister Inez—and why on earth Cousin Maude should have given those two aggravating women Spanish names—”

Mr. Codrington nodded.

“It used to annoy your father.”

“Prophetic probably—they’ve always been a damned nuisance in the family. But I suppose Inez had better come.”

“She will probably be a great deal more troublesome if she doesn’t.”

“Then of course there is Uncle Thomas—and, I suppose, Aunt Emmeline.”

Mr. Codrington looked down his nose.

“Mrs. Jocelyn would certainly wish to be present.”

Philip gave a short laugh.

“Wild horses wouldn’t keep her away! Well, that’s about the lot. Archie and Jim are somewhere in Italy, but they’re a long way off on the family tree, and in view of the fact that Perry is married, and that Uncle Thomas has four boys all safely under military age, they don’t really come into it.”

“No, I hardly think we need take them into consideration.

And there are no relations of Anne’s on her mother’s side.”

“And no Joyces?”

Mr. Codrington shook his head.

“There was only the one son by the Joyce connection. Roger Joyce’s wife died when Annie was five years old. There were no other children, and he did not marry again. Your father made Mrs. Joyce an allowance, but refused to continue it to Roger. He was a weak, inoffensive creature, rather fond of drawing the long bow about his grand relations.”

“What did he do?”

“We got him a job as a clerk in a shipping office. He was the sort of man who gets into a rut and stays there—no initiative, no ambition.”

“And his wife?”

“A teacher in an elementary school—an only child and an orphan. So, you see, there is no one to invite on the Joyce side.”

Philip straightened up.

“Well then, there we are, all set. You’d better get everyone together as soon as you can. But look here, I’m only consenting to this because it’s the best chance we’ve got of tripping her up. If she brings a case, she’ll have the next few months to find out anything she doesn’t already know—you said that yourself.”

“Wait! She won’t bring a case against you. She told me to tell you that.”

“Bunkum! She wants to get her hands on Anne’s money. In the eyes of the law Anne is dead. She’d be bound to do whatever you have to do to get back on the map again. You’ve told her that already, haven’t you?”

“If unopposed, it would be a mere formality.”

“And I’d be bound to oppose it.”

“Unless the proceedings before the family council happened to convince you.”

Philip shook his head.

“They won’t do that. But if she breaks down, there would be an end to it that way.”

“And if she doesn’t—what are you going to do then? I told you her terms—six months under the same roof.”

“Why?”

“She wants a chance of convincing you. She told me quite frankly that she wanted to try and save the marriage.”

“The marriage ended when Anne died.”

Mr. Codrington made an impatient movement.

“I am putting her terms to you. If there is no reconciliation by the end of six months, she is willing to divorce you.”

Philip laughed.

Mr. Codrington said gravely,

“Think it over. You might find yourself in a very difficult position if she were legally admitted to be Anne Jocelyn, and you were neither reconciled nor divorced. Supposing you desire to remarry, she could prevent your doing so.” He paused and added—“indefinitely.”

They were alone together, the deep red curtains drawn, a red glow from the wood fire on the hearth, a single overhead light shining down upon the writing-table with its scattered papers. For a moment both men were seeing an unseen third between them—Lyndall, little and slight, with her cloudy dark hair and her cloudy eyes—grey eyes, but quite different from the Jocelyn grey. Lyndall’s eyes were smudged with brown and green. They were soft and childish. They had no defences. If she was hurt, they showed it. If she loved anyone, they showed that too. If they grieved, tears rose to brighten them. She was pale because she had been ill. Her colour had been coming back. Now it was all gone again.

Philip walked over to the fire and stood there looking down.