The Blue Diamond (16 page)

Davenant shrugged his shoulders.

“It is not an unusual thing when a young man as impressionable as Arthur is thrown into the daily and hourly companionship of a beautiful woman older than himself.”

“Garth!” Mavis interrupted him with a little cry. “Hilda herself does not know her age, and we can only guess, but we feel quite sure that she is not more than nineteen. She says herself that ‘twenty' sounds unfamiliar.”

“Oh, yes. I should fancy it is a good while since that particular number was used in connexion with her age,” remarked Davenant dryly.

Mavis looked at him with amazed eyes.

“What do you mean, Garth? I am sure she does not look more—”

“Are you?” Garth said cynically. “Well, I must confess that I have not the unquestioning faith of the inhabitants of Hargreave Manor, and I have studied your fair friend's face on one or two occasions in the open sunlight, away from the couches and subdued lights she usually affects, and I think she is considerably older than you imagine.”

“Oh, don't!” exclaimed Mavis miserably. “You make me feel so unhappy, Garth—as if I ought not to believe in anyone!”

Her lover put out his arm and drew her to him.

“I am a suspicious, world-hardened wretch, Mavis, am I not? I don't want any trouble to come to you that I can help, and I am afraid—”

“Afraid that trouble will come if Arthur married her?” Mavis finished, her head resting against his shoulder.

“I feel sure of it if he should be mad enough to contemplate such a step before something is known about her,” said Davenant in alarm. “But I hardly thought matters had got so far as that even from your account.”

Mavis raised her head.

“Hilda seemed to want to wait until things were cleared up, but Arthur seems quite determined that the engagement shall be announced at once—and he is his own master. I am afraid that mother's remonstrances only made him more positive. What she implied about Dorothy only annoyed him so much he said he had made up his mind that there should be no more misconception. Don't you think you may be mistaken about Hilda, Garth? I know it sounds a mad sort of thing for Arthur to do—to marry a woman we know nothing about; but I must say that to a certain extent I cannot help sympathizing with him. Hilda is so very pretty and charming that I feel positive if I were a man I should want to marry her myself.”

“I should certainly interfere to prevent you,” said Garth, laughing and catching her hand. “Seriously, darling, cannot you see how queer the whole business is? Here is this girl, dropped apparently from the clouds on your doorstep, and nobody makes the smallest inquiry after her. One would naturally have supposed that if a girl of our class, as she appears to be, were missing, there would be such a hue and cry after her that the whole country would be roused, yet, though a description has been published and advertisements inserted, you get no reply from her friends at all!”

“Yes, yes. I know it sounds strange,” Mavis admitted at once. “But I am sure there is some satisfactory explanation of it all. Hilda and I were talking about it yesterday, and we came to the conclusion that there must have been some wrongdoing somewhere. Perhaps she may be heiress to some property which some one else wants to secure, and they may have treated her in some way that reduced her to the state she was in. Very likely they think she is dead!”

Garth's lips curled curiously.

“I fancy I could pick a few holes in that theory, Mavis. However, shall we say no more about it? Time may prove that you are right and I am wrong. In the meantime before the wedding we will set all our wits to work. We must save Arthur from this folly if possible.”

“Oh, dear!” Mavis said with a sigh as she turned away her head.

“What is the matter with you, Mavis?” Garth's voice was very tender, his clasp grew closer.

Mavis moved restlessly.

“Everything is so altered, Garth,” she complained miserably. “And it is such a little time ago since we were so happy; but now the very air of the Manor seems full of mystery and suspicion. One does not know whom to trust.”

Garth's hand smoothed her brown hair gently.

“One thing is not altered, I hope, Mavis—our love for one another.”

Mavis's fingers lingered on his arm caressingly.

“Oh, no! That is the same always; but, Garth, sometimes it seems hardly right for me to be happy in your love when I am afraid that Dorothy—”

Davenant's dark face clouded.

“Hush, child! Poor little Dorothy! We must have patience and it will all come right some time.”

Mavis did not reply, but rested quiescent in his arms, feeling a certain comfort from the close contact with his strength, from the firmness of his clasp as he bent over her.

There was a step in the conservatory and Mavis freed herself.

“Oh, there you are!” Lady Laura said as she caught sight of them through the glass door. “I was looking for you, Mavis. You must see this person for me,” glancing at the card she held in her hand. “I'm really so upset this morning that I cannot talk to anyone. What do you say to this folly—this madness of Arthur's, Garth?”

“It is what I have been fearing for some time. I was afraid—”

“I never thought of such a thing,” Lady Laura said plaintively. “How could I imagine a man would want to marry a girl, however beautiful, who could not remember even her own name? I concluded that that put it entirely out of the question. I should have thought it quite as improbable as that Arthur, visiting a lunatic asylum, should fall in love with one of its inmates and want to marry her. I can see now that I have been imprudent in allowing them to see so much of one another, but I assure you that was how I looked at it.”

Garth laughed in spite of his real vexation.

“There is something to be said for that point of view, Lady Laura, but I question whether the marriage can take place until the girl recovers her memory. We don't even know that she is free.”

Lady Laura clasped her hands.

“Certainly we do not! Garth, that had not occurred to me. You must have a long talk with my poor boy. He will not listen to anything I can say. It seems useless to speak, and yet to see him throwing away his happiness in this way is heart-breaking.”

Mavis took the card from her hand.

“Nurse Gidden,” she read, and then underneath in pencil, “From Mrs. Marston.”

“Oh, mother, what does she want?” she asked.

“I do not know—something to do with Nurse Marston I suppose,” Lady Laura said tearfully. “But I really cannot stand any more worry this morning, Mavis; I am not fit for it.”

“Poor little mumsy!” Mavis kissed her heartily. “I will hear what she has to say. May I tell Jenkins to show her in here, then Garth can help me perhaps?”

“Oh, see her where you like,” Lady Laura acquiesced fretfully. “I am going out for a drive. I think it may help to steady my nerves.”

“The best thing you can do, mother dear,” Mavis agreed as she rang the bell and Lady Laura hurried out through the conservatory.

Garth Davenant glanced up curiously as Gidden was ushered in. He saw a plain-featured, resolute-looking woman of middle height and apparently of middle age, with a firmly-set humorous mouth and bright dark eyes. Looking at her he came to the conclusion that he would rather have Nurse Gidden as a friend than an enemy.

“You wished to speak to my mother?” said Mavis, advancing. “I am so sorry she is not able to see you this morning, but if there is anything that I can tell you—you are a friend of Nurse Marston's are you not?”

“Her greatest friend, I believe,” Charlotte returned in her brisk, matter-of-fact tones. “We were probationers together, though Mary was some years the younger, and we have kept in communication with one another ever since. Ah, I see you did not think I was a nurse”—as Mavis glanced at her serviceable green dress and plain hat—“but I don't wear uniform as a rule in my holidays! To tell the truth it is a relief to get out of it and dress like other people sometimes. I have a month off, Miss Hargreave, and I came to Lockford yesterday. I mean to find out what has become of Mary Marston, and I want you to help me.”

“I only wish I could,” Mavis said earnestly. “But nothing we do seems any good. You know my brother has had a detective down?”

“I have heard so.” There was a pause. Charlotte was apparently studying the pattern of the carpet. Garth, from the point of vantage he had taken up in a distant window-seat, watched her, and decided that she was at a loss how to begin. “I am sure of one thing—that Mary Marston had no idea of going away of her own free will that night; her letter to me proved it.”

Mavis drew a long breath.

“Ah, I heard you had a letter, but she must have left the house of her own free will, I think! I should like to see the letter.”

Charlotte raised her hands.

“I wish you could!” she said. “I never thought it was of any particular importance, and I should have my work cut out for me, with my luggage, going about as I do, if I hoarded up letters. I always burn them after they are read.”

“Oh, what a pity it is!” Mavis said as she drew up a chair. “Sit down, Nurse Gidden; you must be tired if you walked up.”

“Yes, it is a goodish way by the road—thank you!” Charlotte said as she accepted the courtesy. “Not but what I remember pretty well what was in the letter,” she resumed after a pause. “She said that nobody knew who the young lady was that she was nursing, but that she herself had seen her in different circumstances, and she felt it was her duty to tell Lady Laura at once, as she thought Lady Laura ought to know who she had in the house. I can't remember that she said anything more definite”—wrinkling up her brows—“but I know the impression left on my mind was that she thought Lady Laura would soon get rid of the young lady when she did know. The other thing I can recall is that she had only come to the Manor temporarily, that she said she didn't like leaving her mother just then, and if it had been anybody but Mr. Garth Davenant who asked her to she didn't think she should have gone.”

“Oh, yes,” Mavis said quickly. “I can understand that! Her mother nursed Mr. Garth Davenant and his brother, and they have always been very kind to the Marstons.”

“So I have heard. That part of the letter does not puzzle me, Miss Hargreave,” remarked Charlotte composedly. “It shows though that Mr. Garth Davenant had a pretty strong influence over her—that is what I notice; but my opinion, looking at the case all round, is that that young lady she was nursing knew she was recognized, and, having her own motives for stopping at the Manor, contrived to get Miss Marston out of the way somehow, so that she should not tell Lady Laura who she was. That is where I fancy you can help me, Miss Hargreave.”

Mavis shook her head.

“You are quite on the wrong tack, Nurse Gidden—I can vouch for that. Hilda was lying in a semi-conscious state all the time the nurse was in the room. I don't think she had any idea that Nurse Marston had recognized her, and that she had nothing to do with her subsequent disappearance I am absolutely certain, because I went into her room when the nurse came out to see my mother, and remained there until her absence caused uneasiness and they came to make inquiries. It is out of the question that Hilda could have had anything to do with it.”

“Not herself, certainly; she could have got some one to do it for her perhaps,” suggested the other.

“Impossible! Nobody had been in the room all day but ourselves and my maid. After the nurse came she sat by the bed all the time. Hilda had no opportunity of plotting anything of the kind, even if she were inclined, which I do not believe for one moment. Nurse Marston's disappearance and the rumours connecting her with it have been a real trouble to her.”

“Um!” Nurse Gidden, evidently a lady of free and easy manners, unfastened her coat and leaned back in her chair. “Well, what you say does seem to put this young lady out of count,” she observed; “but I don't know what to make of it. Can't you help me at all, Miss Hargreave?”

“I wish I could,” Mavis said, with a heartfelt sigh. “I was just saying when you came in that the atmosphere of the Manor is dreadful just now. Suspicion seems to be in the very air.”

“It is bad for you—anyone can see that,” Charlotte agreed sympathetically. “Well, as it is no use thinking any more of the lady, I must trust to the gentleman and look after Mr. Garth Davenant a little more closely than I fancy he has been looked after yet.”

Mavis started, her eyes flashed.

“I do not—”

Garth interrupted her.

“One moment,” he said, coming forward. “I think before you go on, Nurse Gidden, I ought to tell you that I am Garth Davenant.”

Charlotte did not seem in the faintest degree discomposed; her clear grey eyes met his frankly with just a touch of amusement in their glance.

“I guessed as much from the first,” she said equably, “and I am glad to tell you to your face, Mr. Davenant, how things look to me. I say to myself, times and again, that only some very strong motive could have taken Mary out of this house that night. How she could reconcile it to her duty to her patient to go at all I cannot imagine, but some one must have had a pretty strong influence over her—the motive must have been urgent to induce her to do so. Now from her letter, as well as from her mother, I know that she would do a good deal for Mr. Garth Davenant, and I am told that only the week before she came here she was engaged on some private business with Mr. Garth Davenant in Exeter. It seems to me that it is possible that that same business might require more attention later on, and that Mary might have been persuaded to go away to look after it, and kept away. That is the only other theory that I have been able to evolve.”

Garth had taken up his favourite position with his elbow against the mantelpiece, one hand shading his eyes, the other playing absently with his watch-chain. Was it Mavis's fancy, she wondered, or did his face pale as Nurse Gidden spoke?