The New Moon with the Old (31 page)

‘Let me have a word with Mr Severn. Hold on, will you?’ Richard waited, trying to visualize Drew in Mr Severn’s office, and Merry eating ice-cream – with
fair
hair now, damn her! But he couldn’t feel really angry with her, for that or for anything else. He understood her too well.

Drew was back in little over a minute. ‘I can come. Mr Severn says he has Merry for a hostage now.’

‘You won’t tell her what you’re coming for?’

‘No, I’ll say I have to see Father’s solicitor with you. Will you meet my train? Make a note of the time. You know how vague you are.’

Richard had just jotted down the time and the station when Aunt Winifred opened the door. ‘Yes, Aunt Winifred?’ he said loudly, for Drew’s benefit.

‘I heard that,’ said Drew. ‘You’ll want to ring off. See you this afternoon.’

Richard replaced the receiver and looked nervously at his aunt. The walls of Dome House were thick and he had kept his voice low even when annoyed with Drew. Still, she might have overheard something. But she only said he had been talking a long time and she’d suddenly felt it might be about Clare.

He hoped she wasn’t becoming psychic as well as crazy. ‘Nothing whatever to do with her,’ he said emphatically. ‘Just Father’s solicitor. I have to go to London to see him.’ Drew’s lie came in very handily. ‘Excuse me, please. I’ve barely time to catch my train.’

He hurried past her, and past the still recumbent Violet, and dashed up to his room. A few minutes later there was a knock on his door followed by the instantaneous entrance of Violet, who closed the door behind her.

‘Richard, your aunt says you’re going to London. Will you be staying the night?’

He said he didn’t expect to.

‘Well, why don’t you? And I’ll come up with you and open the flat. Then we can have a quiet, uninterrupted talk.’

He stated at her in amazement. ‘But you’ve let the flat go.’

‘Well, not
exactly
, Richard. It’s ail part of what I have to tell you and you won’t give me the chance to.’

‘And I can’t now,’ said Richard, ‘or I shall miss my train.’

‘I don’t want to,
now
. I want you to come to the flat tonight.’

He said with sudden anger: ‘I’m not spending the night at a flat my father paid for.’

‘But he didn’t. Oh, dear!’ She burst into tears and flung herself on the bed, face downwards.

‘Well, he did in the past. Oh, for God’s sake stop crying.’

‘I’m trying to, but when once I start … I just don’t understand how anyone as good as you are can be so cruel.’

‘I wouldn’t say I was either good or cruel.’ He could see her tears were genuine and she seemed to be making a genuine effort to control them. Patting her on the shoulder, he added, ‘I’m sorry – really, I am. We’ll talk fully as soon as I’m home.’

She instantly rolled over on her back and put her arm round his neck.

‘No, Violet – I
must
go!’ He broke away and made for the door, then turned to say, ‘If only you knew how much I have on my mind today.’

‘All right, darling. Good luck!’

She spoke with sudden reasonableness, and smiled at him so sweetly that he nearly went back – but not quite.

Hurrying out to the car, he wondered if he really had time to catch his train; and then the car proved difficult to start. Driving faster than he cared to, he still reached the station five minutes too late and was faced with a long wait for the next train, a deadly slow one. Well, he’d drive all the way, though he disliked taking the car to London. He never knew
where to park, was uncertain of his way and invariably got confused by traffic regulations. But he could take his time now and put in some thinking …

Had
he been cruel to Violet? Damn it, he hadn’t been holding out on her very long; it was only yesterday that he’d been sure of her intentions … well,
quite
sure; he’d been pretty sure from the day she arrived. Had she no sense of decency? Obviously not his sense of it, or was his sense of it really conventionality? Anyway, he couldn’t go on like this. Whisking himself out of Violet’s clutches was so bloody coy. And what were all the disclosures she intended to make?

He rested his mind from Violet by thinking of Clare, rested it from Clare by thinking of Merry, then thought of Drew – with a certain amount of envy, though
he
wouldn’t care to be the ewe lamb of even the most charming old lady. After that, he spared a few thoughts for his vanished father, gone nearly a month now. Then back to Violet again. It was a relief when the traffic in the London suburbs forced him to keep his whole mind on driving.

He parked the car near Regent’s Park, had some sandwiches at a café – it was too late for lunch; then took himself to the Zoo until it was time to meet Drew’s train.

Drew, looking particularly slight, neat and reassuring, came hurrying towards him.

‘Richard, how very glad I am to see you.’

‘And I to see you,’ said Richard.

‘Sorry about this morning. You were right. Merry admits it. She says she knew she was behaving badly but somehow couldn’t stop herself. And I gather she didn’t lie, exactly – just left things out and gave the whole story a comic slant. Now she’s swung to the opposite extreme and feels tragically guilty. I had to cheer her up. Anyway, she’s sent Crestover a telegram saying: “Writing fully. Grateful love to all.”’

‘Hope he doesn’t notice where it was handed in.’

‘He’s welcome to. Mr Severn got someone in Manchester to send it. She swears she’ll write a long, kind letter tomorrow – says it’ll be a mortification as she really wants to pour out her soul in her journal. Anyway, we can stop worrying about her for the moment. Let’s concentrate on Clare.’

‘I loathe spying on her.’

‘Just
visiting
her,’ said Drew. ‘And you didn’t exactly dress for it, did you?’

‘I meant to change but … circumstances were against it.’ Only when well on his way had he noticed he was wearing his oldest tweed jacket.

‘Never mind. You look an honest, home-spun brother. I’m really a bit too dapper. By the way, Mr Severn has heard of the
villainous Mr Charles Rowley. He’s a property-deals tycoon and possibly a millionaire. So are you sure we’re justified in forbidding the – what’s the disreputable equivalent of the banns?’

‘I gather you’re not as worried as I am,’ said Richard. ‘I keep thinking how miserable she might feel … well, afterwards.’

‘I suppose so,’ said Drew, more soberly. ‘Though she just might be peeved at being rescued. No, I don’t really believe that. The poor darling simply doesn’t understand. Well, what do we do now?’ They had made their way out of the station. ‘It’s not nearly six yet.’

‘Let’s get there early. It might be a good thing to meet her as she comes in.’

‘Ah, in case he’s waiting to pounce. Richard, why was Miss What’s-her-name so sure he hasn’t pounced already?’

‘I told you. He doesn’t stay at the hotel at night.’

‘And is the daytime close season for pouncing? Anyway, it’ll soon be dark. We’d better hurry.’

They got to the hotel at half-past five.

‘What grandeur!’ said Drew. ‘Perhaps they’ll chuck us out.’

‘They might me. You do the inquiring.’

‘Need I? Can’t we just sit down and wait?’

‘She might have come back earlier than was expected.’

They went to the desk. Drew’s inquiry was received with great courtesy but Miss Carrington was thought not to be in. Then a very small page, standing by, said: ‘Yes, she is. Came back ten minutes ago.’

Richard said firmly: ‘We’re her brothers. And she’s expecting us. What number is her room?’

But they had to wait while Clare was informed by telephone. Suppose she refused to see them? He’d telephone her from a call-box … But she did not refuse and the small page was soon escorting them into a lift. As they went up, he informed the lift man that these were Miss Carrington’s
brothers. ‘Well, isn’t that nice?’ said the lift man. ‘It’s been sad for her, the old gentleman dying so soon after she came.’ Richard relaxed. The smiling page, the kindly lift man, the dignified luxury of the hotel, all tended to reassure him. He had panicked, been fooled by the gossip of a silly old woman – and he must be careful to hide this from Clare. He only hoped Drew would follow his lead.

The page, conducting them along a thickly carpeted corridor, said: ‘Miss Carrington’s my very favourite lady. I brought her up the first day she came here and wished her luck. There she is.’

She had opened a door at the far end of the corridor and now stood awaiting them, wearing a long white garment which Richard presumed was a negligé. As they drew nearer, she turned, took a coin from a bowl on a table behind her and had it ready for the page. He beamed on her, she beamed on him, then on Richard and Drew.

‘How lovely to see you both! Come in.’

‘Clare, you look wonderful,’ said Drew.

‘Do I? This is only a dressing-gown.’

‘I wasn’t referring to it,’ said Drew.

She steered them into a large cream and gold
sitting-room
. Richard thought its luxury over-ornate but guessed it would very much appeal to Clare. A fire burned brightly and the warm air was scented by a vast bunch of particularly beautiful roses.

‘Sorry the place is so untidy,’ said Clare, glancing around at the litter of tissue paper, cardboard boxes and a great many expensive things which had been taken out of them. ‘I’ve just come back from shopping.’

‘For whom?’ said Richard.

‘Me, of course.’ She looked at him very directly. ‘Did you come for any special reason, Richard?’

He asked why she hadn’t answered their letters.

‘I’ve kept meaning to. Is that the only reason you came?’

He’d better tell her the truth. ‘No, Clare. I heard … some distressing rumours.’

‘Who from? Oh, Miss Gifford, perhaps. She must think it’s peculiar that I don’t want another job. You couldn’t have heard from Nurse Brown because we’ve kept everything from her. I’ve never even let myself go out shopping until today; she’s gone now. You see, she’d have been upset. And so would my friends on the staff here, especially my floor waiter who’s been quite a father to me. That’s why we’ve been so careful to keep things respectable.’

‘Well, thank God you have,’ said Richard. ‘Now listen, before it’s too late …’

Drew interrupted him. ‘You’ve misunderstood her, Richard. It
is
… what you mean by too late. Isn’t it, Clare, darling?’

‘Yes, of course,’ she said, smilingly. ‘Are you shocked?’

‘I’m not,’ said Drew.

Richard, avoiding her questioning gaze, said: ‘I’m partly to blame. I ought to have got in touch with you last week, when Miss Gifford first rang Jane.’

‘What day was that?’ Clare inquired.

‘Let’s see … Wednesday. Yes, Wednesday evening.’

‘Then you’d still have been too late, Richard.’ She smiled reminiscently. ‘Wednesday was the first day I went to my house.’

‘The great thing is that you’re happy,’ said Drew. ‘That’s easy to see.’

‘I’m a bit better looking, don’t you think? Yes, I’m blissful. They say no one’s ever a hundred per cent happy but I would be, if only Charles would be. He worries so. You see, he doesn’t think it should have happened.’

‘Then why did he let it?’ said Richard.

‘Well, he’d be much
less
happy if it hadn’t. And anyway, it wasn’t his fault. There were all sorts of complicated reasons – including the fact that I was positively dying of love. All

right, Richard, I won’t tell you any more. I can see you’re embarrassed.’

‘Not embarrassed, exactly.’

‘Just plain horrified?’

Drew said suddenly: ‘Clare, is that an original Renoir?’

She turned to him eagerly. ‘Yes, Charles brought it from his flat – which I’m not allowed to visit; I fancy he thinks his disreputable past lingers on in it and might contaminate me. He was quite cross because I said he must have another mistress there. He thought I might like the Renoir for my house and so I would.’

‘Tell me about your house,’ said Drew.

‘It’s in St John’s Wood. Old Mr Rowley kept
his
mistresses there – over sixty years ago, imagine! Oh, Drew, you should have seen the furniture – and now it’s too late; everything went to be stored this morning. I actually cried when I said goodbye to it, yesterday afternoon. I’ve got so fond of it this last week, though at first I thought it was horrible, really frightening. Anyway, now the house is going to be done up and filled with really lovely things. We shall probably go away soon until it’s ready. I can’t live an un-respectable life at this hotel. My friends here wouldn’t like it.’

‘It’s a good thing we’ve caught you before you leave,’ said Drew.

‘Well, I’d have written – I think; you know I’m not good at letters like you and Merry are. Oh, is there any news of her?’

Between them, they supplied her with a brief history of Merry’s adventures and arrival at Whitesea.

‘Goodness, she has had a time,’ said Clare. ‘And how lovely that she can be with you, Drew. What’s happening at home, Richard?’

‘Nothing,’ said Richard.

‘Must be dull for you. Would you like a job? I’m sure Charles could get you one. He seems able to manage almost everything and he’s very anxious to help our family.’

‘No, thank you,’ said Richard.

‘Ah, darling, don’t be stuffy. You’ll feel differently when you’ve met him. No one could help liking him.’

‘I don’t think I want to meet him,’ said Richard.

‘Well, you’ll have to – because I hear him, now.’ She opened the door and called: ‘Charles, my brothers are here.’

A voice from the entrance hall said: ‘Oh, my God! Have they brought guns or will they settle for knocking me down?’ Then Charles Rowley came into the room.

Drew said smilingly: ‘Perhaps if you’d kneel – and we could both hit you together …’

Richard, who was only just under six foot, resented this remark. Still, he doubted if he could have knocked Charles Rowley down single-handed. And he had no desire to; his disapproval was cold, not violent. Clare said appealingly, ‘Richard, please!’

‘Give him time, my dear. For the moment, he’s fully occupied in thinking me the ugliest man he’s ever met and wondering what you see in me.’

Richard thought the sardonic, heavily featured face too well-proportioned for real ugliness, and he was instantly sure that Charles Rowley was likable. But he had no intention of selling out to the likability. Still unsmiling, he said: ‘I’m sorry, but … well, I do find this whole thing shocking – for Clare.’

‘I should hope you did. Does it help at all that I’m moving heaven and earth to get a divorce?’

‘A great waste of energy,’ said Clare. ‘Because even if you get it, I shan’t marry you.’

‘Then I shall turn you out.’

‘You won’t be able to. My house is to be legally mine. Did you go to the bank?’

‘Yes. We’ll talk about that later.’

‘No, now,’ said Clare, very decidedly. ‘I want to show them. Are they in your overcoat pocket?’

He nodded, smiling as if at an importunate child. Then, as she hurried out into the hall, he said to Richard: ‘Sorry about this.’

She came back with a leather case, saying blithely, ‘Crown jewels. Did you know Charles was really a king?’

‘I am not a king. My father wasn’t a king. And my
grandfather
was only a king for a very few years and was delighted to stop being one. The whole silly business has been lived down.’

She had taken a double row of pearls from the leather case. ‘Oh, Charles, they’re lovely. And not large enough to be vulgar.’

‘I
have
some vulgar ones.’

‘You’d better let me see them. They may not be as vulgar as you think. Fasten these for me, please.’

He did so, remarking, ‘My dear, this scene is in the worst possible taste.’

‘I find it charming,’ said Drew, benignly. ‘And it’s only with the greatest regret that I tear myself away. Unfortunately I have a train to catch.’

Richard looked at him in surprise. He had understood Drew’s train did not leave until mid-evening. But he was glad enough to go. And he noticed that Clare made no effort to detain them.

Drew, taking a last look around the room, said: ‘This is my ideal hotel.’

‘I shall love it as long as I live,’ said Clare. ‘You will both come and see me at my house? And can Merry come? Or won’t that be allowed? Charles is dubious about it. He’s terribly square in spite of the life he’s led.’

‘I’m sure she’ll insist on coming,’ said Richard.

‘Charles would like to help her finish her education, and then with her training for the stage.’

Richard, about to refuse, checked himself. He had no right to expect Merry to be governed by his own sense of fitness. ‘That must be for her to decide.’

They had reached the door of the suite.

‘Clare, darling, you
will
write?’ said Drew.

‘I promise. It’ll be easier now. Give my love to Merry.’ She turned to Richard. ‘And to Jane and Cook and Edith. And even to Aunt Winifred, if you like. I couldn’t hate anyone now.’

Charles Rowley looked at him earnestly. ‘She is happy and I’ll try to keep her happy. Incidentally, if I died tomorrow she’d be extremely rich.’

‘Not for long,’ said Clare. ‘Because I should die, too.’

‘I shall miss my train,’ said Drew, urging Richard out.

At last they were on their way along the corridor. As they approached the corner Drew looked back and then said:

‘Manage a smile, Richard.’

Richard turned. Clare and her king were still standing at the door of the suite. She had slipped her arm through his and was leaning her head against his shoulder. Richard managed the smile, but only just.

They turned the corner and heard the door of the suite close. ‘Why were you suddenly anxious to get away?’ said Richard, as they waited for the lift.

‘Because I couldn’t bear to go on keeping them out of each other’s arms,’ said Drew.

Going down in the lift, Richard wondered if Clare was right in thinking she had fooled her friends on the hotel staff. Probably they all knew, including the pleasant lift man, and thought it delightful that a pretty girl should be set up as the mistress of a rich man. In the hall the little page, scurrying on some errand, flashed a quick smile. Probably even he was in on it.

It was dark when they came out of the hotel; a chilly, faintly misty evening.

‘Let’s walk a while,’ said Drew. ‘Through the back streets – one can talk better.’

‘All right, if you know your way. I’m apt to get lost even in the main streets.’

‘I’ve made rather a study of London back streets. Well? You talk first.’

‘You can say what you like, Drew, but it isn’t pretty.’

‘No, pretty’s too small a word. Richard, can you really disapprove of such intense happiness?’

‘I suppose I’m a prig,’ said Richard.

‘Just a puritan – which no doubt you should be, as a serious creative artist. I’m essentially frivolous – that’s why anything so unfrivolous as what those two feel for each other strikes me as positively holy.’