Ladies’ Bane

CHAPTER 9

Geoffrey Trent came whistling along the passage.

“Are you ready? Allegra has just gone down, and there’s a fire in the drawing-room. I hope you won’t find it too warm, but she feels the cold a good deal.”

Allegra had been like any other country girl, in and out of the house all day and healthily impervious to the weather, Ione had the thought in her mind as she followed Geoffrey to the drawing-room where some winter sunshine straggled in and quite a large wood fire smouldered upon the hearth.

At the first glance Ione found herself convicted of worrying about nothing. Allegra had colour in her cheeks and brightness in her eyes. She ran to kiss Ione, and keeping hold of her hand, took her to the big sofa beside the fire, talking all the time.

“You slept all right? I was simply dead, or I’d have come to see you. I get so tired at night. Not always, you know, but just sometimes, and then there’s nothing for it but to go to bed and sleep. The beds themselves are all terribly old, but those Americans who were here had the most lovely spring mattresses put in everywhere. After all, you couldn’t expect mattresses to go for hundreds of years, even if they were made from the best goose feathers like Miss Falconer says they were. Did Geoffrey tell you about her? He wants to buy the house, you know, but she won’t make up her mind. And nor will Mr. Sanderson-I can’t think why. Anyone would imagine that it wasn’t my own money. And it’s quite insulting the way he goes on making difficulties-as if I was a perfect fool and Geoffrey couldn’t be trusted to look after my interests!” She took a quick shallow breath, and Ione managed to say,

“Lawyers are like that. They don’t mean to be insulting-it’s just their way.”

Allegra was off again. Nothing could be less like the silent shadowy girl of yesterday. But Ione’s initial relief was passing into an even more acute anxiety. The colour in the thin cheeks was too bright. Allegra’s tongue had never raced at this unnatural speed. And those glances going here and there, but never resting, never meeting Ione’s-

Then quite suddenly their eyes did meet, accidentally as it seemed, and so briefly that for the moment Ione merely knew that she had received a tingling shock. There was no time for thought before the lashes came down and the head was turned. The realization of what she had seen came unwillingly and slowly. The pupils in those over-bright eyes were too small. They were much, much, much too small.

Allegra went on with that rapid talk. Ione was grateful for it-there was no need for her to say anything. She had disturbing thoughts. The sofa on which they were sitting stood with its back to the windows through which those gleams of sunlight brightened only to fade again. There was a fire-screen between Allegra and the not very brightly burning logs upon the hearth. There was, in fact, no natural cause for those contracted pupils. But there was an unnatural and most frightening one. One of Ione’s impulses came surging up, and no matter what she said to herself about it afterwards, you don’t begin to be tactful with your own only sister just because she has got married and you haven’t seen her for the best part of two years-at least not all in a moment, and when you have just had a most horrid shock. The impulse took charge. She leaned forward, caught both Allegra’s hands in hers, and said in her most arresting voice,

“Ally, what have you been taking?”

The hands were cold. They tugged feebly to get away, and were held in a strong, warm clasp. The eyelashes fluttered and came down over the telltale eyes. When the question had been repeated even more firmly, Allegra moved her head in protest.

“Taking?”

“You heard me.”

“I don’t know what you mean. Io, you’re hurting me!”

“No, I’m not! I said, ‘What have you been taking?’ and you are going to tell me! When I got here last night you were like a dead fish. Now you’re like someone in a fever, and the pupils of your eyes have gone away to practically nothing at all. One of the things that does that is morphia. Why are you taking morphia?”

Allegra shook back her hair and gave a little tinkling laugh.

“Io, how funny you are! That’s just my medicine. I went up to see a doctor in London, and he said I needed a tonic. I feel marvellous after it. But Geoffrey doesn’t like me taking it. That is why I was so flat last night-he took away the bottle and locked it up. We had quite a quarrel about it, and of course that upset me too. I just can’t bear it when Geoffrey is angry. And he very seldom is-except just about my medicine. And you know, I do think that is unreasonable-don’t you? Because I feel wonderful after I’ve taken it, and you’d think he’d be pleased about that, wouldn’t you?”

She was gazing at Ione now out of those over-bright eyes with their effect of being all iris.

“What was your doctor’s name, Ally?”

“The one here-or the one in London?”

“Both.”

“The one here is Dr. Whichcote. He’s rather old, but very kind. The one in London -no, do you know, I’ve forgotten. Geoffrey wanted me to go and see him, and Dr. Whichcote fixed it up. I only saw him once, and his name has gone right out of my head, but he gave me my lovely medicine, and he said, just like Dr. Whichcote does, that I’m quite all right, so there’s no need for anyone to fuss. And now will you please let go of my hands, Io?” Ione let them go. She wasn’t satisfied-no one could possibly have been satisfied with this shallow empty tale. She would have to take it to Geoffrey and have a show-down. That Allegra was being drugged was apparent. Neither Ally’s own denials nor those of anyone else were going to shake Ione about that. And if Geoffrey hadn’t a very good explanation, she was prepared to bring the family about his ears. What she could not understand was why he should have let her come here, knowing as he must have known that Allegra’s state could hardly pass unnoticed. Her visit had been postponed often enough. There had been excuse after excuse. And then suddenly she was not only invited, but positively urged to come. Was she considered to be such a fool that she couldn’t put two and two together? Or had things come to such a point that Geoffrey no longer cared whether she guessed or not?

Allegra’s tongue ran on. She had left the subject of her medicine and was talking about the house.

“It’s terribly old, isn’t it? I expect all these old houses have stories about them. Geoffrey says they are just nonsense-but-I don’t know-” Her voice dragged on the words. She looked over her shoulder and back again. Then she leaned forward and whispered, “Do you know what they call this house in the village? It was made into a dower house when the eighteenth-century Falconers built the big place which was burnt down in the blitz. They changed the name then from the Manor House to the Ladies’ House. But that’s not what they call it in the village. They never have, and they never will. Florrie told me about it-she is the daily housemaid, and she is a chattering kind of girl. She didn’t want to tell me, but I got it out of her. Her family has lived in Bleake almost as long as the Falconers have, so she knows. And she says even when it was the Manor House, hundreds of years before the big place was built, it had another, secret name. And do you know what it was?” She put her lips quite close to Ione’s ear and dropped her voice to a thread. “They called it Ladies’ Bane.” Ione was startled.

“Why?”

“Oh, I don’t know-some old story.” She shook back her hair and gave that tinkling laugh. “Stupid, isn’t it? A thing like that couldn’t be true.”

“A thing like what? If you don’t tell me, I shall ask Geoffrey.”

A fleeting look of terror passed over the little pointed face. Allegra’s hands came out and clutched her.

“No-no-you mustn’t ever! I’ll tell you. But it’s all nonsense, and you mustn’t think about it or speak about it-especially not to Geoffrey, because it would make him dreadfully angry. I oughtn’t to have said a word, but sometimes it frightens me. Oh, Io, it does!” She came very close again and whispered as she had done before. “It’s just-they say-that anyone who is mistress here-will lose the thing-she cares for most-in all the world.”

The last words came in a terrified rush. And only just in time, because Geoffrey Trent came into the room. There had been no sound of an opening door. If it had been unlatched, would that frightened whisper have reached him? Ione did not think it possible. Then how much had he seen of the frightened whispering attitude? Allegra had been quick to lean back in her corner of the sofa and to call his name in a tone of pleased surprise. Curiously enough, it was this which made the least agreeable impression. The Allegra of two years ago would not have known how to change her part like that. She had had no need for that or any other part. She had been simple, candid, sincere. She had also been loving and vulnerable. There were obvious changes now.

That bright blue glance of Geoffrey’s travelled over the sisters and came to rest upon his wife. She met it with a flush and a smile.

“I was telling Ione about the house. But I really oughtn’t to-I told her so. You do it so much better.”

He laughed and came to stand in front of the fire.

“I’ve just about exhausted her patience, I should think. But”-with a return of his eager manner-“it is all rather absorbing, isn’t it?” Ione smiled and nodded.

“I feel as if I had been on a personally conducted tour of the fourteenth century.”

“And you didn’t like it?”

“Well, not the underground part. But then I’ve got rather a thing about cellars, so if I scream in the night, you’ll know why.”

Allegra’s little restless hands were plucking at one another. They stopped for a moment now. She stared at them and said,

“No one would hear you if you did-the walls are too thick.”

If there had been a pause just then it would not have been a pleasant one. But there was no pause, because Geoffrey spoke, still with that pleasant eagerness about him,

“I’m not suggesting anything about the inside of the house, but I did wonder whether you would care to see the outside. Of course there’s nothing in the garden at this time of year, but you can see how it’s been laid out. There’s a really wonderful rock garden in what used to be an old quarry. Those Americans spent hundreds on it, and it’s really very hot stuff indeed. Wouldn’t you like to see it? And if you come, perhaps Allegra will too. She doesn’t get out enough. Dr. Whichcote says she ought to have plenty of fresh air.”

“It’s so cold-” Words and tone were those of a fretful child. She shrank back into her corner as if an attempt might be made to dislodge her by main force.

“You would be much warmer when you came in, my dear.”

Allegra shook her head till the light, fine hair flew up in a cloud.

“No-no-I wouldn’t! I just get colder and colder until the last bit of warmness is gone!” Her eyes implored him. The hands were plucking at one another again.

Ione got up.

“All right, darling, we won’t make you come this time-will we, Geoffrey? I’ll just get a coat.”