The Alington Inheritance

Chapter XXXII

Richard had been in town. He came back, and when Caroline Danesworth had gone to get the supper he got up and, standing on the hearthrug with his back to the fire which was so pleasant in the evenings, he said,

“Jenny-”

Something in his voice quickened her heart-beat. She turned round, brown startled eyes on him, and said,

“What is it?”

“Nothing. Don’t look like that. I thought we ought to find out for certain, so I went to Somerset House today-”

“ Somerset House?”

“That is where they keep the marriage certificates and all those sort of things. That is where Mac had got his information. What was open to him was open to me. It is quite true-your father and mother were married in January 1940. January the second to be exact. When were you born?”

She said, “August 31st, 1940. My father was killed at the end of May-I don’t know which day. And my mother was hit in an air raid about the same time. I told you.”

“Yes, you told me. She was struck on the head, wasn’t she?”

“Yes, she was. And she never spoke. The blow did something to her. I don’t know if she ever knew about my father being killed. I don’t think she did from what Garsty said-I hope she didn’t. And as soon as I was born she died. It’s a very sad story, isn’t it?”

Richard said, “I don’t know-it seems sad to us because we only see one side of it. It wasn’t so sad for them, you know. They weren’t separated very long-not nearly as long as they might have been as the war went on. Don’t grieve over them, Jenny.”

“I’m not really. It just makes me cry a little, that’s all.”

“I can’t bear to see you cry. If you go on, I shall come across and kiss you, and Caroline will take that moment to come in for something, and -well, don’t try me too high.”

Jenny looked up. Her eyes were swimming with tears. She blinked them away and they ran down and fell into her lap. She put up a hand to brush the traces away and smiled through her tears.

“Did you get the certificate?”

“I got a copy for you. Do you want to see it?”

“Please.”

He took out a pocket-book, opened it, and extracted the certificate. When he came over to her with it he sat down on the sofa beside her.

“You’re too young, you know, my dear,” he said in a moved voice. “I didn’t think of it like that until I looked at the date on this. Do you know that I was eight years old when you were born?”

Jenny said, “Why shouldn’t you be?” Then she took up the certificate and looked at it long and earnestly. She said in a moved voice, “They had so little time together.”

Richard put his arm round her.

“Please God we’ll have more time.”

She clung to him.

“Oh, yes-yes!”

It was a little later that he said, “Better give me the certificate. It’ll be wanted.”

“What are you going to do with it?”

“Mac and Mrs. Forbes must know that you have it. I think you ought to write to them.”

Jenny stiffened up.

“I don’t want to.”

“I think you’ll have to, darling.”

“I don’t see why.”

“Well, it’s this way. They probably guess that you know something, but they can’t be sure, and they can’t know. You’ll have to tell them.”

“Must I? I don’t want to.”

“It doesn’t matter whether you want to or not. You are the legitimate child of your parents, and you’ve got to be acknowledged. There’s no need to wash a lot of dirty linen in public unless you want to.”

“Oh, I don’t!”

“Well, short of that there’s a perfectly easy way out. I can be the one who wrestled round and found out about the marriage certificate. Mrs. Forbes and Mac will be only too glad to fall in with what we propose, to save their faces. They don’t deserve to be saved. They don’t deserve anything except the utmost rigour of the law. Not that the law comes into it-fortunately for them. But there could be a good deal of local talk, and they’ll be glad to be saved that.”

Jenny was silent. She slipped her hand through Richard’s arm and squeezed it.

“Richard, I don’t think I want to tell them,” she said.

He put his hand over hers.

“Why don’t you want to?”

Her eyes looked up at him, very big and dark.

“I don’t know. That is to say, I don’t know exactly.”

“Well, what do you know that isn’t-exact?”

“It’s just-there was a boy this morning and he said my name-the one I’ve never used here, Jenny Hill.”

“Oh-”

“He said it over and over as if he was saying it to himself. And when I asked him about it he said it was just a name that took his fancy and he wanted to know if I’d ever heard it before. I said yes, it used to be my name. And he wanted to know why I had changed it, and I said that you sometimes grow up with a name you think is really yours, and then you find out that it isn’t yours at all. You’ve got another name, but everyone doesn’t know it-not at first.”

“My dear child!” said Richard half laughing.

“And he said, ‘That’s very interesting.’ And then after a moment he said, ‘If there was a note with Miss Jenny Hill on it, would that be for you, or wouldn’t it be?’ And I said it would be for me, and I asked him why he wanted to know.”

“Well, what did he say?”

“He said he was just wondering. Well, I pressed him-I felt I must. I asked how he knew that I’d ever been called Jenny Hill, and he said that everyone knew it. The woman who works for Mrs. Merridew, she’d got hold of it, I don’t know how. And he said there was something exciting about having two names, and except for changing your name when you were married he’d never heard of anyone who had two names, and that was why he was interested.”

“Well, that’s quite a reasonable explanation.”

“No. No, it isn’t really. It didn’t really fit in with what he’d said before -‘And if there was a note with Jenny Hill on it, would that be for you, or wouldn’t it?’ So I said, ‘If you know anything about a note for me you’d better tell me what it is.’ And the little wretch said that he’d never said anything about a note for me. He said he couldn’t have said anything, seeing that there wasn’t one, could he?”

“Well-”

“He put on a very good act. He began to cry, and when I went on pressing him he ran away.”

“There’s not very much in that. I expect you frightened him.”

She shook her head.

“I don’t believe that boy’s ever been frightened in his life.”

“Which boy was it?”

“His name is Dicky Pratt.”

Richard whistled.

“He’s a young devil-I grant you that. But why are you so disturbed about the whole thing?”

She said under her breath, “A note for me-addressed to Miss Jenny Hill-who would that be from? I don’t like it at all.”