The Case of William Smith

Chapter Thirty-one

And where do we go from here?’ said William.

It was Sunday morning, and they had finished breakfast. The day lay before them. It came to Katharine with a tremendous sense of relief that it wasn’t for her to say what the next step was to be. She had done it all these weeks, but she didn’t have to do it any more. It was very restful. She said,

‘That is for you to say.’

He pushed back his chair.

‘Well, I don’t know that there’s much choice, really. I think we’d better go over and see Cyril. Has he still got Evendon?’

‘Yes, but I don’t know that he’ll be there.’

‘He always used to go down there for the weekends – liked gloating over his collections. But of course you said Maud was dead – ’

She nodded.

‘Five years ago.’

‘And Sylvia’s married. Doesn’t he go down there now?’

‘Oh, yes, I think so.’ She hesitated, and then said in a reluctant voice, ‘I think there’s something going on with Mavis Jones.’

He gave a whistle.

‘I thought it was Brett!’

‘So did I, but I think that’s back history. I daresay I’m wrong about Cyril, but – well, you know how it is, if she’s in the room he’s got a sort of way of looking at her before he answers, and I’ve thought she was being a bit proprietary.’

He whistled again.

‘Poor old Cyril! He’s rather a defenceless sort of chap – not much good at saying no. And Mavis – Katharine, she must have known me.’

‘I’m quite sure she did.’

‘Do you suppose she – told anyone?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Cyril – or Brett?’

‘I don’t know, William.’

He got up, walked to the window, looked out at the grey sky, the grey street, and turned, frowning deeply.

‘I don’t think so – not Cyril – not either of them. Why should she? If she was trying to kid herself it was just a likeness she wouldn’t. You know, it’s quite extraordinary how convinced people can get themselves over something if they don’t want it to be true. She may have done that, or – ’ He stopped short.

‘Or what?’

He said, ‘Davies – Mr. Tattlecombe – me. If she made up her mind to do anything about it she wouldn’t tell Cyril or Brett.’ Then quite suddenly he laughed. ‘That’s rubbish – it must be. Where’s the motive? Besides, people don’t do things like that. It must be nonsense. I tell you what, you ring up Evendon and find out if Cyril is there. If he is, say you’d like to run over. Don’t say anything about me. If he’s not there, find out where he is. He might be with Sylvia.’

‘I shouldn’t think he would be. They aren’t settled.’

He came over and pulled her up.

‘Well, come along and telephone! We can’t do anything until we know where he is.’

It was the butler who answered, elderly, polite, and suave. Mr. Eversley was at home but he had stepped out.

Katharine heard the news with relief. She said,

‘It’s Mrs. William Eversley, Soames. Will you tell Mr. Eversley when he comes in that I am very particularly anxious to see him, and that I am driving over. I’m speaking from the Cedar House, and I should be over in about an hour and a half. Will you tell him that?’

‘Certainly, madam.’

‘I suppose Mr. Brett isn’t there?’

‘No, madam.’

Katharine said, ‘Thank you,’ and rang off.

She turned round. William had his hands in his pockets. The thought went through her mind – ‘No one who knew him when he was a boy could possibly think he was anyone else.’

He said, ‘Soames still there? Think he’ll stand up to the shock of seeing me?’

She came to him then, slipping her hand inside his arm.

‘You don’t think we ought to break it to them first?’

She got a grave, steady look.

‘No, I don’t. I think we’ll administer the shock.’

It was about half an hour later that Sylvia rang up. Her voice was as pretty as herself, but it sounded distracted, as who should say, ‘Enter Tilburina, mad in white satin.’ If, however, she was mad at this moment, it was in the American sense.

‘Is that Katharine? Soames says you rang up from the Cedar House.’

‘Right both times, darling.’

‘I’m not at Evendon. I wouldn’t go. Jocko and I are at Huntinglea with his people. Soames rang up and said you were coming to lunch, and what about us. Of course Daddy put him up to it, and I just want to know if he was speaking the truth. Are you really going to be there for lunch? Or is it just a trap to get us there?’

Katharine felt a little bewildered.

‘Well, I don’t know about lunch. The fact is, something’s happened, and I’m going over to see Cyril about it. After that – well, it just depends.’

Sylvia sounded more distracted than ever.

Then you’ve heard! Isn’t it grim! Daddy wanted us to come over for the weekend and meet her, but I put my foot down flat.’

‘Sylvia, I don’t think we’re talking about the same thing – it doesn’t make sense. Who did Cyril want you to go and meet?’

An angry sob came back along the line.

‘That foul Jones woman – he’s married her!’

Katharine said, ‘No!’ on a quick indrawn breath.

Twenty-five miles away Sylvia stamped her foot.

‘Well, he has! He rang up last night to say so. He was so nervous he could hardly get it out, and I don’t wonder. I kept saying “No!” just like you did, and he went on saying it over and over again. And then he wanted Jocko and me to come for the weekend, and I said, “I won’t!” – just like that, and slammed down the receiver. So now he’s got Soames to ring up and lure us by saying you’re coming to lunch, and I thought I’d just find out if you really were. Because it might be Daddy gone all foxy, or it might be Soames trying to boil up a reconciliation – he’s frightfully family-retainer, you know. So what about it? Jocko says what’s the good of quarrelling with your father, even if he has married his secretary? And his father and mother say the same. You know how they are – all for peace and a quiet life. And of course they’re marvellous in-laws. But I’m not confronting that Jones woman alone. Jocko doesn’t count. I want a fellow female at my back, so you’ve just got to be there, or I won’t stay. Au revoir, angel – but if you’re not there, it’ll be devil, and I’ll never speak to you again!’

By the time the conversation was over William had practically made himself a part of it by coming up close and propping his chin on Katharine’s shoulder so as to get his ear next to the receiver. When she hung up his eyes were laughing. He said,

‘Whatever else has changed, Sylvia hasn’t. Jocko used to be a nice lad. What’s he turned out like?’

‘Pretty good, I think. They’re blissfully happy. Did you hear what she said?’

‘Most of it – something about Cyril and Miss Jones’.’

‘William, he’s married her!’

He whistled.

‘Gosh! Well, I suppose he bought it.’

Katharine felt a light shiver go over her, she didn’t quite know why. Cyril and Mavis Jones – married – now! Why? Or wasn’t there any reason? What reason could there be?

William said quickly, ‘Don’t look like that – I won’t have it!’ He pulled her up close and kissed her. ‘I won’t have it, I tell you – not for fifty thousand Cyrils and a million Mavis Joneses!’

She had to laugh then.

‘Darling, what a perfectly appalling prospect!’