Vanishing Point

CHAPTER 44

Miss Silver was quite ready when Craig called for her at a little after half-past nine. She wore the hat which had been her best for no more than two winters, a black felt with a bunch of pansies on the left-hand side. Frank Abbott has always maintained that during the years he has sat at her feet Maudie has only possessed two hats, labelled respectively Best and Second Best, but that periodically, like the Phoenix, they renew their youth and rise on stepping-stones of their dead selves to higher things-these being exemplified by new black or purple ribbons and fresh bunches of the more sober kind of flower. It is, of course, so far true that her hats are always of the same shape, and that they are always made of black felt or black straw, according to the season. The current hat carried a black ribbon edged with purple, and the stalks of the pansies were controlled by a small jet buckle. She had in readiness to put on the pair of grey suede gloves which Cecilia Voycey had sent her for Christmas. She considered them far too light to be practical, but for a wedding they would be most appropriate. From her composed and serene appearance nobody would have guessed that she had been up all night.

After a search of the study at the Dower House had disclosed the presence of the Melbury rubies the arrest of Henry Cunningham had, of course, been inevitable. Lucy Cunningham’s distress had been painful to witness, and it had not been possible to leave her until she had fallen into an uneasy sleep. Nicholas had been really helpful, and she had come away towards morning feeling that Lucy might safely be left in his care until Mrs. Merridew could relieve him.

Fortunately, Marian had slept through the hours of the night without any suspicion that the front door was unlocked and her guest absent. By the time she awoke to these facts they could no longer be considered of the first importance. The arrest of Lydia Crewe, of Henry Cunningham, of that good-natured Mr. Selby, dominated everything.

“Oh, my dear Maud, those poor girls-what will they do! And Lucy! She will feel it quite dreadfully, poor thing! I must go to her! Poor Henry-it doesn’t seem possible! He was such a good-looking young man. Of course Lydia has always been strange. It isn’t really good for people to live in the past as she has done. After all, these old houses, and pictures, and furniture-they don’t matter as much as people do, and we oughtn’t let ourselves think so. But Lydia did-one couldn’t help seeing it. And whatever happened, she had to have her own way.”

Hazel Green buzzed with talk. But for once Florrie was not first with the news. She found Mrs. Merridew and Miss Silver already informed, and very little inclined to talk of what they knew. Mrs. Merridew’s, “It’s all very sad, Florrie, and I must hurry and get dressed so that I can go to Miss Cunningham,” was as much as she could get from her, and Miss Silver had taken her cup of tea into her own room and shut the door.

When Craig arrived Mrs. Merridew had already gone over to the Dower House and Miss Silver was ready. She waited until the village was behind them before giving him anything but a grave “Good-morning.” Then she said,

“How have they taken it, Mr. Lester?”

There was a touch of defiance in his answer.

“They don’t know.”

“You have told them nothing?”

He shook his head.

“Not a word. As soon as it began to get light I called through their window and told them to get dressed and come along. They didn’t ask any questions. I think there must have been some kind of a scene with Miss Crewe. Jenny looked odd. She wasn’t in her own room-she was in with Rosamond. I didn’t ask any questions either. I thought I’d leave well enough alone until we were married. Rosamond is perfectly capable of saying she can’t go through with it because that madwoman has been arrested. But once I’m her husband I’ll be able to deal with that, and with anything else that crops up. I don’t mind telling you I’m like a cat on hot bricks until I’ve got her safe.”

“Where have you taken them, Mr. Lester?”

“Well, I thought about my uncle’s house. Highly respectable and all that, but it would have made too much fuss. Elderly maid, nurse companion, everything going like clockwork-you know the sort of thing. It wouldn’t have done. So I took them to the Station Hotel-they’re used to people arriving by early trains. They’ll stay in their room-or at least I hope they will- until we come for them. I don’t think Jenny had had much sleep, and Rosamond would be trying to keep her quiet.”

Miss Silver sat silent and thoughtful. News flies fast in the country. The case was a sensational one. The arrested persons had been taken to Melbury to be charged. There might already be talk in an hotel, where the staff would be coming to work. The Melbury rubies would set tongues wagging. She hoped indeed that Rosamond Maxwell would remain in her room.

At Craig’s knock on the door Rosamond opened it. If he too had had misgivings, they were swept away. She was wearing the blue jumper in which she had come to tea with Mrs. Merridew. It wasn’t new, but it deepened the sapphire blue of her eyes. When she looked at Craig they were full of light.

He said, “Miss Silver has come to see us married,” and she turned at once and put out both her hands.

“How kind of you-how very, very kind!”

Jenny was feeling rather grand because she was wearing a skirt and jumper of Rosamond’s. Her own clothes were all up over her knees, and you can’t go to your sister’s wedding like that. These things weren’t new-none of their things were new-but she could feel the skirt swishing against her legs in a perfectly grown-up way, and though it was just rather a dull old tweed and the jumper was brown, they did show up her hair. Odd that when Miss Silver looked at her she should feel as if she wanted to cry.

They went down to the Register Office in Craig’s car. Jenny thought it was a very dull way to be married. Rosamond would have looked so nice in a long white dress with a train behind and a lovely floating veil. And Jenny would have been bridesmaid, in a white dress too, with a wreath of flowers on her hair. And an organ, and singing, and a lot of flowers in the church. Dull, that’s what this was, and all over whilst she was still thinking how nice the other sort of wedding would have been. She hadn’t really got as far as deciding whether she would have snowdrops and ivy leaves or grape hyacinths in her hair before the Registrar was saying, “Let me be the first to congratulate you, Mrs. Lester,” and it was all over.

Craig and Rosamond didn’t kiss. They looked at each other. There was something in the way they looked which gave Jenny a curious shaky feeling. It wasn’t flowers and a white dress and music that made a wedding romantic. It was something else- something which was between the two people who were marrying each other. And just for a moment when Craig looked at Rosamond and she looked back at him Jenny had seen it.