Ladies’ Bane Read online

  The hope failed before she had time to nourish it. From a door on the left there emerged a figure in a quilted dressing-gown of navy blue silk with a good deal of white hair disposed for the night under a strong brown net. There were firm rosy cheeks, and the sort of bright blue eyes that give you the impression that you are being gone over with a magnifying-glass.

  Jim Severn hastened to say his piece.

  “Nannie, this is Miss Muir. We’ve been held up in the fog, and I’m afraid she has hurt herself. Barbara’s room is ready, isn’t it?”

  The blue eyes transferred their gaze to him.

  “It’s never been otherwise since we come here.” They returned to Ione. “Good-evening, Miss Muir.” The air fairly crisped with frost.

  Ione said in a lovely piteous voice,

  “Oh, Nannie, I know it looks dreadful, but I fell down some area steps-and Mr. Severn has been so kind. Do you think-oh, do you think I could possibly have a wash?”

  It might have been one thing, or it might have been another. It might have been the quality of the voice or the quiver in it, or just the drawn fatigue of the face out of which two candid eyes looked into hers, but the temperature underwent a marked improvement. Nannie knew a lady when she saw and heard one, green slime or no green slime, and she knew when what was wanted was a hot bath, and a hot drink, and a nice warm bed.

  It was while she was laying down the law on these lines that Jim Severn was understood to say that he must go and put away the car.

  Nannie threw open the bathroom door.

  “Constant hot water is what we have, and it’s not everyone can say that. Now, miss, here’s your towel, and I’ll just go and get you one of Miss Barbara’s nightgowns, and the dressing-gown she keeps here, and some slippers. Eh, dear, but you’ve laddered your stockings-past doing anything to by the look of them! And a tear in your coat-but that will mend. Fur tears easy, and it mends easy too.”

  She bustled away, and came back again with an amusing flowered dressing-gown, scarlet slippers, and an extremely decorative nightdress.

  “Now, my dear, you just have a nice hot bath. And you needn’t spare the water-it does two easy. But you’d better not be too long, for Mr. Jim will be wanting his. There’s some of Miss Barbara’s bath-salts in that jar.”

  It was a heavenly bath, and when it was over there was a heavenly hot drink and a soft, delicious bed. By the time Nannie had tucked her in, opened the window, and put out the light she might have been ordering her about since she was three years old. She didn’t go to sleep. She plunged into it. Dreamless depths closed over her.

  CHAPTER 4

  The ice never formed again. Nannie brought her a cup of tea at eight, and told her all about Barbara whilst she was drinking it. It appeared that she had ceased to be Miss Barbara to anyone except Nannie for the last ten years or so. She was Lady Carradyne.

  “And Sir Humphrey is a very nice gentleman. Wonderful interested in everything to do with the land like a gentleman ought to be, and does very well at it too, so Miss Barbara says. They’ve got a boy of eight and a half, and a little girl of five-a real little love. But of course I couldn’t leave Mr. Jim, so I recommended my niece. And if Miss Barbara has a mind to come up to town and stay over, well, there’s her room always ready, and no need to let us know. She’s got her key and can just walk in.” Ione checked the thought that it was just as well that Barbara hadn’t walked in at, say, four o’clock in the morning to find a strange girl in her bed.

  Nannie went on talking. By the time Ione was dressed, with a pair of Barbara’s stockings to take the place of her ruined ones, she knew what an old and distinguished firm of architects Jim Severn belonged to. There were two uncles in it, and one of them wouldn’t be very long before he retired, and then Mr. Jim would go up a step.

  “His father died when the children were still in the nursery-him and Miss Barbara-and their mother married again. But she didn’t live long either, so you may say they never had anyone but each other, Mr. Jim and Miss Barbara.” Ione listened, but she had to think as well. The first thing to be done was to ring up Wanetree and placate Norris, who would certainly be feeling fierce about her failure either to return or to let them know that she was not coming back last night. She ought to have done it before really-not in the middle of the night, but more or less at crack of dawn, which at this time of year would be getting on for a quarter to eight.

  Norris was Cousin Eleanor’s maid, and a domestic tyrant of forty years’ standing. She answered the call in a very bad temper indeed and scolded Ione as if she were five years old.

  “Staying out all night, and not so much as troubling to give us a ring! I’m sure I don’t know what things are coming to! And if Miss Eleanor isn’t downright ill, thinking something might have happened-well, it’s no thanks to those that should know better, and that I will say, and nobody is going to get me from it!” Ione took a deep patient breath. She really had known Norris since she was five, and the only thing you could do with her when she was in a mood was just to go on saying whatever you had to say until some of it got in. “Listen, Norrie-”

  “And don’t you Norrie me, Miss Ione! There’s those that can have dust thrown in their eyes, and those that can’t nor won’t!”

  “Norrie, do just listen! There was a fog-F, O, G-fog.”

  “Nor I don’t want things spelled at me neither!”

  “Look in the morning papers! It was the worst fog ever. I fell down some area steps, and I never got near a telephone till half past three, and then I thought I’d better let it alone.”

  “I should think so indeed-waking the whole house in the middle of the night!”

  “Norrie-you didn’t tell Cousin Eleanor, did you?… No, I thought you wouldn’t. It’s so bad for her to worry.”

  There was a portentous sniff at the other end of the line.

  “And whose fault would it be if she did? Only for me she’d be half off her head by now, but I’m not so short of trouble that I’d go telling her what there’s no need for her to fret about! She doesn’t know but what I’m taking you in a cup of tea at this identical moment.” Ione rang off with relief and got dressed. She put in some good work on the face. Nobody wants to be remembered as a green wraith floating in a fog. Barbara seemed to have brought Nannie very well up to date, before she actually approved the result, commenting favourably on Ione’s choice of lipstick. She had mended the tear in the fur coat and sponged and pressed the skirt of the brown suit. The hat went on nicely. Altogether quite a pleasant transformation scene.

  Men hadn’t to bother of course. Jim Severn looked exactly the same at breakfast as he had done the night before under a street-lamp. There was a moment when this breakfast-table meeting seemed stranger than anything that had happened last night. This time yesterday neither of them knew that the other existed. Only six hours ago neither of them had the faintest idea what the other looked like. And now here they were, sitting down to breakfast together in his flat. If only Norrie knew! But even Norrie would be satisfied with Nannie as a chaperon. She began to laugh, and he saw how quick and sensitive her face was, and that her eyes were not really dark, but grey with brown flecks in them.

  Well, you can’t just laugh in a man’s face and not tell him why, so she told him about Norris and Cousin Eleanor. And from there they seemed to get on to her American visit, she didn’t quite know how or why, and she told him about the monologues.

  “Of course you have just the right voice. I should think you could make it express anything you wanted it to. Are you going on with them over here?”

  “I’ve had some offers-but I told you Cousin Eleanor has been ill. And she’s not just an ordinary cousin, she brought us up.”

  “Us?”

  “I have a sister-Allegra. She is married to a man called Geoffrey Trent. I’m going to stay with them next week, and after that I shall have to make some plans. Cousin Eleanor is much better.”

  Jim Severn was frowning.

  “Now where did I c
ome across that name?… Of course-how stupid!”

  He got up, went out of the room, and came back again with a crumpled piece of paper in his hand.

  “I was quite puzzled for the moment. But of course you must have dropped it last night. I picked it up on the stairs in the house we were in.” Ione took the paper and smoothed it out. It was a bit torn irregularly off the edge of a newspaper. It was rather dirty and very much creased. The words pencilled upon the blank margin were well on their way to being illegible. If they had not been familiar to Ione, she would probably have been unable to read them. As it was, she stared at them in surprise. There was a name, and the name was Geoffrey Trent. And there was an address.

  She stared at it. Faint as the words were, she could not mistake them:

  The Ladies’ House,

  Bleake.

  It was Geoffrey Trent’s address, but how in the world could Jim Severn have come by it? Her voice dragged a little as she said,

  “I’ve never seen it before.”

  CHAPTER 5

  As Ione walked into Mr. Sanderson’s office she had the faintly regretful feeling that she was passing from adventure to the commonplace. At the time some of the adventure had been very unpleasant, but in retrospect it merely provided a thrill. It is always amusing to stand on the threshold of a new friendship and speculate as to its possibilities. Jim Severn quite obviously wanted to be friends. She had promised to lunch with him when she came back from her visit to Allegra. They had begun tentatively to explore one another’s minds. Rather like going into a house that you have never been in before and trying to find out what the owner is like, what sort of things are prized, and what rejected. Is it a warm, welcoming, livable house, or is it the narrow kind which is shut up with its own thoughts and has no friends? You look, you touch, you guess, you explore. There are some locked doors. Not so good if there are too many of them. As far as she had gone, Jim Severn’s house felt clean and airy. She hoped he thought the same of hers. Of course everyone had their cellars and their attics.

  These attractive speculations were at once dispelled by the atmosphere of Mr. Sanderson’s office. It was warm, and it was handsomely furnished, but there lingered upon it a suggestion of mould, and mice, and a rather pungent kind of furniture-polish. It was always the same, and so was Mr. Sanderson, tall and grey and formal in his City clothes and a collar that had been out of fashion for so long that it was just beginning to come back again. Since he had worn folding glasses with steel rims ever since he had first taken his place in the firm which was Sanderson, Sanderson, Hildred and Sanderson, he saw no reason why he should discard them for the up-to-date horn-rimmed variety. They hung always a little crooked upon a nose rather meagrely equipped to sustain them, and they were apt to fall off when he bent forward to examine anything at all closely. He peered through them at Ione now and said that it was always a pleasure to see her.

  “And your sister too of course-but I did not think her looking very well.” Ione stopped herself saying all the things she wanted to say-such as, when had he seen Allegra, and why there should have been any mystery about her visit to town. They could have met, they could have lunched together, and they could have settled about her visit by word of mouth instead of having a long niggling correspondence.

  She pushed all this away into the back of her mind and said,

  “She always finds London rather tiring, I think. I am going to stay with her next week, and I hope to find her better.”

  Mr. Sanderson brightened.

  “That will be very nice for you both-very nice indeed. And you will be able to talk the whole business over thoroughly. As I told her, it requires careful consideration.” Ione had not the slightest idea what he was talking about, but she meant to find out. She turned a limpid gaze upon him and said,

  “Yes, I’m sure it does. The trouble is, I’m not at all clear about it. Legal things are always so difficult. I thought perhaps you would be able to explain.”

  Mr. Sanderson was gratified. He had just had an interview with a couple of masterful ladies who insisted on laying down the law to him, and Ione’s modest desire for instruction appeared to him in a most pleasing light.

  “You will remember that under your father’s will the property was divided between you and your sister. But certain unforeseen circumstances have arisen. There has been a very sharp drop in the value of the shares allotted to your sister, so that what appeared at the time to be a substantial fortune has undergone a considerable reduction-in point of fact a very considerable reduction.” Ione experienced some unusual emotions. There was a strong rush of feeling that was strongly, even violently checked. She felt as you do when you run downstairs in the dark and find at the bottom that there is a step which you have not allowed for. There was a sensation of surprise and shock. She did not know that her colour had suddenly flamed, and she certainly would not have expected Mr. Sanderson to be aware of it. He said in his best legal manner,

  “Your sister’s visit was for the purpose of finding out whether the trustees would consent to the sale of these shares. There is, of course, something to be said for cutting your losses. She suggests that it would be a good thing if she could buy the house for which they are at present paying a somewhat exorbitant rent. It would, of course, be quite possible for the trustees to authorize the purchase of a suitable house, but, as I told her, the matter requires very careful consideration.” Ione’s colour was very bright. She said,

  “Mr. Sanderson, it’s a dreadful position for me. Of course I had no idea. I’ve been away-and Allegra is the worst correspondent. I must think what I can do-”

  Mr. Sanderson gazed at her with pleasure and approbation. That heightened colour was very becoming, and so was this generous concern about her sister. But she must not be allowed to do anything in a hurry. There was, in fact, not very much that could be done. He took off his glasses, polished them with a stiff white linen handkerchief, and put them back crooked.

  “My dear Miss Ione, I am afraid there is not very much that you can do about it. The division was fair enough at the time, but it is now nearly twenty years since your father’s death, and I do not need to point out to you that there have been very great changes, especially in the last few years. I am afraid I took it for granted that your sister had talked the matter over with you.” Ione shook her head.

  “There has been no opportunity, and Allegra wouldn’t write about anything like that. I am going to stay with her next week. I shall hear all about it then.”

  He was frowning slightly as he said,

  “Yes-yes. But pray do not allow a generous impulse to carry you away. As you are aware, you have no control over your capital, and your trustees would not allow any transfer. It would not, in fact, be within their power to do so. And really there is no need for you to distress yourself. Mrs. Trent is still in the enjoyment of a very fair income.” The frown had passed. He beamed at her through the tilted glasses. “So you are going to stay at the Ladies’ House next week. A curious name-but I understand from your sister that it was the dower house of the Falconer family. The last male heir having been killed in the war, most of the property has been sold already, and now Mrs. Trent tells me that they would have an opportunity of acquiring the Ladies’ House at a reasonable figure. Of course, as I told her, the whole thing would have to be gone into very thoroughly. These old houses”-he shook his head in a worried manner-“you never know what the dilapidations may amount to. If, for instance, the roof is unsound, the property might become a serious liability. Then there is the plumbing to be considered. In my experience this is often very far from satisfactory. Mrs. Trent tells me that they have electric light, but there again many disastrous fires in country mansions are traceable to insufficient care in the matter of wiring. I really could not advise my fellow trustees to authorize the expenditure of any part of Mrs. Trent’s capital unless I felt perfectly satisfied upon these points.” Ione said, “No, I suppose not.” She had begun to feel that she really could not g
o on talking to Mr. Sanderson any longer. The sense of shock persisted. She wanted time to think. There was a horrid feeling at the back of her mind that perhaps all this about the money might have something to do with the fact that Allegra’s letters had been so few and far between. It was just a feeling-it couldn’t possibly be true. But she couldn’t deal with it here. Mr. Sanderson was saying something about not committing herself, but she really wasn’t sure of what it was. The room seemed to have become uncomfortably hot. She said,

  “I won’t do anything in a hurry-I promise you I won’t.”

  He inclined his head, and the glasses dropped to the full length of the cord which sustained them. He blinked at her and said,

  “No precipitate action in any direction, Miss Ione. The matter must be given the most careful consideration.”

  CHAPTER 6

  Ione looked from the window of her taxi. She had been a little disappointed that no one had met her train at Wraydon, but of course there might have been half a dozen good reasons for that-and at least two bad ones. Unlike as they were in most things, she and Allegra had one thing in common, railway timetables just failed to penetrate any intelligence they might be supposed to possess. She did not think that she had given Allegra the wrong time of arrival, but she would not have cared to be dogmatic about it. On the other hand, it was more than likely that Allegra might have read the figures upside-down, or inside-out, or any which way. After all, there was no particular point about being met. She got her luggage into a taxi, learned that it was two and a half miles to Bleake, and gave herself up to an interested survey of the landscape.

  The first thing that met her eye was an enormous poster on the hoarding which decorated the station enclosure.

  COMING NEXT WEEK

  FERRINGTON’S FAMOUS FOLLIES

  WITH

  THE GREAT PROSPERO