"I wish I had Neville Duke's and Roger Bannister's," Pippa murmured wistfully. "These historical ones are rather mouldy, I think." She replaced the envelope and autographs in the box, placed the box back on the shelf, and then began to back towards the hall door. "Can I see if there are any more chocolate biscuits in the larder, Clarissa?" she asked hopefully."Yes, if you like," Clarissa told her, smiling."We must be off," said Hugo, following Pippa towards the door and calling up the staircase, "Jeremy! Hi! Jeremy!"
"Coming," Jeremy shouted back as he hurried down the stairs, crossed the hall, and entered the room carrying a golf club."Henry ought to be home soon," Clarissa murmured, to herself as much as to the others.
Hugo went across to the French windows, calling to Jeremy, "Better go out this way. It's nearer." He turned back to Clarissa. "Good night, Clarissa dear," he said. "Thank you for putting up with us. I'll probably go straight home from the club, but I promise to send your weekend guests back to you in one piece."
"Good night, Clarissa," Jeremy joined in, as he and Hugo left by the French windows.
Clarissa waved them goodbye, as Sir Rowland came across and put his arm around her. "Good night, my dear," he said. "Warrender and I will probably not be in until about midnight."Clarissa accompanied him to the French windows. "It's really a lovely evening," she observed. "I'll come with you as far as the gate onto the golf course."They strolled across the garden together, making no attempt to catch up with Hugo and Jeremy. "What time do you expect Henry home?" Sir Rowland asked Clarissa."Oh, I'm not sure. It varies. Quite soon, I imagine. Anyway, we'll have a quiet evening together and some cold food, and we'll probably have retired to bed by the time you and Jeremy get back."
"Yes, don't wait up for us, for heaven's sake," Sir Rowland told her.
They walked on in companionable silence until they reached the garden gate. Then, "All right, my dear, I'll see you later, or probably at breakfast tomorrow," said Clarissa.
Sir Rowland gave her an affectionate peck on the cheek and walked on briskly to catch up with his companions, while Clarissa made her way back to the house. It was a pleasant evening, and she walked slowly, stopping to enjoy the sights and smells of the garden, and allowing her thoughts to wander. She laughed to herself as the image of Miss Peake with her broccoli came into her mind, then found herself smiling when she thought of Jeremy and his clumsy attempt to make love to her. She wondered idly whether he had really been serious about it. As she approached the house, she began to contemplate with pleasure the prospect of a quiet evening at home with her husband.
CHAPTER FIVE
CLARISSA AND Sir Rowland had hardly been gone more than a few minutes when Elgin, the butler, entered the room from the hall, carrying a tray of drinks, which he placed on a table. When the front-door bell suddenly rang, he went out into the hall, leaving the door open behind him. He opened the front door to find a theatrically handsome, dark-haired man standing outside."Good evening, sir," Elgin greeted him."Good evening. I've come to see Mrs. Brown," the man told him rather brusquely."Oh, yes, sir, do come in," said Elgin. Closing the door behind the man, he asked, "What name, sir?"
"Mr. Costello," he was told."This way, sir," Elgin invited him, leading the way along the hall. He stood aside to allow the newcomer to enter the drawing-room, and then said, "Would you wait here, sir. Madam is at home. I'll see if I can find her." He started to go, then stopped and turned back to the man. "Mr. Costello, did you say?"
"That's right," the stranger replied. "Oliver Costello."
"Very good, sir," murmured Elgin as he left the room, closing the door behind him.
Left alone, Oliver Costello looked around the room, walked across to listen first at the library door and next at the hall door, and then approached the desk, bent over it, and looked closely at the drawers. Hearing a sound, he quickly moved away from the desk, and was standing in the centre of the room when Clarissa came in through the French windows.
Costello turned. When he saw who it was, he looked amazed.
It was Clarissa who spoke first. Sounding intensely surprised, she gasped, "You?"
"Clarissa! What are you doing here?" exclaimed Costello. He sounded equally surprised."That's a rather silly question, isn't it?" Clarissa replied. "It's my house."
"This is your house?" His tone was one of disbelief."Don't pretend you don't know," said Clarissa sharply.
Costello stared at her without speaking for a moment or two. Then, adopting a complete change of manner, he observed, "What a charming house this is. It used to belong to old what's-his-name, the antique dealer, didn't it? I remember he brought me out here once to show me some Louis Quinze chairs." Costello took a cigarette case from his pocket. "Cigarette?" he offered."No, thank you," replied Clarissa abruptly. "And," she added, "I think you'd better go. My husband will be home quite soon, and I don't think he'll be very pleased to see you."Costello strolled across to the armchair and stood behind it as he responded with rather insolent amusement, "But I particularly do want to see him. That's why I've come here, really, to discuss suitable arrangements."
"Arrangements?" Clarissa asked, her tone one of puzzlement."Arrangements for Pippa," Costello explained. "Miranda's quite agreeable to Pippa's spending part of the summer holidays with Henry, and perhaps a week at Christmas. But otherwise-"Clarissa interrupted him sharply. "What do you mean?" she asked. "Pippa's home is here."Costello wandered casually over to the table with the drinks on it. "But, my dear Clarissa," he exclaimed, "you're surely aware that the court gave Miranda the custody of the child?" He picked up a bottle of whisky. "May I?" he asked, and without waiting for a reply poured a drink for himself. "The case was undefended, remember?"Clarissa faced him belligerently. "Henry allowed Miranda to divorce him," she declared, speaking clearly and concisely, "only after it was agreed between them privately that Pippa should live with her father. If Miranda had not agreed to that, Henry would have divorced her."Costello gave a laugh which bordered on a sneer. "You don't know Miranda very well, do you?" he asked. "She so often changes her mind."Clarissa turned away from him. "I don't believe for one moment," she said contemptuously, "that Miranda wants that child or even cares twopence about her."
"But you're not a mother, my dear Clarissa," was Costello's impertinent response. "You don't mind my calling you Clarissa, do you?" he went on, with another unpleasant smile. "After all, now that I'm married to Miranda, we're practically relations-in-law."He swallowed his drink in one gulp and then put his glass down. "Yes, I can assure you," he continued, "Miranda is now feeling violently maternal. She feels she must have Pippa to live with us for most of the time."
"I don't believe it," Clarissa snapped."Please yourself," Costello replied as he made himself comfortable in the armchair. "But there's no point in your trying to contest it. After all, there was no arrangement in writing, you know."
"You're not going to have Pippa," Clarissa told him firmly. "The child was a nervous wreck when she came to us. She's much better now, and she's happy at school, and that's the way she's going to remain."
"How will you manage that, my dear?" Costello sneered. "The law is on our side."
"What's behind all this?" Clarissa asked him, sounding bewildered. "You don't care about Pippa. What do you really want?" She paused, and then struck her forehead. "Oh! What a fool I am. Of course, it's blackmail."Costello was about to reply when Elgin entered abruptly from the hall. "I was looking for you, madam," the butler told Clarissa. Seeing Costello with her, he asked, "Will it be quite all right for Mrs. Elgin and myself to leave now for the evening, madam?"