Until the marriage with Edith when the Cowan fortune came into the possession of the Stacys, I thought. Poor Edith, perhaps if she had not been an heiress she might have married Jeremy Brown and been a parson’s wife—and she would have been a good one in time—and lived happily ever after.
And now…what sort of future would she have with Napier? What sort of future would any woman have with such a man? Some would be able to deal with it. Some might find it exhilarating in a repellent sort of way.
I shut off that line of thought promptly.
“Many of the cottages are in need of repair,” he went on. “We are putting that to rights gradually. And about time too. I could show you, if you would care to ride round with me one day.”
“I am the music teacher.”
“That’s no reason why you should not look at the estate, is it? You might find some budding genius tucked away in one of our farmhouses.”
“Is Mrs. Stacy interested in the estate?”
His smile was a little sad. “I have never been able to discover what she is interested in.”
“After all…” I was going to say that it was her fortune which was going to be used to improve the estate, but that seemed to be going too far. Perhaps, I implied this, for he was frowning slightly and I summoned the girls again. I did not want them to think that I was taking a ride with Napier. We were a party and I wanted this stressed.
“Come on,” I called.
“Yes, Mrs. Verlaine,” answered Alice and they came up with us.
“Aren’t the wrecks clear?” she said, as though making polite conversation.
“Very,” I replied. I signed for Allegra to take her place beside Napier, but she hung back sullenly and I did not want to force it, so I turned my horse and we went on and in a short time we came to a cottage with a long front garden in which the weeds were growing.
I heard Sylvia’s shrill voice: “That’s the Brancots. Their garden’s a disgrace. The weeds blow to other people’s and spoil their flowers and vegetables. There have been complaints.”
“Poor Mr. Brancot,” said Alice gently. “He’s so old. How can he do his garden? It’s not fair to expect it.”
“Still, it’s a rule that tenants look after their gardens, my mother said.”
The only time Sylvia was bold was when she was quoting her mother.
We passed on and in a short time I noticed that the girls had fallen behind again. They were keeping their distance because they thought we wished them to, and what this implied made me uneasy.
A few days later an even more disturbing incident occurred.
As I came out of the house I found Mrs. Lincroft with Alice about to get into the dog cart.
“We’re just going to the little shop to get a few things,” she said. “Is there anything you need?”
I thought awhile and remembered that I needed a reel of blue cotton.
“Why not come along with us?” she suggested. “Then you can choose the exact color you need.”
As we rode along I remembered the little shop which Roma and her friends had used and which I had once visited with my sister. It was in fact a house—little more than a cottage—and in the window of the parlor, goods were displayed, the idea seeming to be to cram in as much as possible. Roma had said that the shop was a godsend and saved them going into Lovat Mill whenever they wanted any little thing. It was run by a large woman and all I remembered about her was that she talked a great deal and was shaped rather like a figure eight.
One stepped down into the interior of the shop, where bundles of firewood were stacked against a wall beside a great tin of paraffin oil, the smell of which permeated the gloom. There were biscuits, cheeses, fruit, cake and bread as well as haberdashery. I guessed it prospered largely because many of the people of the neighborhood were saved, as Roma and her friends had been, from making the journey into Lovat Mill.
As soon as I entered memories came back to me of Roma and I thought of her standing there asking in that brisk voice of hers for glue or brushes or bread and cheeses.
Mrs. Lincroft made her purchases and I asked for my cotton; and as the plump lady, whom Mrs. Lincroft addressed as Mrs. Bury, brought out her tray of cottons, she peered at me and said: “Oh, you people are back then, are you?”
In dismay I understood at once. She recognized me.
Mrs. Lincroft said: “This is Mrs. Verlaine, who teaches the girls music.”
“Oh…” A long-drawn-out sigh of astonishment. “Well, fancy that. I could have sworn…I thought you were one of them…They were here for quite a time…always coming in for this and that.”
“Mrs. Bury means the people who were working on the Roman remains,” explained Alice.
“That’s right,” said Mrs. Bury. “Why you’re the spitting image of this one. I could have sworn…she didn’t come in much…once or twice…but I’m not one to forget a face. I thought for a minute: Hello, they’re back. This is a nice blue. It depends of course—”
As she brought out a little brown paper bag and put in the cotton I had selected, she was chuckling to herself. “My word…For a minute I thought…I could have sworn you were one of them.”
She took my money and gave me my change.
“Mind you,” she said, “I wouldn’t be the one to say no if they wanted to come back and do some more. There’s some that don’t like it. But they were always in here. Some didn’t like ’em cutting up the countryside but it’s good for business, I say. Well, it takes all sorts to make a world. It was funny that one who disappeared. We never heard what became of her. I expect it was in the papers and I missed it. Though if it had been murder—”
“We shall never know now,” said Mrs. Lincroft finalizing the conversation. “Thank you, Mrs. Bury.”
“Thank you, I’m sure.” Her warm brown eyes followed me out; and I knew she was trying to cast back her mind to a certain afternoon when Roma had gone into her shop taking a companion with her.
“I had to cut her short,” said Mrs. Lincroft as we climbed into the trap. “Otherwise she’d go on forever.”
I had been rather shaken by Mrs. Bury’s recognizing me and I wondered what effect it would have on the Stacys if they discovered that I was Roma’s sister. At best it seemed to make me appear rather sly. My only excuse would be that I thought her disappearance might be in some way connected with the house and its inhabitants, which could scarcely be expected to please them.
Perhaps I should do well to confess now. I could imagine myself telling Napier.
I wanted to be alone, away from the house to think of these things and what better solitude than riding through the country lanes.
I went to the stables and as I was about to ride out Napier came in. As he dismounted he threw a bag onto the ground where it fell with a clatter. I looked at it in some surprise and he said: “It’s only a spade and shovel and few gardening things.”
“You’ve been working with them?”
“You look surprised. There are many things I can do. I turned my hands to all sorts of jobs on the Station.”
“I suppose so,” I said.
“Now you are putting on that ‘It’s no concern of mine’ look. Please don’t. I like to think that what I do is a concern of yours.”
“That,” I said coolly, “is more baffling than ever.”
“You say that but you know there is a perfectly simple explanation. I am eager for your approval, so I shall tell you what I’ve been doing.”
“It’s not necessary and I’m sorry if I implied that I should like to know.”