“It’s the way he writes. It’s almost like a threat. I’ve got to go and see him. I think he is still in love with me.”
“It might be blackmail.”
“What do you mean?”
“He may be desperate. What was he doing working as a gardener? Really, Annabelinda, the best thing you can do is tell Marcus everything. Then you will have nothing to fear.”
“How could I tell him!”
“I’m sure he would understand.” I thought of Miss Emma Johns and Janet. How could he judge Annabelinda harshly because she had taken a lover before marriage? He was, of course, what is called a man of the world. I guessed his emotions had not been deeply involved with Janet. So…surely he would understand.
“And then,” she went on, “what about Edward? Isn’t this awful bad luck? All this to come up now I am so happy, and everything is going perfectly.”
“One’s actions do have an effect on one’s life and one cannot be sure that the consequences will make themselves felt only at convenient moments.”
“Stop moralizing! What am I going to do?”
“If you are asking my advice, I would say go to him and explain. If he makes a nuisance of himself, then there is only one thing to be done, and that is tell Marcus.”
“It’s not only Marcus…it’s his family. Just suppose Carl went to them.”
“How would he know about them?”
“How did he know my address? Oh, it was all so wonderful…and now this.”
“Go and see him, Annabelinda. Explain that you are now happily married. He can’t possibly know that there was a child.”
“You’ve never betrayed me, Lucinda.”
“Of course I haven’t.”
“You might have done…” She looked at me tearfully and flung herself at me. “Oh, you are a good friend, Lucinda, and I’m not always good to you. Why do you put up with me?”
I heard myself laugh. “I don’t rightly know,” I said. “But you are Annabelinda, the intimate and tormentor of my youth. I’d always do what I could to help.”
“I don’t deserve it, Lucinda. I really don’t.”
Such an admission really disturbed me. Poor Annabelinda! I had rarely seen her so frightened. The only other time was when I had told her I knew about her indiscretion and Edward’s birth.
I truly wished that I could help her, but there was nothing I could do but advise her, and who could say that my advice was any use?
“Do go and see Carl Zimmerman,” I said. “Explain how you are placed now. Tell him it is finished between you, and say good-bye. If he’s a decent, honorable man, he’ll disappear and won’t bother you again.”
“All right, Lucinda. I’ll do that. I’ll go and tell him.”
I heard nothing from her for several days, and I was growing anxious.
I called at the house.
The parlormaid said that Mrs. Merrivale was resting and asked if she should tell her that I was calling.
I was amazed when the maid returned and told me that Mrs. Merrivale had a headache and was sorry she could not see even me. She would be in touch with me and she was sure that she would have recovered by the next day.
I guessed something was very wrong. It was unlike Annabelinda not to want to talk about her troubles, so I guessed she was very worried indeed.
I returned to the house. Andrée was sitting in the garden with Edward. The London garden was a square patio at the back of the house in which a few flowering shrubs were now beginning to show signs of spring blossoms.
Edward was reading aloud to Andrée in a halting fashion.
“Hello,” said Andrée. “How is Mrs. Merrivale?”
“How did you know I was going to see her?”
“You said you were.”
“Oh, did I? I didn’t see her actually. She isn’t well.”
Andrée smiled. “Do you think…?” She nodded toward Edward.
Pregnant? I thought. It was a possibility, but I thought it was more likely something to do with Carl Zimmerman.
I shrugged my shoulders. “I couldn’t say. She had a bad headache.”
“I suppose she leads rather a busy life, with all the people in military circles she has to see.”
“Perhaps.”
I sat there while Edward went on reading. I was thinking of Annabelinda and Carl Zimmerman. What a big part he had played in our lives, and yet I had seen him so rarely.
I remembered the first time, outside the cubbyhole when he had lost his way. And there was the amazement at seeing him working in the gardens at La Pinière, and lastly in Epping Forest with Andrée.
I said on impulse, “Andrée, do you remember that man in Epping Forest…the fair-haired one who asked the way?”
She looked puzzled.
“You remember…you were with Edward and I met you there.”
“I can recall several people who asked me the way while I was there.”
“This was not long ago.”
“Oh…I vaguely remember. Why? What was so special about him?”
“I just wondered what he said? Did he just ask the way, or any questions…about us…or Mrs. Merrivale? I think Major Merrivale might have been in the hospital at the time…though I’m not sure.”
Andrée continued to look puzzled.
“Questions?” she said. “I don’t remember anyone’s asking questions but the way. Why?”
I thought to myself, I’m being rather foolish, and I said quickly, “Oh…it’s of no importance…no importance at all.”
Annabelinda came to see me the following day. I noticed at once that there was a feverish excitement about her. I thought, Andrée is right; she must be pregnant.
I was in the garden once more with Andrée and Edward. We were playing Edward’s favorite game of the moment, “I spy with my little eye, something beginning with a…” and then the first letter of the object, only Edward was not quite sure of the alphabet just yet, so we used phonetics. “Something beginning with a ‘der’ or a ‘sha’ or ‘ber.’ ”
Edward was saying, “I spy with my little eye, something beginning with a ‘ter.’ ”
We pretended to ponder before one of us suggested it might be the tree…when Annabelinda appeared.
“Oh, hello, Lucinda,” she said rather too heartily. “I’m sorry about yesterday. I really did have the most awful head.”
“Oh, I quite understand.”
“But I did turn you away.”
“That’s all right. You’re better today, I hope.”
“I’m fine.”
Edward said rather reprovingly, “We’re playing ‘I spy.’ ”
“What fun,” said Annabelinda absentmindedly.
“It was something beginning with a ‘fler,’ ” went on Edward.
I looked at Andrée and smiled. We should have to devote ourselves to Annabelinda now that she had arrived. So we brought the game to a timely end by saying the answer must be a flower.
“Yes,” cried Edward, delighted.
“Well, we’ll play again later,” I said. And to Annabelinda, “Why don’t you sit down?” I made way for her on the wicker seat.
“I’ve found the most marvelous house,” said Annabelinda. “You must come with me to see it.”
“Where is it?”
“In Beconsdale Square.”
“Where’s that?”
“Not far from here. I’ve got the cutting. Listen: ‘Country mansion in the heart of London.’ Doesn’t that sound nice?”
“I can’t imagine a country mansion here.”
“That’s because you don’t use your imagination.”
“ ‘Beconsdale Square, Westminster,’ ” Annabelinda went on reading. “ ‘In a quiet London square, large family house built circa 1830. Drive in, garden of about half an acre. Large drawing room, suitable for entertaining, eight bedrooms, four large reception rooms, spacious servants’ quarters…’ Then it goes on for a bit. It sounds just right. I like the sound of the drive in. It sets it apart. I have a feeling that this is the one. I shall go to see the agents and make an appointment to see it. Promise me you’ll come with me, Lucinda.”