Whisper The Darkness Part 16

What a nuisance, though, that Aunt Lydia should ring this evening. The last thing she needed was her G.o.dmother's eyes probing the inner corners of her mind. Somehow she would have to think of a reasonable excuse for her departure from Ravengarth, and hope that Jake would not tell his sister the real reason he had dismissed her. She doubted he would, in the circ.u.mstances, but Marcia Hunter and Lady Sutton were good friends, and she guessed there would be some speculation whatever happened.

Lady Sutton's town house was in a small square near Lancaster Gate, and Joanna walked the short distance from Cavendish Court.

It was a fine but chilly evening, and she missed the Mini she had had, when her father was alive, to run around in. Still, the exercise would be a good preparation, she reflected wearily, antic.i.p.ating the boring round of employment agencies she would have to make in the morning. Unlike her mother, she would not live on Lady Sutton's charity, and the sooner she got a job the less time she would have for the depression that was steadily eating into her.

Megan Duffield let her in, and smiled sympathetically as she took her coat. Megan was Lady Sutton's maid-c.u.m- companion, and on the butler's night off, she was also the person who answered the door. A middle-aged lady of doubtful years, she had lost her fiance in the war, and since then she had lived with the Suttons in various capacities.

'Lady Lydia is in the drawing room, Joanna,' she said, the Welsh accent she had brought from Aberystwyth still as sharp as ever, and Joanna thanked her as she crossed the hall to the familiar room. Ever since she could remember, she had been at home at Windsor Square, and she opened the drawing room door with a confidence that belied the staggering burden of her spirits.

She was arrested in the doorway by the realisation that Aunt Lydia was not alone. Another woman, a younger woman, was seated in an armchair at the opposite side of the hearth to her G.o.dmother, and both women turned interested eyes in her direction as she stepped rather awkwardly into the room.

The awkwardness was not allowed to last long. With an exclamation of pleasure Lady Sutton rose and came to greet her, and the younger woman's face creased into a polite, antic.i.p.atory smile.

'My dear, you look frozen!' Aunt Lydia exclaimed, her perfumed cheek brushing Joanna's. 'Come and sit down, and I'll get you a brandy. You look as though you could do with it.'

Joanna forced a smile in return, and allowed herself to be drawn towards the fireplace, where an artificial log fire was burning convincingly. The younger woman who had been sitting opposite her G.o.dmother uncrossed her legs to make way for their approach, and Lady Sutton performed the introductions.

'You've never met Marcia, have you, Joanna?' her G.o.dmother asked, as Joanna's nerve endings quivered with shock and disbelief. 'This is my G.o.ddaughter, Marcia- Joanna Seton.

Joanna, allow me to introduce Mr Sheldon's sister, Mrs Hunter.'

It was obvious that Marcia Hunter had been prepared, but Joanna had not, and her greeting was less than enthusiastic. The last person she had expected-or wanted- to meet here this evening was Jake's sister, but somehow she had to conceal it.

Marcia Hunter was younger than her brother, but only by a year or so, Joanna estimated, with dark good looks, and a slim, if slightly angular, figure. Relaxed, as now, it was impossible to tell exactly how tall she might be, but again Joanna guessed she was probably more than her own height of five feet six. She was elegant, too, her simple but expensive suit had a definite Paris label, and her short straight hair was expertly shaped to her head.

'So you're Joanna,' she said, holding out her hand with a friendly smile. 'I'm delighted to meet you at last. I've heard-such a lot about you.'

'Have you?' Joanna found her voice was slightly husky, but although her G.o.dmother gave her a curious look, Marcia seemed to notice nothing amiss, and she hastily subsided into the chair Aunt Lydia had vacated while that lady went to pour her drink.

'Lydia tells me you've left Ravengarth,' Marcia continued, with a little of her brother's candour. 'I'm sorry to hear that. I understood Antonia was responding to you.'

'Oh?' Joanna wished she had more time to a.s.similate the situation.

'I-where did you hear that?'

'Why, from Jake, of course,' Marcia replied easily. 'We do correspond, you know, if only infrequently. I'm afraid he and I see things differently on the whole, but in this instance we seemed to be in agreement. I hoped you'd made a friend of Antonia. She's a funny little thing, but she is my niece, and I worry about her.'

Joanna bent her head, smoothing her palms over the arms, of the chair. So Jake had written to his sister and approved her methods.

What of it? It wasn't her methods with Anya of which he disapproved.

'I rang Marcia as soon as I'd spoken to you, Joanna,' her G.o.dmother said now, returning with a goblet containing amber liquid, that reminded her irresistibly of Jake's eyes. 'Naturally, we were both disappointed that you felt unable to continue with the position. Mr Sheldon must be at his wits' end with that child.'

Joanna took the gla.s.s her G.o.dmother offered, and allowed a little of the raw spirit to pa.s.s her lips. It burned her throat, but it was warming, and she felt it radiating along her veins like molten fire. It gave her the courage to continue with this conversation, and taking a deep breath she said: 'I doubt if-if Mr Sheldon would see it in that light, Aunt Lydia. As a matter of fact, he asked me to leave. Now, what did you have to tell me about Mummy -'

Lady Sutton spluttered. 'He asked you to leave!' she echoed, disbelievingly, and when Joanna nodded, taking another sip of the brandy, she went on: 'But that's ridiculous! Who else does he propose to employ? I understood the position was hopeless!'

Marcia intervened before Joanna could say anything. 'Why did he ask you to leave, Joanna?' she asked with more astuteness.

'Did something happen? Did you quarrel? Or did you ask him about the accident? I should have warned you, we don't mention it in company.'

Lady Sutton was looking most disturbed, her almost white knot of hair quivering with indignation. 'I'm sure Joanna has more sense than to ask impertinent questions of her employer, Marcia. Besides, I doubt they had much to do with one another outside the schoolroom. A man of your brother's age and a slip of a girl! Hardly a likely combination.'

Joanna could feel the warm colour stealing up her cheeks and hoped her G.o.dmother would put it down to the brandy.

However, to her relief, Marcia chose to speak again before she could turn to her G.o.ddaughter.

'I doubt my brother would allow Joanna a free hand, whatever the circ.u.mstances,' she remarked dryly, surprising Joanna by her perception. 'He can be stubborn at times, and he's not too old to notice that your G.o.ddaughter is an extremely attractive girl.'

Joanna's flush deepened at this, but fortunately Aunt Lydia was more intent on what Marcia was saying. 'Exactly how old is he, then?' she demanded, holding up her head rather stiffly, only to gasp in astonishment when Marcia told her.

'Thirty-nine!' she exclaimed appalled. 'But you said- Marcia, he has a grown-up son!'

'Stepson,' Marcia corrected her gently. 'I'm sorry, Lydia, but you haven't been listening to me.'

Lady Sutton found a chair and sat down rather suddenly. 'But thirty-nine, Marcia! Thirty-nine! I imagined he was almost fifty!'

Marcia exchanged a faint smile with Joanna. 'There is a housekeeper,' she said rea.s.suringly. 'A-Mrs Harris, I believe.

She was there when Jake bought the house. All very proper, as I told you.'

Joanna licked her lips. 'She-she left, too,' she put in, rather quickly.

'Mrs Harris, that is. There's a new housekeeper now, Mrs Parrish.

Aunt Lydia, what do you have to tell me about Mummy?'

'Oh, your mother!' Lady Sutton expelled a heavy sigh, as if what she had to say was of minor importance compared to the news she had just received. 'Joanna, I just wanted to warn you that your mother has found an admirer, and- that, if all goes well, she may be remarrying soon.'

It was a bombsh.e.l.l, and totally unexpected. If Joanna had antic.i.p.ated anything at all, it was a worrying anxiety that her mother's headaches and vague aches and pains had developed into something more serious, and now, to hear that she was actually entertaining a suitor should have been a relief. But it wasn't. It seemed to underline the uncertainty of her own existence, and she had to fight the feelings of self-pity that threatened to swamp her.

A tap at the door gave them all respite, and at Megan's request Lady Sutton gathered herself sufficiently to attend to some problem in the kitchen. Dinner would be served in fifteen minutes, she averred, as she followed the maid from the room, and Joanna wondered how she would fare, feeling as sick as she did at present. Food was the last thing she needed, and she realised all she really wanted to do was weep. Weep for Anya, weep for Jake-and weep for herself.

With the departure of her G.o.dmother she was alone with Jake's sister, however, and more immediate matters presented themselves.

Marcia Hunter was not her G.o.dmother, and she was watching Joanna with a faintly speculative stare.

'Can you tell me why you really left?' she asked suddenly, surprising Joanna yet again. 'I hoped-well, that you might be good for Jake, but it seems that once again he's defeated me.'

Joanna's eyes darted towards her, and then away again.

'Be good for your brother?' she repeated doubtfully. 'I don't think I understand.'

Marcia sighed, and got to her feet, pacing a trifle restlessly across the floor. 'When Lydia-when your G.o.dmother told me about you, I was convinced you were exactly what Antonia needed, what my brother needed. Someone young and vital.

Someone who wouldn't be deterred by his arrogance. Oh, yes,'

this as Joanna felt bound to protest, 'I know he's arrogant. And cynical. But he's also had the rawest deal of any man I know.'

'Mrs Hunter, please -'

'Oh, call me Marcia, Joanna. We don't have to stand on ceremony here.' She shook her head. 'I only wish I could explain how b.l.o.o.d.y it's been for him.'

Joanna sighed. 'I think I know that, Mrs-Marcia.'

'Do you? Do you?' The woman looked down at her doubtfully. 'I wonder. I wonder if any of us can appreciate what Jake sacrificed.'

Joanna lifted her head. 'We-I- did speak of the accident to him.

You were right about that.'

Marcia nodded. 'A terrible affair. Thank G.o.d it was Elizabeth who was killed and not Jake. That would have been the final irony.'

Joanna hesitated. Then, unable to resist the question, she said: 'Was-was Elizabeth driving at the time of the accident?' She flushed. 'I don't mean to pry. It-it was just something Anya said.'

'Anya? Oh, Antonia.' Marcia nodded in understanding. 'Yes.

Yes, Elizabeth was driving. Recklessly, as it happens. Primarily because Jake wouldn't provide the evidence so that she could divorce him.'

Joanna sank back in her chair. 'And-and Anya?' she murmured, almost inaudibly.

'Oh, she was with them, of course.' Marcia shook her head.

'Poor little thing! She used to worship her mother. It must have been a terrible shock to her to hear that Elizabeth intended to abandon her.'

Joanna stared at her. 'Abandon her?'

'Why, yes.' Marcia nodded. 'The man her mother was leaving Jake for was a much older individual. A Dutchman, actually. He had stacks of money but no desire for a ready-made family. In consequence, Elizabeth was leaving Antonia to Jake.'

'Then that's why -'

'-she's so wild? Of course.' Marcia nodded again. 'And why she refuses to respond to feminine guidance.'

'Poor Anya!' Joanna was shocked. 'I never guessed.' But it explained why the child had denied being with them on the night of the crash.

She could well imagine that the scene that had preceded it was something Anya would like to erase from her memory.

'Poor Jake,' said Marcia now. 'She certainly ruined his life. He used to be so-different. I don't know why he ever married her.

She'd already had one husband, one family, and abandoned them.

She was such a cold creature. Beautiful-but cold.'

'I expect he loved her,' said Joanna tautly, looking down into the dregs left in her gla.s.s. 'People do love-unwisely.'

Marcia looked at her curiously. 'That has a distinctly dolorous ring.

Do I detect a personal experience?'

'No. Oh, no.' Joanna managed to adopt a half amused, half protesting tone. 'Heavens, I was only voicing my thoughts aloud.

But I do feel for-for Antonia. And for your brother.'

'I believe you do,' said Marcia, with a wry grimace. 'What a pity you couldn't stay the course. I really believe you might have succeeded where everyone else failed. Perhaps I should have a word with Jake.

Ask him what game he thinks he's playing.'

'Oh, no-please. I mean-please don't!' Joanna pushed herself to the edge of the seat and deposited her gla.s.s on the low table close by.

'Your brother is not the kind of man to respond to-to -'

'Coercion?' Marcia supplied wryly. 'No, I know. But it's not good for Antonia to be pushed about from pillar to post.' She made an apologetic gesture. 'Forgive me, I don't mean to imply that you're either a pillar or a post, but you know what I'm trying to say. There's no stability in the child's life.'

Joanna hesitated. 'Do you think Jake-do you think your brother will return to London eventually?' she asked tightly, hoping her slip had gone unnoticed, and Marcia frowned.

'Who knows? He seems to have convinced himself that he'll never be able to work again. Work at his old job, that is.

Personally I think he should try once more. His mental condition was not permanent.

The doctors believed the symptoms could be psychosomatic, but no one's ever put it to the test.'

Joanna nodded, but the appearance of Megan to announce that dinner was ready curtailed their conversation, and there was no further opportunity to pursue it.

Mrs Seton was home when Joanna arrived back at the flat; but she was not alone. A man in late middle age was seated on the couch in the living room, sharing the coffee her mother had prepared. They both received a distinct shock at Joanna's appearance, and she had to explain that she had left a note for her mother in her bedroom.

'Of course, I haven't been in there since Charles and I got home,'

Mrs Seton said reprovingly, making Joanna feel as if she had deliberately deceived them, and her introduction to Brigadier Lawson was distinctly embarra.s.sing, on both sides. 'Why on earth did you go out as soon as you got home?' her mother persisted impatiently. 'Couldn't you have made do with a sandwich for once? I know there's not a lot in the fridge, but I didn't expect you, did I?'

Joanna sighed. 'Aunt Lydia insisted,' she said, making a strategic withdrawal. 'I'll see you in the morning, Mummy.

Goodnight, Brigadier.'

In her own room, she sank down on to the bed exhaustedly. It had been a long day. A long, tiring day, with nothing at the end of it but loneliness and disappointment. Why had she imagined coming home would effect any change? She loved Jake. There was no escaping that fact, and without him there would never be anything but loneliness and disappointment.

CHAPTER ELEVEN.

A WEEK later, she viewed her future with no less apprehension. Her efforts to find another job had been met with the same opposition as before, and without the month's salary Jake had paid her, in spite of her protests, she would have been dependent on her mother for every penny. As it was, she used her money frugally, walking or taking buses everywhere she had to go, grateful that her wardrobe at least did not proclaim her the pauper she was. But how long that would last if she did not find another job, she didn't care to speculate, and she was rapidly coming to the conclusion that any job would be better than nothing.

She arrived home late one afternoon, about ten days after her return from Ravengarth, feeling particularly depressed. She had just had an interview with the manager of a department store who was recruiting extra staff for the Christmas season, and his deprecation of her lack of experience had left her feeling raw and wounded. She guessed he had enjoyed setting her down, but his remarks about the availability of schoolgirls happy to take a part-time job at half the salary she had expected had struck home, and she was feeling distinctly tearful as she stepped out of the lift at the eighth floor.