Patricia Wentworth - Lonesome Road

“Really most offensive. He shouldn’t have said that.”

With the cold light of controversy in his eyes Maurice intervened.

“Nobody could possibly like Louisa-she’s a thoroughly disagreeable woman. But that is not her fault-it’s’the fault of your damned capitalism. You take one person, and you give them money, power, position, authority. You take another-”

Caroline’s eyes danced suddenly. She leaned to Richard and said at his very ear, “He’s going to call Louisa a wage-slave-I feel it in my bones,” and even as she said it, Maurice did.

“You make her a wage-slave, relying for her very bread upon a condition of servile dependency-”

Cherry’s laugh rang out.

“Well, I shouldn’t have called Louisa servile,” she said, and for once everyone agreed with her.

“Louisa is dreadfully rude,” said Caroline. “Even to Rachel. Even to Noisy-isn’t she, adored angel?”

Neusel had the middle of the hearthrug. The melting note in Caroline’s voice induced him to lift one eyelid slightly and give a very faint twitch to the end of the tail. He then relapsed into an ancestral dream in which he bearded a vast archaic badger in its lair and slew it.

Rachel Treherne laughed rather ruefully.

“Louisa can be rude,” she said. “But she thinks it’s good for us, and she is really devoted.”

Caroline shook her head.

“To you, darling, but not to us-definitely. She simply hates us.”

“Oh, Caroline!”

“She would like to take you away to a desert island and wait on you hand and foot-it sticks out all over her.”

“And finish up by dying for you in some highly spectacular way,” said Richard.

Rachel laughed, but there was a troubled look in her eyes. She changed the subject, and the talk drifted away to winter sports and to a girl called Mildred that Cherry had met at Andermatt who was engaged to a fabulously rich young man called Bob. They were to be married some time early in December, and Cherry was to be a bridesmaid.

“And we shall have to give her a wedding present, I suppose,” said Mabel Wadlow in her discontented voice. “She’s got everything she wants, but I suppose we shall have to try and think of something.”

“I should love to give her a diamond spray from Woolworth’s,” said Cherry. “I should adore to see her face when she got it. I say, Maurice, let’s do it anonymously. I’ve got an old case of Cartier’s and we could put it in that.”

“And who’s been giving you a brooch from Cartier’s?” said Maurice. “And where is it anyhow?”

“Darling, I pawned it immediately-what do you think?”

“Cherry!” Mabel Wadlow fluttered with anxiety. “What is all this? I insist upon knowing.”

Cherry laughed.

“Darling, if you’re going to come over all maternal, I’m off.”

“Cherry, answer your mother!” said Ernest.

She laughed again.

“What a fuss! Bob gave me a brooch, I pawned it, and that’s all there is about it.”

“But, Cherry-”

“And I’m not the only person who knows the way to a pop-shop. What did they give on your diamond ring, Carrie?”

Caroline did not speak. She looked at Richard. He said, “You haven’t told us what you got for your brooch.”

“About a quarter of what it was worth,” said Cherry. “Quite a bit of luck my meeting Caroline-wasn’t it? She went out as I came in, and the man showed me her ring, but he wouldn’t tell me what he’d given her for it.” Richard smiled agreeably. “Nor will she,” he said.

Rachel Treherne went to her room with a tired and heavy heart. The thought of going to bed and forgetting all about the family for seven or eight hours was a pleasant one, but on the other side of the night there would be another day, in which she foresaw an interview with Ernest, several interviews with Mabel, a talk with Maurice, a talk with Cherry, a talk with Caroline. Ernest would press her to produce the capital for Maurice’s anticapitalist crusade. Mabel would probably have palpitations. Maurice would deliver a lecture on communism. And Cherry-no, she didn’t really see herself talking to Cherry. Let Mabel deliver her own lecture on accepting jewelry from a young man engaged to be married to somebody else.

Caroline-oh, Caroline was different. She must find out why the child should have pawned her mother’s ring. All Rachel’s thoughts softened as they dwelt on Caroline.

She found Louisa in a grimly silent humor. But when Rachel said, “You seem tired, Louisa. Go to bed-I shan’t want anything more,” words came out with a rush.

“Oh, I know you’d be glad enough to send me away, and there’s those that ’ud be glad enough to see me go. Right down on their bended knees they’d be, and thanking the devil if I was out of the house and gone for good and no one to stand between you and them!”

Rachel, at her dressing-table, said in a weary voice,

“Louie, I’m very tired. Not tonight-please.”

Louisa caught her breath in something between a sob and a sniff.

“You won’t be warned, Miss Rachel. You’re angry because I try to warn you. Not tonight-and tomorrow it’ll be not today, and so it’ll go on until it’s too late. Then there’ll be nothing left for me but to go and throw myself over the cliff.”

“Oh, Louie!”

“Don’t you think I’d do it? Don’t you know I’d do it if harm was to come to you, Miss Rachel?”

Rachel Treherne got up.

“Louie, I really am too tired for this sort of thing tonight. Just go and call Neusel, then go to bed.”

To her relief, Louisa obeyed. Neusel arrived with all the delirious excitement of one who achieves reunion with the beloved object after incredible exertions. He tore about the room, uttered several ear-piercing barks, dragged all the bedding out of his basket, and finally flung himself down upon his back on the hearthrug, where he abandoned himself to an ecstasy of wriggling punctuated by short screams.

“Like as not he’ll be sick in the night,” said Louisa.

Rachel went down on her knees and gathered him up. Here at least was one who gave all and demanded nothing in return. Neusel laid his head upon her shoulder, gazed at her with melting brown eyes, and then with a sudden wriggle was out of her arms and sniffing eagerly.

“What is it, Noisy?” said Rachel.

He was standing quite still now about a yard away, tail and flanks quivering, ears pricked, and eyes intent. At the sound of her voice he threw her a rapid glance and whined.

“Noisy, what is it?”

He whined again, snuffed, and ran to the bed, where he stood on his hind legs and pulled at the bedclothes.

Rachel got up and began to collect his bedding.

“Certainly not!” she said. “You don’t sleep on my bed, you little wretch. Come along, Noisy-you’ve got a lovely basket of your own.” She patted it invitingly as she spoke.

But Neusel had begun to bark at the top of his voice. She turned, to see Louisa on the far side of the bed. She had an odd startled look on her face.

“There’s something wrong, Miss Rachel.”

Rachel said, “Nonsense!” But the dog was leaping, yelping, barking. As she spoke, he tore at the sheet with his teeth, and barked, and tore again.

Louisa Barnet took hold of the bedclothes in her strong bony hands and strjpped them back-eiderdown, blankets, and upper sheet. They came down on the carpet with a soft thud. She let them fall, and sprang back with a scream, and a “Lord have mercy!”

Rachel did not scream, but she turned cold from head to foot. At the bottom of the stripped bed lay her new hot water bottle, green to match the furnishings. But on either side of it coiled something that was not green, but brown. She saw one of the coils move and a flat head rise a little way. Neusel with a flying leap landed at the pillow end of the bed. Louisa screamed again.