Patricia Wentworth - The Case of William Smith

Katharine’s colour flamed. William said, ‘You’re talking about my wife,’ and Mavis laughed.

‘Nobody is disputing that, Mr. Smith. I’m sorry I didn’t give her her right name just now. After knowing her so long as Mrs. William Eversley it’s quite natural, I’m sure. But she’s been Mrs. William Smith for just over a week now, hasn’t she?’ She swung round on Cyril with a sort of fierce triumph. ‘They were married yesterday week at St. Jude’s, Rasselas Square, just round the corner from where she’s been living in Rasselas Mews. She married him as William Smith, and that’s what he is. She saw the likeness the same as I saw it, and she saw how she could make use of it. She’s had seven weeks to coach him, and a week’s honeymoon to dot the i’s and cross the t’s, with a brand-new husband all ready to walk into the firm and take William Eversley’s place.’

With every word she jarred Cyril’s taste more painfully, but if one sense was outraged, another reinforced it. An aghast sense of self-preservation beheld the possible abyss and recoiled. Between the two, his by no means robust initiative was paralysed.

At this moment there came the sound of running feet. The door was flung open and Sylvia rushed into the room. It was rather like seeing a young colt rush a fence. She was all long limbs, uncontrolled but pliant with youth and grace. Her hair, her colouring, her eyes, were all as bright as a spring day. Her dark young husband followed her with a slightly abashed air. Sylvia took one look, uttered an ecstatic scream, and flung herself on William’s neck.

‘Sylly!’

‘Billy!’

They hugged each other over the old nursery joke. With the tears running down her face and one arm still round William, Sylvia reached for Katharine and hugged her too.

‘Angel darling lambs – when did it happen – why didn’t you tell us? Jocko, it’s William! He’s come back – he’s alive!’ She let go suddenly and ran to Cyril. ‘Daddy, what’s the matter? Why aren’t you waving flags? It’s William! It’s my own blessed darling William! What’s the matter with you?’

It would really have been better if Mavis had restrained herself, but she was quite unable to do so. She smiled in a superior manner and said,

‘I am afraid you are making rather an embarrassing mistake, Sylvia. This is Katharine’s new husband, Mr. Smith.’

Sylvia had both hands clutching at her father’s arm. She clutched as hard as she could and said,

‘And who told you you could call her Katharine? If you ask me, it’s a piece of damned cheek! And if you start coming the stepmother over me you’ll be sorry for it, so you’d better watch it! And if anyone says this isn’t William – ’

William came up quietly and put a hand on her shoulder.

‘Dry up, Sylvia!’ He turned to Cyril. ‘Don’t you think this is a bit of a crowd? I suggest that everyone goes away and leaves us to it. I lost my memory, but I’ve got it back again. It came back quite suddenly in the night. I don’t think you’ve really got any doubts, but if you have, I don’t think I shall have any difficulty in clearing them out of the way. This is all a bit emotional, don’t you think? Katharine, suppose you take Sylvia away. And perhaps’ – he paused – ‘your wife would leave us too.’

Sylvia moved, flung her arms round his neck again, murmured, ran to Katharine, and went out with her, pulling Jocko by the sleeve.

Mavis said, ‘No!’ And then, ‘Cyril, don’t be a fool! You haven’t got anything to say to this man, and you don’t want to listen to him either. You want to see your solicitor.’

Cyril looked at her, and looked away. Then he looked at William. There was something of wretchedness in the look, something of defeat.

William said, ‘Don’t be an ass, Cyril! You don’t want to drag a solicitor into this, do you? If your wife won’t leave us, what about coming for a drive in my car? We’ll really do better by ourselves, you know.’

Cyril passed a hand over his brow. There was sweat on it. He said,

‘You’d better go, Mavis.’

It was he who got the cold stare this time. It carried an icy, dominant anger.

‘And leave him to talk you round – to talk you into the sort of admissions you’ll be ready to kick yourself for when you see a solicitor and he tells you just what a fool you’ve been! I’m not going! And you’re not going a step without me!’

William said quietly, ‘Very well then – Katharine and I will go. But you had better think what you are doing. Cyril doesn’t even pretend that he hasn’t recognized me. It’s very inconvenient of me, I know, but I’ve come back and I’ve got to be reckoned with. Well, it’s up to you what sort of reckoning it’s going to be. There will be things to be settled up. We can make a family matter of it and fix things in a friendly way as between cousins, or you can call in your solicitor, and I can call in mine, and we can make a business matter of it as. between partners. Brett will have to take sides with one of us, there’ll be some sort of a dog-fight, and it will all be very bad for business. If you want to have it that way you can. What you’d better understand here and now is that you can’t have it both ways. You’ll have to make up your mind, Cyril. You can’t start the dog-fight and then call it off and switch over to a friendly arrangement. You know, you’d really very much better have a talk with me now.’

Mavis turned her anger on him.

‘He’s not having any talks with you, Mr. Smith, and you needn’t think he is!’

William said in his most matter-of-fact voice,

‘Oh, don’t be silly. He knows perfectly well who I am, and so do you. Come on Cyril, speak for yourself – do you recognise me, or don’t you?’

This time there was appeal as well as defeat in Cyril’s look. He put out a wavering hand to William and said,

‘Send her away.’

And if she could have killed me then and there she’d have done it,’ said William cheerfully.

They were driving back to the Cedar House through the early afternoon – mild, grey weather, and everything very peaceful.

‘Where do you suppose she’s gone?’ said Katharine.

‘Back to town to beat up Brett, I should think. She just pushed herself into a fur coat, new and quite expensive, and a small car, ditto. I suppose she’s got rooms or something?’

‘A flat. Rather a nice one, I believe. I should think Cyril’s been paying the rent.’ She laughed and said, ‘That’s gossip.’

‘Whose?’

‘Brett’s.’

William looked straight in front of him, frowning.

‘How does she stand with Brett these days?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘You don’t think she told him she’d seen me? I didn’t think so myself, but – well, I don’t know.’

Katharine said quickly, ‘Oh, no, she couldn’t have.’

‘Why?’

‘Because he went on asking me to marry him.’ She laughed a little. ‘You needn’t worry, darling – he isn’t in love with me, and never has been. I think he just thought I’d do nicely to settle down with.’

‘You say he went on asking you. Do you mean after Mavis saw me?’

‘Oh, yes. He wrote to me just after that, and he rang me up – well, actually it was the night before we were married. I don’t know how he found out where I was. So, you see, Mavis couldn’t have told him about seeing you.’

William fell into a dead silence for the best part of a mile. Then he said,

‘I think the business is in a pretty fair mess. Cyril has obviously got the wind up, and Mavis was uncommon anxious to make him hold his tongue. I didn’t press him – I thought we’d better get the family reunion part of it over first. But he had a bit of a breakdown and said one or two rather odd things.’