Patricia Wentworth - Danger Point

Lisle flushed to the roots of her hair, but before she could speak Rafe had entered the fray.

“A bit crude, aren’t you, darling? Women are of course. To the artist’s eye – meaning Dale’s and mine – a Chinese carving is worth a pot of diamonds, to say nothing of the fact that Lisle ought never in this world to put a diamond anywhere near her. Pearls of course. Emeralds – sapphires – yes, I’d let her have sapphires. Chrysoprase – and a very pale topaz set in very pale gold. But diamonds – not on your life.”

Alicia blew another ring.

“If women wore jewellery because it was becoming, jewellers would die of starvation. Look at the old hags bristling with diamonds at any big show. Did you ever know one who wouldn’t wear them if she had a chance?” She sat up and held out her hand. “Here, let’s have a look at the substitute.”

Rafe took the crystal from Lisle and passed it on.

“Clever,” he said, looking at it on Alicia’s brown palm. “Rather like something looking at you out of water, isn’t it? There one minute, and the next you’re wondering whether you’ve really seen it. Where did you get it, Dale?”

Dale bent forward to look too.

“It was in a second-hand shop in the Fulham Road, in a tray with a lot of other things, mostly junk. I thought Lisle would like it.”

He was talking about her as if she wasn’t there. She felt young and inexpert. She ought to be able to say, “I love it,” but she couldn’t. The sly, peering face made her flesh creep.

Alicia balanced the crystal and blew smoke at it.

“Elusive little devil, isn’t he?” she said. “Reminds me of the Cheshire Cat’s grin.”

“Keep it if you like,” said Dale. “Lisle doesn’t care about it.”

Alicia looked at him steadily for a moment. Then she laughed and looked away.

“Do you know, I rather like having my presents chosen for me, not for somebody else. And if you’re doing any choosing, I’ve no objection to diamonds. Hi, Lisle – catch!”

The crystal sparkled in the air. Rafe reached up, caught it deftly, and put it back in Lisle’s lap. But before she could touch it Dale got up and came over to her.

“You don’t like it?”

“I – Dale-”

“It’s a bit sinister,” said Rafe.

Alicia laughed. Lisle, tongue-tied and distressed, put out a hand towards her husband.

“Dale – you’ve got it all wrong. I – it was sweet of you to get it for me – please -”

There was a moment of discomfort and strain. The dark colour came up into Dale’s face, as it did when he was angry. But before he or anyone else could speak one of the men-servants came into the group. Lisle looked at him with relief.

“What is it, William?”

“If you please, madam, it’s Miss Cole. She says could you see her for a moment?”

Dale went back to his chair.

“Miss Cole from the post office?” he said.

“Yes, sir.”

“I wonder what she wants. You’d better go, Lisle,”

Lisle got up and went.

She felt as much in disgrace and as glad to escape as if she had been seven years old instead of twenty-two. She held the crystal in her hand. Alicia’s high, floating laugh followed her across the lawn.

THE one room that Lisle really liked in the big house was her own sitting-room. It was small, and the panelled walls had once been painted white. They had deepened now to the tone of old ivory. It had curtains of faded green brocade, and an old Chinese carpet which had gone away to the colour of grey-green water. Everything in the long slip of a room was old – a bureau of bleached mahogany; a high-back couch; a book-case; a little upright piano with flutings of ash-green silk so tender that it tore at a touch, and a fretwork scroll which displayed the signs of the treble clef on the one hand and the bass on the other. It had a very sweet, faint tone, and when Lisle was quite alone it gave her pleasure to touch the yellow keys and make them sing. There were three windows looking to the lawn, the cedar and the sea.

Lisle came in through the middle one, which was a door, and Miss Cole rose from the edge of an upright chair and advanced to meet her. Nobody would have taken her for Cissie Cole’s aunt. Where Cissie was long, limp, and straw-coloured, Miss Cole was small, plump, and brisk. Her eyes were as bright and brown as a bird’s. She had a high, fixed colour and a darting way with her head. She began to speak at once, all in a hurry, and as she spoke she got out a handkerchief and dabbed her face and neck.

“How do you do, Mrs. Jerningham. Very hot today, I’m sure, isn’t it? And I do hope you’ll pardon me bringing you in from the garden, and a lovely tree to sit under and all, and the breeze from the sea – most enjoyable, I’m sure. You wouldn’t hardly credit how hot it is in the village, but there – we get the shelter in the winter, so where you lose one way you gain the other, and I’m sure we’ve all got something to be thankful for if we take the trouble to look for it.”

Lisle said, “Oh, yes, ” and, “Won’t you sit down?”

Miss Cole sat down on a small Victorian chair worked in cross-stitch with a pattern of roses, thistles, and shamrocks. The groundwork had once been purple but was now grey. A little dull red still lingered about the petals of the full-blown rose, but the shamrock and the thistle were mere wraiths. Miss Cole laid a bright brown handbag on the carpet beside her, smoothed down the skirt of her best dress, a rather lively blue artificial silk, and broke into polite enquiry.

“I hope you’re none the worse, Mrs. Jerningham. I’m sure I’m as pleased as pleased to find you up and about. I’m not one to go to bed myself. You must have had a shocking turn with the car all smashed to bits like it was, and next door to a miracle you’ve not been hurt, so it stands to reason it must have been a shock and no saying when it’ll come out. My own sister-in-law’s sister had a fright with a tramp some time in December, and six months to the day she had to have two good back teeth out, and right or wrong, that’s what she put it down to, because all her family had wonderful good teeth, and as she said to me herself, ‘Why should I lose mine, if it wasn’t for me having a shock?’ And I’m sure we must all hope you won’t have any effects like that.”

Lisle smiled at her.

“Oh, I’m sure I shan’t.”

“Nobody can’t be sure,” said Miss Cole briskly. “And of course a shock it’s bound to have been. All broken up the steering was, so they say, but of course what everyone wants to know is what call had it got to break. Things don’t break of themselves – that’s what everyone says, and begging your pardon, I’m sure, for repeating it. There’s some that think maybe Pell might know more about it than he’s any right to-”

“Miss Cole!”

Miss Cole darted her head like a bird pecking at a worm. She wore a shiny black hat with a bunch of bright blue cherries at the side. Every time she made one of her quick movements they rattled on the brim like hail.

“I’m sure I beg your pardon, Mrs. Jerningham, but you can’t stop people passing remarks-and when it’s an accident right there in the village and that Pell in the bar of the Green Man no more than a week ago letting on that those that went against him never had no luck after. Tom Crisp heard him with his own ears. ‘No one never did me down, and got away with it’ – that’s what he said, and, “Mark my words, there’s some that’ll get what’s coming to them, no matter what high horses they’re riding now.” And I’m sure I beg your pardon for repeating such language, but I thought Mr. Jerningham ought to know.”

“I thought Pell had gone away,” said Lisle.