Patricia Wentworth - The Silent Pool

‘Keek into the draw well,

Janet, Janet.

There ye’ll see yer bonnie sel’,

My jo Janet!’

She said in her most matter-of-fact tone,

‘I was watching a dragonfly. I had never seen a green one before. Look!’

But he was looking at her.

‘Have you been slimming? You’re a bit on the thin side.’

‘If I’m here for a fortnight I shall probably have to slim. The milk is practically cream, and Mrs Simmons is a wonderful cook!’

He laughed.

‘It’s the one bright spot. Honestly, darling, you’ll be bored stiff. It was like Star’s nerve to push you into looking after her brat! But whatever possessed you to let her do it? I’d have seen her at Jericho! But you never did have any sense.’

The colour rushed into her cheeks.

‘If there’s one thing I’ve got, it’s just that!’

‘Sense?’ His eyes teased her. ‘You haven’t got as much as would lie on the edge of a sixpence – not if it means looking after yourself and seeing people don’t exploit you, and not working your fingers to the bone for them!’

She lifted a pair of small brown hands and let them fall in her lap again.

‘I wouldn’t just call them worked to the bone myself.’

‘Metaphorically speaking, they are. It’s just what I said – you’ve no sense. You let Star foist this job on you, and you let that fellow Hugo work all the flesh off your bones, the damned ass!’

‘He is not a damned ass!’

‘He is – and a poseur into the bargain!’

He was as dark as Star was fair. Janet suddenly realized that Stella was like him. There was the same nervous energy, the same black frown, and the dark spark of anger in the eyes. It danced there now as he leaned towards her and said,

‘You don’t know how to fight for yourself- that’s the trouble with you! You would be a bonnie fighter if you’d give your mind to it – I give you that! But you don’t! You’re thinking about the other person all the time, or you’re being too proud to bother!’

Just where were they going? They both knew well enough what he meant when he said she was too proud to fight. She had been too proud to fight for him. If he wanted Anne Forester, it wasn’t Janet Johnstone who would crook a finger to beckon him back.

‘Ninian, you’re talking nonsense.’

‘And why not? I can talk better nonsense than that if I’ve a mind to!’

He had leaned near enough to give her the feeling that she was hemmed in, his arm along the back of the seat, his slim length easy. She put out a hand to hold him off, and he laughed.

‘Ninian, you’ll wake Stella.’

He said in a laughing voice,

‘Well, I don’t want to do that! Let sleeping tigers lie! How do you get on with her?’

‘Very well.’

‘Had one of the famous screaming fits yet?’

‘She only has them when she’s bored.’

‘So she won’t have one with you – is that it?’

‘Of course.’

‘Our sainted Edna is enough to bore anyone. No wonder Geoffrey strays. And her face was her fortune, you know. At any rate it was all the fortune she had. So why on earth Geoffrey married her just has to take its place as one of those insoluble mysteries along with the Man in the Iron Mask and Who Killed the Princes in the Tower! It’s pretty certain Richard didn’t, because if he had, Henry VII would have tumbled over himself to accuse him after the battle of Bosworth. I hope you admire the versatility of my conversation. Or perhaps Hugo is so brilliant that no one else can compete!’

Janet allowed the dimple to come out. It was an attractive dimple.

‘You don’t get much brilliant conversation when you are taking things down in shorthand.’

‘You don’t mean to say you take down all that tripe in squiggles and dashes!’

‘Dashes are Morse, not shorthand.’

‘Darling, I can’t believe it. Shorthand! The only thing I can think of that would be worse would be a clattering typewriter, or Bernard Shaw’s reformed spelling! It would dry me right up!’

The dimple remained. Janet said nothing.

He struck the back of the seat with his hand.

‘This is where you ask me how I do my stuff!’

‘But I know – on odd bits of paper, all up and down and across, and someone has to sort it all out for you.’

‘I have to do it myself, darling. Janet, it serves you right!’

‘How does it serve me right?’

‘You might have had the job for keeps, but no, you went into a huff and walked out. I’m not angry you know – I’m just sorry for you having to take down that stuff of Hugo’s.’

‘It’s very good stuff.’ She spoke soberly. The dimple had disappeared.

Ninian ran an enraged hand through his hair and said,

‘All right, it is, then! And so what? You work for him, and you don’t have to bother with my wretched bits and pieces! He’s a best-seller, and I’m not and probably never will be, so it’s all for the best! And you wouldn’t change your job for the world!’

Janet looked at him calmly. There was something gratifying about being able to put Ninian in a rage. She said,

‘It’s a good job.’

‘Oh, quite a labour of love!’ The hand that had been laid along the back of the seat shot out and took her by the wrist. ‘Is it?’

‘Is it what? Ninian you’re hurting!’

‘Is it a labour of love? I don’t mind in the least whether I’m hurting you or not! Does he make love to you – does he kiss you?’

She looked down at the brown hand, which felt more like a handcuff than reasonable flesh and blood. But then, when was Ninian reasonable? Her lips trembled, but she would not let them break into a smile. There was a decided increase in her Scottish lilt as she said,

‘It wouldn’t be your business if he did.’

The grip on her wrist tightened. She wouldn’t have thought it possible, but it happened – quite painfully.

‘Does he?’

‘You’re breaking my wrist!’

He laughed.

‘That would put a stop to the shorthand!’ He let her go as suddenly as he had snatched at her. ‘You shouldn’t make me angry! You’ve got the trick of it, and I suppose you like playing cat-and-mouse with me!’

‘I do not!’

‘Well, you’d better be careful, or one day you’ll go too far!’

He looked past her and saw Stella’s eyes fixed on him. That she had only just opened them was apparent. They were still dark with sleep, the pupils contracting visibly as the light reached them. She said, ‘Ninian-’ in a wavering voice. She had come out of a dream, and he was there. She stared, scrambled up, and flung herself upon him.

Meeson came knocking on the nursery door just as Stella was ready for bed.

‘Please, Miss Johnstone, Miss Ford would like you to come up and have coffee with her after dinner. She is not coming down tonight.’

It was a royal summons and admitted of no refusal.

As she went downstairs half an hour later she found Ninian at her elbow.

‘So we are bidden to the presence. You seem to have made a hit with Adriana.’

Janet frowned.

‘Have you seen her?’

‘Oh, yes – I have the entrée. The polite guest loses no time in paying his respects to his hostess.’

‘You’re not staying here!’

‘Darling, where else? I do, you know, from time to time. Adriana and I are buddies, and after all she is “my aunt”, as our dear Edna says. A horrid title – even Stella won’t use it!’

The meal was certainly enlivened by Ninian’s presence. He placed himself between Edna and Janet and kept a stream of conversation flowing. Geoffrey responded, Edna thawed, and really things might have been very pleasant if it had not been for Meriel, who sat wrapt in silence, her gaze set darkly upon Ninian’s face. It was plain that she resented his choice of a seat and the fact that she had not been quick enough to reach the place next to him in time to take it from Janet, who had been sitting on that side of the table at previous meals. Meriel had been last into the room, and she just hadn’t had a chance. By the time she was in a position to see what was happening Ninian was pulling out Janet’s chair and fairly putting her into it. There was nothing left for Meriel to do but fall into a gloom.