Patricia Wentworth - The Catherine Wheel

She got a kind reassuring smile.

“I am afraid it is impossible to say.”

Mildred’s hand went up to her blue Venetian beads.

“It’s all so dreadful, isn’t it? Having to pass that poor thing’s door every time I go up to my room. Do you believe in haunted houses and ghosts-” She broke off with a little gasp.

Miss Silver knitted placidly.

“What makes you ask that, Miss Taverner?”

Mildred Taverner shuddered.

“I was thinking how dreadful it would be if the door were to swing open when I was going past-her door, I mean-and something -were to come out.”

Miss Silver counted briskly.

“Sixteen-eighteen-twenty-twenty-four-yes, I think that will be about right. No, I think you should put aside these unhealthy fancies. There is nothing in the least supernatural about what has been happening in this house. Now I wonder whether you can tell me whether Mr. and Mrs. Castell are occupying the bedroom which used to belong to your greatgrandfather old Jeremiah Taverner and his wife. Family tradition is an interesting thing, and it occurred to me-”

“Oh, yes-” Mildred Taverner was quite brightly interested-“it’s the same room. The landlord has always slept there. The windows look out in front, and when the coaches came down from London the postillions used to blow their horns at the top of the hill so that he could hear them and be ready to come down. My grandfather said he could remember hearing the horns, though of course his window looked the other way. He and his brother Jeremiah, and Mark, and Luke, they all slept in the corner room. Eily has it now. It looks out at the back, and you can see the sea from the window, but he said he could hear the horns quite late at night. Of course travelling by coach was really quite over, because the railway had been built, but they had these coach parties just the same. People used to come from quite a long way off-and gentlemen riding, and in their dogcarts and all. I think, from what he said, there was a lot of gambling and high play. You know, one doesn’t like to say it, but I can’t help feeling that it wasn’t really a very respectable house. My grandfather didn’t say so of course. He left home when he was quite young, and he had the highest-oh, the very highest character himself. But I think a lot of people in those old times weren’t exactly what we would call respectable now, and I can’t help thinking that Jacob Taverner is making a mistake in trying to rake things up. Geoffrey doesn’t like it, and-and I don’t either.” She gazed at Miss Silver from under damp pink eyelids. “I mean, we’re all respectable now, so why not leave it alone?”

Miss Silver coughed, and opined that there were incidents in the histories of most families which might very well be forgotten.

Mildred Taverner said, “Oh, yes !”

It was shortly after this that Frank Abbott walked through the lounge. Since he could have left the office without doing so, Miss Silver’s eyes followed him. As he went out into the hall he turned and gave her a brief nod before he closed the door. Mildred Taverner was well away with the story of a haunted house in Hampstead. Having received Frank’s nod, Miss Silver gave this narrative all the attention she could spare.

At a quarter to one John Higgins arrived. The news of Florence Duke’s death had reached him, and he announced that he had come to take Eily away. He could not, of course, have chosen a more tactless moment. Lunch was imminent, Annie Castell was up to her eyes, and Eily and Jane were laying the table.

John said, “I’m sorry, Aunt Annie,” and walked through the kitchen, passing Castell as if he wasn’t there. He pushed the baize door and went through, letting it fall back in the angry landlord’s face.

Eily looked up as he came round the varnished screen at the dining-room door. He didn’t see Jane Heron-he didn’t see anyone but Eily. He had just one thing to say, and he said it.

“I’ve come to fetch you away.”

Eily flared up. It is wonderful what a little anger will do for a failing courage. Ever since the horrid moment when they had all stood looking into an empty room and seen that Florence Duke wasn’t there Eily had had a little clear picture in her mind. It was the picture of herself running down the road to Cliff-running like the wind, beating on John Higgins’ door, and throwing herself into his open arms. This picture was at once a source of alarm and of solace. A source of alarm because it admitted to some dreadful danger from which she could only save herself by headlong flight. A solace because it pointed the way to safety. And now here was John in the middle of their all being busy over lunch, talking to her as short and sharp as if she was something he could order about. Well, what would any girl feel like? Fear ceased to operate, because of course, with John here, there wasn’t anything to be afraid about. Anger took its place. Her dark blue eyes gave him a spirited denial. She said,

“I won’t go!”

“Eily!”

Eily stamped her foot.

“I’m in the middle of getting lunch!”

“I’ll wait for you.”

“Now, look here, John-”

“Eily-”

The foot stamped again.

“I’m not leaving Aunt Annie, and that’s flat!”

And with that Castell came round the screen, magnificent in dignity and control-no gesticulation, no spluttering rage. He was the respectable host, under his own respectable roof. It had been hard of achievement, but he had achieved it. Self-satisfaction exuded from every pore. He took a striking pose and pointed to the door.

“You will leave. At once. We do not desire your presence. We do not invite it. I will not serve you. If you were not the nephew of my wife Annie, I would have more to say. I control myself. I do not say it. I say only this-‘Go-and immediately!’ ”

John didn’t even look at him. He went up to Eily and took her hand.

“Come away with me, my dear. This is a bad house. Come away out of it.”

She jerked her hand from his. She wanted to throw herself into his arms, but a host of little things held her back. Uncle- she’d always been afraid of him, she didn’t quite know why- lunch to serve-Aunt Annie and the washing-up- She jerked her hand away.

“Oh, for goodness’ sake, John, get along out of here and let me get on with my work!”

He stood for a moment, and then turned and went out without another word. The minute he was gone Eily had that picture in her mind again, small and bright like something seen through a peephole-the road to Cliff and herself running down it. But this time John was there too, walking away ahead of her and never turning back, and run as she would she couldn’t catch up with him. She came back with a start to Castell’s hand on her shoulder.

“Come, come, come-get on with your work! You did that very well, but there’s no time to stand here dreaming.”

Jane Heron ran after John Higgins and came up with him by the baize door. Her breath hurried and her colour came and went, not because she had run that little way, but because she had a sense of urgency and she couldn’t find the right words. She caught at his sleeve, and he turned and looked at her with grave blue eyes. Under the gravity there was distress.

Jane knew right away that it was not for himself, but for Eily. She said,

“Don’t worry about her-I’m with her nearly all the time. Miss Silver asked me-”

“Why?”

“She said Eily had had a shock and had better not be left by herself. She slept with me last night. She told Miss Silver she wouldn’t, but she did after all, and I’ll get her to do it again.”

He said, “There’s a lot of badness in this house. It isn’t fit for her.”

Jane nodded.

“I’ll talk to her. She just doesn’t want to be rushed, and she’s fond of Cousin Annie. Don’t worry. I’ll see she’s all right.”