Виктория Холт - The Captive

I needed time to think. I was obsessed by the need to prove his innocence so that he could come back and leac a normal life. But suppose I did achieve this seemingi) impossible task, where should I find him? The whole scheme was wildly fantastic. It had no place in this logical world.

Aunt Maud’s influence on the house was very marked. Its furniture was highly polished. Floors shone, brass gleamed and everything, however small, was in the place designed for it. Daily she went to the kitchen to consult Mrs. Harlow on meals and both Mrs. Harlow and Mr. Dolland had assumed a new dignity; and even Meg and Emily did their work in a more orderly fashion-not cutting it short to sit over meals and listen to Mr. Holland’s discourse on the old days of the drama; and I was sure that if they did indulge in this diversion, they would be interrupted by an imperious ringing, and Mr. Dolland would have to leave his performance to don his black coat to make his ceremonial appearance above stairs.

I think I minded it more than they did. We had all been so happy-go-lucky in the past, but I came to realize that good servants prefer a well-run house to a happy one.

I often found Aunt Maud watching me speculatively. I knew that in due course I should be dragooned into her scheme of things, and in Aunt Maud’s eyes there would be only one course to pursue since I was a young and nubile woman: marriage. These dinner parties she had hinted at would have a definite purpose: the search for a suitable husband for me. I pictured him: earnest, slightly balding, learned, erudite, perhaps a professor who had already made his mark in the academic world. Someone rather like James Grafton only not so attractive.

Perhaps he would be attached to the British Museum or Oxford or Cambridge. It would keep me in the circle in which my family moved.

Aunt Maud might think my father was absentminded and I gathered that she had had little respect for my mother as a housewife, which was the reason why we had seen so little of her during my mother’s lifetime -but he was well respected in his profession and therefore it would be wise for me to marry into it. I was sure she felt that, schooled by her, unlike my mother, I might make a professor’s wife and a good housewife at the same time.

She would preside over the affair and therefore it would be conducted in the most orthodox manner. Aunt Maud hated to waste anything including time. I believed that, but for my strange adventure, operations would have been commenced long ago. As it was, I was allowed a little respite.

The doctor had evidently warned Aunt Maud that I must be treated with a certain care. The ordeal through which I had passed must not be forgotten and I needed time to rehabilitate myself to a civilized way of life in my own way. Aunt Maud followed his instructions with brisk efficiency, and my father did the same, remaining aloof. Mrs. Harlow did so by making sure that I was comfortably seated and speaking to me rather as she used to when I was five years old. Even Mr. Dolland lowered his voice and I would find Meg and Emily regarding me with awe struck wonder.

Only once did my father refer to the shipwreck. He told me how they had been caught up in a crowd going for the boats. They had wanted to wait for me, to go back and find me . but one of the officers had taken their arms and more or less forced them to go with the crowd.

“We thought you would join us at any minute,” he said piteously.

“It was such chaos,” I said.

“It couldn’t have been other wise.”

“I lost your mother while they were pushing us into the boats …”

“We mustn’t brood on it,” I said.

“If you hadn’t gone back for those notes we should all have been together …”

“No … no. You and my mother were parted … so should we have been.”

He was so distressed that I knew we must not speak of it. He must try to forget, I told him.

All this affected me deeply, and I felt a great desire to escape, to go down to Cornwall, to find Perrivale Court and to begin the impossibe task of finding out what really happened. I needed time. I needed a plan. I wanted desperately to take some action, but I was not sure how to begin.

I went down to the kitchen to try to recapture the spirit of the old days. I asked Mr. Dolland for “To be or not to be’ and the speech before Harfleur. He obliged, but I fancied he lacked his previous flair and they were all watching me rather than Mr. Dolland.

I said to him: “Do you remember … just before I went away … there was a murder case?”

“What was that, Miss Rosetta? Let me see. There was that man who married women for their money.”

“And then done ‘em in,” added Mrs. Harlow.

“I wasn’t thinking of that. I mean the case of those brothers … one of them was shot in an empty farmhouse. Didn’t someone run away?”

“Oh, I know the one you mean. It was the Bindon Boys case.”

“Yes, that’s the one. Did you ever hear what happened?”

“Oh … the murderer got away. I don’t think they ever caught him.”

“He was smarter than the police,” added Mrs. Harlow.

“I remember now,” said Mr. Dolland.

“It all comes back to me. It was Simon Perrivale … adopted when he was a child. He shot the brother.

There was a woman, I believe. Jealousy and all that. “

“I know you keep newspaper cuttings, Mr. Dolland. Do you have any of that case?”

“Oh, it’s only theatre things he cuts out,” said Mrs. Harlow.

“This play and that… and what actor and actress. That’s right, ain’t it, Mr. Dolland?”

“Yes,” replied Mr. Dolland.

“That’s what I keep. What did you want to know about the case, Miss Rosetta?”

“Oh … I just wondered if you kept cuttings, that’s all. I knew you had albums . you see, it was just before I went away . ” I trailed off.

Glances passed between them.

“Oh, I reckon that’s all done with now,” said Mrs. Harlow, as though soothing a child.

“The police never close a case,” added Mr. Dolland.

“Not till they’ve found the murderer and it’s settled and done with. They keep it on their files, as they say. One of these days they’ll catch up with him.

He’ll make a false step. Perhaps only one is needed, and then hey presto . they’ve got him. “

“They do say,” said Mrs. Harlow, ‘that murderers can never resist coming back to the scene of the crime. That’s what this Simon whatever-his-name-is will do one of these days. You can bet your life on it. “

Would he ever come back? I wondered.

What could I do? I had only this wild dream that I should prove his innocence and then he could come back without fear. He would know freedom again and we should be together.

Several weeks had passed. After living in perpetual fear and apprehension, the predictably peaceful days seemed to go on interminably.

Aunt Maud tried to interest me in household matters-all the things which it was good for a girl to know. She believed firmly that it was her duty to do what my parents had failed to: prepare me for my marriage. I must learn how to deal with servants. My manner towards them left much to be desired. It was necessary, of course, to maintain a certain friendliness but it should be aloof. I was too familiar and it encouraged them to be so with me. One could not blame them. What I needed was a mixture of indiscernible condescension, amiability without familiarity, so that, however friendly one felt towards them, the line between up-and downstairs was never allowed to slip. She did not blame me. Others were responsible. But there was no reason why I should continue in this unsatisfactory strain. I must first of all learn how to deal with servants. I should listen to her, Aunt Maud, ordering the meals; I might be present on one or two occasions when she paid her daily visit to the kitchen. I must try to improve my needlework and practise more on the pianoforte. She hinted at music lessons. Soon, she told me she would launch her scheme, for bringing people to the house.