Aunt Charlotte looked out through the bars of the old nursery window. She
nodded to Mary and called to her to come up.
Aunt Lavvy said it did her good to see people.
There was a door at the head of the stairs, in a matchboard partition
that walled the well of the staircase. You rang a bell. The corridor was
very dark. Another partition with a door in it shut off the servants'
rooms and the back staircase. They had put the big yellow linen cupboard
before the tall window, the one she used to hang out of.
Some of the old things had been left in the nursery schoolroom, so that
it looked much the same. Britton, the maid, sat in Jenny's low chair by
the fireguard. Aunt Charlotte sat in an armchair by the window.
Her face was thin and small; the pencil lines had deepened; the long
black curls hung from a puff of grey hair rolled back above her ears. Her
eyes pointed at you--pointed. They had more than ever their look of
wisdom and excitement. She was twisting and untwisting a string of white
tulle round a sprig of privet flower.
"Don't you believe a word of it," she said. "Your father hasn't gone.
He's here in this house. He's in when Victor's out.
"He says he's sold the house to Victor. That's a lie. He doesn't want it
known that he's hidden me here to prevent my getting married."
"I'm sure he hasn't," Mary said. Across the room Britton looked at her
and shook her head.
"It's all part of a plan," Aunt Charlotte said. "To put me away, my dear.
Dr. Draper's in it with Victor and Emilius.
"They may say what they like. It isn't the piano-tuner. It isn't the man
who does the clocks. They know who it is. It isn't that Marriott man.
I've found out something about _him_ they don't know. He's got a false
stomach. It goes by clockwork.
"As if I'd look at a clock-tuner or a piano-winder. I wouldn't, would I,
Britton?"
She meditated, smiling softly. "They make them so beautifully now, you
can't tell the difference.
"He's been to see me nine times in one week. Nine times. But your Uncle
Victor got him away before he could speak. But he came again and again.
He wouldn't take 'No' for an answer. Britton, how many times did Mr.
Jourdain come?"
Britton said, "I'm sure I couldn't say, Miss Charlotte." She made a sign
to Mary to go.
Aunt Lavvy was waiting for her at the foot of the stairs. She took her
into her bedroom, Mamma's old room, and asked her what Aunt Charlotte had
said. Mary told her.
"Poor Mary--I oughtn't to have let you see her."
Aunt Lavvy's chin trembled. "I'm afraid," she said, "the removal's upset
her. I said it would. But Emilius would have it. He could always make
Victor do what he wanted."
"It might have been something you don't know about."
Grown-up and strong, she wanted to comfort Aunt Lavvy and protect her.
"No," Aunt Lavvy said. "It's the house. I knew it would be. She's been
trying to get away. She never did that before."
(The doors and the partitions, the nursery and its bars, the big cupboard
across the window, to keep her from getting away.)
"Aunt Lavvy, did Mr. Jourdain really call?"