“I LOVE YOU!”
DERRICK got back to Beech Lodge in time for lunch and plunged at once
into a vastly different atmosphere. The house was servantless, and this
very fact had kept Edith too busy to indulge in any morbid reflections,
even had her resilient nature felt so inclined. She was moved by the
knowledge that her brother had been under a strain which, however
incomprehensible to herself, was nevertheless to him very real. It was
reflected in his eyes, his restless manner, and the notes that had lain
untouched for weeks. She wanted him to get back to his work, to be
normal, and above all things happy. She recognized and admired the
creative side of him, made allowances for what she considered the
essential vagaries of his temperament, and had long since decided to
sacrifice herself if necessary on so unusual an altar. She could feel
for him, if not with him.
So, returning from the grim scene of Bamberley jail, he found an
energetic, practical young person, obviously full of work, and over whom
hung but little of the tragedy of the immediate past. She supplied the
touch that the moment demanded. He welcomed this, leaned on it far more
than he realized, and sat down at the table with a feeling of prodigious
relief. The hand of the domestic artist was visible here, and if at
times the diaphanous shape of the stiff figure of Perkins seemed to
stand close to his shoulder, the sensation did not oppress him. Edith
talked generalities till, nearly at the end of the meal, she sent him a
frank questioning look.
“Of course I’m just dying to know if anything new came out this morning.
Martin turned up an hour ago. He seemed to me like another man, got out
his tools and went to work without a word, and it made me more curious
than ever. That queer puzzling expression has gone out of his eyes, and
I couldn’t help thinking he was something like a dog that had been
stolen and found his way back to his old home.”
Derrick nodded cheerfully. “I rather fancy he feels like that, just for
the present, anyway, but we’ll probably have to find another gardener.
He won’t want to stay here.”
“No, I suppose he couldn’t.” She hesitated a moment, then gave him the
straightforward glance he knew so well. “Do you know, Jack, I think
we’ve all been rather stupid about that poor woman; yes, I mean you,
too.”
“It’s quite possible,” he admitted, “but why?”
“Well, I suppose it’s easy to put things together, afterward; but,
looking back at everything, what happened seems in a way as natural as
it was dreadful. The poor soul had her terrible secret and took the only
way out of it, but couldn’t we have anticipated that somehow?”
“It was the last thing one could imagine.” He went on, and told her some
of what had transpired that morning in Bamberley jail, but not all. She
listened silently, with little gestures of wonder, and a softened light
in her honest, brown eyes. At the story of Martin’s devotion they filled
with tears.
“One has heard of men like that with one great passion in their lives
that no one else can understand because there seems nothing to bring it
to life. Perhaps women are apt to be hard on women, but it’s hard to see
how Perkins could have roused such a thing. After all, it may be the men
who are queer, and not us. I suppose this story will be all over England
in a few days?”
He made a grimace. “I’m afraid so. The reporters will gather like a
flock of crows.”
“But after that’s over will you be able to settle down to work, and—and
the other thing?”
“What other thing?”
“When do you go to see the Millicents?” she asked cheerfully. “It’s all
a frightful mixture, I know, and it seems rather appalling that you two
should have been brought together like this, but perhaps stranger things
have happened.”
“Not much stranger,” he said thoughtfully. “I’m going there in an hour
or so. They’re expecting me.”
“Well,” she went on with growing earnestness, “I know it’s your affair,
but I wouldn’t say a word more than necessary. The thing is done with,
Jack, all except this horrid inquest, at which you say Jean and I won’t
have to appear, and you don’t know how glad I am of that. I’ve a feeling
that you’ll have a good many years in which to tell her the rest of
it—I mean anything more you think she should know—but don’t burden her
with what is so grim, if you can help it. She’s too young. Girls like
her often seem to offer themselves unconsciously to wounds, but they
don’t find out till afterward how deep the thing has gone. As for Mrs.
Millicent, I wouldn’t attempt to say much to her. Let Jean do that in
her own way. Nothing can be as close as mother and daughter in a time
like this, and they can’t hurt each other. You’ll probably think me
dreadfully cheeky, but I rather feel that you and Jean have been
dwelling mentally far too long on things you both think I can’t
understand because I’m not occult, but I do understand them just enough
to feel that they’re neither cheerful nor in a queer way healthy for
people of your age. So please forgive all this, and give me a cigarette,
and help clear this table, and for goodness’ sake tell me where I can
get a cook and housemaid who won’t imagine Beech Lodge is full of
horrors.”
He laughed outright, the first real laugh for weeks. “You’ve got my
future pretty well mapped out, but I think you’re right about the
Millicents. Been in the study this morning?”
“Yes, and the room is just as it was when we came here. But that desk
was a fearful weight.”
“You moved it yourself?”
“Of course, seeing there was no one else, and all the time I had an odd
feeling that the things were glad to be moved back. Is that sort of
feeling accounted for in your philosophy?”
“It is now, thanks to you.”
“I’ve been wondering what you’re going to do with that jade image. I
couldn’t find the panel this morning.”
Derrick told her.
“But have you the right? It isn’t yours.”
“I’ll chance that.”
“But, Jack, if it was included in the inventory you can’t destroy it
without all kinds of dilapidations to the Thursbys. Isn’t it supposed to
be valuable?”
“It may be, but most decidedly it was not in the inventory, therefore it
was not sold to the Thursbys, and consequently I needn’t answer to them,
but only to the Millicents. And I fancy I know what they’ll say.”
“Well, you ought to by this time, and, speaking of the Thursbys, I’ve an
idea that if everything that has taken place since we came had happened
eighteen months ago they wouldn’t have let this house when you came
along and fell in love with it.”
“But they weren’t in it then.”
“No, but they would have been; at least, something suggests they would.”
“Why do you say that?” he asked curiously.
“Because she’s not the kind of woman to be afraid of anything obvious,
anything she can see and even partly understand. If poor Perkins had
done away with herself then, I rather think Mrs. Thursby would have been
as much fascinated as horrified. Don’t you know that sort? It would have
given her something to talk about for the rest of her life with no one
to interrupt; something infinitely more intriguing than her husband’s
grenades, or whatever they are. How do you feel yourself about that?”
“I’m not quite sure,” he said candidly. “What I did feel about the house
until yesterday seems to have gone this morning, as though a wind had
blown through it with all the windows open. But I wouldn’t mind
subletting now, if there were any chance of it, which there isn’t at
this time of year. So we have it for another nine months anyway.”
“You couldn’t very well bring Jean back here,” she murmured
thoughtfully.
He shook his head. “No, I couldn’t.”
Edith got up with the sudden remembrance that her hands were very full.
“Well, I suppose there’s time enough for that, and anyway you have to
marry her first. Wouldn’t it be queer if—” She broke off with a little
laugh.
“If what?”
“Nothing, I’m only wandering, and of course just when there’s no time
for it. Please put these things on that tray and open the pantry door. I
won’t expect you for tea.”
He went off a little later, passing Martin, who only touched his cap. He
did look like another man, but neither of them spoke. The shadow of
despair seemed to have left his face and to be replaced by a gravity
that was new and dignified. Derrick strode on with the consciousness
that the wind had blown through himself as well as Beech Lodge. He
admitted his debt to Edith and now saw her cheerful sanity in a fresh
light. It was strange to have leaned on a person, however dear, because
they were incapable of being torn by one’s own reactions. How bright she
was! How helpful and practical! What a standby!
But he never knew what the past hour or two had cost her—she was too
good an actor for that; nor did he guess that she had watched him to the
gate, her eyes dim, feeling more lonely than ever before in her life.
She admitted there was much she did not understand, or even want to
understand, but he did not perceive how often she had come nearly to the
breaking-point. With Edith it was as with many another woman, the cost
of whose sacrifice is hidden too deep for discovery, and only the beauty
of it revealed.
Jean and her mother were together, and Mrs. Millicent greeted him with a
quiet affection that touched him deeply. It meant that not only had Jean
told her of the tragedy of the night before but also that she saw in him
more than the man who had solved the mystery of her husband’s death.
Jean’s eyes met his own as she gave him her hand, and they carried a
message that needed no speech. Mrs. Millicent regarded them both with a
gentle pleasure in which there was no surprise, then waited a little
nervously. The picture of the study of Beech Lodge and what had happened
there still haunted her brain.
“Jean told me you were to have a talk with Martin and the peddler this
morning,” she said. “Did you see them?”
“Yes,” he said quietly.
“Did they tell you anything new about my—my husband?” She had summoned
all her courage for this question and wanted it over.
Derrick shook his head. “There was very little about that and nothing of
real importance. It was mostly about the image he found in Burma which
Blunt says has a good deal of past history that makes it of special
interest to certain people there. Both men agreed that it carried bad
luck, and sometimes danger, wherever it went. It’s quite obvious that in
some way it fascinated Mr. Millicent; and”—here he hesitated an
instant—“it seems to have exercised later on the same influence over
Perkins; and,” he concluded slowly, “the thing worked in her brain till
finally she did what she did.”
Mrs. Millicent shivered. “I know it impressed him tremendously. That was
clear from the day he got back from Burma. He once told me he thought it
was valuable, but it always frightened me because of its effect on him.
It seemed to carry some dreadful secret with it. I asked him to destroy
it several times, but that rather shocked him. He never let it out of
his own hands and always hid it where you found it.”
“Do you feel that way about it now?”
“Yes, more than ever.”
“Then may I destroy it?” he asked quickly.
“I should be very glad and feel happier than in a long time if you did.”
“I will, and I think others may be happier, too, in the long run.”
She nodded. “Isn’t it strange?”
“What?” he asked curiously.
Her eyes rested a moment on Jean’s lovely face, then turned back to him.
“My dear boy,” she said with a sort of soft impulsiveness, “do you think
I can’t see how it is between you two? The strange part is that the last
three months should have resulted in this, that out of shadows and
uncertainty should come something so different. I’m afraid I have not
understood much of all you’ve done at Beech Lodge, but I remember so
distinctly the day when Jean said she must go in and tell you what had
happened there. I can’t say anything more about it now, for I’m too
conscious of the effect of it all on this child of mine, but soon you
and I must have a long talk. How is your sister?” she added unsteadily.
“All right, I think. Her hands are rather full now till she gets some
help.” He knew that Jean’s eyes were fixed on him and found it hard to
speak.
“I’m sure of that. She’s splendid, and something tells me we’re going to
be great friends. You’ll stay for tea, won’t you?”
After that she got up, put her hand on his shoulder for an understanding
instant, and went out. She felt as though a new grasp, young and strong,
had laid hold of the wheel of life, and was comforted. They heard her
step on the stair. Derrick, his breath coming faster, crossed the room,
stood for a moment beside Jean’s chair, and put out his arms.
“I love you,” he whispered; “I love you!”
She gazed at him, her cheeks pale, then flooding with an exquisite
color, and came to him with a quick little sigh of happiness. It was not
thus they had clung together the evening before. Now there was joy in
the clinging, and the sweet promise of more joy that awaited them.
“Do you remember that first morning we met?” he whispered again.
“I don’t know why I went to Beech Lodge. I think I had to.”
“Yes, that was it. I thought you were so wonderful and brave. The house
was never quite the same after that.”
“Do you think I was wise to come?” she smiled.
He answered with a kiss, and she stirred in his arms, only to be drawn
closer.
“I was tremendously interested in you, even then,” she confided, “and
rather frightened. I hope I didn’t show it. Did Edith think I was very
bold?”
“Edith thinks no end of you. She’s a trump.”
Jean nodded happily. “You and I need some one like that near us, Jack.”
“I don’t want any one near us for a while,” he protested. “How did your
mother know?”
“I’m afraid she must have gathered something from me. Does Edith know?”
“I began to think she knew as soon as I did, if not before. She’s
awfully pleased about it.”
The girl was silent for a moment. “Jack, dearest.”
“Yes?”
“Is there much you didn’t tell mother; I mean about this morning?”
“I tried just to say what would help her. The rest can keep.”
“And there was nothing that could make any difference to—to us?”
“I don’t quite understand.”
“There was something I always felt, but I couldn’t make myself tell you.
It was the sensation that whatever had descended on father would also
involve me in the same way. I can’t really explain beyond that, but it
meant that I couldn’t surrender and let myself love you till all this
had been lifted away. Last night, when I saw what happened, and in spite
of the dreadfulness of it, the strangest feeling came that it had been
lifted in that moment. When you were trying to help Perkins, I couldn’t
avoid staring at the jade god, because I knew he had something to do
with it. He stared back, and for the very first time I was not afraid of
him. It was just as though Perkins had paid for everything and set me
free. Tell me that nothing was said this morning by either of those men
to upset that; but you must tell me on your honor.” She shivered
involuntarily, but gradually her tremor ceased under his nearness and
strength.
“All that was said, and I’ll tell you all of it some day, points to the
same thing. There is absolutely nothing to fear. We’ll prove that very
soon, you and I, and there will be no longer a jade god to work
mischief. Don’t you realize, darling, those days are all past?”
Her arms tightened round his neck. “Why do you love me, Jack?”
“I’ve been waiting for you all my life.”
Then, slowly, she raised her lips to his.