Masquerade. Part 17

She emerged from the library to find the place almost deserted. Colonel Winch, an old friend of Lady Daven port's was drinking sherry in the drawing room, but other wise it was empty.

"Where is everyone?" she asked, in surprise.

Colonel Winch rose quickly to his feet. His booming voice was considerate.

"Well, my dear, most of the staff have returned to their duties. Your dear mother is upstairs, I believe, and Mr. Mallory left for London about fifteen minutes ago. The ... er.... solicitor, Bolam, he went with him."

Samantha felt as though the bottom had dropped out of her world.

"Mr. Mallory has left?" she echoed stupidly.

"Yes, miss. He had a few words with your mother, and then he went straight off. She couldn't persuade him to stay."

"Oh, lord!" Samantha sighed heavily.

"Is something wrong?" The Colonel looked kindly at her. "I expect this has been rather an exhausting day for you."

"Yes. Yes, it has." Samantha twisted the letter in her hands.

"Thank you, Colonel Winch. I ... I think I'l go and change."

"Quite so. And I must be off. Give my adieu to your mother, won't you ? "

"Of course." Samantha saw the Colonel to the door, and then turned back into the hall. She felt utterly alone, and quite unable to face the thought of facing her mother.

She went up to her room and changed from the grey suit into a pair of cotton slacks and a printed silk over-blouse. She combed her hair, rinsed her face and applied a little lipstick to her mouth.

She did not know what to do now. It was not yet late in the afternoon and as she did not know her mother's move ments she could not plan ahead. Why had not Barbara re turned to town with Patrick? Surely if he was leaving she would want to leave too.

She lit a cigarette and seated herself on the window seat. A pale autumn sun was painting the fields a golden colour and lifting the twirls of mist from the hills. Had she felt in a more relaxed frame of mind she might have gone down, to the stables again and taken out one of the horses, but feeling as she did, she could not sum up enough energy to take her there.

She pondered on what to do next. She could ring Patrick of course, this evening perhaps. But if she did so, what could she say? Without being able to see him and gauge his mood from his expression, she felt helpless to exonerate herself. And besides, she might be on the wrong track even now. He might have been angry with her for some other reason.

There was a tap at the door and Emily entered at her bidding. She smiled kindly at the girl and said: "Now then, Miss Samantha, why are you sitting about up here moping?"

"Oh, Emily!" Samantha sighed. "Everything seems to have fallen apart."

"I know. But you'll get over it, miss. Your grandmother was an old lady, and she was very tired."

"Yes, I suppose so. It's just that I don't know where to turn next. What would you do? Here I am, surrounded by my own belongings, and I have no idea where to begin to take up a life of my own. My life has always been run for me, first by my father, and then by Grandmother. I'm afraid I'm rather an aimless creature at the moment"

Emily smiled. "That will pa.s.s. It's natural enough Don't try to rush things. You've plenty of time. Years in fact. Good heavens, you can't be expected to take up the reins exactly where your grandmother left off. Mind you, there's talk in the kitchen about what you intend doing with this house, and the staff. You see, it was always expected that Miss Barbara would take over if anything hap pened to Lady Davenport, and as everyone knows she has no liking for this place, they all expected to get their marching orders. Now they're not so sure..."

"Of course they must stay," exclaimed Samantha at once.

"Goodness, I don't want to turn anyone out of their homes.

Besides, if I'm to stay here I shall need help to run this place. It's so enormous. Please a.s.sure them on that score. They have no need to fear. I won't be selling Daven."

"Now I'm really glad to hear you say that, miss," said Emily, with a satisfied expression. "It's what your grand mother hoped you would say, that I know. She discussed this with me, you know. About leaving the house to you. She was sure you would love it, just as she had done."

"Oh, I do. At least, I'm learning to. There's so much to be done, though. It's practically falling apart at the seams."

"I know. But Lady Davenport was too old to worry about repairs, and Barbara could not have cared less what happened to it. You see, the estate is worth much more than this old building, and as land is becoming so expen sive these days, the mistress expected that her daughter would sell the whole place to the highest bidder. The house was not important. But you, you have the chance to reno vate it if you want to. It could be made so beautiful."

Samantha smiled. "Oh, Emily, you've made me feel loads better. With all the things I want to do here, I can busy myself for years ahead."

"And why should you want to busy yourself for years ahead?" exclaimed Emily, astutely. "You'll be marrying soon, and producing children of your own. You'll have no need for other occupations. Don't I know that you're more than any sixteen? Wasn't I there when you were brought to Daven as a baby?"

"Were you, Emily? Really?"

"Oh, yes, I wag there. Lady Davenport made such a fuss of you, too. She was really upset when Mr. John came and took you away."

Samantha sighed again. "That was a long time ago."

"Yes, but you're a grown woman now. You can do as you wish. You're answerable to no one."

"Isn't she?"

The cold sardonic voice from the doorway caused them both to swing round in astonishment. Barbara stood there, dressed in a heavy silk housecoat, smoking a cigarette. How long had she been there? How much of their con versation had she heard?

"I thought you'd be here," she said, addressing herself to Emily. "Filling the girl's head with your own foolish fantasies. I told you before, you're an interfering old fool, and you ought to be out of this house by now. You're through. Encouraging my mother in her foolishness. Just because we were forced to bring this brat here and ack nowledge her, you had no need to be underhand about wheedling her into my mother's affections. I might have known you were at die bottom of all this. You've always hated me...."

Emily's face was cold and frozen with emotion. But she managed to speak. "I never hated you, Barbara. But you were jealous of me. Just as you are of anyone who might conceivably steal the limelight from you. You never wanted your child, but why ? Was it that you were such an unnatural mother, or was it that you were afraid she might grow too attractively and take some of the attention from yourself?"

"Be quiet!"

"I won't. I've been quiet too long already. If your mother knew some of the things you have done she would turn in her grave, G.o.d rest her soul."

Barbara strode across the room and slapped Emily vic iously across the face and Samantha sprang to her feet.

"Oh, Emily," she began. "Mother! .. "

Emily shook her head. "Don't worry, miss, I'm going. But I'll come and see you again, when you're not so dis traught.

Don't give in, love. You'll be all right."

"Get out!" screamed Barbara furiously, and Saman tha, afraid that her mother might attack Emily again, hur ried her from the room. Then she turned back to face her mother.

"Well!" said Barbara. "And what do you think you're going to do now?"

Samantha shrugged. "I'm not sure yet. I need time to think...

to gather my thoughts...."

"And you expect to do that here?"

"Of course. It's my decision after all."

"You seem to be making all the decisions, don't you?"

"I don't understand you, Barbara."

"No. And I don't suppose you ever will," remarked Barbara, lounging on a chaise-longue, her expression malicious.

"Will you please go?" said Samantha, trying to keep calm.

"Why should I ? You are my daughter, after all."

"In name only," retorted Samantha hotly.

"Oh, really, we are getting spiteful!"

Samantha ran her tongue over her dry lips. "Please, don't let's have a scene."

"Why not? I feel like a scene. I think I've had a raw deal all round."

"I don't know what you mean."

"Patrick Mallory. As if you didn't know!"

Samantha flushed, unable to control her colour, and Barbara nodded angrily.

"You see. I can't even mention his name without you blus.h.i.+ng. It's ludicrous.. Good heavens, what on earth do you think you mean to him?"

"If you don't think I mean anything to him, why are you saying you've had a raw deal?" asked Samantha bravely.

"A good question. Well, my dear 'little viper at my bosom, when our mutual friend left this afternoon, he made it quite clear that he wanted nothing more to do with any member of this family."

"What!" Samantha was flabbergasted. "Why?"

"Well, he tells me he knows your right and proper age, and that I ought to be flogged for deceiving everyone. Par ticularly as I was ruining your chances of happiness in the process. Now what do you suppose he meant by that remark?"

"I can't imagine." Samantha felt near to tears.

"Nor can I, for once. But something you said must have upset him. He also told me he has had an offer from an American film company for the rights of his last play, and they want him to go. to California soon to clinch the deal, if he's willing. I would say from his expression when he left here, he was all too willing, so I think we've both lost, don't you?"

Samantha felt numb. "I... .I can't believe it."

"Really? Then that proves my suspicions. I can't under stand how a man of Patrick's intelligence could allow him self to become involved even temporarily with you."

Samantha collapsed on to the window seat. What price now her plans for the renovation of Daven? Hadn't it been in the back of her mind that she would do it, not only for herself, but for Patrick?

"I thought that would shock you out of your cloud world,"

remarked Barbara smugly. "And it's not all. Not by a long chalk."

"What else could there be?" asked Samantha, uncaring of herself. Surely Barbara could hurt her no, more. If everything was over with Patrick, nothing else could hurt her now.

"Just what did Mother confess to you in her charming letter of explanation?"

"That's my affair."

"Partly, I admit, but I bet she didn't give you the reason why you were brought here."

"Why I was brought here!" echoed Samantha stupidly.

"Why, when Grandmother was informed of my father's death she immediately made arrangements for me to come."

Barbara smiled cruelly. "Yes, she did that all right." She laughed mirthlessly. "Oh, my, Samantha, what a little innocent you are." She rose to her feet and strolled across to die window, "Your charming grandmother brought you here because she had no choice in the matter."

Samantha stiffened. "Stop talking in riddles and explain yourself. What do you mean, she had no choice?"

Barbara turned back and leaned against the window. "Your father made a stipulation in his will to the effect that on his death you should be informed of my existence, brought to England and acknowledged as my daughter."

"What!" Samantha felt sick.

"Yes, darling. I thought you didn't know that little t.i.t- bit."

Samantha pressed a hand to her churning stomach. "But ...

but how could he do that? He had no guarantee that you would accept me."

Barbara stared scornfully at her. "Hadn't he? Only the best guarantee in the world in my circ.u.mstances."

"Oh, go on," cried Samantha, almost in tears. "What guarantee?"

"He wrote a letter, describing the circ.u.mstances of our marriage and subsequent divorce ... dates, names, every thing.

You must have realized since you arrived here what onus is placed on the press in my circle. That particular....shall we say unsavoury scandal... would have finished me. He knew that. The letter was to be delivered into the right hands should I refuse to acknowledge you."

Samantha closed her eyes in despair. She had never known one person could be so humiliated.

"Unfortunately," continued Barbara, "John forgot one small detail. Your age. There was nothing to say how old you were and I took advantage and was grateful for small mercies. What do you think of your darling grandmother now?"

Samantha felt the tears beginning to trickle down her cheeks.

"I feel just the same," she whispered. "I don't care what you say, Grandmother did care for me."

"She also acted upon my instructions. Had you refused to stay in England the story would most probably have come out anyway. It was imperative that you should stay. I told her to use any means in her power to prevent you leaving. She obviously succeeded."

"I think you're the most hateful person I've ever known,"

whispered Samantha weakly. "You're not con tent until you have everyone grovelling at your feet, are you? How could you tell me this? How could you?"

Barbara's face darkened. "Because you've caused noth ing but trouble for me, even since your arrival."

"Not least of these troubles being Patrick," murmured Samantha shrewdly.