Giant's Bread (39 page)

He couldn't understand why her face should suddenly twist with pain. What was there in what he had said to make her look like that? He said again: ‘Don't leave me. Stay with me.'

She sat down again beside him and took his hand in hers. She said very gently:

‘I won't go away.'

He felt soothed – reassured. After a minute or two, he dozed again. He woke quietly this time. The room was as before and his hand was still in Jane's. He spoke diffidently:

‘You – you aren't my sister? You were – you are, I mean – a friend of mine?'

‘Yes.'

‘A great friend?'

‘A great friend.'

He paused. Yet the conviction in his mind was growing stronger and stronger. He blurted out suddenly:

‘You're – you're my wife, aren't you?'

He was sure of it.

She drew her hand away. He couldn't understand the look in her face. It frightened him. She got up.

‘No,' she said. ‘I'm not your wife.'

‘Oh! I'm sorry. I thought –'

‘It's all right.'

And at that minute Sebastian came back. His eyes went to Jane. She said, with a little twisted smile:

‘I'm glad you've come … I'm – glad you've come …'

Jane and Sebastian talked long into the night. What was to be done? Who was to be told?

There was Nell and Nell's position to consider. Presumably Nell should be told first of all. She was the one most vitally concerned.

Jane agreed. ‘If she doesn't know already.'

‘You think she knows?'

‘Well, evidently she met Vernon that day face to face.'

‘Yes, but she must have thought it just a very strong resemblance.'

Jane was silent.

‘Don't you think so?'

‘I don't know.'

‘But hang it all, Jane, if she'd recognized him, she'd have done something – got hold of him or of Bleibner. It's two days ago now.'

‘I know.'

‘She can't have recognized him. She just saw Bleibner's chauffeur and his likeness to Vernon gave her such a shock that she couldn't stand it and rushed away.'

‘I suppose so.'

‘What's in your mind, Jane?'

‘
We
recognized him, Sebastian.'

‘You mean you did. I'd been told by you.'

‘But you would have known him anywhere, wouldn't you?'

‘Yes, I would … But then I know him so well.'

Jane said in a hard voice: ‘So does Nell …'

Sebastian looked sharply at her and said, ‘What are you getting at, Jane?'

‘I don't know.'

‘Yes, you do. What do you really think happened?'

Jane paused before speaking.

‘I think Nell came upon him suddenly in the garden and thought it was Vernon. Afterwards she persuaded herself that it had only been a chance resemblance that had upset her so.'

‘Well – that's very much what I said.'

He was a little surprised when she said meekly:

‘Yes, it is.'

‘What's the difference?'

‘Practically none, only –'

‘Yes?'

‘You and I would have wanted to believe it was Vernon even if it wasn't.'

‘Wouldn't Nell? Surely she hasn't come to care for George Chetwynd to such an extent –'

‘Nell is very fond of George, but Vernon is the only person she's ever been in love with.'

‘Then that's all right. Or is it worse that way? It's the deuce of a tangle … What about his people? Mrs Deyre and the Bents?'

Jane said decidedly: ‘Nell must be told before they are. Mrs Deyre will broadcast it over England as soon as she knows, and that will be very unfair to both Vernon and Nell.'

‘Yes, I think you're right. Now my plan is this. To take Vernon up to town tomorrow and go and see a specialist – then be guided by what he advises.'

Jane said Yes, she thought that would be the best plan. She got up to go to bed. On the stairs she paused and said to Sebastian:

‘I wonder if we're right. Bringing him back, I mean. He looked so happy. Oh, Sebastian, he looked so happy …'

‘As George Green, you mean?'

‘Yes. Are you sure we're right?'

‘Yes, I'm pretty sure. It can't be right for anyone to be in that unnatural sort of state.'

‘I suppose it
is
unnatural. The queer thing is he looked so normal and commonplace. And happy – that's what I can't get over, Sebastian –
happy
 … We're none of us very happy, are we?'

He couldn't answer that.

Two days later Sebastian came to Abbots Puissants. The butler was not sure that Mrs Chetwynd could see him. She was lying down.

Sebastian gave his name and said he was sure Mrs Chetwynd would see him. He was shown into the drawing-room to wait. The room seemed very empty and silent but unusually luxurious – very different from what it had looked in his childish days. He thought to himself, ‘It was a
real
house then,' and wondered what exactly he meant by that. He got it presently. Now it suggested, very faintly, a museum. Everything was beautifully arranged, and harmonized perfectly, every piece that was not perfect had been replaced by one that was. All the carpets and covers and hangings were new.

‘And they must have cost a pretty penny,' thought Sebastian appreciatively, and priced them with a fair degree of accuracy. He always knew the cost of things.

He was interrupted in this salutary exercise by the door opening. Nell came in, a pink colour in her cheeks and her hand outstretched.

‘Sebastian! What a surprise! I thought you were too busy ever to leave London except at a week-end – and not often then!'

‘I've lost just twenty thousand pounds in the last two days,' said Sebastian gruffly as he took her hand. ‘Simply from gadding about and letting things go anyhow. How are you, Nell?'

‘Oh, I'm feeling splendid.'

She didn't look very splendid, though, he thought, now that the flush of surprise had died away. Besides, hadn't the butler said she was lying down, not feeling well? He fancied that her face looked a little strained and haggard.

She went on:

‘Sit down, Sebastian. You look as though you were on the point of going off to catch a train. George is away – in Spain. He had to go on business. He'll be away a week at least.'

‘Will he?'

That was a good thing anyway. A damned awkward business. Nell had simply no idea …

‘You're very glum, Sebastian. Is anything the matter?'

She asked the question quite lightly, but he seized upon it eagerly. It was the opening he needed.

‘Yes, Nell,' he said gravely. ‘As a matter of fact there is.'

He heard her draw in her breath with a sudden catch. Her eyes looked watchful.

‘What is it?' she said.

Her voice sounded different – hard and suspicious.

‘I'm afraid what I'm going to say will be a great shock to you. It's about Vernon.'

‘What about Vernon?'

Sebastian waited a minute. Then he said:

‘Vernon – is alive, Nell.'

‘Alive?' she whispered. Her hand crept up to her heart.

‘Yes.'

She didn't do any of the things he expected her to do – didn't faint, or cry out, or ask eager questions. She just stared straight ahead of her. And a sudden quick suspicion came into his shrewd Jewish mind.

‘You knew it?'

‘No, no.'

‘I thought perhaps you saw him – the other day – when he came here?'

‘Then it
was
Vernon?'

It broke from her like a cry. Sebastian nodded his head. It was as he had thought and said to Jane. She had not trusted her eyes.

‘What did you think – that it was a very close resemblance?'

‘Yes – yes, that's what I thought. How could I think it was Vernon? He looked at me and didn't know me.'

‘He's lost his memory, Nell.'

‘Lost his memory?'

‘Yes.'

He told her the story, giving the details as carefully as possible. She listened but paid less attention than he expected. When he had finished she said: ‘Yes – but what's to be done about it all? Will he get it back? What are we to do?'

He explained that Vernon was having treatment from a specialist. Already, under hypnosis, part of the lost memory had returned. The whole process would not be long delayed. He did not enter into the technical details, judging rightly that these would have no interest for her.

‘And then he'll know – everything?'

‘Yes.'

She shrank back in her chair. He felt a sudden rush of pity.

‘He can't blame you, Nell. You didn't know – nobody could know. The report of his death was absolutely definite. It's an almost unique case. I've heard of one other. In most cases, of course, a report of death was contradicted almost immediately. Vernon loves you enough to understand and forgive.'

She said nothing but she put up both hands to cover her face.

‘We think – if you agree – that everything had better be kept quiet for the present. You'll tell Chetwynd, of course. And you and he and Vernon can – well, thrash it out together –'

‘Don't! Don't! Don't go into details. Just let's leave it for the present – till I've seen Vernon.'

‘Do you want to see him at once? Will you come up to town with me?'

‘No – I can't do that. Let him come here – to see me. Nobody will recognize him. The servants are all new.'

Sebastian said slowly: ‘Very well … I'll tell him.'

Nell got up.

‘I – I – you must go away now, Sebastian. I can't bear any more. I can't indeed. It's all so dreadful. And only two days ago ‘I was so happy and peaceful …'

‘But, Nell – surely to have Vernon back again.'

‘Oh, yes, I didn't mean
that
. You don't understand. That's wonderful, of course. Oh! do go, Sebastian. It's awful of me turning you out like this, but I can't bear any more. You must go.'

Sebastian went. On the way back to town he wondered a good deal.

Left alone, Nell went back to her bedroom and lay down on her bed, pulling the silk eiderdown tightly over her.

So it was true after all. It
had
been Vernon. She had told herself that it couldn't be – that she had made a ridiculous mistake. But she'd been uneasy ever since.

What was going to happen? What would George say about it all? Poor George. He'd been so good to her.

Of course there were women who'd married again, and then had found their first husbands were alive. Rather an awful position. She had never really been George's wife at all.

Oh! it couldn't be true. Such things didn't happen. God wouldn't let –

But perhaps she had better not think of God. It reminded her of those very unpleasant things that Jane had said the other day. That very same day.

She thought with a rush of self-pity: ‘I was so happy …'

Was Vernon going to understand? Would he – perhaps – blame her? He'd want her, of course, to come back. Or wouldn't he – now that she and George – What
did
men think?

There could be a divorce, of course, and then she could marry George. But that would make a lot of talk. How difficult everything was.

She thought with a sudden shock: ‘But I
love
Vernon. How can I contemplate a divorce and marrying George when I love Vernon? He's been given back to me – from the dead.'

She turned over restlessly on the bed. It was a beautiful Empire bed. George had bought it out of an old château in France. It was perfect and quite unique. She looked round the room – a charming room, everything in harmony – perfect taste, perfect unostentatious luxury.

She remembered suddenly the horsehair sofa and the antimacassars in the furnished rooms at Wiltsbury.

… Dreadful! But they had been happy there.

But now? She looked round the room with new eyes. Of course, Abbots Puissants belonged to George. Or didn't it, now that Vernon had come back? Anyway, Vernon would be just as poor as ever – they couldn't afford to live here … there were all the things that George had done to it … thought after thought raced confusedly through her brain.

She must write to George – beg him to come home. Just say it was urgent – nothing more. He was so clever. He might see a way.

Or perhaps she wouldn't write to him – not till she had seen Vernon. Would Vernon be very angry? How terrible it all was.

The tears came to her eyes. She sobbed: ‘It's unfair – it's unfair – I've never done anything. Why should this happen to me? Vernon will blame me and I couldn't know. How could I know?'

Again the thought flitted across her mind:

‘I
was
so happy!'

Vernon was listening, trying to understand what the doctor was saying to him. He looked across the table at him. A tall thin man with eyes that seemed to see right into the centre of you and to read there things that you didn't even know about yourself.

And he made you see all the things you didn't want to see. Made you bring things up out of the depths. He was saying:

‘Now that you have remembered, tell me again exactly how you saw the announcement of your wife's marriage.'

Vernon cried out:

‘Must we go over it again and again? It was all so horrible. I don't want to think of it any more.'

And then the doctor explained, gravely and kindly, but very impressively. It was because of that desire not to ‘think of it any more' that all this had come about. It must be faced now – thrashed out … Otherwise the loss of memory might return.

They went all over it again.

And then, when Vernon felt he could bear no more, he was told to lie down on a couch. The doctor touched his forehead and his limbs, told him that he was resting – was rested – that he would become strong and happy again …