Indiscretion (34 page)

‘It is not what I wish to believe of you, Miss Fortune,’ said Matthew, who remained Matthew enough to make a pious wince at the word
crocodile.
‘But then neither was the betrayal of my confidence. And, in truth, perhaps the signs were there to see, for you have behaved very disobligingly to me lately. My habitual fault is thinking the best of people; but now I can only draw the worst of conclusions, and hope that you can sleep at night, knowing that you have wrecked the happiness of two people
—
one of them an innocent, artless, trusting creature, not framed for such ills
—’

‘Mr Downey, I say again there must be some other explanation. I suggest you ignore those threats and apply to Mrs Catling herself, to discover where she heard this intelligence
—
if she will reveal it, of course
—
but really, that is your concern and not mine.’ She rose. ‘And if you have nothing else to say to me beyond baseless accusation
—’

‘I came,’ he said, drooping like a mournful marionette, ‘hoping
—
hoping at least that you would acknowledge the truth. That’s all. I am no faint-heart when it comes to unpleasant truth, you know — indeed I ha-ve always taken a bracing sort of pleasure in facing it, just as I enjoy a cold, a really cold bath
...’
For a moment, being interested in himself again made Matthew almost cheerful; but then his brow puckered, and he snatched up his hat and riding-crop as if he had caught her stealing them. ‘I shall apply to her
—
I shall do what I can
—
but I know there is no recovering from such a position. So, what do you intend doing to Maria, Miss Fortune? She will surely come before you in my aunt’s will.’

‘I have a plan to push her off a cliff, of course, though I must overcome the trifling obstacle of our being fifty miles inland. Really, Mr Downey, you are ridiculous.’

‘Still brazening it out, eh? I suppose you have to. The mask must not slip. And to think I welcomed you!’ Emotion made him alliterative: ‘It was a black day that brought you to Brighton!’

‘No, it was not, it was a sunny day, I recall it perfectly,’ Caroline snapped, feeling tears of vexation and hysterical laughter pulling her both ways. She turned from him, drank off the canary wine herself, and was presently informed by the sound of stamping boots and slamming doors that Mr Downey had left.

I swear he slammed one of them twice, she said to herself, and then the laughter won — silent overcharged spasms of laughter, not very far from the tears; she was as sorry for Matthew as the situation allowed, but she could not like being accused and traduced in this fashion. After a while, and a little more canary, she sat down to consider how it was that Mrs Catling had found out about the engagement, but soon dismissed the question as no great mystery. For all his denials, she thought, a man who liked talking about himself as much as Matthew did was bound to let it slip in any number of places; whilst a woman as morbidly suspicious as Mrs Catling was surely not above having her nephew informally spied upon. No, the more pressing question was what he would do now. Fly to Brighton, of course: but before he did, would he keep his suppositions to himself?

Knowing Matthew, she rather doubted it. Confirmation of a sort arrived little more than an hour later. The maid, and a piercing whistle of ‘Sally In Our Alley’, announced the arrival of Stephen Milner.

‘Miss Fortune, how d’you do?’ he asked, sauntering in with his hands in his pockets. ‘Would you like me to stir that sulky fire for you? And, more importantly, what the devil have you done to Mr Downey?’

Caroline groaned. ‘Not very well, yes, please, and nothing at all, are the answers to those questions, Mr Milner.’

‘You do look rather dreadful,’ Stephen observed sympathetically, wielding the poker. ‘Well, I hope it is something deliciously wicked: it will make such a refreshing contrast with damnable wedding-clothes and bride-cake. Oh, I forgot.’ He reached into the breast of his coat and drew out an indiscriminate ball of fluff, which resolved itself into a tortoiseshell kitten that yawned a display of needle teeth. ‘I’ve found homes for all of Sukey’s litter: this is the last. Will you have her? She’s a good sort. Well bred and civil. Rather an Evangelical in her opinions, but then they’re everywhere nowadays.’

‘Oh, Mr Milner, thank you — she’s beautiful — I must ring for a saucer of milk
...’
Caroline hugged the mewling weightlessness to her breast. She did not need to feign delight: just now it was wonderful to embrace a creature that was entirely without opinions about her. The prickling of the tiny claws through the thin muslin of her gown, a sensation that was simultaneously tantalizing, pleasant, and nearly unbearable, somehow reminded her of something. ‘What shall I call her? I seem to see Matilda in that face, but I’m not sure. Oh, d’you know, Mr Milner? I never had a dog or cat before.’

‘I do know, or guessed. The effect should be to domesticate you, though we’ll have to see about
that.
Also, having a cat is good preparation in case you end up an old maid.’

‘I always wonder, Matilda, whether Mr Milner’
s
charm comes naturally, or whether he works at it.’

‘A little of both. Now pray tell what Mr Downey meant by his extraordinary descent on the Manor this morning. He came in with his hair looking worse than mine
—
refused Augusta’s tea as if it were hemlock
—
strode about making none of the idiotic remarks about the weather and his neighbours’ business that the morning caller is most strictly obliged to make
—
at last announced, with a lot of dramatic breathing through his nose, that this was a sort of farewell call, as he had to leave as soon as possible. I’m not sure, but I do believe he said he was forced to go and confront his unlucky and undeserved fate
—
four syllables in undeserved, if you please
—
does that sound like something Mr Downey would say? I don’t know him very well.’

‘You have made him live,’ confirmed Caroline, glumly.

‘Well. Isabella asked, in that plain, innocent way of hers, whether he had had bad news — and off he went into this desperate cracked laugh. Yes, says he, if bad news be the wilful destruction of his credit with the one person in the world upon whose goodwill he depended. I quote again, by the way. He cannot talk about it, he goes on, except to say he has been monstrously used, and if we would know more, ask
her.
With a gesture hither. So.’ Stephen sat down, stretching and crossing his long, booted legs with a flex of anticipation. ‘I insist upon hearing
everything.
Except the dull parts. I say, it wasn’t a proposal of marriage, was it?’

‘To me? Good Lord, no.’

‘Well, I didn’t think it could be,’ he agreed, with a vigorous nod. ‘That would be altogether too absurd.’

‘Certainly, it would,’ she said, giving him a sour look. ‘No, Mr Downey is not so lost to all sense and reason as
that,
to be sure. But really, it can be of no use to anyone if I do tell you — and as I’m sure you will hear sooner or later
—’

‘Oh, there’s no fun in that. Besides, I’m impatient. And besides besides, I’m more inclined to believe even you than Mr Downey, who for all his qualities seems to me to have a strong touch of the Gascon about him. So, not a proposal — what then? Can it be something worse, and indeed
is
there anything worse?’

‘Mr Milner, I can’t tell you, because — well, no, that’s nonsense, because it isn’t a secret any more. Oh, dear.’ She gave the kitten her forefinger to bite, studying the cunning patterns of its coat. ‘You have heard that I met the Downeys when I was living at Brighton. They are the only relatives of Mrs Catling, who was my employer
—’

‘And an old dragon.’

‘Have I said that?’

‘Not in so many words. Hints and suggestions.’

‘Well — certainly Mrs Catling is a difficult and capricious woman. Not just to someone like me, but to her relatives also
—’

‘Prune-faced, flint-hearted old dragon, in fact.’ He shrugged, squinted knowingly. ‘Hints again. I’m sorry, do go on.’

‘The Downeys came on a visit
—’

‘Ah, this was when you met Leabrook. Sorry again.’

‘We were a good deal together,’ Caroline resumed, giving him a glare, ‘and got along very well, and presently Mr Downey favoured me with his confidence. He was almost entirely dependent for his present comfort and future prospects on Mrs Catling, and was accordingly anxious not to forfeit her favour. And one crucial element in this was that he should not marry, or undertake to marry, at least before he was thirty.’

‘Hm, the dragon improves on acquaintance,’ Stephen said approvingly. ‘By the by, when you say he favoured you with his confidence, I take that to mean burdened, cursed, and afflicted you with it.’

‘I’m glad someone understands that,’ she said, with a reluctant smile, ‘even if it is you.’

‘Spoken like my old adversary. Go on.’

‘Well, Mr Downey confided to me that he had contracted an engagement
—
a
secret
engagement.’

‘Quite right too: a man should always conceal his vices.’

Ignoring that, Caroline went on: ‘He knew that Mrs Catling would fiercely disapprove, indeed that she might cut him out of her will if she knew, which was always the warning she held up before him. But he was, it seemed, very much in love. She — the lady was, is, certainly not eligible. She is poor. Her father lives at Snow Hill and is an apothecary. But a good one, that is to say a virtuous one — Mr Milner, I cannot tell this if you keep laughing.’

‘Forgive me — it’s just the virtuous apothecary. I feel as if I have stepped into a sentimental comedy. And what can an unvirtuous one be like? Poisons his patients, perhaps. Charges them double for a bottle of coloured water with a fancy name. Oh, wait, that’s an ordinary apothecary.’ He put up surrendering arms. ‘Yes, I have done.’

‘Well, so have I in a way — for that was really all that happened. I listened, and sympathized, and promised very sincerely to keep Mr Downey’s secret, as it was certainly likely to do him a great deal of harm with Mrs Catling if it were known
—’

‘The prune-faced dragon wouldn’t want to be allied with a saintly apothecary,’ said Stephen, nodding: then, wonderingly: ‘Who could imagine I would ever say
that
sentence?’

‘I wish he hadn’t told me; but it always seemed to be a relief to him to talk about it.’

‘Well, well. It appears a lot more went on at Brighton than one might have supposed.’

Caroline intently regarded the toe of her shoe. ‘Yes. No. Oh, damn and blast and set fire to it all — and especially bloody Brighton — I swear if I hear that word once more I shall scream the rafters down.’

‘Brighton,’ Stephen said, and listened carefully to the result. ‘Only a moderate scream
—
I knew you were exaggerating.’

‘Is everything all right, my dear?’ Uncle John’s bespectacled face peered round the door. ‘Oh! hello, Stephen.’

‘Hello, Uncle John — didn’t mean to disturb you — Miss Fortune was just singing me an air from the new opera of Signor Buffoni.’

‘Ah! I am an old Handel man myself,’
Dr Langland
remarked benignly, and went off humming something not by Handel.

‘Well, I can guess the rest,’ Stephen said, with his boots up on the fender. ‘The dragon has now found out about the engagement.’

‘Yes — and disinherited him for it.’

Stephen whistled. ‘Decisive in her. That was good juicy swearing just now, by the by. So, there remains just the one question — did you do it?’

‘Mr Downey thinks so. He marched in here and accused me of betraying him and there was nothing I could say that would convince him otherwise, and now I’m feeling thoroughly mumpish and now
you
don’t believe me
—’

‘Oh, but I didn’t say that,’ Stephen said, grinning. ‘I merely posed the question, as it’s sure to be in the air with Mr Downey storming about in that way of his.’

This seemed to Caroline’s irritated nerves to be refining a little too much. ‘Well, now that you have posed it, how do you answer it?’

‘Surely there’s another question first, and that is, why should you care what I think?’

‘I don’t,’ she said, through tight lips,’but I do care if people generally are inclined to believe this tale, and you will do, Mr Milner, as a representative sample.’

‘Oh, I wouldn’t say I am very representative
...’
He grinned again, yawned, relented. ‘No, I don’t believe it. It rather goes against the grain to say so, because as I remarked when we first met, you look like trouble, and I believe you are trouble and, lo, here is trouble amongst us. But no
...
Now what does Downey suppose was your motive? Mere malignity? Or the hope of gain from the old dragon? Well, there you are, you see: there is a kind of sneaking pettiness about this business that I just don’t associate with you. If you were going to make mischief, I imagine it on a much grander scale.’