The Two Mrs. Abbotts (20 page)

“Have we got to wait for Jerry?” inquired her brother. “I mean it smells so good and it's a pity to spoil it. Things like that ought to be eaten when they're ready.”

Jane decided not to wait—her decision might have been different if she had been sure that the macaroni was a success—if Jerry came in later she could have an egg, and the macaroni experiment could be repeated another day.

“More flour and less potato,” said Wilhelmina nodding. “We'll know better the next time.”

Having agreed upon this Archie and Jane settled down to supper together and discussed the fruits of their labors.

“It's extremely good,” declared Archie in some surprise. “The stuff doesn't taste like macaroni, of course, but you could hardly expect it. You know, Jane, things always taste nicer if you cook them yourself—even boiled eggs. Have you noticed that?”

“No, not really,” replied Jane.

“Have some more,” suggested Archie as he took a second helping.

“I'm not very hungry,” said Jane—nor was she, for she could not forget those strange bloated lumps rising slowly to the surface of the water and turning over and over as if they were alive—as if they were some horrible sort of fish.

Archie could not stay long—he took his departure soon after supper—and, as he had left his horse at the stables, he persuaded Jane to walk down to the stables with him and see him off. She was all the more ready to be persuaded because she had been working indoors all day and because it really was a most beautiful night with a bright moon and a cloudless sky and a soft breeze that went whispering through the trees. They walked along together, not saying much, for Jane was never very talkative and Archie was busy with his thoughts. His thoughts were rather strange. If it had been wet or misty or if the moon had not been quite so gorgeous Archie might have proposed to Jane again (for, thanks to the macaroni, they had moved on a good deal further in their relationship), but Archie had just finished reading
Her
Loving
Heart
by Janetta and, in this extremely romantic tale, Cyril had proposed by moonlight…
the
moon
was
sailing
in
a
cloudless
sky
and
the
treetops
were
silvered
by
its
light. All the world seemed to be made of silver and black velvet and the air was heavy with the perfume of nightstock…
it was an admirable setting for a proposal and Cyril had won his heart's desire.

Archie might have tried his luck if it had not been for Cyril. The treetops were silvery, and the world was made of silver and black velvet, but Archie could not do a thing about it because Cyril had spoiled the market. Archie understood Jane; he knew that she was sick of sentiment and romance. She would recover, of course, and in time she would realize that romance was a good thing in the right place. It was not the whole of life—as Janetta had made it—nor was it entirely foolish, as Jane seemed to think. It was like chocolate cream, thought Archie, a certain amount of it was good for you and extremely palatable; too much of it made you sick.

A week passed. It was rather a curious week; it was a very unpleasant one for Jerry. She had known she would miss Markie, but she had not expected to feel so absolutely lost, so bereft, so completely deserted. There was Jane, of course, but even Jane could not fill the gap. Markie had her operation on the Sunday, and, although it was fairly serious, Dr. Wrench assured Jerry that all would be well. “Go and see her whenever you like,” said Dr. Wrench. “It will do her good. Don't tire her, of course.”

Jerry went and saw her. She sat with Markie for a little every day…and, to accomplish this, she was obliged to neglect a good deal of other work, and to leave all the household duties to Jane and Wilhelmina.

On Friday when Archie returned from London and rang up to inquire for Markie, Jerry was able to give him a good report. “She's
much
better,” declared Jerry. “She looks better and feels better. I'm not worried about her anymore.”

“Could you come over to tea?” asked Archie in a casual sort of voice.

“Come over to tea!” echoed Jerry.

“Why not?” asked Archie. “I mean if Markie is better—it will do you good to have a bit of an outing.”

Jerry was surprised at this attention on the part of her brother, for it was most unusual. They were good friends, of course, but they were not in the habit of inviting each other to tea. When Jerry wanted to see Archie she rode over to Chevis Place and saw him, and when Archie wanted to see her he turned up at Ganthorne.

“But Archie, aren't you busy?” Jerry inquired.

“Yes, of course. I mean I've always got plenty to do—but I haven't seen you since I got back from town, so I thought you might come over. I can't work all day long, can I?”

“No,” said Jerry, but she said it doubtfully, for as a matter of fact Archie was in the habit of working all day long.

“I've got to have tea, haven't I?” said Archie a trifle fretfully.

“Yes, of course,” agreed Jerry.

“Of course if you're too busy.”

“Oh no,” said Jerry. “No, I'd like to come…” and then, suddenly, a thought struck her and she added, “Shall I bring Melanie Melton?”

“If you like,” agreed Archie. “And bring Miss Watt.”

“It would be too many,” began Jerry. “I mean Jane won't mind.”

“You'd better bring her,” said Archie firmly. “I can't send the car for you, but perhaps.”

“We can easily come in the bus,” declared Jerry.

Jerry had expected that she and her two friends would be the only guests at Archie's tea party, but when she walked into the gun room she found Barbara there, ensconced in a comfortable chair near the fire. Jerry looked around the room to see whether Barbara had brought Lancreste, and was thankful to see that she had not done so. She disliked Lancreste intensely and could not understand why Barbara encouraged the youth. Last time Jerry had visited Barbara at the Archway House Lancreste had been there, and had spoilt the whole afternoon, and Jerry had been so annoyed about it that she had avoided Barbara's society for more than a week. But one could not continue to be annoyed with Barbara—at least Jerry found it impossible—so Jerry forgave her instantly and the two Mrs. Abbotts fell into each other's arms with cries of delight.

“What
have
you been doing!” Barbara exclaimed. “Why haven't you been over? I haven't seen you for ages…and so much has happened! How is poor Markie?”

“Better,” said Jerry, who was glad she could answer the last question and ignore the first two. “Much better, really. She had it out on Sunday—it was rather more serious than they expected; the poor darling had let it go on so long—not saying a word about it because she didn't want to be a bother.”

“You must miss her.”

“Yes, frightfully. But of course I've got Jane.”

“I must go when Markie is better,” said Jane. She looked at Archie as she spoke, but, finding that Archie was looking at her, she looked away again.

The tea table was groaning with food, for Archie's idea of hospitality was to stuff his guests with the best of everything. His farms furnished him with cream and butter and eggs, and his bees with honey. Mrs. Frith had put her best foot foremost and had spent most of the day baking scones and cakes—it was a perfectly marvelous feast.

“I haven't seen anything like it for years!” declared Barbara, looking at the table in amazement.

“I haven't either,” said Archie hastily. “I mean I don't live in luxury all the time—I mean—”

“Of course not,” agreed Barbara. “You've just done it for us. It's
very
kind of you, Archie.”

“I don't have a tea party every day…now, sit down. Where would you like to sit? Ah, here's Mrs. Frith with the eggs!”

“Goodness!” exclaimed Barbara, gazing at the large brown boiled egg suddenly placed before her. “Goodness, is it really an
egg!
”

“Eat it and see,” said her host in delighted tones.

“I don't feel as if I ought to eat it,” she replied, taking up her knife and hesitating.

“Put it in a glass case,” suggested Jerry, who had started to eat hers. “I think you ought to, Barbara. I mean you would be able to show it to your grandchildren.”

“Yes,” nodded Melanie. “You could show it to them and say, ‘That is a hen's egg, my dear. We used to eat them, you know.'”

“They would be horrified, of course,” continued Jerry, taking up the tale. “They would say, ‘
Eat
them, Granny! How disgusting! Didn't you have nice clean egg powder in those days?'”

Barbara laughed (she was always ready to laugh at herself) and Jerry was so pleased with her and loved her so much that she was able to master her repugnance and inquire after Lancreste's health in quite a pleasant tone.

“Oh, he's gone,” said Barbara. “It's rather funny, really. I thought he would have come and said good-bye.”

“Didn't he?” asked Melanie in surprise.

“I expect he was busy,” said Barbara hastily.

“He went off in a great hurry, of course,” said Melanie. “They wired for him to report immediately—but I'm surprised that he didn't find time to go and see you, Mrs. Abbott. He's very fond of you.”

“It was horrid of him,” put in Jerry.

“Didn't he leave a message or anything?” asked Melanie.

“No, but it doesn't matter.”

“He was a bit fussed, you know,” declared Melanie, trying to make things better. “It was a frightful scramble, really—and then, when he arrived at the airfield, he found they weren't expecting him until next day.”

“Oh, you've had a letter from him?”

Melanie nodded. “Just to say he had arrived and everything was marvelous. He seems perfectly happy and contented. He's delighted to be back at work.”

“Must have been trying for him hanging about here with nothing to do,” suggested Archie.

“Oh, it
was
,” agreed Melanie. “He was getting quite worried. Poor Lancreste, I was
so
sorry for him.”

By this time Jerry was regretting the generous impulse that had moved her to inquire for Lancreste—what a fool she had been to mention his name!

“Wasn't it clever of Markie to catch the spy?” asked Jerry, changing the subject firmly.

“Tell us about it,” said Barbara. “We heard all sorts of rumors. You know how stories get changed and twisted.”

“And magnified,” added Archie. “Wandlebury is a wonderful place for stories—it always was.”

“But it isn't just a story,” declared Jerry. “It's all true. He really was a spy and a very dangerous spy—wasn't he, Jane?”

“And Markie caught him?” asked Barbara incredulously, for although she had always admired Markie tremendously she could scarcely believe that Markie had captured a dangerous spy.

“Markie disarmed him,” said Jerry. “She took away his revolver while he was asleep—and of course he was helpless—and then ‘B' Company surrounded the wood and captured him. It was rather a muddle really because they had left off looking for him.”

“Why?” asked Archie.

“Because of Mr. Boles. It was like this, you see,” said Jerry, frowning in her effort to explain. “They had been warned about the man and they found Mr. Boles and they weren't sure whether he was the man or not. Of course I knew it wasn't Mr. Boles because he said it wasn't—and Colonel Melton agreed—but some of the others thought he was telling lies and it
was
him all the time.”

There was a short silence.

“Sounds rather muddled,” said Jerry apologetically.

“It sounds like double Dutch to me,” said Archie in a resigned voice.

“Don't be silly, Archie,” said his sister. “You could understand it if you tried.”

“I never was any use at acrostics.”

“Listen, Archie. They were warned about a spy and they caught Mr. Boles, but Mr. Boles wasn't the spy at all.”

“Why did they think he was?”

“They didn't,” said Jerry wearily. “They just thought the whole thing was a washout—at least some of them did—they thought that people had seen Mr. Boles and thought he was a spy.”

“I'm beginning to see daylight.”

“I should hope so,” said Jerry sternly. “Everyone else saw it ages ago.”

“They're sure this man is the real spy?” asked Barbara, who was anxious to be reassured on this point.

“Absolutely real. Sergeant Frayle found all sorts of gadgets in the wood. A little wireless set with a transmitter, and a thing with lights for signaling, and a sort of stove for cooking his food. Colonel Melton says he must have been there for at least a week—perhaps more—sleeping in the daytime and wandering about at night.”

“Horrible!” exclaimed Barbara with a shudder.

“Yes, it is rather. He took things out of the larder,” said Jerry. “I mean we missed things and Markie couldn't think where they had gone—it must have been him.”

“Horrible for him, too,” said Melanie, thoughtfully. “Think of being isolated in a strange country and knowing that everyone was trying to kill you!”

“He knew the country,” said Jerry. “He used to come to Wandlebury quite often before the war—and he can speak English as well as I can.”

“Probably a good deal better,” said Archie dryly.

“Markie is wonderful,” continued Jerry, who was inured to brotherly insults. “There's practically nothing that Markie can't do if she puts her mind to it—and it just shows that people shouldn't laugh at Markie for being interested in skulls because it was the shape of the man's skull that put Markie on his track.” She looked very hard at Archie as she spoke, for Archie was by no means innocent of the crime of laughing at Markie. Archie was often very naughty about Markie, and it was one of Jerry's sorrows that these two—both of whom she loved very dearly—did not appreciate one another as she could have wished.

“He should have disguised his skull,” said Archie. “He should have fixed on bumps in the right places. I expect he
would
have done it if he had known he was going to meet Markie.”

“Must you really go away?” said Barbara to Jane. Barbara hated people to quarrel and she felt the air growing sultry.

“Yes, I must,” said Jane. “I've had a lovely holiday.”

“We must make the most of you while you're here,” declared Barbara. “Perhaps you and Jerry could come over to tea on Wednesday.”

“I should love to, but I can't,” replied Jane with regret. “I've got to go to the dentist on Wednesday afternoon.”

“She's having a tooth stopped,” added Jerry. “Mr. Clare is frightfully busy and Wednesday was the only day. I'll come if you like, Barbara.”

“Of course,” said Barbara, nodding. “Perhaps Jane could come to tea after the dentist, and you could go home together.”

Archie had listened to these arrangements with interest. He now said with a serious air, “Barbara is quite right, Miss Watt. We must make the most of you while you're here. What would you like to do after tea? Would you like to see around the house—it's rather an interesting old house—or would you rather walk around the garden?”

“The house, I think,” replied Jane, with a smile, for Archie's elaborate camouflage did not deceive her in the least and she was aware that she had been asked to tea for no other reason but to be shown the beauties of Chevis Place.

“Melanie would like to see it, too,” said Jerry.

“Of course,” agreed Archie, hiding his annoyance with a forced smile.

It appeared that everyone wanted to see around the house. Barbara and Jerry had seen it before, but neither of them wished to be left out of the expedition, so the whole party started upon a tour of inspection. This was not what Archie had hoped for, but he accepted the inevitable with a good grace, leading his guests from room to room, pulling up the blinds and opening the shutters and displaying the furniture and the pictures. Most of the pictures were portraits of members of the Chevis family—dead and gone—and they varied considerably in beauty and value. There was a Gainsborough and a Reynolds, for instance, and there were portraits scarcely worth the canvas upon which they were painted.

“You've altered the furniture,” said Jerry.

“I've sold a lot of junk,” admitted her brother. “It makes more room for the really good stuff…and incidentally I got quite a lot of money for it.”

“You bought some more cows, I suppose,” said Jerry.

“I used some of it to repair the roof,” replied Archie with a smile.

“And the rest?”

“Wait and see, Jerry.”

“It's a great improvement, anyhow,” said Barbara, looking around in approval. “There was so much furniture that you couldn't see it properly.”