Withering Heights (25 page)

We passed through what I thought of as the ballroom and entered Nanny’s personal domain. All was as I remembered, neat and organized, apart from a slightly rumpled bed and a small blue and gold object placed in the middle.

Betty picked it up and held it out to me. “What can this be doing up here?”

Not Frances Edmonds, I thought. Surely she would have taken the snuffbox from the Chinese chest home with her if
she had bothered to steal it. I shook my head, hesitant to suggest the most likely scenario, which seemed confirmed when Betty opened the lid and drew out a twist of toffee papers.

“I suppose it must have been Ariel; there’s no one else, but I still have trouble believing it. Whatever that girl’s faults, she’s not sneaky: too much the other way round, with her in-your-face rudeness. And she’s not one to want someone else blamed for what she gets up to. She had to know that if I’d realized the snuffbox was missing, I’d have thought Frances had taken it to get back at me for not helping her and Stan out after we came into the money. No, I just can’t—”

“It wasn’t me, Betty.” Ariel came around the door. “I saw it when I came up here and have been trying to figure it out myself. I was going to bring it back down with me, but I wasn’t ready. I wanted more time to think. This is always where I come when I want to be alone.”

“Now that I know,” Betty said tartly, “I won’t panic the next time I can’t find you. Do you have any idea what you’ve put me through this past hour, searching every nook and cranny, afraid something was terribly wrong and your dad and I would never find you?”

“Nice to know you care.” It was a familiar pert reply, but Ariel brushed at her eyes and her voice trembled.

It was time for me to slip away. I went down the back stairs, as Ariel and I had done on the previous occasion, and entered the passageway connecting the two parts of the house. I was about to go out into the garden when I heard Ben’s voice.

“I can’t go on like this,” he said. “I’ve never kept Ellie in the dark about anything, so with or without your agreement, Valeria, I’m going to tell her what’s been going on here.”

“And what would that be?” I said, coming out into the open.

B
en took a step toward me, but Val laid a hand on his arm. “Please,” she begged, “let me tell her.” Women shouldn’t plead, I thought, from someplace off in the distance, not unless they are incredibly lovely and nothing they do can reduce them. And Val was at her most beautiful at that moment, with the blue of the sky in her eyes and her black hair as glossy as a raven’s wing in the sunlight. I felt all color seep out of me, as Ben nodded and, after looking at me intently, turned on his heel and went into the house.

“So what do you have to tell me?” I asked the woman of the hour, as if this were an entirely casual conversation, with nothing dependent on it other than whether we should stand or sit while it took place. She would have looked good anywhere, in her rose-colored skirt and pale pink top. Would it be rude to
nip upstairs and change into something better suited to the moment when my life fell apart?

“Why don’t we get comfortable?” She pointed to a couple of garden chairs under the draped fringe of a willow tree, and we settled ourselves facing each other. It was lovely and warm, so there was no need to hug my arms or battle to repress a shiver. The sky seen through the green canopy showed no sign of raining, as conservatory ceilings sometimes do. There were no heavenly bodies clad only in laurel wreaths on display, no clouds to flake off and drop into our teacups. But I thought determinedly of Mr. Tribble and how cold he must be now. It would be appropriate to send flowers, but should the card be signed from Ben as well as myself? Suddenly I would have given anything for a plate of chocolate biscuits to float my way or to be wearing red. I look horrible in red, but it is a brave, defiant color. All I could do was put a wobbly smile on my face and say, “I’m all ears, Val.”

“You’re going to think me a deceiving wretch.”

“Whatever makes you think that?” Sarcasm was wasted on her.

“Ben told me that one of things he most loves about you is your honesty.”

“That was kind of him.” I would have preferred a mention of my fabulous figure, winning charm, and ineffable grace, but at such times one settles for crumbs.

“He said”—she looked at me with wonderfully sad eyes—“you hate deceit, and if you knew what was going on it would be bound to show in your face, and every time you looked at either Tom or Betty you’d be miserably uncomfortable.”

“Why them in particular?” I asked, and again the sarcasm sailed overhead like a bluebird.

“Because Betty doesn’t know that, long before she met Tom, he and I planned on getting married.”

“What?”

“His parents broke it up because I wasn’t a Roman Catholic, and that was a must for their daughter-in-law.”

I sat utterly still for fear that if I didn’t I would fall through my chair.

“Shortly afterward, Tom married his first wife. I heard they’d had a daughter, but I never saw him again until I came here to see my great-aunt and discovered that he and Betty had bought this house. My immediate reaction was to turn tail and run, but once I saw Aunt Valeria was declining rapidly and was no longer fit to be left alone, I knew I had to stay. So I talked to Tom, and we both agreed there was no good reason to tell Betty about us. It was well in the past. . . .”

“Yes?” I prompted, as life and feeling flowed back into me.

“I’m sure you’ve noticed she’s the insecure, volatile type. Why upset her unnecessarily, particularly when Ariel would probably get the backlash?”

“And Ben was worried that if I knew I’d give the game away?”

“I was the one who was afraid you might unintentionally let something slip.” Val leaned toward me, full of apology. “Ben’s concern was that being in the secret would make you intensely uncomfortable and you’d think it wrong of him not to have things out with Tom, which I didn’t want him to do. Finally, he gave me his promise that he wouldn’t tell you. But just now he said he couldn’t continue to keep you in the dark. That the two of you don’t have that sort of marriage; it was causing a strain between you and he wasn’t prepared to sacrifice your peace of mind for mine.”

I became aware that the air was sprinkled with birdsong and the sun had laid a golden scarf around my shoulders. Every breath was perfumed; every flower bloomed more brightly than it had done moments before. This was not the moment
to dwell on my folly in doubting Ben’s love for me. He had told me about Tom’s broken love affair with a girl he had called his wild Irish Rose. No wonder that term had kept popping into my mind. But I had been prey to my insecurities. Who better than I to understand how Betty might have reacted to the reality?

“Has Tom said anything to Ben about his recognizing you?”

“Not a word. I knew he wouldn’t if not confronted. Tom was always an ostrich, ready to put his head in the sand and let the world sort itself out. It’s what made it easy for his parents to decide what was best for him. By the time he looked back up it was all settled.”

“You know him very well.”

“Do you think me wretchedly deceitful?” Her smile was rueful, her eyes shadowed with unhappiness.

“You found yourself in a situation that you tried to make less difficult.”

“Thank you.”

Impossible not to warm to her. Her beauty had such a wholesome quality. She was this lovely garden, she was a leafy lane in the dew of morning. . . . Happiness was turning me into a poet almost of Mrs. Malloy’s equal. The thought of this personage brought her sharply to mind. I even imagined for a couple of seconds that I caught a glimpse of a black-and-white head topping a row of shrubbery. How, I wondered, had I previously seen Val as the scheming femme fatale? Envy gave way to sympathy for her . . . and Betty. Which of them, if either, did Tom truly love?

“It must have been a shock Saturday when you walked through the door and saw Ben in the hall,” I said.

“Yes.” The rose-petal lips trembled. “I’d only met him a few times. He was Tom’s cousin; they both worked in his uncle Sol’s restaurant. He didn’t know me well enough to call me
Val. Only my closest friends used the shortened version of my name at that time. In those days I thought Valeria sounded more sophisticated, but it’s always been a bit of a mouthful for everyday conversation.”

“Was Tom worried when Ben recognized you?”

She looked away from me and glanced over her shoulder as if looking to see if anyone was about. But when she turned back I wondered if she’d needed a moment to collect her thoughts. Her voice came out tight and higher than usual, and there was a suspicion of tears in her eyes.

“I think what really upset Tom was that he realized something when he saw me looking at Ben that I had never wanted anyone to know, let alone him . . . and now you.”

“What’s that?”

“Even though I had only met him a few times, it was Ben I fell in love with. One of those at-first-sight things. You more than anyone else would know why.” Her eyes implored me to understand. “He had no idea. I made no impression on him at all; I might have been the wallpaper. Believe me”—she laughed shakily—“if I’d thought I had the whisper of a chance I’d have tried for him, but I knew it was hopeless. He’s not a man who can be manipulated into falling in love. I really should be unbearably jealous of you, Ellie, but I can’t be. There isn’t room for any other strong emotion. Good to hear?”

“I hope one day you meet the ideal person.” I meant it. “Do you think Tom recognized the true state of your feelings when he saw you standing with Ben?”

“I’m sure he did. I know it was there—in my eyes, my whole body language. You must have realized too.”

I nodded.

“That’s why I thought I should get everything out in the open with you. Ben hasn’t a clue as to how I felt about him. It’s up to you if you want to tell him.” She sounded tired.

“There
are
some secrets I can keep.” I sounded like Mrs. Cake. “It’s a matter of deciding which ones they should be.”

“It would only hurt Tom if I told him at this juncture that the only reason I agreed to marry him all those years ago was that it might as well have been him as anyone else. He’s a dear man, I really cared about him and still do, but when it came down to it I was relieved that his parents broke up the match.” I kept listening, as I would have with a friend.

“Aunt Valeria has a feeling she won’t live much longer, and I sense she may be right. The moment I’m no longer needed here, I’ll get out of Tom and Betty’s lives. It’s been so awkward. I’ve felt so guilty toward her that I’ve probably gone overboard trying to be helpful. The decorating started with her asking my advice about wallpaper and mushroomed into her asking me to do all the decorating and help her pick new clothes. You’ve no idea how I’ve felt at times, with her being so trusting. I’ve tried so hard to encourage her to make her own choices, particularly about what to wear. She would look so much better if she got the right fit.”

“I know,” I said, thinking of the too-large suits. “It’ll take time for Betty to adjust to her new lifestyle, but what will make the real difference is if she and Ariel can reach a better understanding and Tom helps to pull them all together as a family.”

“Thank you, Ellie, for hearing me out.” Val got to her feet. “I’d better get back to the Dower House. Aunt Valeria was in a real tizzy this morning.”

“I’m sorry.” I also stood up. “Old age can be sad.”

“I’m fond of her. She gave my brother, Simon, and me a wonderful holiday here when were children. Of course I always knew she could be difficult with others, but she never was with me, until now, and that’s only occasionally when her mind really seems to slip.”

“It must be a strain,” I said.

“She kept talking this morning about there being people she hasn’t seen in years who’ve snubbed her by passing down the road in full view of the Dower House without coming in to see her. And then she got really worked up because there were letters or photos she wanted to look at in the top of her bureau and she couldn’t find the key. She’s always misplacing it. But she accused me of hiding it, to prevent her from finding evidence that old Reverend Mr. Tribble was not talking through his hat when he said he was sure he’d officiated at Lady Fiona’s marriage to someone other than Nigel Gallagher. I only hope Aunt Valeria forgets all about it before her ladyship takes her out on Wednesday, or things could turn nasty. She told me she’s primed to speak her piece. Even if I hadn’t known Ben wanted to talk to me, I would have needed to get away to clear my head.”

Val looked at her watch.

“I’ve been gone long enough, I have to get back before she comes out looking for me, the way she did Saturday night.”

I said I remembered, and we parted a little awkwardly. We were two strangers who had shared an unusual conversation. Under the circumstances, I couldn’t resent her telling me that she was in love with my husband. She had been right to do so. Perhaps she realized that I had made unfounded assumptions about Ben’s feelings for her. I found myself somewhat embarrassed at the thought of facing him but was delayed in going back into the house when Mrs. Malloy popped around the shrubbery.