Dance to Your Daddy (Mrs Bradley) Page 7

  Lunch was over. The last two of the guests, Willoughby and Hubert Lestrange, still had not put in an appearance. The others, with Romilly, Judith and Dame Beatrice, were taking coffee in the drawing-room when Rosamund put in this dramatic and disordered appearance. She was wearing a white nylon nightdress and had a cock-eyed wreath of dripping wet hazel-catkins on her hair. She said:

  ‘Look! I’m Ophelia, all wet from the river.’ Then, in a tuneless voice, she began to sing.

  ‘My God!’ exclaimed Humphrey. ‘What on earth is this?’

  ‘And will he not come again?’ mouthed Rosamund, continuing her caterwauling.

  ‘Who?’ interpolated Binnie, obviously interested.

  ‘No, no he is dead,

  Go to thy death-bed,

  He never will come again,’ sang Rosamund.

  ‘Who won’t?’ demanded Binnie, in a louder tone.

  ‘So excellent a king; that was, to this,

  Hyperion to a satyr,’ replied Rosamund obligingly, in a clear, elocutionist voice.

  ‘Beatrice!’ cried Romilly, putting down his cup. ‘For God’s sake help me out with her!’ But it was Tancred who rose from his seat on the settee where he was partnering Binnie.

  ‘Come on, girl,’ he said. ‘You can tell me all about it upstairs, and, if you’re good, I’ll read you my poems.’

  ‘Don’t believe it,’ said Rosamund sulkily. ‘You don’t want me to sing, that’s all.’

  ‘There’s one poem I know you’ll like,’ said Tancred persuasively. ‘It’s all about you. Come along.’

  ‘I want one about me,’ said Binnie. ‘You promised one about me. And that’s my nightie she’s got on!’

  Tancred took Rosamund by an unresisting arm, and led her from the room. Dame Beatrice rose in leisurely fashion, placed her empty cup on a small table, and followed them out. After a moment, Binnie followed, too.

  ‘Don’t see why she should pinch my nightie,’ she said. ‘I’m going to get it back. It’s not that I grudge it her, but she can’t just go about sneaking things. It’s not right.’

  ‘She’s worse than you told us in your letter, then,’ said Humphrey to his uncle. Romilly looked gloomy. Dame Beatrice, who had not gone upstairs in the wake of Rosamund and Tancred, but who had stepped aside to allow Binnie to pass her, noticed this from her vantage point at the side of the archway which did duty for a door. She heard Romilly answer:

  ‘Well, it’s bound to be progressive, I suppose, although she’s been a little calmer of late.’ Dame Beatrice came back into the room.

  ‘She will be calmer again in a minute or two,’ she said. ‘I warned you that this influx of guests might excite her.’ She settled herself composedly in the chair she had previously occupied and looked across at him.

  ‘I can’t help that,’ he said. ‘I had to call the family together for a very good reason, and, as you are an interested party, I had to get you to come along, too. There is nothing you can do for Trilby. She’s naughty, not deranged. I expect you have found that out by now. Well, now seems as good a time as any for me to hold the business meeting which is the prime reason for this pleasant little get-together.’

  ‘I don’t see how you can,’ said Corin. ‘We’re short of four members of the group. Don’t we wait until Binnie and Tancred come down, and Hubert and Willoughby get here?’

  ‘I don’t know why all the rest of us should wait,’ said his twin sister. Those other two can hear all about it later on. Don’t forget we’ve got a rehearsal at ten tomorrow morning, and we must run over our programme before dinner tonight.’

  ‘The meeting need not take long,’ Romilly insisted. ‘I have enticed you here on various pretexts. None of my offers was genuine. I had better confess that at once. You, my dear Humphrey, were led to believe that I could obtain for you a House at a minor public school. I am not in a position to do so. Tancred has been told that a publisher is prepared to put out his poems and guarantee him a respectable advance and a scale of royalties. This is untrue. Binnie – I wrote to her separately, Humphrey, and had the letter delivered by special messenger at a time when I knew you would be at school – thinks that I can get her a job modelling clothes. Giles has been promised …’

  ‘Oh, cut it out!’ said Giles. The belligerent words were expressed in a quiet voice, but with a degree of menace which encouraged Humphrey, who, so far, had responded only with a red face and a bristling attitude, to put his face almost into Romilly’s and exclaim:

  ‘You rotten, lying, oily swine!’

  ‘Just a moment, Humphrey,’ said Judith. ‘Let Uncle Romilly finish what he has to say.’

  ‘I had to find the means to get you all together,’ went on Romilly, ‘and to pretend to offer each of you something to his advantage seemed by far the best way. Hubert expects me to get him ecclesiastical preferment, and Willoughby wants to …’

  ‘Knock your block off, I should think,’ said Giles. ‘Have you forgotten that he has been out of a job for months?’

  ‘I have forgotten nothing,’ said Romilly. ‘Hear me out. Having gathered you together under these false pretences and lying promises, I propose to acquaint you with the terms of my Will.’

  ‘So you told us,’ said Binnie, appearing in the archway. ‘I think Trilby and Tancred have gone to bed together. What Will? Do we all share, or have you left everything to Corin and Corinna?’

  ‘Why us, Binnie?’ asked Corin, pushing back his shoulder-length, unkempt hair.

  ‘Because – yes, I’ve been in the next room, listening; so convenient, not having proper doors – because it seems to me that Corin and Corinna are the only people who haven’t been promised things.’ She advanced into the room. ‘You two got your own booking at the Winter Garden, didn’t you?’ she asked.

  ‘Sure,’ said Corin, ‘but Romilly offered us free board and lodging and the use of a car while we were down here.’

  ‘The estate which I propose to buy later on, and all my money,’ said Romilly deliberately, ‘might be willed to whichever one of you murders me, and I am not disclosing the terms of my bequests at this stage. Therefore, as a murderer cannot gain financially by the death of his victim, I have a feeling that I shall remain alive for a good long time, you know. Just my idea of a little bit of fun. That’s all. Enjoy yourselves.’

  ‘The murderer could gain financially so long as he wasn’t caught,’ said Giles grimly.

  ‘He will be caught,’ said Romilly, with a significant glance at Dame Beatrice. ‘One of you has taken what he thought was a shot at me. I advise him not to try again. Well, I’ll leave you to think things over.’

  (2)

  ‘But it doesn’t make sense,’ said Binnie, for the fourth time since the discussion had broken out, which it did upon Romilly’s departure.

  ‘It must make sense to one of us,’ said Corin. ‘As I see it, it’s a warning. The old man’s got a hunch that one of us intends to do him in. That means it really was a shot we heard last night.’

  Binnie squeaked in dismay. Her husband said morosely:

  ‘All that nonsense aside, the fact remains that he’s got us all down here by making lying promises to us. If you ask me, he deserves to be shot.’

  ‘Well, I advise you not to have a second go,’ said Tancred, coming suddenly into the room. ‘I’ve left Rosamund with Judith, by the way. I suppose their absence is to be desired, rather than deplored, under the present circumstances. Incidentally, Cousin Humphrey, why do you want to liquidate our host and close relative?’

  ‘You’d want to do it yourself, if you had the guts of a flea,’ said Humphrey violently. ‘Didn’t he promise you that he’d got hold of a publisher who would pay for those rhymes of yours? Well, he hasn’t, and he won’t. He’s been leading us all up the garden.’

  ‘Meaning you won’t get that better job to which your talents as usher do not entitle you?’

  ‘Look here,’ said Giles, ‘our quarrel is with Romilly, not with one another. He promised to lend me the money for a p
art-share in some racing-stables, and the promise is just as worthless as those he made to the rest of you. Don’t let’s bicker.’

  ‘The promise he made to us isn’t worthless,’ said Corin.

  ‘Isn’t it?’ asked his sister. ‘What if he doesn’t lay on the transport he promised us? Have you realised what it’s going to cost if we have to pay for a car to get us to Bournemouth and back each day? The money we’re paid for our show is going to look pretty silly with about fifty pounds knocked off it.’

  ‘I hadn’t thought of that. He wouldn’t be such a swine, would he?’ asked her twin.

  ‘I don’t know. He’s made fools of Humphrey and Tancred and Giles. Why should we escape his morbid little sense of humour? After all, how much do we know about him, anyway? We’ve been out of touch with him since we were babies, except for that silly house-warming he chose to give, and he doesn’t own this place, anyway; he only rents it. I’m not at all sure we were born, in fact, before he went out to Kenya or wherever it was. What I can’t understand is what his game is. I mean, why on earth bring us all together like this, on the strength of some lying promises?’

  ‘I wonder what he promised Hubert and Willoughby?’ said Giles. ‘Perhaps it wasn’t enough to make it seem worthwhile for them to show up. Anyway, I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m off. I wouldn’t stay a minute longer under his beastly roof if you paid me!’

  ‘Isn’t there a New Forest meet in the morning?’ asked Tancred, with apparent innocence. ‘Pity to miss that, as you’re here.’

  (3)

  When Dame Beatrice came down to breakfast on the following morning it was to find her host alone at the table. The remainder of the previous day had been strange and, to everyone but herself and Tancred, who both enjoyed bizarre situations, very uncomfortable.

  Judith had come down to face the glum and grim silence which followed Tancred’s last words and observed, with false brightness, that ‘poor little Trilby’ had been soothed and put to bed and was being watched over by one of the maids, and that Romilly had been called out unexpectedly, but would be back in time for dinner.

  ‘I should think it would choke him,’ muttered Humphrey. Aloud he said: ‘I suppose you and he have taken it for granted that Binnie and I will be leaving first thing in the morning?’

  ‘Oh, must you go so soon?’ asked Judith. ‘I must arrange about the car, then.’

  ‘We’re all going,’ said Tancred. ‘At least’ – he glanced at Giles – ‘most of us, I think.’

  Dame Beatrice had also decided to leave, provided that Romilly kept his promise about allowing her to take Rosamund with her. Laura’s letter, confirming her own and the girl’s own fears, had clinched her determination to remove the prospective heiress from Romilly’s clutches and make provision for her safety. After all, the child was related to her, even if somewhat obscurely, and Dame Beatrice had never attempted to shake off the sense of responsibility which was the glory and the curse of her generation. What she was to do with Rosamund ultimately she had no idea. Marriage would be the best solution if matters arranged themselves that way, although whether the possible husband was to be envied, Dame Beatrice had begun to be doubtful.

  Romilly stood up as she came to the breakfast-table and placed a chair for her.

  ‘Is anybody else up?’ she asked.

  ‘Humphrey and Binnie have breakfasted and are packing.” Romilly laughed as he spoke. ‘Humphrey has taken my little jokes rather badly, I’m afraid.’

  ‘Your little jokes?’

  ‘Why, yes. All that clap-trap about the murderer, and so forth. I merely wanted to amuse them all, you know. One thing, Corin and Corinna knew better than to take me seriously.’

  ‘They are staying on, then?’

  ‘Oh, yes. So is Giles. There’s a meet of the New Forest hounds this morning. He was up and away an hour ago. I’ve lent him a horse.’

  ‘What about Mr Tancred?’

  ‘Not up yet. Don’t suppose he’ll be down before ten. I’m expecting to hear from Hubert and Willoughby by this morning’s post. Wonder what they’ve got to say for themselves? Dashed uncivil to accept an invitation and not turn up. Post doesn’t get here until the middle of the morning. That’s the worst of living in the wilds. Ah, here’s your fresh toast. What are you thinking of doing with yourself today?’

  ‘I thought I would take my patient to the Stone House.’

  ‘You’re not throwing me to these wolves?’

  ‘You spoke a minute ago of your little jokes.’

  ‘That, yes. But I still believe my life may be in danger. You must stay and see me through. Humphrey is very angry with me. He believed I could get him that public school place.’

  ‘I shall not stay. Rosamund will be better away from this house, and I decline to be a party to your little jokes.’

  ‘Well, before you go, would you get your man to run Humphrey and Binnie in to Wareham? They want to catch a train to Waterloo. My own car is needed for Tancred, who, for some reason, wishes to go to Shaftesbury.’

  Dame Beatrice wondered how he knew this, as nothing, so far as she was aware, had been said about such an expedition on the previous evening. However, she made no demur. She said: ‘That means, then, that Rosamund and I will be leaving a little later than I had anticipated.’

  ‘Oh, you must certainly stay to lunch. Judith would never forgive me if you left without saying goodbye to her. Besides, you must be here when the post comes. I am anxious to show you the letters from Hubert and Willoughby. I cannot think why they have not written sooner to tell me they could not come along. I shall accompany Humphrey and Binnie to Wareham to see them off, so I may not be here to receive the letters.’

  ‘You surely will not want to miss the postman when he comes.

  And if Humphrey is as angry as you say ——’

  ‘The letters will still be here when I get back, for surely those two boys will write? The point is, you see, that I want to make quite sure Humphrey and Binnie really do catch that train. Humphrey is in a very unpleasant mood, as I indicated, and I should not wish him to do me the mischief which I am sure he did not contemplate when he came down here.’

  ‘You do not wish him to forestall the murderer?’ Dame Beatrice facetiously enquired. Romilly took her seriously.

  ‘Oh, Humphrey would not dare to go so far, but he might resort to fisticuffs, and I have a horror of unthinking violence,’ he said.

  ‘There are other kinds of violence, of course. Very well, I will accompany you to Wareham and George will protect you. Humphrey will not care to resort to violence in our presence.’

  It was clear that her company was the last thing Romilly wanted, and it gave her inward amusement to watch his struggle with himself before he said:

  ‘Well, that would be very nice, of course, but your man will be sufficient protection. Besides, would it not be better if you spent the time with your patient? With myself out of the house and the others upstairs out of the way, I should have thought …’

  ‘We’ll take Rosamund with us,’ said Dame Beatrice. ‘She will enjoy an outing, and since she and Binnie are of a fashionable slimness, they can sit in front in my car with George, and then there will be plenty of room for the rest of us on the back seat. I can sit between you and Humphrey and keep you apart. That way, you will feel perfectly safe.’

  ‘Well, if you think it a good idea to take Trilby,’ said Romilly, with the utmost unwillingness, ‘I suppose it’s all right.’

  ‘By the way,’ said Dame Beatrice, as though struck by a sudden thought, ‘if you are going to Wareham in my car, who is to drive Tancred to Shaftesbury? – or is he, perhaps, to drive himself and return here later?’

  ‘Oh, no, he does not propose to return. Luke can take him there and bring my car back.’

  ‘Then I think perhaps I will change my mind. It is a much longer drive to Shaftesbury than to Wareham, and will be more of a treat for Rosamund, as she seems to go out so little. You had better take Humphrey
and Binnie to Wareham in your own car, with Luke to protect you, and I will transport Tancred and Rosamund in mine. How will that be?’

  (4)

  Binnie, whose boneheadedness was almost equalled by her kindness of heart, had left Rosamund a slip, a woollen frock and a cardigan. She informed Dame Beatrice of this loan during the few moments they had together before Romilly took the married couple to Wareham to catch their train.

  ‘Too bad she shouldn’t have proper clothes,’ said Binnie. ‘Humphrey doesn’t know I’ve lent them to her, so you won’t say anything, will you? He’s always saying I’m stupid, and so I am. If he finds out about the dress and things, I shall say I did it to spite Uncle Romilly. He hates him, you see. If anybody does murder Uncle Romilly, it’s almost sure to be Humphrey. I shouldn’t really mind if Humphrey went to prison for a good long time. Could you get me a job as a model? I would prefer clothes, but artists or photographers would be all right. If it was an artist, I might be his mistress, mightn’t I? I’d like to be somebody’s mistress. I wouldn’t mind if he beat me and we had to live on bread and cheese and beer. I’d like him to be tempestuous, like some of those people in the Wednesday plays. And we’d make love all night and scratch each other’s eyes out all day (except when he’d be painting, of course), and my picture would be in all the picture galleries and the Academy, and all that, and everybody would say, “Isn’t she wonderful?” I’d love it, wouldn’t I?’

  ‘Yes, it would be very nice,’ said Dame Beatrice. ‘I think I hear them calling to you that the car is at the door. Thank you very much for lending Rosamund the clothes. It is most kind and thoughtful of you. If you’d care to give me your address, I will keep in touch with you.’ Kitty Trevelyan, Laura’s friend, she reflected, had her own salon (the foster-child, incidentally, of a prosperous hair-dressing establishment) and might be willing to give Binnie a trial. ‘What are your – let me see now …’