Виктория Холт - Seven for a Secret

They asked me

We were in late September and there was to be a dinner party at St. Aubyn’s at which Crispin and I would announce our engagement.

“It is what my mother will want,” said Crispin.

“There has always been a certain amount of formality in the family.”

People were still talking of the murder. Far from stemming interest in that morbid subject, the inquest had increased it.

“Some person or persons unknown.” There was something sinister about the very phrase.

In the shops and every household the question was: “Who killed Gaston Marchmont?”

Suspicion rested on one or two people: Crispin was one of those, so were Tamarisk and Harry Gentry, though more than one clung to the belief that it was someone from Gaston’s past. After all, why should not someone have got into the house, taken the gun and not had an opportunity of putting it back? There was a certain plausibility in the theory.

Meanwhile there was the dinner-party and there would be another piece of news to startle the community.

Mrs. St. Aubyn joined us for dinner. Her health had improved so much since the arrival of Gaston that she had ceased to be the invalid she had been before. He had flattered her so blatantly, telling her she had the appearance of a young girl, that she had begun to behave like one. She had made a habit of dining at table with the family and she could not slip back into invalidism so soon after his departure. I thought to myself: He has done some good, then. She must have been the only person who mourned him, for there was no doubt that she was genuinely saddened by his death.

Guests at the party were the Hetheringtons and friends in the neighbourhood, including the doctor and his wife, and from Devizes a lawyer who represented the family. Aunt Sophie, of course, was present.

Crispin sat at the head of the table and I was on his right hand. Mrs. St. Aubyn sat at the other end and, although she looked very sad, she was very different from the invalid who had taken most of her meals in her own room. Tamarisk, also, was present. She had changed a great deal; she had lost that careless manner of the past and was no longer the light-hearted girl.

The ghost of Gaston Marchmont seemed to hover over us all, and although a great effort was made not to refer to past events and to be as we all had been before, that was not possible.

The meal was over when Crispin rose and, taking my hand, said simply:

“I have an announcement to make. Frederica Miss Hammond-and I have decided to marry.”

Congratulations ensued, and we drank the champagne which the butler had brought up from the cellars.

I could have been very happy but for that hovering ghost. I wondered if it would ever leave us in peace.

Later in the drawing-room I found Tamarisk beside me.

“I did not need the formal announcement,” she said.

“I knew, of course, what was in the air.”

“Was it so obvious?”

“Quite. Particularly since you went to the office. He arranged that, of course.”

“It was good of him.”

“Good! He was thinking of himself,” she said.

“Tamarisk, how are you?”

“I don’t know. Sometimes I’m miserable. Sometimes I’m ashamed. Then I’m afraid. Then I’m glad glad that he’s gone and yet in a way he is still here. He always will be until they find out who killed him. I wish oh, how I wish I had never seen him.”

I put my hand over hers.

“We’re like sisters in a way,” she said.

“That’s something I find cheering.”

“I’m glad.”

“Rachel, you and I. The three of us. We were always together, weren’t we? It seems that you have done better than any of us. You and Crispin. Who would have believed Crispin would be in love, and with you?”

“Rachel has a very happy marriage.”

“Poor Rachel.”

“She’s all right. She’s happy now. But, Tamarisk, what about you?”

“I shall be all right too when this is all over. If only it had been someone we didn’t know who had killed him so that we could forget.

They will be hovering till they find out. The police, I mean. They don’t just forget it after an inquest. “

“We have to go on as if it hadn’t happened.”

“Some people think I did it. They always will. You see what I meant about its being there always.”

“It won’t be. There’ll be an answer.”

“But what if the answer is something we don’t want it to be?”

“What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean. We’re going to try to be happy. Or pretend we are. Perhaps we might even succeed for a time. And then it will be there. It will pop up, Fred. They’ve got to find out who did it. It will never be finished until they do.”

Aunt Sophie was coming over to us. She was smiling brightly. She was very pleased, but behind her smiles I could detect a certain anxiety.

Oh yes indeed, the ghost of Gaston Marchmont was with us on that night.

It amazed me to realize the interest there was in our proposed marriage; and I did not only mean among the inhabitants of Harper’s Green. That, of course, I fully expected.

It was a few days after the dinner-party. When I went down to breakfast Aunt Sophie was already seated at the table. She was reading the morning newspaper and when she greeted me I detected the dismay in her face immediately.

“Good morning. Aunt Sophie.” I went to her and kissed her.

“Anything wrong?”

She shrugged her shoulders.

“I suppose it’s nothing, really.”

“You look upset.”

“It’s just this.”

She pushed the newspaper over to me as I sat down beside her. There was a picture of Crispin on the front page.

“What is this?” I cried.

“They must have taken it some time during the investigations. The Press is usually lurking somewhere. That’s! Inspector Burrows with him. The one who was here, remember?”

I read: To marry. The engagement is announced of Mr. Crispin St. Aubyn to Miss Frederica Hammond who has been a neighbour of his for some years. Mr. St. Aubyn is the Wiltshire landowner on whose estate the body of Gaston Marchmont was recently found. The gun from which the fatal shot was fired was taken from the St. Aubyn’s gunroom. This will be Mr. St. Aubyn’s second marriage. His first wife was Kate Carvel, the actress, who was killed in a railway accident soon after the wedding.

Aunt Sophie was watching me. Why do they want to bring all this up? ”

“I suppose they think people want to read it,” said Aunt Sophie.

“But that first marriage …”

“Oh, I suppose it adds a further touch of drama.”

“Why should people want to hear all that?”

“The case was publicized nationally, of course.” Yes, I thought, this paper was not the local one. It would be circulated all over the country. I thought of the thousands who would be reading that item.

It will be forgotten in time, I told myself. But there would always be some to remember. There really was no escape.

Crispin himself was not very disturbed by the newspaper notice.

He said: “Until this thing is settled they will keep their eyes on us.

We have to forget it. Let’s think about pleasant things. I don’t see any reason for delay. Let’s make it soon. My mother is already making plans. She says it must be a wedding in the St. Aubyn’s tradition. I mustn’t forget that I’m the head of the family and all that.

Personally, I’d go for the quickest way. I just want to be with you to make sure we are together . always. “

“I want that too,” I said.

“But I suppose the wedding is going to attract more attention from the Press.”

“I’m afraid we shall have to accept that.”

“Perhaps we should wait a little … not too long. But in case there is some development.”

He looked aghast.

“Some discovery,” I went on.

“Some revelation.”

“Oh no!” he cried vehemently. He was frowning deeply, and I put my arms round him and held him close to me. He clung, almost as though he were asking for protection.

“Never leave me. Do not talk of delays.”

I was deeply touched. I felt as though I were trying to reach out to him and could not quite do so. I was deeply aware of some barrier between us, and I said: “Crispin, there is something ..”

“What do you mean?” Did I fancy I detected a note of fear in his voice?

“There should not be any secrets between us,” I said on impulse.

He drew back. He was himself again the man in command of any situation.

“What do you mean, Frederica?” he repeated.

“I just thought that there might be something important that I did not know.”

He laughed and kissed me.

“This is the important matter … the most important matter in the world to me. When are we going to get married?”

“We should talk to your mother and Aunt Sophie.”

“I think Aunt Sophie will be amenable.”

“She will go along with anything we decide, of course, but she did say that in view of… everything… we should not have the grand ceremony your mother wants. It is too soon after that trouble.”

He was silent.

“She is right,” I persisted.

“Your brother-in-law is dead. It’s a death in the family. It is usual to wait a year after that.”

“Impossible! It was no great bereavement.”

“It was murder. I think we should offend a lot of sensibilities if we celebrated what should be a joyous occasion too soon after that. What construction would people put upon it?”

“Do we care?”

“I think we have to remember it is a delicate situation. Crispin, we have to remember that until the case is solved some may be thinking all sorts of things about people.”