帷幕25

III

If we were all nervy and aimless in the morning, the afternoon was unex-pectedly pleasant. The sun came out, the temperature was cool and fresh.

Mrs Luttrell was brought down and sat on the veranda. She was in excel-lent form – exercising her charm and manner with less gush than usual,and with no latent hint of vinegar in reserve. She chaffed her husband,but gently and with a kind of affection, and he beamed at her. It was reallydelightful to see them on such good terms.

Poirot permitted himself to be wheeled out also, and he was in goodspirits too. I think he liked seeing the Luttrells on such a friendly footingwith each other. The Colonel was looking years younger. His mannerseemed less vacillating, he tugged less at his moustache. He even sugges-ted that there might be some bridge that evening.

‘Daisy here misses her bridge.’

‘Indeed I do,’ said Mrs Luttrell.

Norton suggested it would be tiring for her.

‘I’ll play one rubber,’ said Mrs Luttrell, and added with a twinkle: ‘AndI’ll behave myself and not bite poor George’s head off.’

‘My dear,’ protested her husband, ‘I know I’m a shocking player.’

‘And what of that?’ said Mrs Luttrell. ‘Doesn’t it give me grand pleasurebadgering and bullying you about it?’

It made us all laugh. Mrs Luttrell went on: ‘Oh, I know my faults, but I’mnot going to give them up at my time of life. George has just got to put upwith me.’

Colonel Luttrell looked at her quite fatuously.

I think it was seeing them both on such good terms that led to a discus-sion on marriage and divorce that took place later in the day.

Were men and women actually happier by reason of the greater facilit-ies afforded for divorce, or was it often the case that a temporary periodof irritation and estrangement – or trouble over a third person – gave wayafter a while to a resumption of affection and friendliness?

It is odd sometimes to see how much at variance people’s ideas are withtheir own personal experiences.

My own marriage had been unbelievably happy and successful, and Iam essentially an old-fashioned person, yet I was on the side of divorce –of cutting one’s losses and starting afresh. Boyd Carrington, whose mar-riage had been unhappy, yet held for an indissoluble marriage bond. Hehad, he said, the utmost reverence for the institution of marriage. It wasthe foundation of the state.

Norton, with no ties and no personal angle, was of my way of thinking.

Franklin, the modern scientific thinker, was, strangely enough, resolutelyopposed to divorce. It offended, apparently, his ideal of clear-cut thinkingand action. One assumed certain responsibilities. Those must be carriedthrough and not shirked or set aside. A contract, he said, is a contract. Oneenters upon it of one’s own free will, and must abide by it. Anything elseresulted in what he called a mess. Loose ends, half-dissolved ties.

Leaning back in his chair, his long legs kicking vaguely at a table, hesaid: ‘A man chooses his wife. She’s his responsibility until she dies – or hedoes.’

Norton said rather comically: ‘And sometimes – Oh blessed death, eh?’

We laughed, and Boyd Carrington said: ‘You needn’t talk, my lad, you’venever been married.’

Shaking his head, Norton said: ‘And now I’ve left it too late.’

‘Have you?’ Boyd Carrington’s glance was quizzical. ‘Sure of that?’

It was just at that moment that Elizabeth Cole joined us. She had beenup with Mrs Franklin.

I wondered if it was my fancy, or did Boyd Carrington look meaninglyfrom her to Norton, and was it possible that Norton blushed?

It put a new idea into my head and I looked searchingly at ElizabethCole. It was true that she was still a comparatively young woman.

Moreover she was quite a handsome one. In fact a very charming andsympathetic person who was capable of making any man happy. And sheand Norton had spent a good deal of time together of late. In their huntsfor wild flowers and birds, they had become friends; I remembered howshe had spoken of Norton being such a kind person.

Well, if so, I was glad for her sake. Her starved and barren girlhoodwould not stand in the way of her ultimate happiness. The tragedy thathad shattered her life would not have been enacted in vain. I thought,looking at her, that she certainly looked much happier and – yes, gayer,than when I had first come to Styles.

Elizabeth Cole and Norton – yes, it might be.

And suddenly, from nowhere, a vague feeling of uneasiness and disquietassailed me. It was not safe – it was not right – to plan happiness here.

There was something malignant about the air of Styles. I felt it now – thisminute, felt suddenly old and tired – yes, and afraid.

A minute later the feeling passed. Nobody had noticed it, I think, exceptBoyd Carrington. He said to me in an undertone a few minutes later: ‘Any-thing the matter, Hastings?’

‘No, why?’

‘Well – you looked – I can’t quite explain it.’

‘Just a feeling – apprehension.’

‘A premonition of evil?’

‘Yes, if you like to put it that way. A feeling that – that something was go-ing to happen.’

‘Funny. I’ve felt that once or twice. Any idea what?’ He was watching menarrowly.

I shook my head. For indeed I had had no definite apprehension of anyparticular thing. It had only been a wave of deep depression and fear.

Then Judith had come out of the house. She had come slowly, her headheld high, her lips pressed together, her face grave and beautiful.

I thought how unlike she was to either me or Cinders. She looked likesome young priestess. Norton felt something of that too. He said to her:

‘You look like your namesake might have looked before she cut off thehead of Holofernes.’

Judith smiled and raised her eyebrows a little. ‘I can’t remember nowwhy she wanted to.’

‘Oh, strictly on the highest moral grounds for the good of the commu-nity.’

The light banter in his tone annoyed Judith. She flushed and went pasthim to sit by Franklin. She said: ‘Mrs Franklin is feeling much better. Shewants us all to come up and have coffee with her this evening.’

 

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