Towards Zero - Agatha Christie [24]
Kay said:
“Those little crosses aren’t children, they’re journeys. That means you’ll take three journeys across water.”
“That seems unlikely too,” said Mary Aldin.
Thomas Royde asked her: “Have you travelled much?”
“No, hardly at all.”
He heard an undercurrent of regret in her voice.
“You would like to?”
“Above everything.”
He thought in his slow reflective way of her life. Always in attendance on an old woman. Calm, tactful, an excellent manager. He asked curiously:
“Have you lived with Lady Tressilian long?”
“For nearly fifteen years. I came to be with her after my father died. He had been a helpless invalid for some years before his death.”
And then, answering the question she felt to be in his mind:
“I’m thirty-six. That’s what you wanted to know, wasn’t it?”
“I did wonder,” he admitted. “You might be—any age, you see.”
“That’s rather a two-edged remark!”
“I suppose it is. I didn’t mean it that way.”
That sombre thoughtful gaze of his did not leave her face. She did not find it embarrassing. It was too free from self-consciousness for that—a genuine thoughtful interest. Seeing his eyes on her hair, she put up her hand to the one white lock.
“I’ve had that,” she said, “since I was very young.”
“I like it,” said Thomas Royde simply.
He went on looking at her. She said at last, in a slightly amused tone of voice:
“Well, what is the verdict?”
He reddened under his tan.
“Oh, I suppose it is rude of me to stare. I was wondering about you—what you are really like.”
“Please,” she said hurriedly and rose from the table. She said as she went into the drawing room with her arm through Audrey’s:
“Old Mr. Treves is coming to dinner tomorrow, too.”
“Who’s he?” asked Nevile.
“He brought an introduction from the Rufus Lords. A delightful old gentleman. He’s staying at the Balmoral Court. He’s got a weak heart and looks very frail, but his faculties are perfect and he has known a lot of interesting people. He was a solicitor or a barrister—I forget which.”
“Everybody down here is terribly old,” said Kay discontentedly.
She was standing just under a tall lamp. Thomas was looking that way, and he gave her that same slow interested attention that he gave to anything that was immediately occupying his line of vision.
He was struck suddenly with her intense and passionate beauty. A beauty of vivid colouring, of abundant and triumphant vitality. He looked across from her to Audrey, pale and mothlike in a silvery grey dress.
He smiled to himself and murmured:
“Red Rose and Snow White.”
“What?” It was Mary Aldin at his elbow.
He repeated the words. “Like the old fairy story, you know—”
Mary Aldin said: “It’s a very good description….”
V
Mr. Treves sipped his glass of port appreciatively. A very nice wine. And an excellently cooked and served dinner. Clearly Lady Tressilian had no difficulties with her servants.
The house was well managed, too, in spite of the mistress of it being an invalid.
A pity, perhaps, that the ladies did not leave the dining room when the port went round. He preferred the old-fashioned routine. But these young people had their own ways.
His eyes rested thoughtfully on that brilliant and beautiful young woman who was the wife of Nevile Strange.
It was Kay’s night tonight. Her vivid beauty glowed and shone in the candlelit room. Beside her, Ted Latimer’s sleek dark head bent to hers. He was playing up to her. She felt triumphant and sure of herself.
The mere sight of such radiant vitality warmed Mr. Treves’ old bones.
Youth—there was really nothing like youth!
No wonder the husband had lost his head and left his first wife. Audrey was sitting next to him. A charming creature and a lady—but then that was the kind of woman who invariably did get left, in Mr. Treves’ experience.
He glanced at her. Her head had been down and she was staring at her plate. Something in the complete immobility of her attitude struck Mr. Treves. He looked at her more