There was no sadness in her voice. Rather there was satisfaction. She caught my glance.
Oh, dont you understand? she said impatiently. Were freeat last! Dont you understand that Rogers been miserableabsolutely miserablefor years? He never had any aptitude for business. He likes things like horses and cows and pottering round in the country. But he adored his fatherthey all did. Thats whats wrong with this housetoo much family. I dont mean that the old man was a tyrant, or preyed upon them, or bullied them. He didnt. He gave them money and freedom. He was devoted to them. And they kept on being devoted to him.
Is there anything wrong in that?
I think there is. I think, when your children have grown up, that you should cut away from them, efface yourself, slink away, force them to forget you.
Force them? Thats rather drastic, isnt it? Isnt coercion as bad one way as another?
If he hadnt made himself such a personality
You cant make yourself a personality, I said. He was a personality.
He was too much of a personality for Roger. Ro ger worshipped him. He wanted to do everything his father wanted him to do, he wanted to be the kind of son his father wanted. And he couldnt. His father made over Associated Catering to himit was the old mans particular joy and pride, and Roger tried hard to carry on in his fathers footsteps. But he hadnt got that kind of ability. In business matters Roger isyes, Ill say it plainlya fool. And it nearly broke his heart. Hes been miserable for years, struggling, seeing the whole thing go down the hill, having sudden wonderful ideas and schemes which always went wrong and made it worse than ever. Its a terrible thing to feel youre a failure year after year. You dont know how unhappy hes been. I do.
Again she turned and faced me.
You thought, you actually suggested to the police, that Roger would have killed his fatherfor money! You dont know howhow absolutely ridiculous that is!
I do know it now, I said humbly.
When Roger knew he couldnt stave it off[109] any morethat the crash was bound to come, he was actually relieved. Yes, he was. He worried about his fathers knowingbut not about anything else. He was looking forward to the new life we were going to live.
Her face quivered a little and her voice softened.
Where were you going? I asked.
To Barbados. A distant cousin of mine died a short time ago and left me a tiny estate out thereoh, nothing much. But it was somewhere to go. Wed have been desperately poor, but wed have scratched a livingit costs very little just to live. Wed have been togetherunworried, away from them all.
She sighed.
Roger is a ridiculous person. He would worry about meabout my being poor. I suppose hes got the Leonides attitude to money too firmly in his mind. When my first husband was alive, we were terribly poorand Roger thinks it was so brave and wonderful of me! He doesnt realize that I was happyreally happy! Ive never been so happy since. And yetI never loved Richard as I love Roger.
Her eyes half-closed. I was aware of the intensity of her feeling.
She opened her eyes, looked at me and said:
So you see, I would never have killed anyone for money. I dont like money.
I was quite sure that she meant exactly what she said. Clemency Leonides was one of those rare people to whom money does not appeal. They dislike luxury, prefer austerity and are suspicious of possessions.
Still, there are many to whom money has no personal appeal, but who can be tempted by the power it confers.
I said: You mightnt want money for yourselfbut wisely directed, money can do a lot of interesting things. It can endow research, for example.
I had suspected that Clemency might be a fanatic about her work, but she merely said:
I doubt if endowments ever do much good. Theyre usually spent in the wrong way. The things that are worth while are usually accomplished by someone with enthusiasm and driveand with natural vision. Expensive equipment and training and experiment never does what youd imagine it might do. The spending of it usually gets into the wrong hands.
Will you mind giving up your work when you go to Barbados? I asked. Youre still going, I presume?
Oh, yes, as soon as the police will let us. No, I shant mind giving up my work at all. Why should I? I wouldnt like to be idle, but I shant be idle in Barbados.
She added impatiently:
Oh, if only this could all be cleared up quickly and we could get away.
Clemency, I said, have you any idea at all who did do this? Granting that you and Roger had no hand in it (and really I cant see any reason to think you had), surely, with your intelligence, you must have some idea of who did?
She gave me a rather peculiar look, a darting, sideways glance. When she spoke her voice had lost its spontaneity. It was awkward, rather embarrassed.
One cant make guesses, its unscientific, she said. One can only say that Brenda and Laurence are the obvious suspects.
So you think they did it?
Clemency shrugged her shoulders.
She stood for a moment as though listening, then she went out of the room, passing Edith de Haviland in the doorway.
Edith came straight over to me.
I want to talk to you, she said.
My fathers words leapt into my mind. Was this
But Edith de Haviland was going on:
I hope you didnt get the wrong impression, she said. About Philip, I mean. Philip is rather difficult to understand. He may seem to you reserved and cold, but that is not so at all. Its just a manner. He cant help it.
I really hadnt thought I began.
But she swept on:
Just nowabout Roger. It isnt really that hes grudging. Hes never been mean about money. And hes really a dearhes always been a dearbut he needs understanding.
I looked at her with the air, I hope, of one who was willing to understand. She went on:
Its partly, I think, from having been the second of the family. Theres often something about a second childthey start handicapped. He adored his father, you see. Of course, all the children adored Aristide and he adored them. But Roger was his especial pride and joy. Being the eldest the first. And I think Philip felt it. He drew back right into himself. He began to like books and the past and things that were well divorced from everyday life. I think he sufferedchildren do suffer
She paused and went on:
What I really mean, I suppose, is that hes always been jealous of Roger. I think perhaps he doesnt know it himself. But I think the fact that Roger has come a cropperoh, it seems an odious thing to say and really Im sure he doesnt realize it himselfbut I think perhaps Philip isnt as sorry about it as he ought to be.
You mean really that hes rather pleased Roger has made a fool of himself.
Yes, said Miss de Haviland. I mean just exactly that.
She added, frowning a little:
It distressed me, you know, that he didnt at once offer to help his brother.
Why should he? I said. After all, Roger has made a muck of things. Hes a grown man. There are no children to consider. If he were ill or in real want, of course his family would helpbut Ive no doubt Roger would really much prefer to start afresh[110] entirely on his own.
Oh! he would. Its only Clemency he minds about. And Clemency is an extraordinary creature. She really likes being uncomfortable and having only one utility teacup to drink out of. Modern, I suppose. Shes no sense of the past, no sense of beauty.
I felt her shrewd eyes looking me up and down.
This is a dreadful ordeal for Sophia, she said. I am so sorry her youth should be dimmed by it. I love them all, you know. Roger and Philip, and now Sophia and Eustace and Josephine. All the dear children. Marcias children. Yes, I love them dearly. She paused and then added sharply: But, mind you, this side idolatry.
She turned abruptly and went. I had the feeling that she had meant something by her last remark that I did not quite understand.
Chapter 15
Your rooms ready, said Sophia.
She stood by my side looking out at the garden. It looked bleak and grey now with the half-denuded trees swaying in the wind.
Sophia echoed my thoughts as she said:
How desolate it looks
As we watched, a figure, and then presently another came through the yew hedge from the rock garden. They both looked grey and unsubstantial in the fading light.
Brenda Leonides was the first. She was wrapped in a grey chinchilla coat and there was something catlike and stealthy in the way she moved. She slipped through the twilight with a kind of eerie grace.
I saw her face as she passed the window. There was a half-smile on it, the curving, crooked smile I had noticed upstairs. A few minutes later Laurence Brown, looking slender and shrunken, also slipped through the twilight. I can only put it that way. They did not seem like two people walking, two people who had been out for a stroll. There was something furtive and unsubstantial about them like two ghosts.
I wondered if it was under Brendas or Laurences foot a twig had snapped.
By a natural association of ideas, I asked:
Wheres Josephine?
Probably with Eustace up in the schoolroom. She frowned. Em worried about Eustace, Charles.
Why?
Lies so moody and odd. Hes been so different ever since that wretched paralysis. I cant make out whats going on in his mind. Sometimes he seems to hate us all.
Hell probably grow out of all that. Its just a phase.
Yes, I suppose so. But I do get worried, Charles.
Why, dear heart?
Really, I suppose, because mother and father never worry. Theyre not like a mother and father.
That may be all for the best. More children suffer from interference than from non-interference.
Thats true. You know, I never thought about it until I came back from abroad, but they really are a queer couple. Father living determinedly in a world of obscure historical by-paths and mother having a lovely time creating scenes. That tomfoolery this evening was all mother. There was no need for it. She just wanted to play a family conclave scene. She gets bored, you know, down here and has to try and work up a drama.
For the moment I had a fantastic vision of Sophias mother poisoning her elderly father-in-law in a light-hearted manner in order to observe a murder drama at first-hand with herself in the leading role.