Vanishing Point

CHAPTER 46

Craig, I must go back.”

She sat looking at him, all the bloom and radiance gone. It made him feel like an executioner. Twenty-four hours, and he had had to bring that tragic look to her face! Even the brief respite had been hard to achieve. The evening paper had to be suppressed, a chance taken with the possibility of some ghastly poster headline, some friendly encounter. Well, they had had their twenty-four hours. The arrival at his house, old Nan’s welcome, Je

He knew her so well that he had known what she would say. Now he heard her say it.

“Craig, I must go back.”

“My darling child!”

She put out her hands to him, and he took them.

“Oh, you ought to have told me before! You oughtn’t to have let me marry you!”

Her hands were strongly, warmly held.

“Darling, don’t be stupid! Now, will you just listen to me! You are about to produce all the old clichés, and I don’t want to hear them. Instead, you will listen to the voice of common sense. To start with, nowadays people stand or fall by what they do themselves. Nobody cares two hoots about their relations. Most people have one or two whom they don’t exactly brag about, you know. To go on with, no one is going to co

A sudden colour came into her face.

“Craig, don’t you see I can’t just turn my back and pretend she doesn’t belong. She did take us in when we had nowhere to go, and she is a relation-my mother was a Crewe. I can’t walk out and say it’s got nothing to do with me. Someone must see about the legal part of it. I can’t just run away and let her think I don’t care. I must go back.”

He said,

“She won’t thank you.”

Rosamond pulled her hands away.

“What does that matter?”

He smiled suddenly.

“No it wouldn’t-to you. All right, darling, we’ll go back. Je

“Oh, no!”

Je

Rosamond and Craig drove through the rain. He knew now he had always been sure that Rosamond would go back. She was gentle, but she was resolute. He laughed suddenly and said,

“You know, my sweet, what you’ve got is a strong, persevering Scottish conscience.”

“Do you mind very much?”

“I shall get used to it. One of my grandmothers was a Scot, which will help me to keep my end up.”

It was still raining when they drove up to Crewe House, to find the police in charge there.

Later in the day they were admitted to see Lydia Crewe. Rosamond had not Je

Lydia Crewe sat at the far end of the table, her back stiff, her eyes hooded. Rosamond’s hands held one another tightly. She said,

“We have come to see what we can do, Aunt Lydia. You will want to see a solicitor.”

“A solicitor?” Miss Crewe’s tone was haughty in the extreme. “Do you imagine that I am not already provided with a legal adviser? Mr. Hawthorn of Hawthorn and Monkshead has done all my business for years.”

Craig said in a low voice,

“They won’t touch the case-not in their line. They’ll recommend someone, I expect.”

Lydia Crewe said sharply,

“Don’t mumble, Mr. Lester! It’s a deplorable habit! And may I ask just what business this is of yours?”

Rosamond flushed.

“Aunt Lydia -we are married-”

She lifted her lids and fixed them with a long cold stare.

“Indeed? So this is how you repay all that I have done for you and Je

Craig said in his pleasant voice,

“I thought that Rosamond and Je

She kept that staring look, but it had become unfocussed. She said, “Married-” And then, “I do not know that I should have objected if I had been properly approached. The important thing is that the name should go on. You will, of course, take immediate steps to entitle you to call yourself Crewe. Major Maxwell always refused to do so. A most stubborn person, and quite unappreciative of the honour we did him in admitting him to the family.”

When Craig made no reply, she said with extreme sharpness,

“You will take the name-immediately!”

“I think not, Miss Crewe.”

She stood up then, leaned forward with her hands at the table’s edge, gripping it, and began in a low shaking voice to rehearse the bygone glories of the Crewes-Sir John who died with Philip Sidney at Zutphen-Charles, his brother, who sailed against the Armada-Bevis, the saintly bishop-James, the witty courtier beloved of Charles II-name after name, generation after generation, whilst her voice rose and a fire kindled in her eyes. She looked at Rosamond and said,

“My house-my people. And thanks to me they will not die. The great houses are going down-the life blood has been drained out of them. But not the Crewes-oh, no, not the Crewes! They are going to be greater than ever! The old glories will come back! I have seen to that, you know! There will be money enough!” She repeated the word in a whisper. “Enough-” and stood there empty and shaken.

The two women closed in on either side of her and took her away.

Rosamond and Craig did not speak. They went back to the hotel where they had taken a room. When Craig had opened the door and stood aside to let her pass Rosamond went over to the window. She stood there looking out but not seeing anything at all. When Craig came to her she put out both her hands to keep him away. He had seen her pale, but never as pale as this. She said, low and quite steadily,

“I’m so ashamed-so ashamed-”

He took the hands and found them icy cold.

“My darling, if we start being ashamed of what other people have done, we’ve got our work cut out. And she is mad. You do realize that, don’t you?”

“Is she?”

“I don’t think there is any doubt about it. I should say she’d been heading that way for years.”

A shudder went over her. He came nearer and held her close.