Ladies’ Bane

“Lawyers are like that. They don’t mean to be insulting-it’s just their way.”

Allegra was off again. Nothing could be less like the silent shadowy girl of yesterday. But Ione’s initial relief was passing into an even more acute anxiety. The colour in the thin cheeks was too bright. Allegra’s tongue had never raced at this u

Then quite suddenly their eyes did meet, accidentally as it seemed, and so briefly that for the moment Ione merely knew that she had received a tingling shock. There was no time for thought before the lashes came down and the head was turned. The realization of what she had seen came unwillingly and slowly. The pupils in those over-bright eyes were too small. They were much, much, much too small.

Allegra went on with that rapid talk. Ione was grateful for it-there was no need for her to say anything. She had disturbing thoughts. The sofa on which they were sitting stood with its back to the windows through which those gleams of sunlight brightened only to fade again. There was a fire-screen between Allegra and the not very brightly burning logs upon the hearth. There was, in fact, no natural cause for those contracted pupils. But there was an u

“Ally, what have you been taking?”

The hands were cold. They tugged feebly to get away, and were held in a strong, warm clasp. The eyelashes fluttered and came down over the telltale eyes. When the question had been repeated even more firmly, Allegra moved her head in protest.

“Taking?”

“You heard me.”

“I don’t know what you mean. Io, you’re hurting me!”

“No, I’m not! I said, ‘What have you been taking?’ and you are going to tell me! When I got here last night you were like a dead fish. Now you’re like someone in a fever, and the pupils of your eyes have gone away to practically nothing at all. One of the things that does that is morphia. Why are you taking morphia?”

Allegra shook back her hair and gave a little tinkling laugh.

“Io, how fu

She was gazing at Ione now out of those over-bright eyes with their effect of being all iris.

“What was your doctor’s name, Ally?”

“The one here-or the one in London?”

“Both.”

“The one here is Dr. Whichcote. He’s rather old, but very kind. The one in London -no, do you know, I’ve forgotten. Geoffrey wanted me to go and see him, and Dr. Whichcote fixed it up. I only saw him once, and his name has gone right out of my head, but he gave me my lovely medicine, and he said, just like Dr. Whichcote does, that I’m quite all right, so there’s no need for anyone to fuss. And now will you please let go of my hands, Io?” Ione let them go. She wasn’t satisfied-no one could possibly have been satisfied with this shallow empty tale. She would have to take it to Geoffrey and have a show-down. That Allegra was being drugged was apparent. Neither Ally’s own denials nor those of anyone else were going to shake Ione about that. And if Geoffrey hadn’t a very good explanation, she was prepared to bring the family about his ears. What she could not understand was why he should have let her come here, knowing as he must have known that Allegra’s state could hardly pass u

Allegra’s tongue ran on. She had left the subject of her medicine and was talking about the house.

“It’s terribly old, isn’t it? I expect all these old houses have stories about them. Geoffrey says they are just nonsense-but-I don’t know-” Her voice dragged on the words. She looked over her shoulder and back again. Then she leaned forward and whispered, “Do you know what they call this house in the village? It was made into a dower house when the eighteenth-century Falconers built the big place which was burnt down in the blitz. They changed the name then from the Manor House to the Ladies’ House. But that’s not what they call it in the village. They never have, and they never will. Florrie told me about it-she is the daily housemaid, and she is a chattering kind of girl. She didn’t want to tell me, but I got it out of her. Her family has lived in Bleake almost as long as the Falconers have, so she knows. And she says even when it was the Manor House, hundreds of years before the big place was built, it had another, secret name. And do you know what it was?” She put her lips quite close to Ione’s ear and dropped her voice to a thread. “They called it Ladies’ Bane.” Ione was startled.

“Why?”

“Oh, I don’t know-some old story.” She shook back her hair and gave that tinkling laugh. “Stupid, isn’t it? A thing like that couldn’t be true.”

“A thing like what? If you don’t tell me, I shall ask Geoffrey.”

A fleeting look of terror passed over the little pointed face. Allegra’s hands came out and clutched her.

“No-no-you mustn’t ever! I’ll tell you. But it’s all nonsense, and you mustn’t think about it or speak about it-especially not to Geoffrey, because it would make him dreadfully angry. I oughtn’t to have said a word, but sometimes it frightens me. Oh, Io, it does!” She came very close again and whispered as she had done before. “It’s just-they say-that anyone who is mistress here-will lose the thing-she cares for most-in all the world.”

The last words came in a terrified rush. And only just in time, because Geoffrey Trent came into the room. There had been no sound of an opening door. If it had been unlatched, would that frightened whisper have reached him? Ione did not think it possible. Then how much had he seen of the frightened whispering attitude? Allegra had been quick to lean back in her corner of the sofa and to call his name in a tone of pleased surprise. Curiously enough, it was this which made the least agreeable impression. The Allegra of two years ago would not have known how to change her part like that. She had had no need for that or any other part. She had been simple, candid, sincere. She had also been loving and vulnerable. There were obvious changes now.

That bright blue glance of Geoffrey’s travelled over the sisters and came to rest upon his wife. She met it with a flush and a smile.

“I was telling Ione about the house. But I really oughtn’t to-I told her so. You do it so much better.”

He laughed and came to stand in front of the fire.

“I’ve just about exhausted her patience, I should think. But”-with a return of his eager ma

“I feel as if I had been on a personally conducted tour of the fourteenth century.”