Nine Coaches Waiting

Valmy! You don't know… oh dear God, how can you know…?”

Then she put her hands to her face and began to weep.

Quite suddenly, the scene was unbearable. And I didn't belong in this anywhere any more. I stood up abruptly.

It was at this moment that the door went back with a slam against the silk-panelled wall, and William Blake came in with a rush like an angry bear.

EIGHTH COACH

Chapter 20

Death has done all death can.

Browning: After.

"Who the devil are you?" said Raoul.

Since he said it in French, William Blake took not the slightest notice. He stopped just inside the door, breathing hard. He looked, as ever, enormous; very English, with the untidy blond hair, and very safe. He looked down the room at me, ignoring everyone else.

"Linda? What's going on here? Are you all right?"

I said between a laugh and a sob: "Oh, William!" and ran to him down the length of the room, bouillon and all.

He didn't exactly fold me in his arms, but he did catch me, and, with some presence of mind, hold me away from him, so that the bouillon didn't spill all over his ancient jacket, but only on the priceless Savo

"Here, steady on," he said. "Are you sure you're all right?"

"Yes, quite all right."

Hippolyte had turned and risen in surprise at the interruption, but Héloïse was past caring for the presence of a stranger. She was weeping freely now, the sobs tearing at the atmosphere of the beautiful over-civilised room. Hippolyte paused, looking helplessly from the newcomer back to her. Raoul said, without moving: "It's the Englishman. I told you about him."

I saw William wince from the sound of sobbing, but he stood his ground, his jaw jutting dangerously. "Did they hurt you?"

"No, oh no. It's not them, William, it's all finished, honestly."

"Anything I can do?"

"Not a thing, except… take me out of here."

Behind me I heard Hippolyte say with a kind of controlled desperation: "Héloïse, please. My dear, you must try and pull yourself together. This is doing no good, no good at all. You'll make yourself ill. Héloïse!"

William said: "Okay. We'll get you out of this. And fast." He put an arm round my shoulders, and turned me towards the door. "Let's go."

I saw Hippolyte take half a step towards us. "Miss Martin-"

But here Héloïse sobbed something incoherently and caught at his sleeve, a desperate little gesture that broke something inside me.

I said: "I can't stand this, William. Wait."

I thrust the half-empty pot of bouillon into his hands, and went back to Madame de Valmy. Hippolyte stood aside and I went down on my knees in front of the little gold chair. I was kneeling at Raoul's feet I didn't look up at him, and he never moved. Her hands were still over her face. The sobs were less violent now. I took her wrists gently and pulled them down and held her hands.

I said: "Madame, don't. Don't cry any more. We can talk this thing over quietly when you're feeling better. It won't do any good to make yourself ill." Then to Hippolyte: "Can't you see she's beside herself? There's no point in letting this go on. She doesn't know what she's saying. She must be got to bed… Madame, there'll be some way to arrange everything, you'll see. Don't cry any more. Please."

The sobbing caught in her throat. She looked at me with those pale, drowned eyes. The beauty had all gone. The delicately rouged cheeks sagged slack and grey, and her mouth was loose and blurred with crying. I said: "There've been enough tears over this, madame. Don't distress yourself any more. Nothing's going to happen to you. It's all over now. Here, take my handkerchief… Why, you're cold! I don't know why you're sitting here when there's a stove in the study; and you haven't been well lately, have you? Shall we go in there, and perhaps we can get Gaston to bring some coffee? Can you get up? Let me help you… "

She got to her feet slowly, stiffly, and I led her across to the study door. She came obediently, as if she were sleep-walking. The others followed. Nobody spoke. She was weeping still, but quietly, into my handkerchief. I put her into a chair near the stove, and knelt again beside her on the rug.

I don't know quite what else I said to her, but the sobbing stopped, and presently she lay back in the chair quietly, and looked at me. She looked exhausted, dazed almost. She said abruptly, in a flat, sleep-walker's tone: "I liked you, Miss Martin. I liked you from the first."

I said soothingly: "I know you did. It's all right. Don't worry now. We'll get you home, and-"

"You wouldn't really have been blamed for the accidents, you know. We didn't mean to blame you. We never meant at the begi

"No."

"Léon liked you too. He said you were gallant. That was the word. He said: 'She's a gallant little devil and it'd be a pity if we had to bring her down.' "

Raoul said very quietly, from behind me: "And just what did he mean by that?"

Madame de Valmy took no notice. She seemed oblivious of anyone but herself and me. She held my hands and looked at me with those pale dazed eyes, and talked in that tired monotone that she didn't seem to be able to stop. "He said that just a day or so ago. Of course, after the second accident on the balcony we were going to have to dismiss you, you know. He said you were too wide-awake and now you'd begin to suspect us if anything else happened. We were pleased when you gave us the excuse to send you away. You thought I was angry, didn't you?"

"Yes, madame."

"Then we got the cable. We had to do something in a hurry. There were the rumours in the village about you and Raoul, and about your being dismissed, but Léon said it might come in useful later anyway, if the village had been linking your names."

Behind me I heard Raoul take in his breath as if to speak. I said quickly, to divert her: "Yes, madame, I know. Albertine started to talk, didn't she? Well, don't think about that now."

"She never knew what we were trying to do," said Madame de Valmy. "But she didn't like you. She never liked you. It was she who told me about the muddle you'd made with the prescriptions that time. She only told me to show you up. She thought I'd think you careless and silly. It was only spite. But that's what made us think of the poison, you see. That was the only reason we thought of using those pills. We weren't trying to fix it on you, Miss Martin. It was to have looked like an accident. It was in the glucose, you understand. The poison was in the glucose that you used every night to make his chocolate with."

"Madame-"

"Luckily there wasn't much left in the tin, so we soaked the blue colour off the tablets and powdered them up and made a strong mixture. Too strong perhaps. It may have been bitter. He didn't take it, did he?"

"No. But that wasn't why." I turned desperately to Hippolyte, who was standing silently over by the desk. "May I ring and ask for some coffee, Monsieur de Valmy? I really think-"

"We hadn't time to think of anything better," said Héloïse. "It was to look like an accident. If he had taken it and died they might not have thought of murder. Those anti-histamine pills are blue. The doctor might have thought he'd taken them as sweets. Children do. We meant to empty out the rest of the glucose and leave one or.two pills by his bed. There were some in a jar on your mantelpiece, where he might have found them and eaten them. You mightn't have been blamed. They would have thought you'd forgotten to give them to Mrs. Seddon. Léon said you might not be blamed even then."