“It was Dr. Osgood. He says you must return to Frellingsloe House at once, Monsieur Poirot. Arnold Laurier is missing. Dr. Osgood and Vivienne Laurier have looked everywhere and cannot find him.”
Chapter 18
The Tree in the Library
I was making good progress with the Christmas tree in the library when Terence Surtees appeared. “No Maddie or Douglas to help you?” he enquired.
“No.”
“What about your friend Poirot?”
“No. He will be with Inspector Mackle for most of the day, I expect.”
“I see.” Surtees was staring at the tree. “Is that the right position for those paper snowflakes?”
“I think so, yes. But that will not become apparent for some time.”
“They do not look like individual flakes. The impression, rather, is one of a flower with snowflakes for petals.”
“That is deliberate,” I told him. “It will look impressive, once I have finished.” Rather than asking what he wanted, I described what I was hoping to achieve with my snowflake-flower idea.
It took him less than ten seconds to interrupt me. “I havesought you out only to apologize,” he said. “It must have appeared rude when I left the dining room so quickly, without so much as a goodbye. I overheard something that was not intended for my ears, and quickly realized I had been misled.”
“By whom?”
“Our dear host and master,” Surtees said in a hard voice. “Arnold. I ran into him earlier, and he told me... Dash it all, he has done it to me again! I was a fool to believe him then, and today I am a fool once more. Well, this is the last time.”
I moved a bauble on the tree. “Do you think this looks better over here?”
“He told me the children were all helping you to decorate Christmas trees together—hurried over to tell me, as if it was cause for great celebration. When I came to witness the joyous spectacle with my own eyes, what did I find? Only one of my daughters describing the other as ‘vile’ to a police inspector she met just yesterday.”
“I am sorry you had to hear it,” I said.
“The animosity between Maddie and Janet has robbed Enid and me of every last shred of our happiness,” Surtees said. “Enid has all but given up. Her hair is falling out from the misery. It is more painful than words can describe to compare what she is now to the woman she used to be.” He ran his hands through his own hair, rearranging the lion’s mane. Lowering his voice, and with a quick glance over his shoulder in the direction of the door, he said, “I don’t even mind about grandchildren. I could be perfectlyhappy without them, if only Maddie and Janet would resolve their differences. Enid thought that if we came to live here, in the middle of the girls’ battleground, they would feel compelled to do something to improve matters. Well, it has not happened yet, and we have been here seven months—keeping ourselves wretchedly busy in the kitchen and the garden, and not getting paid a penny.”
“It is an unusual arrangement,” I said.
“Of course, we get our food and lodging, and we are able to see our daughters every day. Arnold would call it ideal. That is how he presented it to Enid, when she spoke to him and Vivienne without saying a word to me first. It was Enid who went to the Lauriers and asked if they would consider having the two of us to stay for a short while in the hope that we might be able to sort out our girls, who were both already living here. Arnold could not have been more delighted. The timing of Enid’s request was perfect: Vivienne had just let their cook and gardener go in order to save money.” Surtees snorted. “Which is ludicrous when one considers that Arnold is sitting on a small fortune. Refuses to spend any from that pot, though. He sees his ‘family money,’ as he calls it, as being for Douglas and Jonathan.”
“Many fathers would not be so generous,” I said, thinking of my own, who had reminded me regularly throughout my childhood that his financial contribution to my life would end on the day I became an adult.
“Even leaving his heaps of family money out of the equation, Arnold could afford a proper cook and gardenerif he wanted one,” said Surtees. “Hedidafford it, for many years. I don’t know what changed. I don’t want his money, anyway. Wouldn’t take it if it were offered. Enid and I are making more than enough by letting our house in London while we live here. Of course, it has not occurred to Arnold for one second that Enid and I might grow resentful in our positions of servitude. He is altogether too nice, that is Arnold’s problem: too happy about everything. He would not mind being a servant, I am sure—he would find a way to turn it into an adventure. He always thinks everything will be the most enormous fun. That is why he cannot be trusted. Hearing from him that everything will be fine does not mean that it will be; it merely means he is not willing, ever, to adopt a more pessimistic cast of mind.”
“I doubt he deliberately misled you about the decorating of the trees,” I told him. “Maddie and Douglas helped me with one and Janet helped me with another, earlier this morning. Arnold could have heard mention of both and got the wrong end of the stick.”
“You are right,” Surtees said. “Arnold would never do any harm on purpose. That almost makes it worse.”
“I think this silver bauble would look better on the other side of the tree,” I said. “So that it can be seen from the garden, if one were to look up. What do you think?”
Surtees ignored the question. He walked over to the window and looked out. After a silence of some seconds, he said, “There is no way to return to the past, but if I could... if only I could... I would not allow Arnold to persuade me.”
“Of what?” I said while repositioning the bauble, trying to sound as if I were only half listening.
“Enid knew, you see. She has always known what the girls were up to, long before they told us anything. She knew Janet and Jonathan were sweet on each other. One day she sat me down and said, ‘Now, listen, Terence. You will not believe me, and you will be indignant, I expect, but I am going to tell you what is about to happen and what you must do about it. Jonathan Laurier will very soon come to you and ask for Janet’s hand in marriage. And you must say no. On no account! You will tell him that he does not have your permission. Promise me you will do it.’ I laughed, naturally. How could Enid know what Jonathan would do? And whyever should we wish to keep apart two young people who were besotted with one another? I had gladly given Douglas permission to propose marriage to Maddie, after all.
“I reminded Enid of this and she said, ‘That is why you must do all you can to deter Jonathan. I have heard about this sort of thing happening: two brothers and two sisters. Believe me, it can cause all manner of trouble.’ I told her I did not see how, and she said something complicated about the rearrangement of loyalties.” Surtees sighed. “My wife uttered many wise words that day, inspector. How I wish I had listened to her.”
“Rearrangement of loyalties, eh?”
