‘We’ve searched the pond as much as we can,’ she said, shivering with cold, ‘but only a miracle would enable us to find Annelise alive now if she is in there.’
Dr Garland had noticed that Hope was still in the water. ‘She should come out,’ he said, above Allegra’s keening.
‘I’ve told her that, but she won’t listen.’ Wringing out the lower part of her dress, Romily added, ‘Perhaps you could persuade her to give up while I deal with Allegra.’
She was about to bend down to Allegra when Florence came running towards them.
‘She’s safe!’ she called. ‘Mr Devereux has her!’
To Romily’s disbelief, and enormous relief, Arthur then appeared through the gate at the end of the garden. He was sauntering along without a care in the world, and with Annelise slung over his shoulder like a kitbag.
Arthur was enjoying himself immensely. He hadn’t had this much fun in ages. And the best part was seeing Allegra squirm with guilt and shame.
For no more than a second he’d considered drowning Annelise just to ensure that this was a lesson for which Allegra would pay for the rest of her life, but even he baulked at actually murdering a small child. This way he got to play the part of hero of the hour while Allegra was cast as the villain, a woman who was too lazy and self-absorbed to stay awake and look after her charge.
Earlier, when the dull-as-ditch-water service had ended at St Mary’s, Arthur had left Kit simpering over Evelyn Flowerday and headed for home. He’d fancied a bottle of cold beer down by the boathouse, but when he’d come across the tableau of Allegra and Annelise both fast asleep, a cunning ruse had popped into his head.
A devilishly clever ruse!
With nobody about, he’d stealthily picked up the child and hurried away like a thief in the night, back the way he’d just come.
He’d taken her down to Clover Woods, where she continued to sleep, oblivious to the awaiting storm. When she’d woken and he’d decided sufficient time had elapsed to cause maximum alarm, he’d strolled back ready to tell everyone he’d found the child crawling along the path in a distressed state. To add credence to his story, he’d rolled her in the leaves and messed up her clothes. Which she didn’t seem to mind at all.
‘I’m just glad I was there when I was,’ he now said, when yet again Hope thanked him for him for what he’d done. ‘Otherwise,’ he added with a meaningful shrug, ‘God only knows what might have happened.’ His words, he saw, were like a dagger to Allegra, and as she chewed her lip and visibly trembled, he relished the effect.
They were on the terrace, drinking tea – the British answer to all life’s calamities – with Romily, Hope and Allegra having changed out of their wet clothes. Hope had the child on her lap and was holding her close, as though she would never let her go.
Arthur gave the child a crafty sideways glance. Our little secret, he said silently to her. Something to keep just between the two of us.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
The next day, Dr Garland was back at Island House again.
Romily was worried about Allegra. The girl didn’t seem at all well. She hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast yesterday morning, and had locked herself in her bedroom, no doubt too embarrassed to show her face. Whenever Romily had knocked on the door in an effort to coax her out, her pleadings went unheeded. But then this morning she had heard the unmistakable sound of Allegra being repeatedly unwell in the bathroom and had confronted her before she could make it back to her room.
One look at her feverish high colour and her hands clutching her stomach and Romily’s mind had been made up: the girl was plainly ill and needed medical attention. Perhaps she had swallowed water in the pond yesterday and caught something horrid that was upsetting her stomach? She had helped Allegra back into bed, telling her she was sending for Dr Garland. She had half expected her to remonstrate, but it was as if the spark that fired her determined and contrary will had left her. She was a pitiful sight, and despite her appalling carelessness with Annelise yesterday, Romily’s heart softened at the visible pain of her suffering now.
Having shown Dr Garland upstairs, Romily went outside to the garden. Nobody else was about – Kit and Hope had gone for a walk with Annelise, and heaven only knew where Arthur was.
It was understandable that Hope could not now bring herself to entrust Annelise into anybody else’s care but her own, and consequently she had informed her publisher first thing this morning that she needed more time to produce the promised illustrations. Privately Romily believed her vigilance would soon waver, once they had all recovered from the shock of what might have happened.
If Arthur had been unbearably unpleasant before, now, having adopted the mantle of heroic child rescuer, he was even harder to tolerate. He was insufferably smug about his role in yesterday’s drama and clearly relished every opportunity to condemn Allegra for her negligence. Admittedly Allegra had made a terrible mistake, and one that could have ended in tragedy, but Romily never believed in rubbing salt into a wound. She suspected the girl would be haunted for a very long time by her carelessness. That was punishment enough for anyone in Romily’s opinion.
Walking the length of the avenue of herbaceous borders and admiring the hummocks of lavender, the hollyhocks and delphiniums and the sweet-smelling roses, she spotted Elijah working at the far end of the right-hand border. She hadn’t had a chance to speak to him since before the funeral, and so she decided to have a word about an idea she’d had for the area of garden outside Jack’s study.
Jack had always had a lot of time for Elijah and used to enjoy discussing his latest plans for the garden with him. ‘You wouldn’t believe what a weedy little fellow he was when he was a boy,’ he had once told Romily. He’d also told her that as children, Allegra and Elijah had been firm friends. ‘Of course she had no idea that I knew she was sneaking off to play with him in Clover Woods,’ he had explained. ‘One word of approval from me and she would have cut the friendship off in a heartbeat just to spite me.’
Florence had told Romily that she had spotted Allegra and Elijah dancing together on Saturday evening. Had they then spent the night together at Elijah’s cottage?
Elijah touched his cap when Romily drew near. ‘Afternoon, Mrs Devereux-Temple,’ he said in his soft, temperate voice, the tone of which always surprised Romily, given that he was such a tall, powerfully built man. ‘I’m sorry I wasn’t at Mr Devereux’s funeral,’ he said. ‘I wanted to pay my respects to a man who had always been very good to me and my grandfather, but Lady Fogg insisted she needed me for the day.’
How mean-spirited of the ghastly woman, thought Romily. ‘That’s all right, Elijah,’ she said. ‘These things happen. If you have a minute,’ she went on, ‘I’d value your opinion about an idea I’ve had for the garden; a sort of memorial to Jack.’
‘I’d be happy to hear what you have in mind,’ he said, ‘only the thing is, I might not …’ He broke off and gripped the hoe tightly in his large hands.
‘What is it, Elijah?’ Romily asked him, concerned. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘I was going to tell you later today, when I’d finished work, but the thing is, I might not be here for much longer. You see, some lads and me from the village are planning to enrol. We reckon it will only be a matter of weeks, if not days, before we’re called up to fight anyway.’
