The Alington Inheritance by Patricia Wentworth Read Free Book Online Page B

She didn’t mean to listen. She didn’t know that there was going to be anything to listen to. She heard the click of the closing door, and she thought that she was alone. And then she knew that she wasn’t, because the light was still on, and Mrs. Forbes was so terribly particular about lights being turned off. She sat there frozen with something like terror. Why didn’t they go away? Why should they stay here?
    Mrs. Forbes spoke from the far side of the room.
    “Well, what did you want to say to me, Mac?” The tone was the indulgent one which no one else heard from her.
    Mac didn’t answer at once. Jenny couldn’t see him, but she knew how he would look—frowning, his brows drawn together over the dark blue eyes.
    Mrs. Forbes turned towards him and said,
    “Mac, what is it?”
    “All right, you can have it. I’ve only known for a week. I went away and thought it out. I didn’t know how much you knew—or guessed.”
    Behind the curtain Jenny’s heart beat to suffocation. She didn’t know what was coming. Or did she? Did she? The pulses sounded in her ears, in her throat, in her breast. And then she heard Mac say,
    “It’s Jenny. He married her.”
    Mrs. Forbes was holding her foot to the fire. She turned now and looked at her son.
    “What do you mean?”
    “I’m talking about Jenny. What we all knew was that she was the daughter of Richard Forbes and Jennifer Hill.”
    Mrs. Forbes said in a hard voice,
    “Well, isn’t she?”
    “Of course she is. There wasn’t ever any doubt about that. The only thing there was a doubt about was the fact of their marriage.”
    Mrs. Forbes had turned to face her son. She looked him up and down with a cold piercing look and said,
    “You’re talking nonsense! There was no marriage!”
    Jenny heard the anger in her voice. Mac didn’t sound angry. He sounded like a person who had lived with something and got used to it, and for whom there are no surprises any more. He said,
    “Oh, my dear Mother, be your age! And we haven’t all day. They’ll be back in a moment, all the lot of them, and we’ve got to get this settled. There was a marriage, and I’m not asking you to take my word for it. I’ve seen the certificate.”
    “You’ve what?”
    “I’ve seen the certificate.”
    “You can’t have!”
    “I have. Will you get that firmly into your head! I’m not making this up—why should I? Now listen, because we may not have much time, and it’s urgent—very urgent. I had my suspicions. Garsty gave the show away rather. She said something, and then stumbled and picked herself up.”
    “Do you mean that she fell?”
    Jenny knew that voice. It was Mrs. Forbes fighting. She would fight to her last drop of blood for Mac. She heard it in her voice, and she heard the recognition of it in Mac’s laugh as he said,
    “I don’t mean anything of the sort, as you know perfectly well. And don’t talk! Listen to what I’ve got to say! The Thursday before she died Garsty and Jenny went to Camingford. I knew they were going, and I came down. I let myself into the cottage.”
    Mrs. Forbes said,
    “How?”
    Mac laughed,
    “Never you mind! I did, and I went over the whole place till I found what I was looking for.”
    Mrs. Forbes’ voice had changed—Jenny knew that. It was still steady, but it wasn’t the same. There was something strained about it, something unnatural. She said,
    “What did you find?”
    “I found a letter from Richard Forbes to Jennifer Hill. It must have been the last letter he wrote her. He called her his wife.”
    Mrs. Forbes came in quickly.
    “There’s nothing in that.”
    “My dear Mother, I’m not a child, but there was enough to make me, shall we say, a little anxious. Anyhow I went up to Somerset House and —well, you can guess.”
    “I’m not guessing. If you’ve got anything to say, say it!”
    “I’ve got this to say.” His tone was still a smiling one.
    Jenny knew just how he looked—the fair hair, the blue eyes, the