The Longest Pleasure. Anne Mather
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had worked out very well from his point of view, enabling him to prey on an old woman’s sympathy.
‘Your grandmother insisted,’ Miss Paget declared, lifting her cup and nodding over the rim. ‘And it’s been much better, having a man about the place; permanently, I mean. Two old women living alone: we used to be very vulnerable.’
‘Here?’ Helen couldn’t prevent the exclamation, but she hurriedly amended her tone. ‘I—wouldn’t have thought you were in any danger here.’
‘We did have that attempted break-in,’ Miss Paget reminded her sharply. ‘And one’s always reading about muggings in the newspapers. Besides, your grandmother liked having Rafe around. Ever since that business with Antonia Markham, I think she liked to know what he was doing.’
Helen smoothed her palms over her knees. ‘Antonia—Markham?’ she murmured, feeling an unwelcome stab of an emotion she refused to identify. ‘Who was—is—Antonia Markham?’
‘You remember the Markhams, don’t you?’ Miss Paget seemed to see nothing wrong in the question, even though it was hardly relevant. ‘They own High Tor. Antonia’s a couple of years older than you, but don’t you remember? You used to go to school with her brother.’
‘Oh—Julian Markham! Yes!’ Helen remembered him now. ‘We were in kindergarten together.’
‘That’s right.’ Miss Paget finished her coffee and set down her cup. ‘I knew you couldn’t have forgotten them. I believe you and your grandmother were invited to Antonia’s wedding. Only—of course—you were in London, so Lady Elizabeth … didn’t go.’ Just for a moment, Miss Paget’s confiding tones faltered. Evidently, she had just remembered to whom she was speaking, and Helen hurriedly urged her on:
‘Antonia’s married?’ she ventured, wondering at her own sense of relief, but the old lady ruefully shook her head.
‘She was,’ she murmured. ‘But it only lasted a couple of years. About four years ago, she came home again. That was when she took a fancy to young Rafe.’
Helen felt as if she was moving into ever deeper waters, but something was compelling her to go on. She wanted to know everything about him, she consoled her conscience, and ignored the small voice inside that insisted this was prying.
‘Thank heavens it wasn’t serious.’ To her relief, Miss Paget went on without any prompting. Apparently her desire to gossip far outweighed any scruples she might have, and Helen guessed she missed her grandmother’s sympathetic ear. ‘I was sure Rafe had more sense than to get involved with a girl like that,’ she added with a little snort. ‘Not that you can ever be entirely certain, of course. It was worrying while it lasted, I can tell you. Lady Elizabeth was very relieved when Miss Markham took herself back to London.’
Helen absorbed this information silently for a moment, and then she remarked guardedly: ‘He’s never been married then?’
‘Who? Rafe?’ Miss Paget gave her a curious look. ‘No. No, of course not!’
Why ‘Of course not!’ Helen wondered, but that was one question even she was too discreet to ask. Still, to her knowledge, Rafe had a perfectly normal interest in the opposite sex and, just because he had once assaulted her, was no reason to assume he had any other dubious proclivities.
‘My grandmother—trusted him, didn’t she?’ she tendered after a moment, realising she had now reached the most difficult part of the discussion. ‘I mean—she must have done, mustn’t she? To invite him to live in her house.’
There was a prolonged silence and then, just as Helen was deciding she would have to look elsewhere for her answers, Miss Paget cleared her throat. ‘Of course she trusted him,’ she said, and there was a note of accusation in her voice now, which had not been there before. ‘Who else would she turn to? After you—abandoned her!’
Helen had expected something like this, but even so she was taken aback, and because of that she was reckless. ‘Is that what he said?’ she demanded, casting caution to the winds. ‘Is that how he insinuated his way into her affections? By using my short-comings to endorse his own advantage?’
‘No!’ The old lady was appalled and, clutching at her shawl, she got painfully to her feet. ‘No, that’s not true!’
‘Isn’t it?’ Helen knew she was beyond redemption, but she had to make one last effort. ‘Oh, come on, Paget! He’s fooled you, just like he fooled my grandmother! The man’s an opportunist! He’s been using Nan to—to feather his own nest!’
The cliché was unworthy, but just at that moment Helen couldn’t think of an alternative. She was trying desperately to appeal to someone who by her very frailty, proved her fallibility. For heaven’s sake, she had to make her see that Rafe was out for all he could get.
Miss Paget was horrified. ‘Oh dear,’ she said, turning blindly towards the door. ‘Oh dear! I suspected this would happen. I told Rafe, but he wouldn’t listen to me——’
‘You told Rafe!’ Helen came to her feet in one shocked motion. ‘Just—just exactly what did you tell Rafe?’
‘No.’ Miss Paget shook her head. ‘No, I don’t want to talk about it any more. I knew I shouldn’t have come in here, but I did think that—that out of respect for your grandmother, you might desist in these—these unfounded accusations against a man who has never done you any harm!’
Helen caught her breath. ‘You can’t believe that!’ she exclaimed in a strangled voice. ‘Paget——’
‘My name is Miss Paget, if you don’t mind,’ the old lady declared, with a dignity that would have touched Helen had she not felt so betrayed. ‘And now, if you’ll excuse me …’
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