The Trouble at Wakeley Court (An Angela Marchmont Mystery Book 8) (4 page)

‘But you just said this Everard girl squeaked on you.’

‘Yes, and that just goes to show what a vile pig she is, don’t you see?’ said Barbara.

‘Barbara!’ exclaimed Angela.

‘Sorry,’ muttered Barbara.

Angela looked at the girl’s hot, mutinous face, and felt a pang of sympathy mixed in with the exasperation, for she had been just the same at Barbara’s age—although without quite so many opportunities for mischief. It was perfectly evident that Barbara had reached a delicate stage in which she would need careful handling; otherwise, she looked likely to run off the rails altogether and become quite incorrigible. Summoning the Ellises back from their trip was wholly out of the question, however—and indeed, Angela harboured no small feelings of guilt at having left so much of Barbara’s care to them over the years. They had been only too willing to provide her with a happy, healthy family life that would otherwise have been lacking, but it was not fair that they should be forced to take
all
the responsibility upon themselves. Angela saw that the time had come for her to begin taking greater pains with the girl now that she was growing up, and relieve Nina and Gerald of some of the burden. As one of Barbara’s guardians it was only right that she should do so. Having reached this decision (with the additional faint hope that it might assuage some of her uncomfortable feelings on the question), Angela abandoned all thoughts of the trip to Paris—not without reluctance—and resolved that from now on she should keep a closer eye on Barbara’s progress. Perhaps a little kind treatment now would do her good—although there was still the matter of the threatened expulsion from Wakeley Court to be got over, and on that there was still much to be said. Angela drew herself up, hardened her heart and prepared to deliver a lecture.

‘Listen to me,’ she said. ‘I don’t know why on earth you thought you could get away with this sort of behaviour without being punished. It’s all very well saying you can’t help it, but I’m afraid that’s no good. You simply
must
help it. Think how tremendously selfish you’re being by acting like this.’

‘Selfish?’ said Barbara, taken aback, for truth to tell she rather considered herself to be a sort of female Robin Hood, entertaining and protecting her fellow pupils at no little cost to herself.

‘Yes, selfish,’ said Angela with emphasis. ‘Just think what would have happened had I not been here to fetch you. Nina and Gerald would have had to come all the way back from India just to get you out of this scrape. It was the only opportunity they had to see Richard and to meet Emma and the new baby, and you might have spoilt it all for them—not least because you know perfectly well they wouldn’t have hesitated. I must say, I’m very disappointed in you, Barbara. The Ellises have treated you like a daughter. You’ve wanted for nothing, and this is how you repay them: by getting yourself expelled from school—and that’s after you’ve already been moved once at your own request. You ought at least to have made a little effort. I don’t know where you learned such ingratitude, but I think you might have the grace to be ashamed of yourself for it.’

Barbara shuffled uncomfortably.

‘I say, Angela,’ she said. ‘There’s no need to make one feel quite such a worm.’

‘Oh, but there is,’ said Angela. ‘You are now of an age in which you ought to be aware of the possible consequences of your actions. By losing your place at this school you have most likely forfeited any chance you had of passing the Cambridge entrance examination, and that is something from which you will suffer for the rest of your life. How do you expect to make anything of yourself without a good education? You might find it funny to throw eggs at people now, but I can assure you it won’t look so funny in a few years when you discover that you’ve wasted all your opportunities because of it—always assuming, of course, that you’re not planning a career as a circus clown.’

‘All right, then, I’m sorry,’ said Barbara grumpily. ‘I’m sorry I’ve been such a burden to everyone. But it doesn’t matter, does it? It’s not as though I really need an education. I mean to say, I can just wait until I’m twenty-one and come into my money, and then I can go off around the world and have adventures, and you’ll all be rid of me.’

‘It’s not a question of being rid of you,’ said Angela. ‘And besides, there’s no certainty that you
will
get your money then. That all depends on the trustees—and since I am one of them I may as well tell you now that you won’t get a penny of it unless I see some sign of improvement in you very soon indeed.’

‘Oh!’ said Barbara, who had rather relished the idea of travelling the world, dispensing largesse to the deserving. ‘I didn’t know you were a trustee.’

‘Yes,’ said Angela. ‘And I won’t agree to your having the money until I’m certain you can be relied upon not to do something stupid with it. I should hate you to be an idiot and end up falling prey to a fortune-hunter, as—’ Here she broke off, for she had almost said, ‘as I did.’ She coughed, and went on, ‘—as soon as you get your hands on it.’

‘But I shouldn’t,’ said Barbara. ‘I’m far too sensible for that.’

‘Not on current showing,’ said Angela.

They stood in silence then, since Barbara looked as though she were thinking and Angela judged it better to let her reflect on her sins for a few minutes. They gazed in the direction of the lake, from where the sound of laughter floated towards them. Two girls appeared to have taken a third girl’s shoe, and were tossing it about between them while the other chased them and tried to get it back. Eventually they all fell down in a flurry of arms and legs and the laughter became louder.

‘I shall be sorry to leave, I suppose,’ said Barbara at last. ‘It’s not a bad place, really.’

Angela said nothing.

‘And I
was
doing rather well in Maths,’ went on Barbara. ‘I was doing lessons with the Fifth, you know, and Big Ben—Miss Bell, I mean—said something about putting me in with them for some other subjects too if I carried on as I had been doing.’

She looked a little wistful.

‘Miss Bell praised your Mathematics abilities very highly,’ said Angela, who felt that some encouragement was needed.

‘I’m not the best in the year,’ said Barbara. ‘Violet Smedley is cleverer than I am, but she doesn’t get everything right. I’m better at algebra. We compete against each other. Or we did, anyway,’ she finished sadly. ‘She’s leaving too.’

‘Is she a friend of yours?’ said Angela.

‘She’s all right,’ said Barbara. ‘Quiet. A little dull, I should think.’

There was a long pause, then:

‘I’m sorry, Angela,’ Barbara said quietly. ‘I’ve let you all down, haven’t I?’

‘Yes,’ said Angela. ‘You have, rather.’

‘I wish there were something I could do to put it right. I knew I’d get into trouble if anybody caught me with that book, but the other girls egged me on, and—’

She stopped as she saw Angela’s expression.

‘I suppose I oughtn’t to put the blame on others for what I did,’ she said.

‘No,’ agreed Angela. ‘Nobody forced you, I imagine.’

‘No, of course they didn’t. It was all my idea. I dare say I’m just naturally bad.’

‘You’re not bad at all,’ said Angela. ‘But you are very thoughtless at times.’

‘Yes, I am,’ said Barbara. ‘I shall try harder in future, Angela, I promise. But what am I to do now? I’ve been given the chuck. Where am I to go? Nina and Gerald are away, and I know you’re always too busy to look after me. Do you suppose they’ll let me stay here until another school can be found?’

‘As a matter of fact, you’ve been given a reprieve,’ said Angela, suppressing a pang at the ‘too busy’ remark.

Barbara glanced up in surprise.

‘What?’ she said, staring. ‘Do you mean to say Miss Bell has changed her mind? Then I’m not to be expelled after all?’

‘It appears not,’ said Angela. She went on quickly as she saw the dawning delight on Barbara’s face, ‘There are, of course, conditions attached.’

‘Yes, yes,’ said Barbara eagerly. ‘They’ll want me to be good, I know that. I shall be a perfect angel, I promise. I’ll learn all my lessons on time, and I’ll stop cheeking the mistresses, especially Miss Devlin—although it’s
so
hard to resist, sometimes—and I’ll stop all the silly betting, and—and—’

‘And you’ll apologize to Edith Everard,’ said Angela.

‘What?’ cried Barbara in dismay. ‘But—’

‘But nothing,’ said Angela. ‘Miss Bell was quite firm on the subject, and so am I. You will make a formal apology to Edith Everard for shoving her in the corridor.’

‘But it’s so unfair,’ said Barbara. ‘She’s the one who caused the trouble.’

‘Nonetheless, if you wish to continue at the school, then that is what you will do,’ said Angela. ‘You will tell her you are sorry and give every appearance of meaning it, whether you do or not. You may continue to think of her as you choose, naturally.’

Barbara saw that she had no option.

‘Very well,’ she said. ‘I’ll do it.’

‘Good,’ said Angela. ‘Now, then, we had better go and speak to Miss Bell. I imagine she is preparing a number of other punishments for you in the matter of lines, detentions, and so forth, but I dare say you’ve had plenty of experience of those.’

‘Oh yes, I get them all the time. I don’t know why they bother, to be honest, since it doesn’t do a thing to stop me,’ said Barbara with disarming frankness.

‘So I see,’ said Angela.

They set off briskly back towards the Quad. Barbara was very nearly as tall as Angela now, and had no difficulty in keeping up.

‘I say,’ she said suddenly, as a thought struck her. ‘Did
you
persuade her to keep me on, Angela? What did you say to her?’

‘I—er—merely pointed out all your many good qualities, and promised her that you would behave impeccably in future, and so she agreed to give you another chance,’ said Angela. ‘Not that you deserve it,’ she added.

She had gained no little respect for Miss Bell during their interview. The headmistress had proved herself to be unexpectedly sharp and less wedded to convention than might have been supposed from her appearance, given that she had shown no compunction in soliciting what amounted to a bribe in return for keeping Barbara. Their talk had ended with a shake of hands, warm thanks from Miss Bell, and an invitation to visit the school properly as an honoured guest in a week or two. Of course, there would be formalities to complete with regard to the endowment of the scholarship, but the headmistress had waved all that away as a matter of no moment for the present. It was so encouraging, she said with a perfectly straight face, to find that there were still so many benefactors—and benefactresses—who were prepared to support the education of girls with such generosity. It was doubly important that this should be so now that the universities were starting to admit women. Meanwhile, Angela nodded and smiled and thought to herself that this Violet Smedley had better be all she was cracked up to be, since she had just cost Angela rather a lot of money.

As they entered the building, they encountered a bland young man in mortar-board and gown who was carrying a sheaf of papers.

‘Hallo, sir,’ said Barbara cheerfully.

‘Ah—hallo—er—Barbara,’ said the man, glancing up. ‘I hope you have learned your task for today’s lesson.’

‘I think so,’ said Barbara. ‘
Sic fatur lacrimans
, wasn’t it? By the way, this is Mrs. Marchmont. You’ve probably heard of her. Angela, this is our new Latin master, Mr. Hesketh.’

‘It is a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Marchmont,’ said Mr. Hesketh, and shook Angela’s hand. Angela thought she saw a look of curiosity pass across his face, but it swiftly disappeared and was replaced by an expression of nothing more than polite interest. ‘Have you come to look around the school?’

‘No,’ said the irrepressible Barbara. ‘She came to save me from being expelled. She’s a darling.’

‘Ah,’ said Mr. Hesketh. ‘Jolly good.’ There was little else that could be said on the subject without awkwardness, and so he smiled politely and passed on.

‘There’s no need to tell everyone,’ said Angela. ‘It’s not something to be proud of, you know.’

‘Sorry, Angela,’ said Barbara.

It was clear that her subdued mood was already beginning to wear off, and so Angela hurried her along to the headmistress’s study to act the penitent as required before Miss Bell could change her mind.

A few days after her return to London, Angela received with her morning post a letter that puzzled her very much. She sat and frowned over it in silence until her maid, Marthe, could not help asking about it.

‘It is not bad news, I hope,
madame
,’ she said.

‘No,’ said Angela, still frowning. ‘At least, I don’t think so. It’s from Henry Jameson. He would like to see me at my earliest convenience. Now, what on earth can he possibly want? The letter is typewritten and signed by a secretary so it can’t be personal business. How odd.’

‘Shall you go?’ said Marthe.

‘Of course I shall,’ said Angela. ‘It doesn’t do to say no to British Intelligence. And besides, I’m awfully curious to find out what it’s all about.’

Accordingly, that afternoon, Angela presented herself at the entrance of a grey and unassuming building located on a certain side-street off Whitehall, and asked to see Mr. Jameson. She was immediately taken up to the third floor and shown into the presence of the man himself. Henry Jameson was as unassuming as his office, and looked far too comfortable to be the head of Intelligence. He rose to greet her as she entered, and twinkled at her through his round spectacles.

‘Hallo, Angela,’ he said. ‘I see you got my letter.’

‘Hallo, Henry. I certainly did,’ she replied, ‘and I’m simply dying to know what it’s all about. I assume you didn’t call me here to discuss your brother’s forthcoming wedding.’

He laughed.

‘No, of course not,’ he said. ‘Although I understand you were largely responsible for it.’

‘It was nothing to do with me,’ said Angela. ‘I just happened to be there at the time. I’m tremendously pleased, of course.’

‘So are we all,’ he assured her. ‘It will do him good to have something to think about other than his job for a change. All work and no play, and all that, what?’