I opened the door and went in.
Maxim was standing by the window, some letters in his hand.
His back was turned to me.
For a moment I thought of creeping out again, and going upstairs to my room and sitting there.
He must have heard me though, for he swung round impatiently.
'Who is it now?' he said.
I smiled, holding out my hands.
'Hullo!' I said.
'Oh, it's you…'
I could tell in a glance that something had made him very angry.
His mouth was hard, his nostrils white and pinched.
'What have you been doing with yourself?' he said.
He kissed the top of my head and put his arm round my shoulder.
I felt as if a very long time had passed since he had left me yesterday.
'I've been to see your grandmother,' I said.
'Beatrice drove me over this afternoon.'
'How was the old lady?'
'All right.'
'What's happened to Bee?'
'She had to get back to meet Giles.'
We sat down together on the window-seat.
I took his hand in mine.
'I hated you being away, I've missed you terribly,' I said.
'Have you?' he said.
We did not say anything for a bit.
I just held his hand.
'Was it hot up in London?' I said.
'Yes, pretty awful.
I always hate the place.'
I wondered if he would tell me what had happened just now in the library with Mrs Danvers.
I wondered who had told him about Favell.
'Are you worried about something?' I said.
'I've had a long day,' he said, 'that drive twice in twenty-four hours is too much for anyone.'
He got up and wandered away, lighting a cigarette.
I knew then that he was not going to tell me about Mrs Danvers.
'I'm tired too,' I said slowly, 'it's been a funny sort of day.'
Chapter sixteen
It was one Sunday, I remember, when we had an invasion of visitors during the afternoon, that the subject of the fancy dress ball was first brought up.
Frank Crawley had come over to lunch, and we were all three of us looking forward to a peaceful afternoon under the chestnut tree when we heard the fatal sound of a car rounding the sweep in the drive.
It was too late to warn Frith, the car itself came upon us standing on the terrace with cushions and papers under our arms.
We had to come forward and welcome the unexpected guests.
As often happens in such cases, these were not to be the only visitors.
Another car arrived about half an hour afterwards, followed by three local people who had walked from Kerrith, and we found ourselves, with the peace stripped from our day, entertaining group after group of dreary acquaintances, doing the regulation walk in the grounds, the tour of the rose-garden, the stroll across the lawns, and the formal inspection of the Happy Valley.
They stayed for tea of course, and instead of a lazy nibbling of cucumber sandwiches under the chestnut tree, we had the paraphernalia of a stiff tea in the drawing-room, which I always loathed.
Frith in his element of course, directing Robert with a lift of his eyebrows, and myself rather hot and flustered with a monstrous silver teapot and kettle that I never knew how to manage.
I found it very difficult to gauge the exact moment when it became imperative to dilute the tea with the boiling water, and more difficult still to concentrate on the small talk that was going on at my side.
Frank Crawley was invaluable at a moment like this.
He took the cups from me and handed them to people, and when my answers seemed more than usually vague owing to my concentration on the silver teapot he quietly and unobtrusively put in his small wedge to the conversation, relieving me of responsibility.
Maxim was always at the other end of the room, showing a book to a bore, or pointing out a picture, playing the perfect host in his own inimitable way, and the business of tea was a side-issue that did not matter to him.
His own cup of tea grew cold, left on a side table behind some flowers, and I, steaming behind my kettle, and Frank gallantly juggling with scones and angel cake, were left to minister to the common wants of the herd.