I said it would be. Nothing
can ever be the same again.”
Miss Williams did not ask when Livia had made this cryptic prophecy; she
merely remarked: “I hope you’re not angry with your mother—she did what
she thought was for the best.”
“I’m not angry with anybody. Not even with Mr. Standon any more.”
“And who’s Mr. Standon?”
“The man my mother goes with.”
“Oh, come now…” And Miss Williams, colouring a little, felt the ice
getting thin even under her own experienced feet. (But not, perhaps, so
experienced in certain directions.) She added hastily: “Livia… I think we
had better not discuss this any further for the present. And I’m not sure
whether you ought to go home now or wait till the end of term. I’ll think it
over and let you know in a few days.”
Miss Williams planned to write Mrs. Channing a long letter of explanation
which would arrive ahead of Livia; but this intention was frustrated by a
much simpler act by the girl herself. She ran away from the school that same
evening, taking nobody into her confidence, but leaving for Miss Williams a
note in which there was, perhaps, just a whiff of histrionics:
“DEAR MISS WILLIAMS—I am going home, and since you
think I am a thief, I have stolen money for the fare from Joan Martin’s
locker. I took a pound. Please give it back to her out of my bank-money.
—OLIVIA.”
The note was not discovered till the next morning, by which time Livia
would have reached home. All Miss Williams could do, and with great luck, was
to replace the pound before the loss of that was discovered also. She knew
Joan was Livia’s best friend and would willingly have lent the money had she
been asked… A strange girl, Livia—perhaps not a bad girl; but still,
it was just as well not to have her back at Cheldean.
* * * * *
Livia reached Browdley before six o’clock on a windy March
morning.
Throughout the night-long train journey she had thought out the things she
would immediately ask her mother; she wanted to know ALL the secrets, all the
details that Miss Williams had not told because she probably had not known
them herself. The list of these was mountainous by the time the cab came
within sight of Stoneclough, grey and ghostly in the first light of dawn. In
the yard beside the stables she was startled to see a new motorcar, with her
mother in the driver’s seat and Mr. Standon hastily stowing bags into the
back.
“Livia! LIVIA! What on earth are you doing here?”
As her mother spoke Livia noted the exchange of glances between her and
Mr. Standon. The latter dropped the bags and came over with a smile of rather
weary astonishment. He was a very elegant young man, but he did not look his
best at six in the morning; and he had, indeed, received so many
astonishments during the past twelve hours that he felt incapable of
responding to any more. “Hello, Livia,” he remarked; it was all he could
think of to say.
Livia ignored him. “Mother—I’ve left Cheldean—I’ve run
away—I’m never going back there—and I want to talk to you
—I’ve got things to ask you—”
“But Livia… not now… oh, not now…” And a look of panic came over
Emily’s face as she turned again to Mr. Standon. “Lawrence, DO make haste…
we can’t stop because of—because of ANYTHING…” Then: “We’ve—
that is, dear—your mother’s in a hurry—”
Livia knew from experience that Emily always called herself ‘your mother’
to put distance between herself and the facing of any issue; it was like a
shield behind which she could retire from a battlefield before the battle had
begun.
“Mother, you CAN’T go away yet. I’ve got most important things to talk to
you about… ALONE.”
“No, no, dear… Lawrence, put those bags in and let’s be off… If you’ve
got into any trouble at Cheldean, don’t worry… Mother will write to Miss
Williams and have it all put right.”
“It isn’t that, mother… Mother, PLEASE—please will you come into
the house and let me talk to you for a while.”
“Darling, I can’t—I just CAN’T—”
But this was too much even for Mr. Standon. “Perhaps you’d better, Emily,”
he advised. “You can’t let her go in without—without—” And the
look between them was exchanged again.
Emily slowly climbed out of the car, her face pale and distraught. She
walked with Livia a few paces towards the side door leading through the
kitchen into the house. They did not speak, but from the doorstep Emily gave
one despairing look over her shoulder towards Mr.
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