Read Online Anne Belinda by Patricia Wentworth - Free Book Online

that have been over and done with for years. Thank the Lord, I don’t do that! I’m interested in to-day. I’m interested in you. You’re going to stop at home and live at Waveney, I hope.”
    â€œI don’t know yet.”
    â€œNonsense! What’s the good of having a place if you don’t live in it? You’ve got money to keep it up—and that’s more than most people have nowadays. So you’d better look round you for a wife and do the old place up a bit. It was looking shocking the last time I was down there—just before Jenny’s wedding that was. Have you seen Jenny yet?” A warm tone had come into her voice at the mention of Jenny’s name.
    â€œNo,” said John. His heart beat a little faster. “I want to meet her. And I want particularly to meet Anne.”
    â€œAnne?” The warmth was gone. “Jenny’s my girl—my god-daughter, you know. She gets her Jenifer from me.”
    â€œYes, I want to meet Anne,” said John.
    â€œâ€™M—she’s not a patch on Jenny. It always makes me quite angry when people pretend they don’t know one from the other.”
    â€œAren’t they very much alike?”
    â€œOh, there’s a likeness —I’m not saying there isn’t. But they’re as different as they can be. Jenny’s the sweetest thing—like a sunny day.”
    â€œAnd Anne?”
    â€œOh, I’ve nothing against her. But she’s not Jenny. Anyhow, you can’t meet her, because she’s been ill, and I believe she’s still abroad. And look here, just let me give you a hint—when you do meet Jenny, don’t go and worry her by talking about Anne.
    â€œWhy should it worry her?”
    Mrs. Courtney’s thick eyebrows rose.
    â€œBecause she’s ridiculously devoted to her. I never can see why twins should be specially devoted to each other. But there it is, Jenny has taken this illness quite absurdly to heart. There she is, with an adoring husband, and a nice fat baby, and everything in the world to make her happy; and yet one only has to mention Anne’s name to see her cloud over and look wretched, positively wretched. So I thought I’d just give you a word of warning.”
    John leaned forward.
    â€œMrs. Courtney, where is Anne Waveney? Can you give me her address?”
    She looked at him with an effect of surprise.
    â€œI don’t know her address. I believe she’s abroad somewhere. To tell you the honest truth, I’ve never taken very much interest in Anne. Jenny’s my girl, as I told you.”
    â€œI want very particularly to know where she is. If she’s ill, she can’t be alone—someone must be looking after her.”
    â€œOh, I expect she’s all right again by now. She was ill at the time of Jenny’s wedding. And then, I believe, she went abroad with Aurora Fairlie. She’s a cousin on the Courtney side—you must have heard her name. She wanders about Europe and writes the sort of books I never read myself: Platitudes from the Pyrenees, Meanderings in Morocco, Balkan Balderdash, and so on.”
    â€œAnd Anne Waveney is with this Miss—er—Fairlie?”
    Mrs. Courtney looked vague.
    â€œJenny said something about it. But, as I told you, I don’t talk to her about Anne. It only upsets her; and I wouldn’t have Jenny upset for a dozen Annes.” She paused, smiled beautifully, and added: “I’m a fool about Jenny. But wait till you meet her.”
    It was as she said the last word that the door opened and Jenny came in. John would have known her from Amory’s picture, and from the photographs, even without Mrs. Courtney’s cry of “My darling!” and her close embrace. She turned, with one hand still on the girl’s shoulder.
    â€œI haven’t got any manners—I always forget introductions. And, besides, you ought to have known each other for