Read Online The Partnership by Phyllis Bentley - Free Book Online Page A

with embarrassment: “Perhaps she was with a man?”
    Wilfred gave her a queer look and replied that she was—that is, if the girl he saw were really Annice.
    An alarming thought struck Lydia, and she exclaimed: “Was it a soldier?”
    Wilfred gave her a still queerer look and replied that it was not.
    â€œHad I better speak to her, do you think?” mused Lydia.
    â€œCertainly not,” said Wilfred emphatically. “Now don’t, Lydia. No doubt it’s nothing. Don’t think of it again. As a matter of fact,” he added after some hesitation, “I know the lad I saw her with, and I’ll have a word with him.”
    Lydia did not quite like this. She was nothing if not honest, and could not condemn Annice for seeking love when she herself was grasping at it with both hands. “After all,” she argued with a troubled smile, “it’s natural, Wilfred. She’s young. It’s only natural.”
    Wilfred sniffed and seemed unconvinced.
    â€œGive me the hammer,” he said gruffly. “And mind, don’t say anything to her about it, Lydia. You’ll only put ideas into her head.”
    It was still strange and sweet to Lydia to yield her will to his, so she agreed meekly that she would say nothing.
    One Sunday evening shortly after this Lydia was alone in the house with Annice. Annice’s Sunday evening arrangements were peculiar, and a source of some agitation to the Mellors. All the other maids who had lived with them had gonedecently to chapel every Sunday night, as became members of a minister’s household; but Annice, after trying this arrangement once or twice, showed no enthusiasm for it; indeed, she preferred to remain in the house rather than be allowed out on such terms. This was disconcerting, and fluttered the Mellors considerably, both in itself and as a sign of the times; but after some discussion it was decided by Charles that the girl was within her rights in spending her Sunday evenings as she chose and that there was no other missionary weapon open to them but force of example. This particular Sunday was Annice’s evening “in”; she had been offered a walk in the park but had declined it, preferring, she said, to remain in the garden. Louise had thereupon suggested to Lydia that it would perhaps be as well not to leave the girl alone in the house. Lydia was surprised at this from Louise, as Cromwell Place could not by any stretch of imagination be called lonely, and Louise was not given to undue nervousness on this or any other point; but remembering Wilfred’s confidences about the blue hat, she agreed with Louise’s observation and said that she herself would remain at home. She therefore established herself at the front door with the Mellors’ deck-chair—bought when Charles was convalescing a year or two ago—and a book; while Annice sat at the back door with herself and the goldfish. Lydia had perhaps read three pages when she heard Wilfred’s step coming along CromwellPlace, and in a moment his head and shoulders appeared over the laurel bushes of number seven.
    â€œBusy?” he inquired in that tone of admiring affection which he bestowed on even the smallest of Lydia’s activities nowadays.
    Lydia, with a smile, said that she was not busy. She opened the gate for him and invited him in, explaining as she did so that Charles and Louise had just left the house.
    â€œYes, I saw them go,” said Wilfred. “I saw you weren’t with them, and I’ve come to take you out for a walk.”
    Lydia reluctantly said that she was afraid she could not go.
    â€œOh, but you must,” persisted Wilfred with his air of invincible common sense. He explained that the moors on one of the hills outside the town were on fire; they could be seen in part from the windows of Boothroyd House, but he meant to go nearer and obtain a better view. The spectacle was a fine one—“just