WHAT HAPPENED AT MONTALBAN?

Ashburton Guardian, Volume 62, Issue 43, 1 December 1941, Page 7

WHAT HAPPENED AT MONTALBAN?

By PETER BENEDICT.

(Copyright).

SYNOPSIS IOF PREVIOUS CHAPTER.

Molly Balcon, at the pressing request 0 i thr. Leonard, goes to Montalban to take care of Barbara Montalban and her three-months-old infant. Barbara** husband, Ralph Montalban, has just been Acquitted on a charge <& murdering Madia flaunt, and the trial has atohsed widespread interest. CHAPTER 11. “HE'S COME HOME!” Molly’s first glimpse of Montalban was a memorable experience. The night was moonlit, and the soft country rolling away in meadow on either side of the road was silvered witli a sheen like daisies. Dr. Leonard’s car rounded the end of a grey wall, between gateposts which had not stipoprted a gate for a hundred #ears, and came through flower beds along a gra>el drive; and there was the sudden glistening sweep of water before them, the drive dividing to encircle it. It was not a large lake, perhaps four acres in extent, and artificially hollowed from the course of a stream Which flowed through the grounds. The house looked at them from lit windows across the brpadth of it, a long gracious frontage, raised upon a balustraded terrace, a flight of marble stairs leading down to the water in the centre of the scene.

. “lake a stage back-cloth,’’ said Molly. , - „ “You don’t see the real Montalban stuff here. It’s Georgian, and particularly fine, but it’s standing on the site of a Norman castle, and after you’ve looked at the remains of the Keep and spent a few hours in the park yen’ll prpbabiy come to my conclusion that this house and ibis garden have no business here at all. Still, it’s pretty effective.’’ The car crossed a hump-backed stone bridge over the stream, where it flowed out into the lake, and the path swung gradually round and drove up on to the terrace, over beautifully levelled grey flags mother-of-pearl in the moonlight. They stopped before the door, Which was open upon a small, dark-panelled outer hall. “You must have a look at all this in daylight. • Take your time over it; it repays examination.’’ Doctor Leonard got out of the car, and opened the door for her. “We’ll go straight in. They’re expecting yon.” Molly looked up at the face of Montalban above her, three lofty storeys, and attics above that, and the whole sweeping, noble frontage full of big uniform windows. “What is it, Portland stone? Or doesn’t it look so white by daylight?” / “Stone, and practically white, but I couldn’t say where it’s from.” He led the way in through inner doors, silent as the felt-lined doors of a church, and brought her into a huge halL dimly lit, with a- magnificent staircase in unexpected oak, older than the house, running upward at \the inner end. Wide of tread, mirror-black with age, they threw back the orange points of the lights from every facet, leading the eye upward to a wide gallery which crossed the end of the hall. Along this gallery a woman was coming at a run, her skirt caught up in one hand. She was short, but so graceful that until she halted halfway down the stairs one did not notice her hehvy build, and so vivacious that it came as a surprise to Molly to find her, Upon nearer view, grey-haired and certainly fifty. , She came down to them more slowly, but with a ready smile. Her eyes were very dark, almond-shaped m her rounded, creamy face; she reminded Molly of an older edition of the Rienoir Parisienne. “You’ll find us a trifle distrait tonight, Doctor Leonard,” she said. “We’re expecting Ralph any moment. I thought when I heard your car—” “I’m sorry to disappoint yon. How is Mrs Ralph?” • “Still in bed, though I’m a little surprised at that myself. Desperately excited, though she has hardly a word to say. But I think that perhaps when Ralph comes home—and in a few days inete —She made a small, indifferent gesture of one hand Which ended the sentence for her gracefully enough, if without any great passion. “This is Nurse I forgot the name you told me. I never remember names.” A „ “Nurse Balcon—Mrs Montalban. Perhaps we might go up at once. Thank you, I know my way—no need to trouble anyone.” They climbed the stairs she had descended. “Well?” “His mother, I suppose?” “Yes. French—from an old family, and as poor as the rest of them. What did you think of her?” “She’s been a- beauty,” said Molly.

“You have a way of putting youi finger on the place, Molly.” But he saio no more. He had already said much more than was his habit about his patients and their households, however peculiar. Doctor Leonard tapped upon j. the ,door of a big bedroom on the first floor, and a voice, unexpectedly cool and sharp, bade them come in. A beautiful room, double-windowed, under rather than over-furnished, and flooded with light; a very large bed, and a very small woman in it, propped among pillows and wrapped in angora wool' Thin, graceful arms moved restlessly upon the blue eiderdown, and Molly saw an exhausted face undei short, straight fair hair. This was Barbara Montalban, who had been Barbara Beaumary of the Leicestershire Beaumarys. A dark woman with the face of the acquitted man was sitting upon the edge of the bed, and it was plain that the cool voice belonged to her. A tall,

lean woman, but with something of her mother’s chic, she might have been anything between thirty and forty. She stood as they entered. “Well, here comes your medical man, my dear.”

*Tve brought Nurse Balcon along,” said Doctor Leonard. “She’ll take everything off your hands now, Miss Montalban. I suppose you’ve everything ready for her?” “I ’think so. If anything’s wanting you must pester the housekeeper, Mrs Forester. Don’t hesitate —she’s used to it.” A faint and enigmatic smile curved her long mouth. “Irri Cleone —the eldest of the flock. I do the dirty work, when there’s any to be done. Come and look at your room, while Doctor Leonard plays about with Barbara’s temperature and pulse.” She led the way into a dressing-room 'which adjoined. “Ralph will have to ' mote out into a guest-room until she’s better. Not the best guest-room—it might be too painful.’ She looked over her shoulder and the smile came again objective, quite without personal interest. “That was where she was sleeping, you see, when it happened. The suggestions might be a little embarrassing, especially if he did push her out of the y window.” “The jury seem to have settled it that he didn’t,” said Molly rather drily, glad that the door through which they had come was closed, and the patient’s querulous voice only a murmur on the other side. | “I don’t know that I believe much in the law myself. This was Ralph’s • dressing-room. Like it? Convenient for mother dnd child. The baby’s in here, by the way.” She opened a small door in one corner, and showed a tmy raom, one wall almost entirely curtained window, a frilled cot standing in the Centre. “This was the window put in a few years ago—it always seemed made for a night-nursery.” They looked down upon the sleeping child, and Cleone’s voice was low, but her face revealed nothing more tender than distaste. The baby was red and wrinkled and elfin-looking still, small for three months, and hot prepossessing. 1

, “Ralph wanted him here,” saic; Cleone. “Ralph was mad about him. Barbara was glad to let someone else take care of him. I detest children myself—at least until they’re old enough to look human. Let’s go back, shall we?”

They went back to the bedside. The patient was saying complainingly: “No doubt Nurse Balcon Is most capable—most efficient. 'But I can’t understand why th!T Rowley woman couldn’t come. There was no need to take Nurse Balrcon away from her duties in London r-none whatever.”

“I assure you I have my reasons for preferring to have you in Nurse Balcons hands,” said Doctor Leonard soothingly. "Nurse Rowley doesnt want to be mixed up with murder cases,’ said Cleone calmly. “Or with us. Can you blame her?”

“Cteo/ Mrs Ralph gave a sharp moan of protest. “How can you say such things!”

“My dear Barbara, don’t be childish. You can always console yourself by remembering that in any case the Royrley woman is practically halfwitted.”

It was certainly time fore someone to create a diversion, and Dr. Leonard did it by taking his leave. Mrs Ralph seemed to be an easy person to sidetrack, which was perhaps as well. A few casual words in a soothing voice set her purring and it was not difficult to be artificially kind to so small and helpless a creatare. Molly made conversation of an exploratory kind as the doctor and Cleone left. “Cleone enjoys saying whatever shouldn’t be said,” explained Mrs Ralph with surprising clarity. Her small hands fluttered at her lips; she had very little control over them. “My husband’s family have no consideration for me or anyone—no consideration at all. Not even for each other. You hear how she speaks of Ralph. But he ought to be home by now. Do you suppose anything could have —” She broke off, hearing the unmistakable sound of a car drawing up upon the terrace. She sat up. “That’s Ralph. It must he Ralph. He’s here. He’s come home.” (To be continued.) The characters in this story are entirely imaginary. No reference is intended to any living person or to any public or private pronertx.