Read Ebook: The lonely house by Lowndes Marie Belloc

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Ebook has 2133 lines and 87211 words, and 43 pages

d hearty voice: "Good-bye, Mr. Ponting, good-bye--and good luck!"

The words echoed through the quiet house. And Lily, now suddenly feeling very, very tired, after the many adventures of the day, undressed, said her prayers, and blew out the light. She was glad to feel that her first day at La Solitude was over, and that a long, quiet night lay in front of her.

It may have been an hour later when suddenly Lily Fairfield sat up in bed. In a moment she knew where she was, and yet she did not really feel awake. She told herself with a feeling of fear that she was asleep--asleep, as she had been asleep that night ten days ago, when she had started walking in her sleep, so frightening greatly Uncle Tom.

Something now seemed to be impelling her, almost ordering her, to get up and to begin walking through the silent, sleeping house. She fought against the impulse, the almost command; but it was as if a stronger will than her own was forcing her to get out of the low, old-fashioned Empire bed.

She did so, slowly, reluctantly, and then she walked automatically across to the door of the room and opened it.

Surely she was asleep? Had she been awake she would have put on a wrapper before going into the passage. As it was, she felt impelled to open also the door opposite to that of her own room--the door which she had been told led into the room in which old Cristina, the friend-servant of the host and hostess, slept.

And then it was that all at once, standing there behind the still closed window, Lily remembered her fifty pounds--the fifty pounds she had asked Aunt Cosy to keep for her, and which she had seen Uncle Angelo put in the ebony and ivory cabinet!

What should she do? Should she fling open the window and call out? No, for that would scare the burglars away, if burglars they were.

Lily listened again, intently, and after what seemed to her a long, long time, she heard the window below closing to, very quietly. Then came the sound of footsteps--it seemed to her more than one pair of footsteps--padding softly away across the lawn into the wood. Then followed a curious, long-drawn-out sound--so faint that she had to strain her ears to hear it at all.

She gave a stifled cry--something had suddenly loomed up on the broad ledge the other side of the closed window. It was the big cat Mimi--Mimi dragging herself along by the window-pane and purring, her green eyes gleaming coldly, wickedly, in the night air.

Frightened and unnerved, Lily turned and felt her way through the dark room to the bed. She might at least wake Cristina, and tell her what she had heard. She put out her hand, and felt the smooth, low pillow--then slowly her fingers travelled down, and to her intense surprise she realised that the bed was empty, and that it had not been slept in that night.

Then she had made a mistake in thinking this room was Cristina's room? She stood and listened--there was not a sound to be heard now, an eerie silence filled the house.

She suddenly made up her mind she would do nothing till the morning. It would annoy the Countess were she to make a fuss now. Already Lily was a little afraid of Aunt Cosy. If her money was indeed gone, then it was gone! Nothing they could do at this time of night would be of any use.

She walked gropingly across to the door, her eyes by now accustomed to the darkness, and so into the passage. Pushing open her own door, she quietly shut it. Then she went over to her window and, parting the curtains, took a deep draught of the delicious southern night air. It was extraordinarily and uncannily still and dark on that side of La Solitude.

She lay down and was soon in a deep, if troubled sleep.

When Lily Fairfield awoke the next morning she experienced the curious sensation of not knowing in the least where she was. What strange, bare, gloomy room was this? The very little she could see of it was illuminated by a shaft of dull morning light filtering through the top of the heavy velvet and silk curtains drawn across the window. To the left of the door was a long, low walnut-wood chest. With an inward tremor she told herself that it was like a coffin.

And then, all at once, she remembered everything! This was her bedroom at La Solitude--and yesterday had been the beginning of what ought to be quite an exciting and interesting experience.

All that had happened last evening came back to her with a rush. Her introduction to that rather rough Mr. George Ponting, who had yet been so kindly, so respectful, in his manner to her. She smiled and sighed a little as she thought of how hurt he had been at her refusing the beautiful little gold box. What sort of girl would get that box? she wondered.

Then she went over her queer experience of last night, or was it early this morning? It did not seem quite so real now as it had been then. Perhaps she had only fancied that one of the long drawing-room windows had been opened in the night?

She began to wonder at what time M. Popeau and Captain Stuart would come to-day. She did hope Countess Polda and her new friends would get on together. Somehow she doubted it--they were so very different!

She jumped up and pulled open the curtains. What a pity this room had only a view of the small courtyard below and of the bare hillside above! But she was not likely to spend much time in her bedroom.

During the last two years Lily had always got up extremely early because of her war work. She turned towards the travelling clock which she had put on the mantelpiece. Ten o'clock? Impossible! It must have stopped last night--but no, it was ticking away as usual. How dreadful that she should have so overslept herself! Dreadful, and yet, after all, natural, after all those days of travel.

And then she looked at the glass, the contents of which she had not drunk the night before. There was a white sediment at the bottom of the water. She told herself that perhaps the one thing in common between The Nest and La Solitude was that they were both built on chalk.

She wondered where the bathroom could be. Putting on her dressing-gown, she opened her bedroom door. The passage was full of sunlight--a curious contrast to her room.

The only open door besides her own was that just opposite. She peeped into it. It was a little empty slip of a room. It had seemed so big last night in the darkness.

She ran down to the kitchen. Cristina was sitting at a little table, drinking a cup of coffee.

As the door opened, the old woman jumped up with a curious look of apprehension and unease on her face. Then she smiled a rather wan smile. "Ah, Mademoiselle!" she exclaimed. "You startled me. Would you like a cup of coffee? If so, I will bring it up to you in a few minutes."

"I only want to know where the bathroom is," said Lily.

Cristina looked at her uncomfortably. "Does Mademoiselle really want a bath?" she asked. "Mademoiselle looks so clean!"

She opened the door of what Lily had supposed the day before to be that of the scullery. It led straight out on to the small walled courtyard into which the window of her bedroom looked down. She followed Cristina across the courtyard to what looked like a sort of outhouse. The old woman took up her bunch of keys and unlocked the large double door. Then she motioned the girl to go in.

Close to where they were now standing--not far, that is, from the door--was a peculiar-looking trolley, of which the four tyred bicycle wheels were so large that they came above the top of the quaint-looking vehicle.

Cristina gave a slight push to this odd-looking object, and it rolled back noiselessly.

"What a very droll-looking thing!" exclaimed Lily.

"It is droll but useful," said Cristina slowly. "It can be used for transporting anything. The Count uses it in the garden sometimes--it is very easy to move about."

The old woman walked across to the corner of the room where stood the narrow zinc bath, and then Lily saw that above one end of it was a cold-water tap.

"This is the only fixed bath in the villa," said Cristina apologetically. "It was installed on the occasion of Count Beppo's stay here two years ago. He was very angry that there was no bathroom on the English system. So the Countess had this put in to pacify him! But he never used it. He moved instead to an hotel."

Seeing Lily's look of surprise and dismay, she added quietly, "Perhaps Mademoiselle will not take a bath this morning?"

"Oh, yes, I must have a bath!" exclaimed Lily. "But to-morrow I'll ask you to let me make a good lot of boiling water in the kitchen."

"It would be possible to make water hot here," said Cristina hesitatingly.

And Lily saw that there was a little stove not far from the bath. She went up to the stove to look at it more closely, and then she put out her hand and touched it. "Why, it's hot!" she said in a startled voice. "There must have been a fire here this morning!"

"Yes, I can well believe that," said Lily. The stove, unluckily for her, was only warm, the fire had gone quite out. "I will make a fire now," said Cristina, "and bring out a pot of water."

"No, don't trouble to do that. I'll manage all right this morning."

"Then I will bring Mademoiselle a towel." And bring one she did, but it had a big hole in it.

"I suppose there is an English church in Monte Carlo?" she asked hesitatingly.

And Cristina said: "I hope Mademoiselle will not go out alone this morning--it would make Madame la Comtesse angry if she did so."

"Very well. I'll sit on the terrace in the sun and be lazy," said Lily.

Lily sprang up from the basket chair on which she had been sitting and, turning round, through the now open long French window she saw the Count, the Countess, and Cristina all standing together in the drawing-room round the ebony and ivory cabinet.

As soon as she saw Lily the Countess called out: "A terrible thing has happened, my poor child! This room was entered in the night--the lock of the cabinet was forced--everything in it taken! Oh, why did Angelo put your fifty pounds there, instead of taking it up to his room, where it would have been so safe?"

The Countess was actually wringing her hands. She seemed almost beside herself with distress. As for Cristina, the tears were rolling down her cheeks; she looked the picture of utter woe. The Count appeared the least disturbed of the three--but he was rubbing his hands nervously, and muttering to himself.

Yes, it was only too true! One of the doors of the beautiful inlaid cabinet had been wrenched off its hinges; it lay on the floor. As for the drawer into which she had seen Uncle Angelo place her little bundle of five-pound notes, the thief, in his haste, had stuck it in again anyhow, wrong side up. Yes, another drawer lay on the floor with papers scattered round it.

"They took some of the family documents--not all; so far that is good," said Uncle Angelo at last.

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