She waited for the agony she had anticipated to stab her, but it didn’t come. Instead, she heard her voice, quite steady and impersonal – the voice of a stranger – say,
“Yes. I knew.”
“Such a tragedy!” her mother said sadly. “After all, he was only thirty-nine and with such a brilliant career ahead of him. Everyone said he was certain to be given an Ambassadorship soon. I suppose you didn’t see anything of him just before he died?”
“No.”
That was true too, those three days had seemed like centuries – centuries of frantic, agonizing waiting.
Mrs. Vale was still talking.
“I expect his wife will stay on in America. It would be the wise thing to do with those two small children. Senseless to come back to England and risk both the journey and the bombing. I’m afraid she will be broken-hearted, poor girl. The whole thing was so sudden and unexpected. Did you like her, darling?”
“I didn’t know her.”
Must they go on talking like this? Was there no way to stop these questions?
“I should have thought you might have run across Ann in your travels, but then I suppose diplomatic parties weren’t much in your line. You always did hate ceremonial occasions. But I’m sorry about Lionel. How excited he was about his first appointment! He heard about it when he was staying here. Do you remember, the Christmas you came out?”
“Yes.”
“I can see him now coming down to breakfast wearing an eyeglass instead of his horn-rimmed spectacles. You all teased him and someone, I’m not certain it wasn’t you darling, said,
“‘Lionel, you look the perfect diplomat.’
“‘I am one, at last.’ he replied.
“Then he told us about his appointment. He wasn’t to go at once but to remain in London for some months and then go to Paris. That’s right isn’t it?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“Of course, it all comes back to me now. And you saw quite a lot of him in Paris when you were living over there, didn’t you darling?”
“Yes, quite a lot.”
“You know Mona, at one time I’d an idea that you and Lionel were fond of each other. Of course, you had so many young men that I didn’t pay any particular attention to those that were in love with you, but I rather fancied that you had a soft spot in your heart for Lionel. I shouldn’t have minded you marrying him, for, although you were cousins, it wasn’t really near enough to make any difference to your children, and I always liked Lionel. He had great charm and he was so ambitious that one felt he was bound to go far. Still, as things have turned out, perhaps it’s all for the best.”
‘Stop! Stop!’ a voice inside her was shrieking. ‘I can’t hear any more, I can’t bear it!’
Now the pain for which she had been waiting was twisting her heart. She couldn’t bear it – no, she couldn’t. And yet that strange, impersonal voice, which didn’t seem to belong to her, was speaking quite casually.
“It’s raining.”
“Oh, is it?” her mother exclaimed. “It isn’t surprising. I’ve been expecting it all day. I’m thankful it’s held off till now. And perhaps it’s a blessing, it will mean there’s no chance of Mrs. Skeffington-Browne coming here this evening.”
“Who is she?”
“Oh, my dear, the most tiresome woman! She’s taken The Towers.”
“Why, what’s happened to the Colonel?”
“Darling, you know he died two years ago. I wrote and told you.”
“Yes, of course.”
‘Funny,’ Mona thought, ‘I can’t remember a thing about it. Did I merely forget to read Mummy’s letters, or was it that they meant nothing to me, that I was too busy thinking of other things, too busy living, and loving?’
“Well, these Skeffington-Brownes,” Mrs. Vale was saying, “bought The Towers. I don’t want to be a snob, but really the Skeffington-Brownes are almost unbearable. They are rude to all the nicest people, and toady to all those whom they think are important. A title, of course, is Mrs. Skeffington-Browne’s idea of bliss. You should have seen her eyes glisten when she heard you were coming to stay.”
“‘I shall take the first opportunity, Mrs. Vale,’ she said to me, ‘of coming to call on your daughter, but I’m afraid Lady Carsdale will find it very dull here after her exciting life abroad.’”
Mona turned away from the window.
“She sounds terrible,” she said indifferently. Then added earnestly,
“Mother, I want to ask you something. Do you think I must use my title now I’m home again? I’d forgotten about it abroad, as I told you, I preferred not to use it. I like being Miss Vale. Don’t you think I can go on calling myself what is, after all, my own name?”
“No, I don’t think you can,” Mrs. Vale exclaimed. “It will look so odd. After all, what will people think?”
“I’d much rather not use it,” Mona insisted.
“Well, darling, you can’t help it. You are a married woman, or rather a widow. In the eyes of the law as well as in the eyes of the world, you can’t call yourself Mrs. Vale. That would be too confusing, and I don’t see how you can be a ‘Miss’.”
“No, I suppose it’s a silly idea. I just felt that perhaps I could start again.”
“That’s easy,” Mrs. Vale said lightly. “You can start again by getting married to somebody really nice.”
“That’s one thing I shall never do,” Mona replied. “Never! Never!”
