Alleyn said: ‘It’s eighteen years since young Ludovic Danberry-Phinn committed suicide and a war has intervened. Many people will have forgotten his story. One among those who have remembered it … his father … must dread above all things any revival.’ He leant forward in his chair and, as if he had given some kind of order or exercised some mesmeric influence on his audience, each member of it imitated this movement. George Lacklander was still empurpled, the others had turned very pale, but one expression was common to them all: they looked, all of them, extremely surprised. In Kitty and George and perhaps in Lady Lacklander, Alleyn thought he sensed a kind of relief. He raised his hand. ‘Unless, of course,’ he said, ‘it has come about that in reviving the tragedy through the memoirs, young Phinn’s name will be cleared.’

It was as if, out of a cloth that had apparently been wrung dry, an unexpected trickle was induced. George, who seemed to be the most vulnerable of the group, shouted: ‘You’ve no right to assume …’ and got no farther. Almost simultaneously Mark and Rose, with the occasional unanimity of lovers, said: ‘This won’t do …’ and were checked by an imperative gesture from Lady Lacklander.

‘Roderick,’ Lady Lacklander demanded, ‘have you been talking to Octavius Phinn?’

‘Yes,’ Alleyn said. ‘I have come straight here from Jacob’s Cottage.’

‘Wait a bit, Mama,’ George blurted out. ‘Wait a bit! Octavius can’t have said anything. Otherwise, don’t you see, Alleyn wouldn’t try to find out from us.’

In the now really deathly silence that followed this speech, Lady Lacklander turned and blinked at her son.

‘You ninny, George,’ she said, ‘you unfathomable fool.’

And Alleyn thought he now knew the truth about Mr Phinn, Colonel Cartarette and Sir Harold Lacklander’s memoirs.

9. Chyning and Uplands

CHAPTER 9

Chyning and Uplands

The next observation was made by Mark Lacklander.

‘I hope you’ll let me speak, Grandmama,’ he said. ‘And Father,’ he added; obviously as a polite afterthought. ‘Although, I must confess, most of the virtue had already gone from what I have to say.’

‘Then why, my dear boy, say it?’

‘Well, Gar, it’s really, you know, a matter of principle. Rose and I are agreed on it. We’ve kept quiet under your orders, but we both have felt, haven’t we, Rose, that by far the best thing is to be completely frank with Mr Alleyn. Any other course, as you’ve seen for yourself, just won’t do.’

‘I have not changed my mind, Mark. Wait, a little.’

‘Oh, yes,’ Kitty said eagerly, ‘I do think so, honestly. Wait. I’m sure,’ she added, ‘it’s what he would have said. Maurie, I mean.’ Her face quivered unexpectedly, and she fumbled for her handkerchief.