Mary's Child Read Online Free PDF Page B

some time this last week. He’s in Rio de Janeiro or some such place.’
    George supplied gently, ‘Buenos Aires.’ Richard wrote a business report to him at the end of each week.
    ‘As you say.’ Hilary closed the subject carelessly and said, ‘Thank you, Simpson,’ as the maid bobbed in a curtsy and opened the front door. As Hilary walked down the steps to George Ballantyne’s waiting carriage she flipped her shawl around her shoulders, but not because she was cold: she was shivering with excitement.
     
    The nursery was on the top floor of three and at the front of the house. Jack woke some time after midnight when the carriage returned. As the rattle, squeak and jingle of it ceased he could hear the soft snoring of Amy Jenkinson. The old nurse slept in the next room with her door open an inch or two. Jack got out of bed in his nightshirt and crept out to the head of the stairs. From there he saw the front door opened by Betty Simpson, the only servant left awake, and that for the purpose of attending the mistress of the house on her return.
    Hilary Ballantyne appeared in the doorway at the top of the steps and turned then to say, ‘Thank you,’ to her father-in-law. ‘I’ve spent a most pleasurable evening.’
    George Ballantyne answered, ‘I hope that chap Davenham didn’t make a nuisance of himself. The Careys asked if he could come with them. He’s some distant relative of theirs. I don’t know much about him except that he has pots of money. But I gather you’ve met before?’
    Slim shoulders moved under the cashmere shawl as Hilary replied casually, ‘At the Careys’. I had tea with them one day and he was there.’ She laughed. ‘He was becoming tiresome this evening but I was civil because I thought he might be a business acquaintance you were fostering.’
    George Ballantyne shook his head. ‘Not likely. That young man’s only business is pursuing a life of pleasure.’ Then as his daughter-in-law shivered, ‘But you’re feeling a chill now. Better get inside. Goodnight.’
    ‘Goodnight, and thank you again.’ Hilary stepped back with a wave of the hand. Betty Simpson closed the front door and Jack heard the crunch of hooves and wheels on the gravel as his grandfather’s carriage rolled away, puzzled by what he had heard.
    Hilary Ballantyne let the shawl slip down to hang over one arm and smiled at the maid. ‘That will be all, Simpson. I have one or two things to do, but you can go to bed.’
    ‘Thank you, ma’am. Goodnight.’ Betty Simpson ducked in another curtsy and then walked off with a rustle of skirts to the rear of the house and the back stairs leading up to the servants’ rooms under the roof. Hilary Ballantyne watched her go but stayed in the middle of the hall directly under the light.
    Jack wondered vaguely if there was going to be another party, but this time in the house below? He yawned, shuddered as he felt the night’s coolness on his bare legs. And his knees were beginning to ache with his weight resting on them so he stood up, about to go back to bed. It never occurred to him to go down to his mother. If he needed comfort he would call for Amy Jenkinson.
    But something held him then as he stood peering through the banister rails. Was it the silence of the house so he could hear clearly the slow ticking of the clock down there in the hall? Or Hilary Ballantyne’s stillness as she stood facing the door now, with head lifted and slightly turned as if listening – or waiting?
    Jack heard no sound outside but then there came the softest tapping at the front door, that only came up to him because of that silence, that stillness. And now Hilary Ballantyne moved, quickly, her hand reaching up to the thin chain dangling from the gaslight. She tweaked it and the light faded and died. Jack blinked, then saw a strip of grey light from outside as the door was opened by his mother. That light was almost blotted out at once as someone came in and the door closed again,