The New Moon with the Old Read Online Free PDF Page B

kitchen and went out. The sun was now on the back garden and it was very pleasant strolling along beside a still-brilliant herbaceous border, though autumn gardens were always a little melancholy. She remembered this from her girlhood when her father had retired to the country and, so shortly, died; and soon her mother had begun her long illness … Jane sighed, and then concentrated on the flowers. Michaelmas daisies, such lovely colours, some of them new to her … and, yes, that was nicotiana. Surely that used to close up in the daytime? This variety was wide open and starry-eyed , and there were so many shades; she particularly liked the yellow that was almost green. There were still some summer flowers but they were a little ragged. She would concentrate on tall flowers now and take them along to Richard’s music room, which she had not yet seen. How indescribable the scent of autumn flowers was – barely a scent at all, really; just a faint, strange smell, pleasant but sad. Could a smell be sad or was it just the association with the dying summer?
    She had now reached the end of the garden and was close to the barn. She carried her armful of flowers up the outside staircase and opened the door of the music room.
    Later she decided it was then that her vague sadness changed to a premonition of disaster, though at the momentshe merely felt the room was extremely depressing. The lofty roof, with all its timbers revealed, sloped down to within a few feet of the floor, and the window in the gable-end which faced the house was overhung by a tree. It was as if she had walked from mid-afternoon into late twilight.
    Now she understood why there were no personal possessions in Richard’s bedroom: they were all here. Books, scores, gramophone records, musical instruments – she found it odd that personal possessions could look so impersonal. His work in hand was set out with the most formal precision, each pile of manuscript under a glass paper-weight. Nowhere could she see so much as a book out of place and the large grand piano looked as if it was never even opened.
    She had just located the big jar Clare had mentioned when she heard the sound of a car drawing up in the lane at the back of the garden. Some tradesman, perhaps. She stepped out onto the staircase in time to see a man get out of the car and hurry towards the garden gate.
    She stared in astonishment. Surely the man was Rupert Carrington? But why was he approaching his house from the back, where the gate was not wide enough to admit a car? And why had he come mid-week and without warning?
    He was opening the gate now. She saw him give a swift glance up and down the lane before entering. Then he came towards the barn, reached the foot of the stairs and looked up at her – with astonishment followed by dismay. She gazed down on him across her armful of flowers. Recognition dawned in his eyes.
    ‘Miss Minton, isn’t it? I’d forgotten … Is my son up there?’
    ‘He’s out – they all are,’ said Jane. ‘I’m expecting them back about six.’
    ‘Six? I can’t wait that long. Good lord …’ He broke off, frowning worriedly.
    Jane said: ‘Drew and Merry are with friends in the village. Perhaps you could find them.’
    He dismissed the idea. ‘No. I must think. I’ll come up.’ She went back into the room as he ran up the stairs. At the top he gave another glance up and down the lane, then followed her in and closed the door. With it shut, the room became so dim that she looked round for a light-switch but he said quickly: ‘Don’t put the lights on. Excuse me for a moment,’ then sank onto the divan and sat staring in front of him.
    Something must be very wrong. Shaken by apprehension, she watched him silently. He was very pale and his eyes, almost as blue as Clare’s, showed extreme tiredness.
    After a few seconds, he ran a hand through his greying fair hair and said: ‘Sit down, please. I can’t think why it never occurred to me Richard might