“Please excuse me,” said Mrs. Trentham, rising from the chair in which she had just sat down. “I seem to have developed a slight headache and will therefore retire to my room, if you’ll forgive me.”
“Yes, of course, my dear,” said the major flatly.
As soon as his mother had left the room Guy walked quickly over to Becky, sat down and took her hand. “She’ll be better in the morning, when her migraine has cleared up, you’ll see.”
“I doubt it,” replied Becky in a whisper, and turning to Major Trentham said, “Perhaps you’ll excuse me as well. It’s been a long day, and in any case I’m sure the two of you have a lot to catch up on.”
Both men rose as Becky left the room and climbed the long staircase to her bedroom. She undressed quickly and after washing in a basin of near freezing water crept across the unheated room to slide between the sheets of her cold bed.
Becky was already half asleep when she heard the door handle turning. She blinked a few times and tried to focus on the far side of the room. The door opened slowly, but all she could make out was the figure of a man entering, then the door closing silently behind him.
“Who’s that?” she whispered sharply.
“Only me,” murmured Guy. “Thought I’d pop in and see how you were.”
Becky pulled her top sheet up to her chin. “Good night, Guy,” she said briskly.
“That’s not very friendly,” said Guy, who had already crossed the room and was now sitting on the end of her bed. “Just wanted to check that everything was all right. Felt you had rather a rough time of it tonight.”
“I’m just fine, thank you,” said Becky flatly. As he leaned over to kiss her she slid away from him, so he ended up brushing her left ear.
“Perhaps this isn’t the right time?”
“Or place,” added Becky, sliding even farther away so that she was nearly falling out of the far side of the bed.
“I only wanted to kiss you good night.”
Becky reluctantly allowed him to take her in his arms and kiss her on the lips, but he held on to her far longer than she had anticipated and eventually she had to push him away.
“Good night, Guy,” she said firmly.
At first Guy didn’t move, but then he rose slowly and said, “Perhaps another time.” A moment later she heard the door close behind him.
Becky waited for a few moments before getting out of bed. She walked over to the door, turned the key in the lock and removed it before going back to bed. It was some time before she was able to sleep.
When Becky came down for breakfast the following morning she quickly discovered from Major Trentham that a restless night had not improved his wife’s migraine: she had therefore decided to remain in bed until the pain had completely cleared.
Later, when the major and Guy went off to church, leaving Becky to read the Sunday newspapers in the drawing room, she couldn’t help noticing that the servants were whispering among themselves whenever she caught their eye.
Mrs. Trentham appeared for lunch, but made no attempt to join in the conversation that was taking place at the other end of the table. Unexpectedly, just as the custard was being poured onto the summer pudding, she asked, “And what was the vicar’s text this morning?”
“Do unto othe
rs as you expect them to do unto you,” the major replied with a slight edge to his voice.
“And how did you find the service at our local church, Miss Salmon?” asked Mrs. Trentham, addressing Becky for the first time.
“I didn’t—” began Becky.
“Ah, yes, of course, you are one of the chosen brethren.”
“No, actually if anything I’m a Roman Catholic,” said Becky.
“Oh,” said Mrs. Trentham, feigning surprise, “I assumed, with the name of Salmon…In any case you wouldn’t have enjoyed St. Michael’s. You see, it’s very down to earth.”
Becky wondered if every word Mrs. Trentham uttered and every action she took was rehearsed in advance.
Once lunch had been cleared away Mrs. Trentham disappeared again and Guy suggested that he and Becky should take a brisk walk. Becky went up to her room and changed into her oldest shoes, far too terrified to suggest she might borrow a pair of Mrs. Trentham’s Wellingtons.