“I went to him as a doctor. He was a nerve specialist, and I went to him about my nerves.”
“Nerves!” His lordship spat out the word in scorn. “A girl of your age has no business with nerves. Did you tell Miss Pollexfen that you were suffering from nerves?”
“No.” Violet flared up with a touch of her father. “Why should I? Miss Pollexfen is no friend of mine. I didn’t choose her for a companion. I am old enough to decide for myself whether I want to see a doctor, without consulting her.”
Lord Ledbury was clearly taken aback. He can have had no real suspicion that his daughter had done anything seriously wrong, or he would hardly have cross-examined her before us. Little as he loved her, regard for his own good name would have made him refrain from going on.
“So you consider yourself independent, do you?” He pointed to the clothes. “Have you lent these things—to anyone?”
I held my breath. I dared not make the least sign to Violet. And if I had, she would not have seen it. She kept her eyes steadily fixed on her father’s.
“Yes.” It was the wisest answer to give now that so much had come out. A falsehood must have been detected in a few hours.
“Tell me her name.”
My heart seemed to stop beating. There was a tense pause in which the air of the room vibrated with suspense. Then the girl slowly shook her head.
“I cannot.”