“I’ll tell you what it is, young Bart,” Ingram said, patting him clumsily. “You want a good stiff drink, and a change of scene. I wouldn’t rush into marriage, if I were you. Plenty of time to think about that. After all, old son, the Guv’nor’s not buried yet. Got to think of what people would say.”
“I’ll wait till after the — the funerals, but I won’t wait any longer. Oh, I won’t get married here! I’m going to take Loveday up to London. You can’t stop me, Ingram.”
Ingram heaved a sigh, and shook his head, but he saw that it would be useless to argue with Bart in his present mood, and merely said soothingly that he would see what could be done about installing him at Trellick a soon as possible, and that in the meantime he must try not to let things get on top of him. He disapproved profoundly of the projected marriage, but he could not help feeling that if Loveday could restore Bart to his senses there might be something to be said for it. He did not want to be deprived of Bart’s services, at any rate until his son Rudolph was of an age to fill his place; and he hoped very much that Loveday would induce Bart to perceive the folly of abandoning at least his share in the management of the stables. As Reuben came in just then, to convey the information that Inspector Logan had come up, and wanted to see him, Ingram was obliged to put an end to the interview. Bart went upstairs to his own room, and Ingram went to join the Inspector in the morning-room.
Faith, meanwhile, had dropped into a deep sleep, as the influence of the aspirin she had swallowed took effect upon her system. She did not rouse until the evening was considerably advanced, and then it was to find Loveday beside her with a bowl of chicken-broth.
Loveday tidied her hair, and powdered her nose, and propped her up with extra pillows. She was resistless, and looked so ill that Loveday made up her mind to speak to Charmian about the advisability of requesting the doctor to call in the morning. When Loveday laid the tray on her knees, she said in a faint voice: “I don’t want it. What has been happening? Please tell me!”
“And so I will; my dear, but you must drink a little soup, or we shall be having you ill, and that won’t do.”
She began to coax Faith to take a few spoonfuls of the broth, telling her, as she fed her, that there was nothing for her to worry about. “You’ll be going away soon, you and Mr Clay, and then you’ll be able to forget all this.”
“No,” Faith said, in a mournful voice. “I shall never be able to forget it.”
“Yes, you will, then, my dear. Bart feels the same, for he thought a deal of Mr Ray, and it has hit him cruel, hard, but he’ll get over it, you’ll see.”
“Bart!” Faith said, giving a little start. She turned her horror-filled eyes towards Loveday. “I was forgetting Bart. Is he — very much upset?”