Lady Arabella, whose high spirits had wilted a little in the face of the double disappointment regarding any answer from Quarrington, beamed satisfaction.
“You blessed child!” she exclaimed. “I’d have gone myself, but my old body is so stiff with rheumatism that I don’t believe they’d get me on board the boat except in an ambulance!”
“Well, I’m going,” said Gillian. “Only the point is, Magda mustn’t know. If she thought I was going off in pursuit of Michael I believe she’d lock me up in the cellar. She intends never to let him see her again. Melrose will manage about the letters, and somehow you’ve got to prevent Magda from coming to Friars’ Holm and finding out that I’m not there.”
“I’ll take her away with me,” declared Lady Arabella. “Rheumatism—Harrogate. It’s quite simple.”
Gillian heaved a sigh of relief.
“Yes. That would be a good plan,” she agreed. “Then I’d let you know when we should arrive—”
“‘We?’”
“Michael and I. I’m not coming back without him. And you could bring Magda straight back to town with you.”
Lady Arabella’s keen old eyes searched her face.
“You sound very certain of success. Supposing you find Michael still unforgiving—and he refuses to return with you?”