Daughter of Deceit by Victoria Holt Page B

Monsieur Bouchere’s box. He kindly allows us to use it.”
    Robert said quickly: “You must join us. Here you get a good view of the stage, except for the one corner. It is the right one. But that is rarely of importance.”
    “How kind of you. I shall be delighted.”
    “You are staying in London long?” I asked Roderick.
    “No. My visits are brief. There is a good deal to do at home.”
    “And your father?”
    “He is at home now. I expect he will be coming to London soon.”
    The bell was ringing and the curtain was about to rise.
    I noticed with interest how Roderick watched Lisa.
    “She’s doing well,” I said. “I’m glad.”
    He nodded.
    The final curtain had fallen. Lisa took the applause with obvious gratitude. It did not last very long. If my mother had been there, they would have called her back and back again.
    We went into Lisa’s dressing room to congratulate her. She was half elated, half apprehensive and looked frail and vulnerable. I felt sorry for her and I sensed that Roderick was, too. Her great chance had not really brought her what she had hoped for.
    Roderick said: “I wonder if I could take you out to a little supper … you and Noelle and perhaps Monsieur Bouchere?”
    “What a lovely idea!” cried Lisa.
    Robert said: “You must excuse me,” and I added that I wanted to get back at once to see how my mother was.
    Lisa’s face fell and Roderick looked disappointed, too.
    Robert said: “Why should you two not go, yes? It is good for you, Mademoiselle Fennell … to sit over supper … and what is it you say? … relax … release the tension. What you have done tonight is a stress … is it not? Yes … it will be good for you to sit … and talk … to laugh … to forget. I will take Noelle home.”
    “Thomas will be there with the carriage for Martha and me,” I said.
    “Then we shall all go in the carriage … the three of us … leaving these two to their supper.”
    Roderick was looking expectantly at Lisa. I told myself he was implying that he would like to go back to the house to discover how my mother was, but Lisa was looking so dejected, and Robert was right when he said she needed to relax. As for Roderick, having made the invitation, he could scarcely take it back. So it was decided that Roderick and Lisa should have supper while the rest of us went back to the house.
    When we arrived Robert said he would wait to hear the news of my mother, and as soon as we were in the house Martha and I went immediately to her room.
    Martha knocked at the door. There was no answer.
    “Asleep,” she whispered to me. “A good sign.”
    She opened the door and looked in. Moonlight showed me that my mother was not in her bed.
    Hastily we went into the room. And then we saw her. She was lying on the floor and it struck me that her head was in a very unnatural position. Then I saw that there was blood on her face.
    I ran to her and knelt beside her. She looked strange … unlike herself.
    I called to her in anguish. She did not move; she did not answer; and some terrible instinct told me that she would never speak to me again.
    When I look back over the night that followed, it is just a jumble of impressions. There is the memory of all the household crowding into that room. Robert was amongst them. They were all shocked, unable to accept this terrible thing that had happened.
    Dr. Green arrived.
    He said: “She must have fallen and cut her forehead on the edge of that dressing table as she fell … and she has suffered further injuries.”
    She was taken to the hospital, but by that time we all guessed that nothing could be done.
    We had lost her. I was trying to think what it would be like without her, never to hear her voice again … her laughter, her gaiety, her easygoing acceptance of life. All that was gone … taken from us in the space of a few hours.
    It was not possible to accept it at first. I wondered whether I should ever be able to. Life would never be the same again. I