Free The Shivering Sands by Victoria Holt Page B

always go, do they? Sometimes they decide to stay. They can’t tear themselves from those they’ve lived with. Sometimes it’s love that keeps them…sometimes it’s hate. Beau’s still here. He can’t rest, poor Beau. It was so lovely for him, you see. He had everything. He had beauty, charm, and he was brilliantly clever; he used to play the piano to make the tears run down your cheeks. Beau had everything. So he wouldn’t want to leave a life which was perfect would he?”
    “Perhaps he found greater perfection.”
    She shook her head and stamped her foot in a childish gesture. “It wasn’t possible,” she said angrily. “Beau couldn’t have been happier anywhere…neither on Earth nor in Heaven. Why did Beau have to die, do you think?”
    “Because his time had come,” I suggested. “It happens so…now and then. Young people die.” Pietro, Roma, I thought. I felt my lips quiver.
    “Oh, he was beautiful,” she said. She raised her eyes to the picture as though she were before some god. “That was him…to the life. That picture seems to speak to you. And I’ll never forget the day. The blood…the blood…”
    Her face puckered, and I said: “Please don’t think of it. It must be very distressing even now.”
    She came closer to me and all the sorrow had left her blue eyes; they sparkled with that mischief which was more alarming than her grief.
    “They took his dying depositions. The doctor insisted. He said it was not Napier’s fault. They were playing with the guns…as boys will. ‘Hands up or I’ll fire!’ said Napier. And Beau replied: ‘I’ll get you first.’ At least that’s what Napier told us. But no one was there to see. They were in the gunroom. Then Beau reached for his gun and Napier fired his. Napier said they both thought the guns weren’t loaded. But you see they were.”
    “What a terrible accident.”
    “Nothing has ever been the same again.”
    “But it was an accident.”
    “You are a very sure person, Mrs.…Mrs.…”
    “Verlaine.”
    “I shall remember it. I never forget a name. I never forget a face. You are a very sure person, Mrs. Verlaine. And you have not been here a day yet. So you must be very sure indeed.”
    “I can’t know anything, of course,” I said, “but I can quite see how two boys playing together could have an accident. It’s not the first time it’s happened.”
    She whispered conspiratorially: “Napier was jealous of Beau. Everybody knew it. How could it have been otherwise? Beau was so handsome; he could do everything well. He used to challenge Napier in lots of ways.”
    “Then he couldn’t have been so wonderful,” I said sharply and wondered why I wanted to protect Napier. It was the boy I was eager should have justice, not that arrogant man in the stables.
    “Just in a boyish way. He was so boyish…And Napier, well he was quite different.”
    “In what way?”
    “Difficult. He’d go off on his own. He was always going off on his own. Wouldn’t practice the piano.”
    “They have always been fond of music in this house?”
    “Their mother played the piano beautifully. As well as you do. Oh yes, I heard you just now. I could have believed it was Isabella come back. Isabella could have been a very great pianist, I’ve heard it said. But she didn’t go on studying when she married. William didn’t wish it. He wanted her to play for him only. Can you understand that, Mrs. Verlaine?”
    “No,” I said vehemently. “I think she should have been allowed to go on with her studies. If we have talent we should not hide it away.”
    “The parable of the talents,” she cried, her eyes alight with pleasure. “It’s what Isabella thought too. She was…resentful.”
    I felt a sympathy with Isabella. She had thrown away a career no doubt for marriage…somewhat as I had.
    I felt those childish yet penetrating eyes on me.
    Then she turned once more to the picture. “I’ll tell you a secret, Mrs. Verlaine. That is my