Free The Hunter and the Trapped by Josephine Bell Page A

that she was forced to meet his gaze and felt her cheeks redden. Once again they were on the brink of a show down, William thought, wondering if he dared push it to a conclusion. But now it was Diana who recoiled, breaking off the conversation altogether and hurrying from the room upon an invented errand. William sighed. He could see no end to the recurring embarrassment, unless, for some reason, Simon were forced to take himself somewhere else.
    But that would mean a genuine loss to the college. Did he really set this higher than the loss of his wife, he wondered ruefully. And then he asked himself if he had ever really held her since the first few years of their marriage. And asked himself, too, how much he now felt her loss: when he was able to put her totally from his mind for the whole of his happy working day.
    At the next opportunity of speaking alone to his mother, William asked her if Diana had given her the recent news of Penelope.
    â€œNo,” Mrs. Allingham answered. “But then Diana doesn’t often confide in me.”
    â€œThis isn’t exactly a confidence, merely a report.”
    â€œYou know perfectly well what I mean.”
    â€œI do indeed and I’m sorry for it. I hoped you two were getting to know each other better.”
    â€œWe get on with each other very well,” she told him, “which is perhaps a better thing on the whole.”
    He was silent at that and Mrs. Allingham went on, quietly, “Tell me the news about Penny.”
    He did so, relating both what Hubert had told him and what Diana had learned during her visit to the girl. Mrs. Allingham took it quietly, sighing a little.
    Then she asked, “Was Diana very upset?”
    â€œI’m afraid so. She has a good deal of social sense. She is more conventional than I am, I think.”
    â€œHubert is more conventional than either of you. He must have had a horrible time at the Carringtons.”
    â€œHe did. At first they waited for Penny. Then Richard began to panic about a possible accident and insisted on ringing up Hubert’s house and then the police and the hospitals. Then the Carringtons said they had better dine while they waited for news. Hubert thinks they had already begun to suspect the truth. They had a miserable meal and then Richard was called to the phone. It was Penny, to say she wasn’t coming and would write and was going to stay at Caroline’s and please apologise to everyone, including her father.”
    â€œInsolence!” said Mrs. Allingham, profoundly shocked.
    â€œGuts!” said William. “It can’t have been easy to say, knowing how Penny hates hurting anyone’s feelings. She could have let it go and left them all to guess.”
    â€œThat would have been abominable.”
    William turned on her.
    â€œWhat about you, Mother?” he asked. “You knew where she’d gone, didn’t you?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œYou knew that John knew, then?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œWhy didn’t you make him say? You were in league together to keep it from Hubert, weren’t you?”
    She did not answer.
    â€œWhy? Won’t you tell me why? D’you think I don’t know why?”
    â€œIf you know, is there any point in our discussing it?”
    He knew that there was none. His mother had acted for his sake, John for his own.
    â€œI must tell John where she is,” he said.
    Mrs. Allingham answered, calmly, “I expect Penny has already told him. She always writes to him about everything that happens to her.”
    â€œShe didn’t write to him about her engagement. Is she likely to write about this … ?”
    Mrs. Allingham sighed.
    â€œI don’t know. I feel I know very little about this – as you call it. Except that it will end, perhaps very soon, and then Penny will be really free at last.”
    â€œWhy should it end? Are we sure it has even begun, except as a dream in Penny’s