Page 40 of The Missing Page
But Martha seemed to understand. “Stephen Foster,” she said.
“And he, ah, wouldn’t do the decent thing?” James winced at his phrasing.
Camilla let out a singleha!
“Oh, he would,” said Martha. “But I wouldn’t. We were badly suited. And Rupert needed me here.”
“Did Uncle Rupert know?”
“Of course,” Martha said, sounding surprised. “Everyone knew. Well, everyone in the family, at least. I thoughtyouknew, James. You were here for part of the summer, after all.”
James didn’t know how he could have missed such a thing, but then realized that at age twelve he might not have known the difference between a woman who was becoming a bit portly and a woman who was expecting a baby, especially if she was taking care to conceal her shape. “What did you plan on doing with the baby?”
“Adoption,” Martha said simply.
“Stephen was furious,” Camilla said.
Before James could ask what had happened to result in Camilla and Marchand taking Lilah, the girl herself entered the drawing room, breathless.
“It’s Madame Fournier,” Lilah said. “She’s gone.”
“Gone?” James repeated.
“She took her luggage and left,” Lilah explained. “And she must have gone on foot.”
“She might have taken a cab,” James pointed out.
“She can’t have rung for one. I’ve been on the telephone with my agent since dinner,” said Lilah. “And there’s only the one line in the house.”
“Ought we to go after her?” asked James.
“She was free to go whenever she pleased,” Martha said. “We can’t very well chase her down.”
“Awful fishy, though.”
“Everything about her was fishy,” agreed Lilah.
“Indeed,” said Camilla, her brow furrowed as if she were trying to do sums in her head.
Before James could decide whether to tell them that Madame Fournier was Gladys Button, Marchand came to stand behind Lilah in the doorway.
“What’s this about Madame Fournier having left?” he demanded
“Just that. She’s gone,” Lilah answered.
“Good God.” Marchand’s face was red and splotchy and he put a fist to his chest.
Lilah looked at her father, perplexed. “Whatever is the matter?”
“I—where are my pills?”
James got to his feet, operating on instinct alone. “Lie down on the sofa,” he told the older man. “What pills? Digitalis?” he guessed. “Do you know where he keeps them, Lilah? All right, fetch them, will you? Martha, go get Carrow and have him bring the car around.”
Lilah made for the door, but Camilla got to her feet instead, suddenly seeming to sober up. “You won’t know where they are. I’ll get them.”
James arranged Marchand’s hands over his head to improve blood flow. “Anthony, listen. What do you take the digitalis for?”
“My heart,” the older man croaked, and then shut his eyes.
