Behind Emma a clear, sweet voice said, 'I'm here, Ross darling.'
Emma knew who it was before she turned and saw the sapphire blue eyes and silvery hair.
Amanda Craig gave her a smile which only touched her mouth. 'I'm going to be your chaperone.'
'Oh, dear,' said Emma, looking back at Ross. 'I've fixed up someone, too, I'm afraid…'
'Then you can unfix it,' Amanda said tightly. 'What a nerve! Whose house is this? Ross makes his own arrangements. I'll move my things into my room, Ross…'
'Edie?' Ross was quick-witted, Emma saw. 'How did you talk Edie into coming here? She's petrified of me.'
'You mean that simpleton from the pub?' Amanda laughed scornfully and shrugged her elegant shoulders. 'Well, really! What use do you think she would be? I'll tell her to go home.'
'No!' said Emma angrily. If anyone was to tell Edie, she would. She had made the arrangement, and she was determined that Edie's feelings should not be hurt. Amanda would undoubtedly do harm. She had a way of saying things which bit deep, and Edie was more sensitive than most. Amanda might harm her deeply.
'No!' Ross agreed firmly. 'I think that arrangement would be much more suitable.'
Amanda went dark red and drew an angry breath. 'Ross! You'd rather have a simple-minded village woman than me? You can't leave her with Judith's children!'
'Mrs Pat might be offended if we made it clear we preferred you to her sister.' Ross said diplomatically. 'And I can't afford to offend Mrs Pat.'
'Oh, don't be ridiculous,' Amanda burst out.
Ross gave her a hard look. He said nothing, but she flushed and bit her lip.
'I was so looking forward to getting to know Judith's children,' Amanda said sweetly, after a moment. 'I thought you agreed that I ought to know them better? And really, Ross—that simple-minded old thing! How could anyone take her seriously as a chaperone?'
'She'll be ideal,' Ross said quietly. 'She loves kids, she'll keep out of my way, and she will be no trouble.'
Amanda gave him a stricken look, and Emma suddenly felt sorry for her. She did not like the girl much, but her own recent love affair had made her ultra-sensitive, and she saw that Amanda was wounded by Ross's implied snub.
The blue eyes darted her a furious, hate-filled look. 'Very well,' Amanda said with dignity. 'If that's your decision, Ross, I'll go.'
'Thanks for offering to help, anyway,' he said casually, his hands on his hips, his back half turned to her as he looked out of the window at the sky. 'It's turning stormy. That sky promises rain. You'd better hurry back.'
Amanda looked at his profile, then back at Emma. She turned on her heel and slammed out.
'You were a bit casual,' Emma said, indignantly, to his averted head.
He turned, raising a black brow. 'What makes it your business?'
'Common humanity,' she flung.
He laughed. 'Long words for a little girl!'
'Oh!' She felt like stamping, but controlled herself. It would only confirm him in his self-conceit.
He surveyed her with mocking amusement. 'It was a brainwave to get Edie, all the same. Thank you. I was very reluctant to give Amanda a foothold in this house. She's an inch-taker.'
'A what?' She looked puzzled.
'Give her an inch, she takes a mile,' he said. 'She's been trying to worm her way in here for months.'
'Why, you conceited…!' Emma was almost dumb with scornful disgust.
He grinned. 'Oh, I don't lay it at my personal door. I don't labour under the illusion that I'm irresistible!'
She was baffled, and stared at him, frowning. He stared back, his eyes searching her face. A little smile hovered at the corners of his lips. 'Your face is like wellwater,' he said. 'Clear and guileless!'
'Do you imagine that that's a compliment?' she asked, her tone filled with insulted irritation. 'It is to me,' he said. 'I'm sick of masks.' His face had a sudden cold, clear anger, that she did not understand, but which worried her. Why did he believe that Amanda wanted to get into his house, if she was not in love with him? And what had Amanda meant by her cryptic remarks earlier? There was something here that Emma did not understand.
CHAPTER THREE
'Where are the nearest shops? I need to do some shopping—Tracy needs new hairclips and I need some tights. I gather there's no shop in the village.'
'Mrs Pat sells odd items,' Ross informed her, then gave her a thoughtful look. 'But I imagine you could do with a break. Why not come into Dorchester with me today? I've got surgery at nine. If you can get the children ready by half past eight you can all come. You can have lunch there, make a day of it. It might amuse the children to look round the Dorchester Museum. It specialises in country objects—old tools and cart wheels, horse harness…that sort of thing.'
'It sounds fascinating,' Emma agreed enthusiastically. 'It would be ideal for me, too. I can do some of my sketching while I'm there.'
'Of course,' he said slowly. 'I forgot—you have a commission to fulfil.' His grey eyes narrowed on her face. 'You must be a pretty good artist to get such a commission.'
She shrugged. 'I was lucky.'
His left eyebrow flipped upwards ironically. 'Modest, too.' His tone was mocking.
'I was being honest,' she said sharply. 'I can't pretend that I'm a great artist. I'm capable, that's all. And I've been lucky all along with these commissions out of the blue. A successful career is often part luck, I suspect. Mere talent isn't enough.'
'You enjoy your work?' he asked, crunching the last of his toast with obvious enjoyment.
'Enormously.' She cleared the table, called the children from the garden, where they were playing some sort of game. 'Get ready to go. We're going into Dorchester with your uncle.'
'I'll help Donna,' said Tracy, seeing Emma's glance resting on her little sister. She seized Donna's resisting hand and marched her off. Donna gave the two adults a comical look of resignation.
'What about marriage?' Ross asked, standing up, his broad shoulders looking broader than ever in a shaggy tweed jacket.
Emma was startled. She lifted wide eyes to his face. 'What? How do you mean?'
'Will you continue working after marriage?' he asked lightly. 'So many women do these days.'
'And you don't approve, I suppose?' Remembering what his sister had said about his autocratic, chauvinistic attitudes Emma was ready to flare. 'Until the children arrive I don't see why a woman shouldn't go on working. Young married couples need all the money they can earn. How else can they buy a house, furnish it, have holidays?'
'You do jump to conclusions, don't you?' he said coolly.
'Your sister said…'
'Oh, my sister!' He grimaced. 'Judith and I have always been at odds. You mustn't believe every-thing she tells you.'
The children galloped towards them. Robin's coat looked lopsided, Emma knelt down to unbutton it and re-button it. 'You started with the wrong button, darling,' she told him gently.
'Tracy did it,' Robin said, bored and distasteful. 'I told her, but she wouldn't listen.'
Tracy looked furious. Ross took her hand and smiled down at her with a charm that dazzled and astonished Emma. That charm had never been turned on for her, she thought; oddly, foolishly almost jealous of Tracy's good fortune. 'Some people are never grateful, are they, Tracy?' Ross asked the little girl sympathetically.
Tracy gave Robin a toss of the head, smiled at her uncle, showing a sudden gap enchantingly to the left side of her mouth. 'I lost a tooth last night. See?'
'Did you put it under your pillow for the fairies?' asked Ross soberly.
Tracy looked hesitant.
'Yes, she did,' Robin said clearly. 'And the fairies had better leave ten pence, because things are going up all the time.' His voice imitated Tracy's determined accents, leaving them in no doubt as to the origin of the quotation. Tracy went pink and glared at him.
Ross grinned. 'We'll have to wait and see if the fairies can afford a rise! It was threepence when I was your age.'
Ross gave Emma a sidelong glance, full of wry humour. 'I often feel like a Victorian relic, Robin, but in fact I'm not quite that old.'
In the car the children arranged themselves on the back seat, with some squabbling, while Emma sat in the front beside Ross. He drove fast, but skilfully, taking back roads unhampered by traffic. The lanes were narrow, high-banked, with fields on all sides. Cows grazed peacefully in the green meadows. This was fine pasture land, he told Emma casually. 'The chalk uplands over there afford good grazing for sheep. They even graze them on Maiden Castle.'
'I must see that,' she said eagerly. 'Is it possible to reach it by bus?'
'If I get time I'll run you over there this afternoon,' he offered. 'It will depend on my timetable. I've often spent an afternoon up there, eating a few sandwiches, just lying in the grass and listening to the larks.'
'It's an Iron Age fort, isn't it?'
'Yes, they threw up a succession of earth banks, forming rings, although they're more like ovals than circles. They lived in the middle, and it was hard for an enemy to find his way into the place. They put up gates, of course, in the weak spots, and had men posted on the tops of the banks throwing spears and stones as the enemy tried to storm the bank. Any enemy had to cross the ditch below, and it was an easy matter to chuck a few rocks on to his head. If one bank fell to the enemy, they retreated to the next one, and began again. The centre was the safest place, the sanctuary for the women and children. The banks were like city walls, but there were more of them. It was a good idea.'
'Until the Romans came,' she murmured, shivering a little.
'Yes,' he agreed. 'A superior technology, as always, won the day. The Romans were able to use their ballisters, their catapults, to launch iron-tipped bolts over the ramparts—rather like using modern guns against savages. The Romans didn't need to come within arm length, so the unfortunate British couldn't make much use of their favourite weapon. They couldn't chuck their rocks far enough to reach the Romans until after they'd already been decimated by the Romans barrage. It was like the Germans launching a blitz on London, to soften up enemy resistance, before they planned to invade—and in the case of Maiden Castle, the Romans followed on the heels of their Blitz, and easily took the place.'
'And now it's just a deserted earthworks in the middle of fields,' she said sadly. 'Hardy often mentions it. It made a deep impression on him, I think—seeing that pathetic reminder of the past on the horizon day after day. No wonder he was inclined to be melancholic.'
'Oh, I think he would have been, anyway,' said Ross firmly. 'It all depends how you look at things. The battle of Maiden Castle was centuries ago. Think how much easier life is for the people around here now! I know I'm glad I didn't live two thousand years ago. Hardy should have gone in for positive thinking.'
'Like you,' said Emma drily.
He gave her a shrewd smile. 'I have no time for pessimists. Life is too short.'
They were approaching Dorchester now, negotiating the bridge over the winding river Frome. 'Grey's Bridge,' said Ross quietly. 'It was built by Lora Grey, heiress of a local family. You see that metal plate fixed to the bridge? It's a modern replica of one put up in George the Fourth's time, threatening anyone who defaces the bridge with transportation for life.'
'Heavens!' Emma stared as they whisked over the bridge. 'They were certainly tough on vandals in the nineteenth century!'
'I shouldn't think they had many with punishments like that,' Ross said. 'I often think I'd like to bring back some of those old punishments when I see the cruelties practised by hooligans. I had to put down a dog yesterday. Some boys had thrown stones at it. I felt like giving them a damned good hiding, I can tell you—if I'd known who they were I think I would have done!' He looked grim, his jaw set and his lips unyielding.
'It makes my blood boil when I read about things like that,' Emma agreed hotly. She shot him a little glance. 'I notice you have only one cat? No other pets?'
He shrugged. 'I had a dog—spaniel. He was two when he was knocked down and killed outside the house. A lout driving a sports car—he didn't even stop, just shot off at seventy miles an hour. At least Lucky didn't suffer. He was killed outright. That was my only consolation.'
They parked in a tiny space outside an old stone building with a mossy, tiled roof.
Ross looked round at the excited children. 'Want to come in and see my surgery before you go off shopping?'
From a gate at the side emerged a young woman in black trousers and a blue fisherman's sweater. 'Well, what have we here?' She peered at the children through the car door, grinning at them. 'Come to visit your uncle, have you? Hello, Tracy. Remember me? Good heavens, you've grown like a beanstalk! You'll make Tommy feel envious. He's only grown one inch this year. Remember you measured yourselves in the kennel yard? You must chalk up a new line for yourself while you're here.' Then, without waiting for Tracy to reply, she turned to smile at Emma. 'Hello, you must be the nanny. I'm Mrs Bennett— Chloe. My husband is Ross's partner.'
'Take a breath, Chloe, for God's sake,' said Ross easily. 'Let me introduce you. This is Miss Emma Leigh. She's looking after the kids, but she isn't a nanny, she's an artist on the Thomas Hardy trail.'
'Oh, not old Hardy,' said Chloe irreverently. 'Doesn't anyone come to Dorchester for any other reason? Come in and have coffee, Emma. I expect you need it. Come on, kids, shake a leg. We'll have fizz and cookies in the kitchen. Tommy! Tod! Come out, come out, wherever you are…we have visitors!' Her voice swelled to an organ note, rich and round, almost deafening. Two little boys in identical green denims and sweaters appeared from the yard behind the gate. They looked like miniature versions of their mother, fair and round and friendly.
'Come and have a ride in our wheelbarrow,' they invited at once, and Robin, Donna and Tracy were not slow in accepting the invitation. The five children disappeared from sight, chattering with that easy comradeship which children can attain in a moment, and which adults envy.
'Fizz and cookies on offer!' yelled Chloe after them. There was no reply.
'They'll come when they want it,' she shrugged.
'I'm going in to surgery,' Ross said.
'Come to the kitchen when you're through,' she smiled at him. 'I'll look after Emma for you.'
He shared a wry glance between the two of them. 'I've no doubt you will!'
When he had gone into the front door, Chloe smiled at Emma. 'I don't like the way he said that, do you? There was a sardonic ring to his voice. Are you having trouble with him? He's a bit agin women at present, I know—single women, that is.' She grinned impishly at Emma. 'I'm safe, of course, being Edward's wife. No one could prefer Ross to Edward!'
Emma laughed. 'I'm sure your husband would like to hear that!'
'Oh, Edward knows,' she said with a twinkle.
They walked through into the kitchen. Chloe put the kettle on, fished out a tin of home-made biscuits and laid out cups. 'It will have to be instant coffee. We're on an economy trip.'
'Who isn't?' nodded Emma.
'Too true,' sighed Chloe. 'Now, tell me about yourself, and how you come to be looking after Judith's children…'
Emma related the story of her adventures, while Chloe made the coffee and listened with great interest. 'Lucky for Ross that you turned out to be able to take care of the children!'
'He didn't want to have me there, though,' said Emma.
'No, well, he wouldn't!' Chloe said reasonably as though that must be obvious.
'Why not?' asked Emma curiously.
Chloe looked at her, wide-eyed. 'Don't you know? Good lord! Well, in that case, I don't think I'd better tell you.'
Emma felt a wave of sheer temper. 'I'm beginning to feel quite claustrophobic about this! People keep dropping hints, then shutting up…he isn't Bluebeard, is he?'
'As no one will tell me anything, imagination is all I have to help me,' Emma pointed out.
The children suddenly boiled into the kitchen, chattering like magpies, and Chloe began serving them mugs of fizzy lemonade and plates of the home-made crunchy cookies. 'Coconut or shortcake,' she told them. 'Take your pick.'
'I had a ride in a wheelbarrow,' Robin told Emma. Donna leant against Emma's knee, not saying anything, but blissfully smiling. There was dirt on her nose and a smudge across her cheek. Her eyes shone like blue stars.
'Leave them here while you do your shopping,' Chloe invited. 'They'll be no trouble. I'm used to having kids around the place all day. You and Ross must have lunch here, too. I've got a casserole in the oven—oxtail and dumplings. There's always plenty and casserole stretches easily. I'll just add a few more dumplings, and then make another apple pasty to follow. Do you like apple pasties, kids?'
They all chorused agreement, and Chloe grinned. 'That's settled, then.'
'You're very kind,' Emma said warmly, liking her more and more.
'Nonsense. I love having people to visit. It makes life so much more interesting.' They chatted while the children consumed their elevenses, then there was a noisy exodus once more, and the two young women washed up in friendly co-operation, returning the kitchen to its former tidiness.
Then Ross arrived, with Edward Bennett, and Emma turned to meet Chloe's husband, only to be taken aback to find herself face to face with the most strikingly handsome man she had ever set eyes on. Chloe giggled at her incredulous expression. Edward, half laughing, half blushing, held out his hand.
'Hello. So you're Emma. Ross has told me all about you.'
Edward was six feet tall, as blond as his wife, with lean, bronzed features of film star good looks. His blue eyes were set between thick dark lashes. His nose, mouth, cheekbones all finely modelled. Emma would not have been surprised to find him as vain as a girl, but he seemed, on the contrary, to be a shy and quiet man, with a gentle smile and soft voice.
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