by Mary Cummins
Anne said nothing for a moment, gazing at Helen’s impassive face. There had been nothing in her words but a desire to be helpful, yet the light casual tones had only been overtones, and Helen was looking at her with a gleam in her eye. Mrs. Wyatt had flushed.
“I’m quite sure there’s no need to bother Caroline Cook,” she said firmly, “especially now!”
“No, you never really encouraged her, did you, Mother?” asked Helen. “Don’t you think that was a mistake ... from your point of view, I mean?”
“A mistake?” asked Anne.
“Of course. Things could have been put right ages ago. I refer, of course, to the tapestries.”
Mrs. Wyatt was glaring at her daughter.
“Who is this girl?” asked Anne, determined to know more. The name teased her memory, but she knew she had never met anyone by that name who could do embroidery.
“She’s the sister of Ronald Cook at Cravenhill, a small farm which the family have rented from us for generations. Ronald and his wife, Beatrice, run the farm now, but Caroline took after her grandmother...” she shot a gleaming look at her mother, “... and was an excellent needlewoman.”
“That will do, Helen,” said Mrs. Wyatt.
“Well, she is excellent. Luckily her mother had the sense to allow her to go and train or she ... she’d be spending her days feeding the hens and collecting eggs. At least Ronald allowed her to keep on with the course after Mrs. Cook died.”
“You like this girl?” asked Anne impulsively, and with sudden insight.
“I love her,” said Helen simply. “She’s older than me, but she’s my best friend. We used to play together when we were children, then I wasn’t allowed to play at the farm any more.”
“Tom Cook wasn’t so particular a farmer as his son Ronald,” said Mrs. Wyatt sharply. “Ronald at least keeps the place clean. You used to come home in a disgusting state...”
“Well, we had fun,” said Helen defiantly.
In that moment Helen looked less like her mother than Anne had ever seen her, and she began to suspect there might be a lot of her father in the girl. It was evident in her outdoor look. Mrs. Wyatt looked much more like an indoor plant.
“She ... Caroline ... wasn’t good enough, was she, Mother?” asked Helen, her eyes gleaming again. “To play with me, I mean?”
“But is she good enough to do the embroidery?” asked Anne, deciding that it was time to finish with past grievances.
“None better,” Helen assured her.
“Then I shall call and see her,” Anne decided, making a note of the girl’s name and address. “I’d better telephone first. But I would like to see samples of her work and it would be better for me to go to her.”
“I shan’t be a party to your employing Caroline Cook,” said Mrs. Wyatt flatly.
Anne blinked. Surely if the girl was available, and could do the job, it didn’t matter if Helen had long ago come home smelling of the farmyard after a good day’s play with another girl! Now she saw the look of hope on the other girl’s face. If Caroline was her best friend, surely it should give Helen a lot of pleasure having her here to work for a month or two.
“I think the main thing is her skill,” said Anne quietly. “It seems to me that we’re very fortunate to have someone qualified on our own doorstep, as it were.”
“You’re a stupid girl,” Mrs. Wyatt told her. “You see nothing else worthy of consideration but the obvious. It never occurs to you that things here are not so simple as they appear. However, in regard to the tapestries and all the other things which require to be repaired and restored, I have no choice but to leave it to you. I would like, however, to see the decorators before they start on the drawing room. Henry, Francis’ father, promised me that I could have my choice next time that room was done. He supervised the last plans and I find the effect too dark. There’s no need to live in a dark world these days. Today there is such a wide choice of colour, whereas at one time everything had to be dark brown.”
Anne nodded. For once she was in agreement with the older woman, remembering the old Manse at home which had looked very gloomy till her mother rebelled! The plans, however, had already been made.
“All right,” she smiled, “though they already have the plans. I’m thankful to resolve the question of the tapestries so easily. That is, if Miss Cook decides to come to us.”
“She’ll come,” said Mrs. Wyatt. “Don’t worry about that. She’ll come all right.”
She got up and made her way out of the room, and Anne turned to Helen. The other girl was also looking at the dock.
“Gracious, I must fly! Try to see Caroline soon, won’t you, Anne?”
“I’ll try,” promised Anne.
The words, in Helen’s flute-like voice, seemed to hang in the air after Anne was left alone and memory stirred again.
Caroline ... the only way to get Mother to accept Caroline...
The words again hung in the air, and the colour began to drain out of Anne’s cheeks. She remembered overhearing them when she met Helen for the first time. Was it this girl whom Francis had wanted to marry? Had there been a row because Mrs. Wyatt refused to accept her?
Yet why, if that was the reason, hadn’t Francis just gone off and married her? After all, it was just what had happened with her. Had he been in love with Caroline and felt she wasn’t “right” for Elvan?
Anne paused, her thoughts probing, though she did not want to examine them too closely. Just why had Francis insisted on their hurried wedding before he went off to America? Perhaps the real reason was something to do with Caroline Cook.
CHAPTER FOUR
ANNE made time to walk over to Cravenhill the following day. As yet she felt very strange to the area around Elvan, but the beauty of her surroundings almost took her breath away. She paused on a bridge which spanned the river, looking down on a delightful picturesque old house built near a small but very beautiful church. The river divided nearby, forming an island which flamed with colour from masses of flowers, shrubs and trees.
Anne lingered, feeling suddenly at peace with the world as she strolled over to the other side of the bridge, staring down the valley where the river flowed swiftly and smoothly, the water clear, pure and unpolluted. Occasionally a salmon leapt for a fly, the displaced water forming concentric rings, ever more increasing, then decreasing again as the river surged onwards. A range of hills formed a backcloth which caught and held her gaze, shimmering in the warmth of the day, then with a small sigh Anne walked on, remembering to go straight ahead at the crossroads till she came to a farm gateway marked “Cravenhill”.
The farm was very neat and tidy with well-kept buildings and a good solid farmhouse, fresh with cream paint and flower beds on either side of the front door. It was hard to imagine that Helen Wyatt had come here as a child, and gone home again “smelling of the farmyard”. Anne found the farmyard smell of the present day pleasant and warm with welcome.
She rang the bell, and smiled when a plump woman in her thirties opened the door.
“Mrs. Cook?” asked Anne. “I’m Anne Wyatt from Elvan Hall. I wondered if I might see Miss Caroline Cook, please.”
The smile had left the woman’s face, and her gaze became faintly hostile as she studied Anne for a long moment before answering. Then she opened the door wider and stood aside.
“Please come in, Mrs. Wyatt. I shall have to find Caroline for you, I’m afraid. We’re very busy at the moment, and she’s been helping.”
“I shan’t take up too much of her time,” promised Anne. “I’ve called on business, though, so I hope Miss Cook will have time to spare to talk to me.”
The small room into which Anne was shown was very pleasant, and sparkled with cleanliness. Richly coloured rugs glowed against polished wood floors, and Anne chose to sit on an old wooden settle by the window, listening to the pleasant farmyard sounds which wafted through the open door.
Presently she heard Mrs. Cook returning, and Anne stood up as a very small d
ark girl walked into the room. She was tiny, thought Anne, looking down at Caroline Cook from her superior height, as Beatrice Cook introduced them. She was like a small sprite who had come in out of the woods with her large faun-like eyes, cloudy dark hair and piquant little face.
“How do you do, Mrs. Wyatt?” Caroline said, politely but rather warily, as she eyed Anne with obvious reserve. She excused her businesslike clothes of blue corduroy slacks and a white shirt blouse. “I ... I’m afraid we’re rather busy today.”
“I hope I won’t keep you a moment,” said Anne quickly. “In fact, I could perhaps make another appointment to come back and see you, if today isn’t convenient. I should have telephoned first of all...”
She could feel the girl’s hostility as she stared at her, and wondered if she shouldn’t make her excuses and go quickly.
“Not at all,” said Caroline. “Er...” She glanced at Beatrice, who made for the kitchen door.
“I’ll make a cup of tea.”
“Thank you,” said Anne, with a smile. “I should welcome some tea.”
A moment later both girls were left alone to weigh each other up.
“You are ... Helen’s friend?” asked Anne, rather warily, and Caroline nodded.
“We’ve known each other since we were children.”
Anne deliberated, wondering how to broach the subject. Now that she had seen Caroline, she found her heart doing strange things, almost as though she were viewing the girl’s beauty with dismay. She couldn’t imagine Francis knowing this lovely dark elf of a girl and not falling in love with her. Yet, if that were so, why hadn’t he married Caroline? Why had he chosen her instead?
“I ... er ... I believe you do needlework.”
“I have a degree in embroidery.”
“And you’re going to work in London?”
“Not till September. I’m going to Goldsmith’s College in London to do a post-graduate course in embroidery.”
“I see. I ... ah ... wondered if you’d be interested in taking on a special job at Elvan Hall. We’re at the moment renovating the old house.”
“I know.”
Caroline’s voice was quiet, but Anne thought she detected a rather odd note, as though this had meant a great deal to her.
“There are a few lovely tapestries and chaircovers, etc., which require an expert hand on them to carry out repairs. I wondered if you could take it on,” said Anne simply.
“Did Helen send you?” asked Caroline quickly. “Does Mrs. Wyatt know?”
“Helen did mention that you could do the job, but only after I said I would try to find someone. And Mrs. Wyatt does know ... yes.”
Caroline bit her lip, the lovely pink flush on her cheeks enhancing her queer elfin beauty.
“Does ... Francis know you’ve asked me?”
This time Anne paused, wondering if she ought to point out that all this was her business, not Caroline’s. Then she remembered that this girl had' known the Wyatts all her life.
“He knows I’m doing everything possible to make Elvan Hall a place of beauty again, and that I’m preserving all that is good and beautiful there. He knows I shall employ someone to do the embroidery, and would no doubt consider it very sensible that the someone should be you.”
Caroline’s colour had come and gone, leaving her slightly pinched.
Again Anne began to wish she hadn’t come, and that she was, perhaps, making a mistake. But surely the girl would not accept the job if there really had been anything between her and Francis.
“I could always get someone from London, I suppose,” she began, “if you aren’t interested...”
“I am,” said Caroline quickly.
“I would want to see samples of your work, and how much would you expect to be paid?”
“Oh, I should be happy to do it without...”
“That would be unthinkable. This is a professional job, and would require to be treated professionally.”
There was an awkward silence, while Caroline Cook sat down, looking rather withdrawn.
“Perhaps you’d like to think it over and I could come back and see you ... say in two or three days’ time?”
Caroline nodded slowly.
“I should be free to see you on Wednesday,” she said, “and to come to ... to the Hall, if that would help. It would save you coming all the way over here.”
“No. As I say, I should want to see samples of your work, and I presume you have them at home?”
“Yes ... yes, I have quite a few. I can get them all ready for you.”
“That would be splendid.”
She looked up with a smile as Beatrice Cook tapped on the door and came in carrying a solid-looking wooden tray.
“I hope I’m not interrupting?” she asked, hardly disguising her curiosity.
“No, we’ve talked enough for the moment,” Anne told her smoothly. “I shall come again to see Miss Cook on Wednesday.”
“Surely she can save you the trouble...”
“It’s all arranged, Beatrice,” Caroline told her. “Mrs. Wyatt would like to see me again on Wednesday. She has offered me a job. I ... I shall have to think it over.”
“A job?”
“Only temporary, I’m afraid,” said Anne.
The older woman looked slightly relieved.
“She has a job,” she said, rather flatly.
“Only temporary,” said Caroline again. “At ... at the Hall.”
Their eyes seemed to challenge each other, and Anne felt that an understanding had passed between them. Beatrice quickly changed the subject and offered Anne a cup of rather strong dark tea.
It was refreshing, however, and Anne drank it gratefully, while she talked on general subjects, saying how much she admired the beauty of the surrounding countryside.
“Yes, it’s very beautiful,” Beatrice Cook agreed. “Have you got to know Cockermouth yet?”
“Not very well, but I find it a charming town and a worthy setting for the Wordsworth Memorial. There was certainly much to inspire the poet around here.” There was rather a long awkward silence.
“I shall walk back home again,” Anne said, rising. It was strange and delightful to think of Elvan Hall as home. She looked at Caroline, seeing a dark look in the girl’s eyes, as though she could read her mind. “You didn’t ride over?”
“No, I walked. It isn’t far, surely.”
“It’s almost a mile and a half.”
“So far?”
Anne was surprised. It had not seemed such a long way.
“Nevertheless I like to walk,” she said firmly. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Cook ... Miss Cook.”
“Good afternoon,” echoed Beatrice, while Caroline shook hands again.
“I’ll come,” said Caroline suddenly. “Back to the Hall, I mean. I’ll ... be glad to do the job ... I’ve decided.”
“Oh.” Anne felt slightly taken aback. “I still think you ought to think it over,” she said firmly, “and I do want to see your work. Decide on a fair salary, too.”
“Very well,” Caroline agreed.
Anne could almost feel the other girl’s eyes on her as she walked down the drive to the main road. Had she been wise in inviting this girl to the Hall? she wondered. There were things she didn’t know, things which had obviously happened in the past which had left their mark on both families. Was she wise in making these arrangements without any knowledge of what had gone before? Francis had known that the tapestries needed to be repaired. Why hadn’t he arranged for Caroline to do it, even if his mother had disagreed? And come to that, why had Mrs. Wyatt been so against having Caroline asked about the job? Guiltily Anne felt that the older woman’s opposition had prompted her to ask the girl!
Anne’s thoughts were rather more disturbed as she walked along the main road, even though darting birds, and the occasional drone of a bee made the warm fresh air relaxing and slightly soporific. Anne realised that she was tired, and decided to rest in her room before tea, but already Helen was on th
e look-out for her.
“Did you ask her?” she said eagerly. “What did she say? Did she say she’d come?”
“I’ve asked her to think it over,” Anne told her flatly. “There’s much still to be decided.”
“She’ll come,” said Helen confidently. “She loves Elvan. It should have belonged to Caroline.”
Anne’s fatigue made her suddenly angry.
“What do you mean?” she asked, her eyes flashing a little. “Why should this place belong to Caroline Cook?”
Helen’s eyes dropped.
“She loves it so,” she repeated stubbornly. “Caroline would make it beautiful.”
“That’s surely our hope,” said Anne. “That’s why she’s being asked to come.”
She left Helen and mounted the stairs, her head high. It wasn’t Caroline’s home, it was hers. Hers and Francis’s. She had nothing at all to fear from Caroline Cook.
CHAPTER FIVE
ONCE a week Anne wrote to Judith, as well as her own parents. With Francis it was different, as she gave him an account of all the happenings at Elvan, writing a short paragraph daily. She felt it was the best thing she could do for him, keeping him well up to date with home news.
She missed young Judith, however. Now and again she had caught a rather frightened look in the little girl’s eyes, and felt that Judith was overdominated by her mother, who was inclined to shout a repeated order to the child.
“She behaves as though she were stupid at times,” she complained to Anne.
“She’s not at all stupid,” Anne had defended. “She’s very intelligent.”
Mrs. Wyatt had grunted, as though asking Anne what she knew about Judith, and now she felt she knew the child very well indeed, and was looking forward to having her home during the summer holidays.
There seemed to be little social life, apart from one or two events for charity, which Anne attended, even though she knew her presence might be the subject for gossip. Helen had gone with her once or twice, and Anne had been glad of her, but she found that people were very kind, and were willing, to accept as Francis’s new wife. Anne knew that she would have to play a bigger part in charitable affairs after she had settled in, but she thought she would enjoy this, and find it of interest.