by Mary Cummins
“There’s a barrier between us?”
She nodded.
“It keeps coming up. I ... we ... can’t seem to break it down.”
He said nothing, and she had never felt the barrier more real than it was now. She had no idea why she had told him all this, except that it had been some sort of appeal to change things between them. But now she saw that she had just made things worse.
That night she went once again to the dressing room, but he came up and stood looking down at her as she brushed her hair.
“I asked you to try to make a go of our marriage,” he told her flatly. “I asked you to meet me half-way, but instead you ... you’re locking yourself into your own small, world and shutting me out. You said you’d try, Anne.”
Her honey-gold hair lay soft against her pink cheeks, but she was unaware of its gleaming brightness.
“There are some things which need love ... love on both sides,” she said, in a low voice.
She had made a small floral arrangement for the bedside table, and he selected a golden yellow carnation, almost as bright as her hair. She watched while he twirled it round, then crushed the petals between his fingers.
“Very well, Anne, if that’s how you feel.”
The door closed with a quiet click which was more final than a loud bang.
Next morning Anne found that Francis had left for Carlisle before she got downstairs, and Mrs. Hansett eyed her searchingly and a trifle disapprovingly.
“I think the ‘trip to America has tired Mr. Francis, or something,” she remarked, clearing away his breakfast plates which he had obviously barely touched. Anne said nothing, knowing how much the housekeeper loved Francis. He had been left in her care many times as a boy, and she was fiercely protective towards him.
“Er ... will Caroline Cook be here for very long, ma’am?” Mrs. Hansett enquired, in a rather strained voice which told Anne that she had practically forced herself to ask the question. Jessie Hansett wasn’t one to give way to curiosity, or to interfere in things which didn’t concern her.
“A few weeks, then she’ll be going to London,” she said quietly.
“Hm. Perhaps the tapestries would have been best left as they were,” remarked Mrs. Hansett gruffly, and again Anne was surprised. The housekeeper had been greatly relieved to see all the restoration work at the old hall.
Anne looked at the older woman’s closed face, and knew full well that she, too, did not approve of having Caroline in the house.
“Why do you say that?” she asked bluntly, but already Mrs. Hansett was obviously deciding she had said too much.
“I’m sorry,” she said stiffly. “It’s none of my business, only Mr. Francis ... she upsets him.”
Anne sat down and poured herself a cup of coffee and Mrs. Hansett hovered nearby.
“He was happy ... when he brought you home, I mean, ma’am,” she said in a small rush. “He hasn’t always been happy.”
Anne wanted to ask questions, but felt as though her tongue was tied. Had he actually been engaged to Caroline Cook, and if he had, what had happened between them?
“I’m sure he’s only a little tired at the moment, Mrs. Hansett,” she said soothingly. “As you noticed, he needs a rest after his trip to America.”
The woman said nothing more, though Anne could feel her disapproval again, as she refused anything but toast and coffee.
“It’s to be hoped Miss Helen isn’t off her food,” she remarked, and picked up the coffee pot, saying she would make more fresh coffee.
Anne was glad there had been no further searching look, as she was becoming convinced about something which had only been a suspicion for several days. The thought of breakfast was repugnant to her, though she drank the coffee gratefully.
In view of the fact that all was not well with her marriage, Anne thought deeply about the possibility of a coming baby. Her throat tightened a little, thinking how wonderful such news might have been if theirs had been a normal marriage. As it was, she had no doubt Francis would be delighted at the prospect of a family, and would want to protect her and shower her with whatever love he was capable of giving her. She could become important to him for their baby’s sake.
But did she want that sort of relationship? It was almost like buying his love, love which might still belong to Caroline Cook.
Anne looked up as Helen came to join her.
“You look on top of the world,” her sister-in-law greeted her, and Anne flushed, knowing very well that her pale face and shadowed eyes told their own tale.
“So do you,” she countered.
“Can we have one more for dinner tonight?” asked Helen, an impish look in her eyes. “I’d like you all to meet Roger. Will Francis be home on time?”
“I’ve no idea,” said Anne quickly, and watched Helen raise her eyebrows again.
“Oh, so it’s like that, is it?”
“Like what?”
“Having a tiff already.”
“Don’t be silly,” said Anne, nerves making her feel irritated.
Then she pulled herself together. It would be a good thing if Helen did bring Roger Baxter home. She had worried about the girl now and again. There was something very young and appealing about her, in spite of her air of being able to take care of herself.
Anne managed to smile.
“I’m sure we’ll all be pleased to welcome Mr. Baxter,” she said gently. “I’ll have a word with Mrs. Hansett. Is there anything you’d like particularly for dinner?”
“The works,” said Helen grandly. “He’s important to me, Anne, don’t forget that. I want you all to get to know him, because... well, for a very special reason.”
Anne considered this as she looked uncertainly at the girl. This request to bring Roger Baxter home to dinner didn’t surprise her. She had been expecting something of the kind. But the look in Helen’s eyes was a puzzle as though there was something behind it all which she was missing.
Sighing, she rose. She would never understand this family, she told herself.
“I’ll see to it,” she said to Helen. “Don’t worry, we’ll give him ‘the works’, as you call it.”
“Thanks, Anne,” said Helen, her eyes still dancing. “I knew you would.”
After the initial questioning look in Mrs. Hansett’s eyes, the housekeeper became practical, and she and Anne soon worked out a menu for dinner that evening. Anne thought she had better ring Francis and warn him, also let her mother-in-law know. No doubt for once Mrs. Wyatt would be down in plenty of time for dinner. She would be more eager than anyone to make the acquaintance of Roger Baxter.
“Miss Cook wanted a word with you again, ma’am,” Mrs. Hansett told her, before they parted. “I think she’s having difficulty with that old bed quilt.”
“It’s a very beautiful bed quilt,” said Anne. “Well worth preserving. I’ll see her in a moment.” Meantime she could ring Francis and tell him about Helen’s invitation to Roger Baxter. No doubt Francis would be annoyed that Helen had not asked them first of all.
But Anne remembered saying that they would be happy to see him any time, eager as she was to meet the man who was obviously becoming so important to her sister-in-law. Now Helen had taken her at her word! Was that what had caused the gleam of mischief in her eyes? wondered Anne.
When she got through to the office in Carlisle, it was Louise Dalton who answered the telephone.
“Mr. Wyatt is out at the moment, Mrs. Wyatt,” Miss Dalton told her. “Shall I leave a note for him to ring you back?”
Anne thought for a moment.
“No, I’ll leave a message,” she decided. “Just tell him that Miss Helen has invited a guest for dinner this evening.”
“And you’ll want him home early,” said Miss Dalton, a smile in her voice. “All right. Leave it to me. I’ll see he gets home in good time.”
“Thank you,” said Anne, and put down the receiver. Would Francis appreciate being rushed home like that? she wondered. Then she sighed. O
h well, she didn’t know what else she could have done. How much easier it would be to run Elvan Hall, she thought as she made her way to the small room where Caroline Cook would be working, if only she did not have to deal with conflicting personalities.
Caroline Cook looked up, her dark eyes brightly beautiful, as Anne walked into the room.
“Hello, Caroline,” she said cheerfully, though she did not feel comfortable in the girl’s presence these days. She felt herself to be in a decidedly difficult position over Caroline, feeling that if she asked the girl to leave without being able to say that her work was inferior, then she would be acknowledging to everyone that she was afraid of her.
But if there had been a strong love between Caroline and Francis, surely the girl would wish to go of her own accord. Surely she wouldn’t stay here, seeing Francis daily, and knowing that he was married to someone else.
“It’s this material,. Mrs. Wyatt,” the girl said, picking up the lovely old quilt. “It’s badly tattered and I just can’t match it ... and anything else would look awful.”
Anne bent over the quilt.
“Yes ... yes, I can see that,” she said thoughtfully.
She looked at the colour which was an unusual shade somewhere between gold and yellow, and wondered if it had come from a ball gown, perhaps worn with excitement and gaiety in a bygone age. There were trunks containing old clothes which she still had to sort out. There might be something among them...
“Can you leave it for a day or two?” she asked. “I’m going to sort through some old trunks. I may find something.”
“Of course,” said Caroline, her eyes large and wistful as she slanted a glance at Anne. “It must be nice to be able to do that ... go through the trunks, I mean ... have the right to.”
Anne looked at the girl, seeing the eyes become guarded again, and felt a stab of irritation.
“Are you happy here, Caroline?” she asked bluntly. “Perhaps you’d prefer us to have the rest of the needlework done elsewhere.”
Immediately the dark eyes were widely innocent. “Oh no, Mrs. Wyatt! You must know how much I enjoy doing this work. I only meant that it must be exciting to dip into old chests and things...”
Anne nodded, though she knew that wasn’t what Caroline had meant at all. She’d been quietly reminding Anne that it might have been her right. “That’s all right, then,” said Anne briskly.
“I was thinking that since there’s a lot to do, I could either come earlier or leave later,” Caroline offered diffidently.
“Whatever you like,” agreed Anne. “You know best how long the job will take.”
The girl’s face lit up with a smile, her eyes candid.
“That’s all right, then.”
Anne left her to her sewing, thinking that it was nice to find a girl who loved her work so much that she was willing to work longer hours to do the job properly.
And with more opportunity of seeing Francis, said her suspicious mind. Francis had not been at all pleased to see Caroline, but as he got used to her presence, perhaps that would change. Anne rubbed her forehead, feeling that she was becoming more and more involved in making mistakes.
She met Helen in the corridor.
“I’m just going to ask Caroline if she can come for dinner, too, this evening,” she said breezily. “That is, if you don’t mind, Anne. I want Roger to meet all my friends.”
“Oh.”
Anne felt taken aback, though common sense told her that there was no reason why Helen shouldn’t invite Caroline.
“You don’t mind?”
“Of course not,” she said, her voice rather uncertain, and Helen looked at her with dancing eyes.
“That’s all right, then. That will make six, just right for a dinner party.”
Anne thought of Mrs. Wyatt and wondered what she would have to say with, according to her, three undesirables at her table!
Anne didn’t feel at her best as she prepared for Helen’s guests that evening. Francis had come home early, and she had hurried to meet him, hoping that there would be the old comradeship between them, if nothing else. She could have done with his support. But when she explained about Helen’s invitation to her friends, he looked rather cold.
“She shouldn’t spring these things on you, Anne,” he told her. “You must see that Helen consults you first of all.”
“She’s entitled to bring her friends home. I like her to do that.”
“Yes, but not to invite them before she asks you.”
“She asked me before she invited Caroline.” This time she saw his mouth tighten.
“Very well, Anne. So long as you’re happy. It’s just that I don’t want her imposing on you.”
He eyed her intently, and she flushed, well aware of her own pale face and shadowed eyes.
“You look tired, my dear. Sometimes I feel very selfish to ... to expect so much from you.”
She said nothing, flushing under his scrutiny.
“I ... I’ve brought you a necklace to wear. It belonged to my grandmother. Mother never cared for it, so we kept it in the bank.”
Anne gasped a little when Francis returned with a black case, snapping open the lid to reveal a heavy Victorian necklace of gold set with rubies and diamonds.
She could imagine that the ornate setting would not be to Mrs. Wyatt’s liking, since the older woman preferred pretty things, and Anne herself was not sure that she liked it. Francis had fastened it about her neck, and suddenly her plain gold silk dress looked regal and elegant.
She had flushed at his touch, and the warmth of colour in her cheeks made her look beautiful as her long honey-coloured hair was swept back off her forehead.
“It’s beautiful,” she said softly, seeing the stones gleam with fire as they caught the light.
She felt his hands tighten on her shoulders, then he turned away.
“That’s all right, then. I ... er ... I don’t know much about these things ... what you like to wear, I mean.”
He handed her the box awkwardly, and she took it, suddenly wishing she could put her arms round his neck and kiss him for the gift, as could any other wife. But already Francis was turning away, and she looked at her watch. Helen was already downstairs, watching out of Roger Baxter. She, too, was looking her best tonight in a sea blue brocade dress which showed off her tall slender figure and bright pretty face to perfection.
Anne hadn’t known what to expect, but nothing had quite prepared her for her first, meeting with Roger Baxter. As Helen led him forward to meet her family, Anne thought he was surely the most handsome man she had ever seen. He was so self-assured and beautifully dressed that almost from the first moment he seemed to take charge of the family party.
Anne glanced at her mother-in-law, a trifle amused to see that for once Mrs. Wyatt seemed at a loss for words.
Francis had welcomed the new arrival cordially, though there was a searching look on his face when he looked at his sister’s face. Anne felt suddenly protective towards Helen. She felt that the girl needed someone of her own, and needed the love of a good man with whom she could be happy. She had not exactly gone out of her way to be welcoming to Anne, but she didn’t blame Helen for that. There was something vulnerable about her sister-in-law, thought Anne, as she looked round her assembled family, and she wanted to take hold of her and ask her not to lose her heart so wholeheartedly to Roger Baxter, because this polished, very self-assured man was so wrong for Helen. Anne could feel it instinctively, and wanted to protect her from the hurt which surely lay ahead.
A glance at Francis told her he was thinking much the same thing, but a moment later Caroline arrived, and new introductions were made.
Caroline looked breathtaking lovely in a dress she must have made herself, though it was one of the loveliest dresses Anne had ever seen. It was made of black satin, heavily embroidered with gold thread and appliqued gold kid. With it she wore pretty gold sandals and a narrow bracelet. There was no need for any jewellery, and Anne was suddenly c
onscious of the heavy weight of the ornate necklace which Francis had given her.
It wasn’t a very happy evening. Helen had soon sensed that her mother and Francis were bored with Roger Baxter’s monologue regarding business deals in which he shone successfully, and her pride in him was almost theatrical and rather embarrassing.
“I think it’s marvellous that you’re so successful these days when everything is ten times more difficult, Roger,” she enthused. “Don’t you think so, Francis?”
“Quite,” Francis told her briefly, and refused to make any more comment.
“I think one has to expand one’s gifts,” Roger told them expansively. “Mine just happens to be making the most of whatever I undertake to do. It’s a great pity, for instance, that you don’t try to make capital out of this old place. Turn it into a hotel, or a rest centre or something. People would pay a fortune to make use of it.”
Mrs. Wyatt was regarding him sourly.
“And those horses of yours, Helen ... you could offer riding and pony-trekking. Don’t you agree, Mrs. Wyatt?”
He looked straight at Anne, as though asking her to side with him, both being on the outside of this family.
“As it happens, I don’t, Mr. Baxter,” she told him evenly. “I feel that there are plenty of hotels already offering all the facilities you suggest. I prefer that Elvan Hall should remain exactly as it is.”
“Oh, but surely ... what about you, Miss Cook? Don’t you see the possibilities here?”
Caroline had spent most of the evening with her eyes straying to Francis. Now she coloured violently and jumped a little.
“Er ... I really don’t know, Mr. Baxter,” she said primly. “Only if Francis wanted it that way.”
Mrs. Wyatt gave a snort.
“I’m afraid you’ll get no support here, Mr. Baxter,” she said heavily. “I doubt if even Helen would agree with you.”
“Why not?” demanded Helen, laughing gaily. “Roger would do it all so well that the place would be made to pay with no loss of comfort to ourselves, I’m sure.”
Suddenly Francis frowned.
“You haven’t any ideas ... business ideas ... which include Elvan, have you, Mr. Baxter?” he asked flatly, and the other man flushed and, for once, was slightly disconcerted.