'Doubtless! That is, if you agree to stay on,' Harry countered in his turn. But his brief thumbnail description of the erstwhile occupants of the house had not prepared Bobbie for the sight which met her eyes as she first glimpsed the four-hundred-year-old black-and-white-timbered building.
She drew in a big breath and stood still gazing up at it. 'It's absolutely perfect, Harry.' Her voice was very low. He stopped by her side and his eyes followed hers, taking in the twinkling of the diamond windows, gleaming in the afternoon sun, the beautifully tended gardens and the moat where duck and a couple of stately swans had made their home.
'There was a house built here previously,' he said, his gaze still on the upper stories. 'I imagine it must have been pulled down and rebuilt perhaps in the middle of the sixteenth century. It's hard to tell. And then very probably as families got smaller they'd take down some of the outbuildings and reduce its size. Come on, we'll go in. I expect the guide will put us more in the picture,' and taking Bobbie's elbow he led her into the beautiful old house.
As they waited for the guide and Harry bought a couple of souvenir catalogues and some cards, she whispered to him, 'Do you want me to take notes?'
He glanced down as he took his purchases and shook his head smilingly. 'I'll make a few notes in my own rather peculiar hieroglyphics, thanks. No, just drink in the atmosphere. I'll be interested later to get your feelings about the place. I always believe old houses breathe out the essence of the people who lived in them,' and as the guide assembled two or three other people to go round the house he ushered Bobbie for-ward to join them.
It might almost still be occupied by those ill-fated three-hundred-year-old ghosts, Bobbie thought as she followed the guide and listened to his crisp, informative history of the house. Some of the original Jacobean furniture still stood in place, and where necessary an obviously skilled hand had been at work filling in the discrepancies.
They were shown all over the house. The big upper hall on the first floor occupying the two centre bays, the window on the second floor where the wife of one of the conspirators had scratched a message with her diamond ring. They were shown the two priest holes, one in a bedroom where an apparently supporting beam swung open when touched, and another on the second floor which opened into the wainscoting, and made Bobbie shudder as she visualised the man hiding there, trembling as he listened and wondered whether he was going to be discovered and tortured or killed. When they emerged into the garden once more she was still lost in another world three centuries old, and as she turned to Harry she could see that he too wore an abstracted expression on his face as if he had not quite reached the present day either.
He took her down into the gardens and they sat on a convenient seat, looking up at the house in silence. Suddenly Harry got to his feet again. 'If you'll be all right for a minute or two, Bobbie, I'd like to go back inside on my own and walk round again without the guide.' And without waiting for a reply he strolled off quickly.
Bobbie sat on silently in the garden, still bemused by the savour of history which this house breathed from every crevice. It was pleasant sitting here in the late afternoon sun. There was a bee busy in the Michaelmas daisies behind her and she began to feel almost drowsy.
Determinedly Bobbie shook herself awake. It would never do for Harry to come out and find her fast asleep in the sunshine. When he did emerge however, some half an hour later, she was in conversation with a pleasant American couple who were 'doing' England.
They began to stroll off just as Harry's tall figure appeared. After listening to their enthusiastic descriptions of what they called 'Elizabethan England', looking towards Harry with a backcloth of the old half-timbered building, Bobbie almost imagined that his modern clothes changed in the twinkling of an eye, and he advanced towards her ready for a journey wearing thick boots of Spanish leather on his feet, riding breeches and an embroidered coat, and with a feathered hat on his head.
As if he had entered into her thoughts he walked up to her and asked in a stern voice, 'Why tarryest thou here in the garden, mistress? Are there not sufficient tasks within doors to keep thee occupied?'
In an instant Bobbie overcame her surprise and entered into the game, glancing down in apparent bashfulness and saying in a half whisper, 'I lingered here, sir, in the hope of meeting thee. I thought perhaps thou might take me up in thy carriage. The servants say it is bewitched and proceeds without horses.'
Harry grinned and became instantly his usual twentieth-century self, but he still stood over Bobbie and looked down into her face with an expression which she found difficult to intrepret. For the first time she was aware of him as an attractive member of his sex. Before this moment he had always been just Nils and Sean's older brother, a familiar figure whom she had known all her life. She had laughed at the tales of his numerous girl-friends, but suddenly it was a mystery to her no longer why in the past he had managed to acquire an endless stream of alluring females during his 'holiday periods', and why when the next time came around for him to have a little well-earned leisure he would doubtless have no difficulty whatsoever in finding yet another gorgeous creature to squire.
Hastily Bobbie got up, smoothed down her skirt and forced herself to be sensible. 'Is it time we were going?' If her voice was a trifle breathless Harry did not appear to notice.
'Yes,' his voice was abstracted, 'I think we should be wending our way. I've seen all I want to see here and got all the information I require. We may as well look for somewhere decent to eat. I expect you're beginning to feel hungry. I know I am.'
When they were sitting once more in the car he suddenly turned to her. 'I quite forgot until now. A friend of yours rang last night. He seemed slightly perturbed that you hadn't been in touch with him.'
Bobbie looked her surprise. 'By name John Davenport,' Harry went on as he put his key into the ignition and switched on the engine. 'I take it he's the current boy-friend and you've been neglecting him somewhat of late.'
Bobbie sat holding her handbag tightly. 'Well, I have been rather busy the last few days. I forgot to answer his last letter. And he isn't the current boyfriend, just a good friend I see sometimes in London.'
As the words left her lips she wondered why she had made a point of explaining to Harry her exact relationship with John Davenport.
'He didn't sound to be "just a friend" to me,' Harry said as he turned into the main road. 'I couldn't imagine how he got my private telephone number, but he explained he'd been round to the agency and your boss had given it to him.'
'I'm sorry,' Bobbie apologised. 'I can't think why Marie let him have your number. I gave it to her on the understanding that she only used it in an emergency. She knows she can get me on your house phone, or better still, leave word at home. Mother or Dad would always send a message down.'
'Well, it's perfectly all right. His call didn't bother me. I just felt sorry for the poor chap. Why don't you give him a ring tomorrow and put him out of his misery?'
Bobbie did not reply. She sat looking through the window thinking how complicated life could become without doing anything to make it so. In his last letter John had hinted very broadly that he would not be averse to coming down and spending a week-end at the cottage, but she had not replied. She was not keen to introduce him to her parents as a house guest, thereby giving the friendship an importance which for her it did not merit. It was one thing to accept John's casual company in London and she had enjoyed plays and concerts with him, but on the strict understanding that it was purely platonic. It was not her fault that he had suddenly become serious. She had been at pains to make him see that although she liked him very much she did not anticipate that her liking would turn to anything stronger and this phone call appeared like an intrusion of her privacy.
As if he had been following her thoughts without any difficulty Harry suddenly spoke. 'Is he trying to get you to think of settling down, Bobbie? About time! Most girls of your age are already married and have started a family.'
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bsp; 'Oh, have a heart!' she protested. 'I'm only twenty-two. There's plenty of time yet, and in any case, no one I've really liked has ever asked me.' Harry laughed as he negotiated a bend. 'Fair enough,' he commented. 'Point taken. I'm rather inclined to agree myself with the principle of "look before you leap" as regards marriage. But you're a very personable young lady and I'm surprised you haven't been snapped up before now.'
'Why the compliments all of a sudden?' Bobbie asked, deciding attack was the best form of defence. 'It's not like you, Harry, to toss bouquets right, left and centre. You wouldn't be wanting anything, would you?'
Harry took his hands for a brief instant off the steering wheel in a gesture of quick surrender. 'Acquit me of trying to get at you. I really mean what I say. Anyway, it's obviously a subject you don't much care to pursue, so we'll drop it. Now tell me. What did you think about the house?'
For the rest of the evening, over the meal which they shared at a charming little country inn, and during the drive home they continued to discuss the setting and characters in Harry's latest book. 'I'm not making the mistake this time,' he said when they were nearing the end of the journey, 'of writing it through the eyes of one of the women in the household. I did that last time and I found it terribly difficult to get under the skin of a girl, if you know what I mean.'
'I never thought of it like that.' Bobbie's voice was thoughtful. 'I couldn't imagine trying to write a book from a man's standpoint, not that I'm clever enough to write one in any case,' she continued. 'I think you're quite marvellous.
'Oh, I know,' she said as Harry began to laugh deprecatingly, 'that a lot of your books are based on actual historical facts, but you do have to draw on your imagination, don't you? I can't believe you come across all the information which is contained in your books through research.'
'No, not all,' Harry conceded. 'But after all, human nature doesn't change very much. People must have reacted in those days much as they react now. The only difference was the creature comforts, the immediate surroundings and the politics of the day. Oh, and one or two other minor material things affected them of course.'
'Do you really think that people's attitude to love and marriage and morals was just the same around 1600?'
'I'm sure it was.' Harry's answer was immediate. 'And I'd bet my last penny it was the same in Roman times and even before that, if the truth were known. Why, I've often thought the way people behave in London these days must be very like the way they behaved before the fall of the Roman Empire. It sometimes seems to me the so-called "swinging" set dash around madly seeking fresh amusements because they instinctively know we're all skating on the brink of a precipice.'
'I never thought of it like that,' Bobbie said, and she was still lost in thought about this particular viewpoint when she fell asleep that night, wondering if Harry could possibly be right.
It was quite obvious next day that he had not spent the night as she in bed, sleeping soundly. When she entered his workroom promptly at nine the following morning, it was to find Harry sitting behind his desk, red-eyed, tieless and looking tired and unshaven.
As Bobbie came into the room he glanced up at the wall clock. 'Blazes! Is it that time already?' he exclaimed.
'You've not been working all night, have you?' Bobbie demanded.
'Afraid so.' Harry yawned as he got to his feet and stretched. 'I was still steeped in the atmosphere of Huddington when we got in last night and didn't feel like bed, so I just got on with it while everything was fresh in my mind. And as I've got to go up and see my publisher this afternoon, I think I'll go and have a long hot soak in a bath. There's plenty for you to be getting on with, though, dear girl,' he grinned like a small boy at Bobbie's expression. 'Don't overdo it, however, and no staying on after six if I'm not back.'
Bobbie could not help returning his smile as she picked up the tapes and went to her own office. A few minutes later she heard water running in the adjacent bathroom and guessed Harry was washing away the rigours of his energetic night. She was soon immersed in typing and heard no more, only emerging briefly from her absorption to snatch some lunch and an afternoon cup of tea.
When Bobbie went into the kitchen about half past four she was surprised to see Mrs. Sorensen making pastry. 'Hello, Bobbie,' she greeted her. 'I suppose Harry's keeping you hard at it.'
'There's certainly plenty to do. Aunt Jo. I came in to see if I could scrounge a cup of tea. Do you mind if I put the kettle on?'
'Help yourself,' Joanna Sorensen said as she washed her hands at the sink. 'By the way, you will be here to dinner tonight, won't you?'
'Yes, please,' Bobbie replied. 'Harry's gone up to London, as I expect you know, so I thought I'd work through until about seven. There's quite a bit still to do and I'd like to get it all finished before he comes home if it's possible.'
'We shan't be eating until eight, so you should have plenty of time. Sven's coming down tonight,' Mrs. Sorensen explained, 'and I daresay Nils will come with him. When it's a mild evening like this they don't stay in town if they can help it.'
Bobbie had cleared her desk by ten past seven that evening, and hurriedly covering her typewriter she went upstairs and collecting her toilet articles found an unoccupied bathroom and had a pleasant hot bath before changing into a floor-length flowered dress which her mother had given her the previous Christmas. It combined several exotic colours and Bobbie hesitated before the mirror. Should she change into something simpler? And then, turning to see all aspects of her slim figure in the beautifully patterned print, she decided to stay as she was. She even added long ear-rings before, satisfied that her face and hair were suitably done, she went downstairs to join Mr. and Mrs. Sorensen in a pre-dinner drink.
She was rather taken aback to find not only Sven and her Aunt Jo, but Nils, Sean and two strangers, both in the blue uniform of the R.A.F., sitting in the drawing-room.
As she hesitated in the doorway Sean walked forward and took her hand. 'Hello, Bobbie. Nice to see you. And looking very glamorous as usual.'
Holding her hand, he led her across and introduced her to his two friends. 'Meet our quack, Tony Hill, and this is one of the bright sparks of the W.R.A.F. contingent, Liz Willoughby.'
Bobbie found herself shaking hands first with the young doctor and then with a cool blonde who eyed her with an even cooler look. She realised that Sean was still holding her by the hand and when she tried to disengage it his fingers tightened. 'Come on, love, what do you feel like drinking this evening?'
Before she could make any protest which indeed without causing general embarrassment she could scarcely have managed, he led her over to the drinks table to choose her favourite sherry. It took her five minutes to comprehend that she was being manipulated by Sean, and manipulated very cleverly. Only a knowing grin from Nils put her wise. For some reason best known to himself Sean Sorensen was trying to make Liz Willoughby think he and Bobbie were more than friends, and Bobbie herself began to wonder more and more as the evening proceeded why Liz had been invited to come to dinner and meet his parents.
Since Sean was determined to monopolise her it fell to Nils to entertain the tall good-looking W.R.A.F. officer. She certainly was a looker, Bobbie thought, glancing across the room as she sipped her coffee after dinner. Liz Willoughby was standing beside one of the tall windows leading into the garden, sipping a liqueur and smoking a cigarette as she talked. The smoky blue of the uniform, the trim lines suited this self-possessed beauty admirably, and contrived to make Bobbie feel overdressed in her brightly coloured caftan.
It did not help her confidence to guess that Sean was being so attentive simply to spite the tall girl by the window, and though he was doing it beautifully and convincingly, Bobbie, forewarned by the glance which she had intercepted between the two brothers, knew that it was all a put-on show.
She experienced a quite unexpected feeling of absolute relief when Harry suddenly strolled into the room. He seemed a bastion of reliability in comparison with these two volatile broth
ers of his, and she threw him a very warm smile of welcome as he came towards her, which made Harry's eyebrows go up in surprise, and herself flush as she realised that in the relief of seeing somebody she felt she could absolutely rely on, perhaps had been a little over-eager with her welcome.
But she soon found that her reliance had not been misplaced. It took Harry exactly two minutes to divine the atmosphere in the room, and with a dexterity at which she marvelled, he extricated her from Sean's side and began to monopolise her himself.
If anything this turn of events proved even more unwelcome to Liz Willoughby than Sean's coldness towards her during the earlier part of the evening. She had perked up when Harry was introduced to her and gushed over him, assuring him that she had read all his books and asking when the next was to be published.
Harry responded with one of his gentler caustic comments. Watching him, Bobbie noticed he displayed no sign of having had very little sleep in the last thirty-six hours, and apart from saying the drive from London had been boring, he did not mention that he had been on the go since eight o'clock the previous day.
He sat eating sandwiches and drinking a beer, chatting quietly to Bobbie about his afternoon in London. 'My publisher would like to see chapters one and two as soon as we've got them into some sort of decent order,' he said under cover of the general conversation. 'Do you think we could get on with it this week?'
'I don't see why not. I've finished everything you left for me this morning.'
'Good heavens, have you? You must have kept at it all day. I thought I told you to knock off at six.'
Bobbie smiled. 'You know you're not sorry it's done, so come off it,' whereupon he squeezed her hand which lay on the settee between them.
Bobbie suddenly looked up and saw Mrs. Sorensen's eyes were on them, but immediately she turned away and started to talk to Tony Hill. Bobbie frowned. She hoped Harry's mother would not jump to any wrong conclusion. It was unfortunate that she had caught them at that particular moment. He had only been expressing gratitude, after all, nothing else.
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