A Star Looks Down

Home > Other > A Star Looks Down > Page 10
A Star Looks Down Page 10

by Betty Neels


  from what the children had said, she gathered that they seldom came

  more than once a year, and yet the place showed no signs of having been

  closed for months on end; the furniture shone with polish, there was

  not a speck of dust to be seen and the carpet under her feet bore every

  sign of constant care.

  Perhaps Mrs Burge lived the whole year in the house, acting as

  caretaker as well as housekeeper.

  In the long narrow corridor at the head of the stairs, she opened the

  door the profess or indicated, into a room which reminded her strongly

  of Chifney--dark furniture and a bed whose chintz cover matched the

  curtains and chairs, and a silky carpet underfoot--a restful,

  sweet-smelling room, it would have been like that for generations;

  people living in the country weren't so prone to follow fashion

  slavishly, and if curtains and hangings had to be replaced they would,

  like as not, search far and wide to get exactly the same pattern as

  before.

  The profess or put down the case he was carrying, consigned his sister

  to her care and went downstairs again, where she could hear him urging

  the children to wash their hands for lunch.

  Mevrouw Thor becke was tired but cheerful enough.

  "I feel a fraud, going to bed in this way," she admitted, 'but I am

  weary, Beth.

  You are sure that you don't mind being left with the children for the

  rest of the day?

  ' "Not a bit," said Beth stoutly.

  "They can show me round and I daresay they'll go to bed willingly

  enough and sleep like tops if we spend the afternoon out of doors.

  ' She settled the pillows just so behind her patient, and with the

  promise of lunch on a tray just as soon as it could be arranged, she

  went downstairs.

  The car had gone from before the door and there was no sign of her

  luggage.

  She was on the point of going in search of it when the profess or came

  round the side of the house.

  "T'll take you to your room in a moment," he promised.

  "Mrs Burge is getting a tray ready for Mar tina and the children are

  upstairs.

  Come and have a drink.

  ' He swept her along with him into a large, low-ceilinged room, beamed

  and panelled and furnished with comfortable sofas and armchairs, and

  here again there was chintz and a thick carpet underfoot.

  "I really should.

  .

  .

  ' she began, 'the children.

  ' "Sherry first.

  Sit down, do.

  ' She sat, accepted her glass and sipped.

  The sherry was good; she shut her eyes for a second, listening to the

  vague country sounds coming in through the open windows.

  London and their miserable little flat seemed very far away.

  "I am going back this evening, after dinner.

  ' The profess or's voice, very quiet, merged nicely into her dreamy

  thoughts.

  "What shall you do with the children, have you any idea?

  ' "Well, could they show me round?

  They seem to love the place very much and there's a lot to see, isn't

  there?

  And after tea we could make some plans, perhaps, there must be things

  they specially want to do while they're here.

  They should be tired enough by bedtime.

  Would you tell me what you would like me to do exactly?

  I mean, I know I look after the children and help Mevrouw Thor becke

  once in a while, but is there anything else?

  ' "Good God, girl, that sounds like slave labour!

  Mrs Burge sees to the housekeeping and cooks and she has ample help;

  you'll not need to lift a finger.

  She has a niece who will take the children for a couple of hours when

  you want to be free; I'll leave you to see to that, and as for Mar

  tina, she needs nothing beyond companionship and a little

  reassurance.

  I think you will find that within a very short time she will want to

  join in the children's quiet activities.

  But not just yet--she is tired, isn't she?

  Do what you think fit, Beth; I'll leave you in charge.

  We will have lunch in a few minutes and go round the place; you're

  quite right, the children love it here, it is a pity that they only

  visit me once a year.

  ' She had finished her sherry and he took her glass from her and went

  over to the side table.

  "I should like them to come more often, but my sister and

  brother-in-law have a pleasant home in Willemstad and they don't like

  leaving it too often.

  ' She stared at him in surprise.

  "Oh, it's your house--I don't know why I thought it was Mevrouw Thor

  becke's, at least, I assumed it was because you've already got one

  house in London.

  ' He looked meek.

  "I'm afraid I own this one too--my godmother, you know.

  Perhaps I should have sold it, but I came here a great deal as a boy

  and I'm fond of it.

  I'm fond of the London house too.

  ' Beth coloured faintly.

  "Oh, I'm sure you are.

  I didn't mean, that is--it must be lovely to have two homes.

  ' He looked as though he were about to say something, but he smiled

  faintly instead.

  "Shall we go up to your room?

  ' he suggested.

  It was a charming apartment at the end of the landing where it joined a

  little passage at right angles.

  The children's rooms were close by as well as a bathroom, the profess

  or told her as he opened the door.

  Rather to her surprise he came in too and walked over to the latticed

  window overlooking the wide sweep of grass behind the house.

  He spoke casually, looking over his shoulder at her.

  "I shall be down for the week-end--we will go over to Chifney if you

  would like that.

  ' She beamed her pleasure.

  "Oh, lovely-could we really?

  We can see it easily from the road.

  ' "My intention was to take you to see your stepbrother.

  ' Her smile faded.

  "Then I'd rather not go," she told him uncertainly.

  "It's awfully nice of you to have thought of it, but I don't want to

  see him.

  ' "You are afraid of him?

  ' His voice was bland.

  She considered the question carefully.

  "No--not at all, but I dislike him very much.

  He was unkind to my mother after my father died.

  ' "And unkind to you too?

  ' His voice had an edge to it.

  "Yes, and William.

  That's why we've never gone back--you see, he might gloat.

  ' "Ah yes.

  All the same, would it not be an excellent opportunity toer--drop in on

  him in passing?

  We might mention William's success in the medical world--a little shop

  window dressing, as it were.

  Perhaps we might alter his ideas about you; presumably he thinks of you

  as a pair of struggling workers, trying to make ends meet.

  ' "But that's just what we are.

  ' She was incurably honest.

  "You know that, and so do I. But we could, without deviating too much

  from the truth, give him a different picture.

  Success, my dear girl--a gentle hint that you neither require his he
lp

  nor wish for it.

  ' Beth eyed him in some astonishment.

  "I should never have guessed.

  .

  .

  that is, I can't think why you should be so interested.

  ' There was a gleam of amusement in his eyes.

  "Shall we say that I like to see justice done?

  ' he answered mildly, and strolled to the door.

  "Lunch in five minutes, and I'll bring the children down with me.

  ' He nodded pleasantly to her and left her to her thoughts.

  They were waiting for her when she returned from taking up Mevrouw Thor

  becke's tray, the children unnaturally tidy, the profess or lying back

  in a great easy chair with his eyes shut, but at Beth's appearance he

  got up and ushered everyone across the hall into the dining room, and

  the children, finding their tongues, chattered like magpies, but peace

  reigned again after a few minutes; Mrs Burge was a splendid cook and

  they all did justice to her roast beef.

  It wasn't until they were nicely embarked on the apple pie and cream

  that the conversation, from a polite trickle, became a flood once

  more.

  Beth, helping Alberdina and eating her own lunch, felt happier than she

  had done for a long time.

  Happy wasn't quite the right word, content was nearer the mark; a

  pleasant feeling of being somewhere where she was wanted and where she

  wanted to be.

  She heaved a sigh of pleasure and caught her host's eye.

  "The house first or the animals?

  ' he asked.

  She was conscious of four pairs of anxious eyes turned upon her.

  "The animals," she said promptly, and was rewarded by the children's

  faces.

  They went to the pond first, beyond the stables, and fed the ducks

  there, and then the geese who came waddling towards them, and when the

  children were tired of that they went down to the wide gate which shut

  in the donkey and the horses.

  "You ride?

  ' asked the profess or, holding Alberdina firmly perched on the gate's

  top rung.

  Beth paused, remembering.

  "Oh, yes-Beauty, and Sugar when we were children, but that's years

  ago.

  What about the children?

  ' "Not yet; their father wishes them to leam-it might be a good

  opportunity to get them started if I can find a pony.

  If you care to ride, please do so.

  Mrs Burge's son.

  Jack, looks after things here, he'll saddle either Prince or Kitty for

  you.

  ' She glowed, her eyes a deep purple with excitement.

  "Oh, how very kind of you!

  Before breakfast, perhaps?

  And if you could find a pony, I could start the children off.

  ' They were strolling round the garden now, with the children darting

  from one side to the other, delighted with themselves and everything

  there.

  As they reached the garden door into the house, the profess or

  stopped.

  "This is where I cry off," he remarked.

  "The children will show you the house.

  ' He didn't say why he wouldn't come with them; ten minutes later, from

  the landing window, Beth saw him get into his car and drive away.

  Naturally he would have friends in the neighbour hood; as she was led

  in and out of the delightful rooms in the old house, she was seeing him

  very clearly in her mind's eye, being entertained by elegantly dressed

  lovelies, amusing him with their witty conversation and capturing his

  attention with their good looks.

  The hussies, declared Beth silently, quite carried away by her own

  imagination.

  He reappeared that evening just as she had got the children comfortably

  settled for the night and taken up Mevrouw Thor becke's tray.

  She was on her way downstairs, feeling lonely and a little subdued

  after the children's bracing society, when she heard the car draw up,

  and a moment later the profess or was in the hall, grinning up at

  her.

  "Hullo," he greeted her, 'am I too late to say good night to those

  brats?

  ' She shook her head.

  "Not really, though I have just turned out the lights.

  ' He was already on the stairs.

  "Good.

  I'll be very quick wait for me in the drawing room, Beth.

  ' She chose a chair by the splendid empty fireplace and sat composedly,

  sure in her mind that he wouldn't be staying for dinner, but go away

  again, leaving her alone.

  She found the idea so disagreeable that she stopped thinking about it

  and pondered instead on his strange habit of calling her by such a

  variety of names: Beth, Elizabeth, Miss Partridge Could it be according

  to his mood?

  she was wondering, when he joined her.

  "Sherry?

  I'm sure you've earned it.

  I felt like a traitor leaving you to the mercy of the children for the

  rest of the day.

  ' She accepted the sherry.

  "I don't suppose you gave it a thought," she observed coolly.

  He had taken a chair opposite her.

  "Why do you say that?

  ' Her voice was sedate.

  "I expect you were in pleasant company.

  ' His eyes had been half shut, now he opened them wide and she was

  startled afresh at their vivid blue.

  "Oh, very pleasant," he smiled charmingly.

  "I have a number of friends living round and about, though I don't see

  them very often.

  Perhaps we will have a small party before you go back.

  ' "A good idea," she agreed.

  "It would do Mevrouw Thor becke good.

  ' "And you.

  Miss Partridge?

  ' The?

  Oh, you don't have to invite me.

  Profess or.

  I'm here to look after the children.

  ' She smiled at him warmly.

  He put down his glass and got to his feet, took her glass from her

  hand, too and pulled her upright.

  "Will you come if I ask you?

  ' he wanted to know.

  "Well, yes, I suppose so," and because that sounded ungracious: "Thank

  you, I should like that--if you want me to come.

  ' "I want you to come, Bern.

  ' He had bent to kiss her before she realized that that was his

  intention, tucked his arm under hers and said cheerfully: "Dinner, I

  think, don't you?

  Then I must be off.

  ' They dined in a leisurely fashion which gave the lie to the profess

  or's intention to leave immediately after the meal, and the

  conversation, to Beth's secret annoyance, was of nothing but St

  Elmer's; the newest techniques and surgery in general.

  He could have been giving a lecture at the hospital instead of sitting

  at the head of their own elegantly appointed dining table.

  She felt put out; she might' not be much to look at, but no one had

  ever hinted that she was a dull companion.

  Perhaps he found talking to her difficult and so kept to safe mutual

  topics?

  Her answers became more and more wooden, but he seemed not to notice;

  he finished a learned and lengthy discourse on the hazards of

  transplants, looked at his watch and announced that he would have to

  go.

  Beth went to
the door with him and wished him good-bye and watched him

  go upstairs to see his sister, before going along to the kitchen to

  warn Mrs Burge that they had finished their dinner; she took care to

  stay there until she heard the front door close behind him.

  She was crossing the hall on her way to see if the children were asleep

 

‹ Prev