by Julia Anders
"My uncle is very handsome, isn't he?" Tonio asked. "He looks much like my father."
"I'm sure your father was a very handsome man," she said, not quite answering his question. "Come along now. It's time for your bath, so you'll be very handsome when we go to dinner."
Jason Corey was having coffee in the library by the time she finished putting Tonio to bed. They had had a jolly evening in the gay little cafe and he had giggled all the way through his bedtime story and kissed her warmly good night.
She paused on the threshold of the library. What a contrast, she thought, seeing her employer sitting there so stiff and silent. As if he were a little lonely —a little out of it, the thought came to her mind, but she dismissed it as nonsense.
He looked up and saw her standing there in the new coral skirt and sweater outfit and for a moment it almost seemed as if his face brightened. Then he said dryly, "I trust you enjoyed a delicious dinner, Miss Delevan."
"Tonio had fun, I think," she answered defensively.
He gestured her to a chair and poured a cup of coffee for her.
"Well, now." His eyes seemed to pierce her. "Tell me about this magical transformation you've performed on my nephew."
"There isn't any magic. It was just being able to talk the same language. Can't you imagine how terrified he was? His father dead, not knowing where his mother was, not being able to ask anyone. He's so young, and here he was surrounded by grownups who not only couldn't talk to him, but didn't even stop to think that little boys need to play. Even so soon after a loss like the one he had, children need to play."
He nodded. "But he wouldn't even eat. Mrs. Baggett seems to have calmed down, so you must have worked some magic there."
"Not really. It's just that Mrs. Baggett's idea of how to feed a child didn't take into account he is an Italian child. You know how it is when you're away from home and miserable. Familiar food is a comfort. I don't think most children are great experimenters when it comes to eating. Mrs. Baggett kept giving him things she considered great treats, like steak and kidney pudding, and roast mutton, and shepherd's pie, and treacle tarts. He'd never tasted any of them before and was in no mood to try to like anything new. And she kept trying to make him eat porridge for breakfast. And then, when he asked for ice cream, saying gelato, of course, she nodded as if she understood and gave him a dish of gelatin. I think that was what he threw on the floor," she admitted.
Jason laughed and it transformed his whole face, easing the stern lines around his mouth.
"So all I really did was ask him what he liked," continued Lynne, "and he's been quite greedily consuming all the veal scallops and pasta and chicken that she fixes."
"Then there was the matter of his not wanting to go to sleep. Well, he was accustomed to a bedtime story, but he always slept with a teddy bear, and it was just the last straw when that was gone, too. Of course I couldn't provide the old one, but we went to the village and chose a new one, and it seems to have helped."
"I'll reimburse you, of course."
"Thank you, but I'd rather not. You see, it was my special gift to him."
He gave her a long, level look. She flushed. "I suppose you're thinking that I'm being very silly—that as you pay my wages, it's your money anyway. But there's a difference you know, with a gift."
"No, I wasn't thinking that at all. I was thinking that you're a rather unexpected young lady."
There was silence for a moment and then he said, "I'd like you to stay on a bit longer, if that's agreeable. It's obvious you're doing Tonio a world of good."
"Of course I will, if that's what you want." She rose to go.
"And by the way," he added, "don't make any plans with Tonio for dinner tomorrow. Some people are coming for the weekend, and I'll expect you to dine with us."
Her heart skipped a beat, but only because of the new dinner dress, of course. She'd get to wear the beautiful blue dress at least once.
The guests were to arrive at varying times during the afternoon. It was a fine day and Lynne decided it might be more pleasant for Tonio if she took him for a picnic lunch and walk, so he wouldn't have to stay dressed up and on his best behavior for too many hours. She could see that he was cleaned up and presented about teatime if Jason Corey wished him shown to the guests.
Mrs. Baggett was nowhere to be seen when Lynne went to the kitchen; only the young maid, Hatton, who was helping out by cleaning vegetables.
"I'm going to pack a lunch for Tonio and me," Lynne said. "I don't think Mrs. Baggett would mind if I sliced some of this leftover joint for sandwiches, do you?"
"I shouldn't think so, miss," Hatton said. "She wouldn't be serving leftovers to guests. She fusses, Mrs. Baggett does, about having everything just so when there's people staying here. Not that this is much of a party. There's only to be Mr. Lloyd—he does legal work for the Master—and then there's the nice old doctor and his wife, and Mrs. Grant."
"And Mr. Grant?" Lynne asked idly, buttering slices of bread.
"Oh, there is no Mr. Grant, miss," Hatton confided. "Leastways, there is one, but he and Mrs. Grant have been separated quite some time. Now they're divorcing, or trying to. It's all of a tangle because Mrs. Grant inherited some big company from her dad and Mr. Grant runs the company and over the years got a lot of stock, and it's taking time to sort things out. I was clearing up the coffee things one night and I heard Mr. Lloyd tell the Master it would be a miracle if Mrs. Grant was free in less than a year. The Master didn't half look glum at that. I heard Mrs. Baggett and Mrs. Edgers talking, and it seems Mrs. Grant and the Master are expecting to marry after the divorce." Lynne sliced the sandwiches in two with a vigorous stroke of the knife. "It seems to me you overhear quite a bit."
"Well, of course, miss," Hatton said, unperturbed. "I will say Mrs. Grant is a fair treat to' look at. There's something about the way she looks at things though, you know?"
"No," Lynne said. "I don't know."
"I don't know as I can explain it. It's just a funny feeling I get. When her eyes touch on a thing, it's like she was seeing something different from what I see. Sometimes gives me the shivers, it does."
"You have a fertile imagination," Lynne said, twisting the top on the bottle of milk. "You can tell Mrs. Baggett that I know she's busy today and I'll see to Master Tonio's supper myself."
It was just bad luck that Jason Corey and Mrs. Grant were in the garden when Lynne and Tonio returned from their hike, Lynne in her old clothes, her hair dishevelled.
Hatton was right. Mrs. Grant was a fair treat to look at. She had a perfect oval face and improbably pale hair, almost silver, parted in the center and hanging straight as a length of silk. Lynne wasn't sure if her eyes were really green or if it was just the makeup that made them look that way.
"Justine, I'd like you to meet Miss Delevan and my nephew, Tonio. This is Mrs. Grant."
Lynne translated for Tonio and added that he must step forward and take her hand.
He did so, looking at her carefully, then asked Lynne, "Is she in a circus? There was a clown in a circus I saw with that green stuff around his eyes."
Lynne choked slightly.
"What did the little darling say?" Justine Grant cooed.
"He apologized for his appearance, but we've been on a long ramble," Lynne improvised.
"And he's taken his teddy with him. Such a big boy to carry around a teddy. Let me see it."
She reached for the toy bear he carried under his arm, and like a flash he had jerked it away and stepped behind Lynne for protection.
"Well!" There was chilly amusement in Justine's voice.
"Sorry; that was a special gift from Miss Delevan. He doesn't allow anyone to touch it," Jason intervened.
Justine turned appraising eyes on Lynne for the first time. In that one brief look she seemed to size up her age, the price of her outfit, and probably made an accurate guess as to the amount of her savings. "Ah, yes, you're little Tonio's nurse."
"Temporarily," Lynne said cool
ly. "If you'll excuse us, I'll take Tonio up and see to his bath."
The dress was as lovely as Lynne remembered, perhaps even lovelier, here in this gracious setting, than it had looked that day when she was so confused and harried and had first seen herself in it in the fitting room mirror.
She arranged her hair to tumble softly around her face as the saleswoman had suggested. She added just a touch of color to her lips and a spray of the perfume that Madelaine Cheney had so unexpectedly pressed into her hand. Her curly lashes were thick and dark, and she had never needed to enhance them with cosmetics.
It was good to know she was looking her very best because there was no doubt she was nervous. "Three breaths and I'll be ready," she told herself.
She went down a little early, thinking perhaps she could be of help to the housekeeper, and also because she felt it was not appropriate for an employee to make a grand entrance.
She found that her employer was ahead of her in the drawing room. He turned and stared at her quite blankly for a moment. Then his high arching brows rose briefly in surprise, but almost immediately his strong features were rearranged in an expression of careful control.
"I thought there might be something I could do to help," she said.
"Nothing, I think." His eyes were still on hers. "Let me pour you a sherry."
She hesitated, but he had already turned to the crystal decanter.
"Tonio behaved very nicely when you brought him to greet the guests at tea time," he said. "You've done wonders."
She shook her head. "He's a very sweet child. He just needs to know what's expected of him. Naturally, I think he's as polite as—well, as a five-year-old boy can be expected to be."
"Unless someone tries to touch his toy bear." He grinned. "Tell me what it was he really said to Mrs. Grant."
She feigned innocence. "I don't know what you mean."
"You translated it as an apology for his appearance, but somehow I think that's a great deal more polite than a five-year-old boy can be expected to be." She stifled a laugh and fortunately at that moment three of the guests appeared on the threshold.
Dr. and Mrs. Bannister were a charming middle-aged couple, who, Lynne gathered, lived somewhere in the vicinity and were not staying in the house for the weekend. Darren Lloyd was another guest down from London, whom Hatton had described as "doing the Master's legal work." He was a large man of about forty with an openness of face that made him seem completely trustworthy.
It was left to Justine, in the end, to make an entrance, and an entrance it was. She was dressed all in pale, shimmering gold with jewelry at her wrists and throat.
Jason crossed immediately to greet her. She looked up at him with a smile, murmuring something too low for the others to catch.
She looked quite breathtaking, Lynne thought, if perhaps a bit overdressed for a country weekend, especially a quiet weekend where the host had lost a member of his family scarcely a month ago. But the two of them made a stunning couple, he so dark and she so fair.
Mrs. Grant turned to greet the others, not so much looking at them as looking for her own reflection in their faces, until she saw Lynne. It was obvious that for an instant she did not recognize her, and then her eyes narrowed, glittering. Lynne read speculation there and no pleasure. Sitting down to the beautiful table with its magnificent flowers, and fine old silver gleaming softly in the candlelight, Lynne felt as if she were in a dream.
She was content merely to let the conversation flow around her as she enjoyed the sensations of being in such a setting. The soup was delicious. Not until midway through the fish course did she really begin to listen to what the others were saying. They were discussing the newest rage of the London stage, arguing over whether he was really, as some critics predicted, a new Olivier.
At her right Dr. Bannister asked, "And what do you think of the fellow, Miss Delevan?"
"I'm afraid I haven't seen him," she said quietly. "What? Not in either of his plays?" Justine Grant said in mock surprise. "Perhaps Miss Delevan doesn't care for the theatre."
"It isn't a matter of not caring for it, though I do prefer opera," Lynne replied.
"Opera? Then doubtless you have an opinion on that new diva—what's her name? Sophana Arlandi?" There was an undercurrent of malicious amusement in her voice. It was obvious that she supposed Lynne would never have heard Arlandi perform, but Maestro Bertelli frequently saw to it that she was provided with tickets for the opera.
"I think she's long on histrionics and short on technique," Lynne said coolly.
The answer didn't please Justine. "Which roles have you heard her sing?"
Lynne named all three in which Arlandi had appeared.
"I haven't heard her myself," Mrs. Bannister said, "but they do say she has quite a following already."
"I daresay," Lynne replied. "Some people prefer dramatic flair to vocal perfection. And she is a fine actress."
"Are you trying to say she sings flat?" Justine asked contemptuously.
"That wasn't quite what I meant," Lynne said. "Her phrasing is frequently imprecise and her intonation is not always secure. Though in point of fact she did sing flat once in Boheme."
"I suppose you have perfect pitch?" Justine said with just a trace of a sneer.
"Yes, I have," Lynne replied, unconcerned.
"How interesting," Darren Lloyd said quickly, drawing attention away from the annoyance that was all too easy to read on Justine's face. He tapped his wine goblet with a spoon. "Can you tell what that note was?"
She smiled at him. "An A."
Jason repeated the act with his own glass. "And what about mine?"
"Oh, dear," she said. "I'm afraid your glass is out of tune. That falls somewhere between an F-sharp and a G."
In the laughter that followed, she glanced at Justine Grant and saw that she had made an implacable enemy.
On Sunday Lynne would have liked to beg off from lunch, but Jason told her that he, Darren, and Justine would be leaving for London shortly afterward and she would have the rest of the day to attend to Tonio's needs.
She put on the gold-beige frock and made a resolution not to do anything that would draw attention to herself and further annoy Justine. She needn't have worried. Justine behaved as if she weren't there at all.
Most of the time she talked directly to Jason while Darren courteously chatted with Lynne. Toward the end of lunch, Jason gave her several suggestions for outings in the neighborhood that Tonio might enjoy.
When they had left, the house was very quiet. Lynne took off her finery, put on her old suit, and went for a walk with Tonio.
On Wednesday Jason called from London. His sister-in-law had regained consciousness. Her parents had just called him from Madrid and wanted Tonio brought to the hospital to see her. Johnson was already on the way to Longridge. Lynne was to bring Tonio directly to the airport, where Jason would meet them and take the boy to Spain.
Lynne packed away her new clothes carefully in tissue, leaving the blue dress till last.
And so, she thought, another few hours and Cinderella will be back at her own hearthside.
CHAPTER FOUR
When Lynne returned to the office the next morning, she found an envelope on her desk bearing the interoffice notation "From the desk of Madelaine Cheney." Inside she found a note clipped to a cheque. "Before Mr. Corey left for Spain, he asked me to give you this cheque in reimbursement for your assistance to his nephew."
She felt a flicker of surprise because she had expected the overtime to be added to her weekly salary cheque, but then she realized that since caring for Tonio had been a personal job for Jason Corey, of course it couldn't come out of company funds.
She unfolded the cheque and looked at it with a sharp intake of breath. It was a good deal more generous than she had expected, and it made her feel guiltier than ever about what had been spent on her clothes.
Before she had time to get cold feet, she made her way to a telephone, dialed the Upper Office, and aske
d the receptionist if she could be put through to Miss Cheney.
After a moment the crisp voice came on the line with, "Madelaine Cheney here."
"This is Lynne Delevan, Miss Cheney. I wanted to—if this is out of line, please say so and I'll understand, but I wondered—" She took a deep breath for courage. "I wondered if I could invite you to lunch."
There was a pause during which Lynne decided she must have committed a terrible faux pas, and then Miss Cheney was saying, "I've just checked my schedule and I'm free today. Shall we meet in the lower lobby at one?"
When the waiter had taken their order, Lynne said earnestly, "First of all, Miss Cheney, I want to thank you so much for the lovely perfume. It was such a delightful surprise."
"I'm happy you were pleased," the older woman said. "Do you suppose you could call me Madelaine?" Lynne smiled warmly. "I'd like that. You were so kind to me. Now there is something I'd like to ask you about. The clothes. What should I do with the clothes?"
Madelaine's brows rose. "What do you ordinarily do with clothes? Hang them up? Put them in a drawer?"
"I mean, I wouldn't feel right about keeping them. They cost too much and that cheque was so large—"
"Now, my child. The cheque was not too large. You realize you'll have to be docked for the days of work you missed. This will take care of it, plus overtime for evenings and the weekend. As to the clothes, whatever do you suppose Mr. Corey would do with them? I don't think a secondhand frock would make a very likely birthday gift for one of his friends, do you? Just consider them part of your payment. And you must tell me—were they a success?"
"Oh, yes," Lynne breathed. "That is, I loved wearing them."
"Did you have an opportunity to wear the dinner dress?"
"Yes, there were guests down on Saturday evening for dinner. Mr. Corey wanted me to make an even number at table."