Heaven is High

by Anne Hampson

  Kathryn did not reply at once, so great was her surprise, for not once had her new employer discussed things with her, or taken her into his confidence as had been the way with his predecessor.

  ‘That was a fifth lake at one time,’ she said at length, ‘but Mr. Southon tried to fill it and failed. It’s something to do with the underlying rocks; the water drains away almost as quickly as it’s put in.’

  John frowned and queried this, pointing out, quite reasonably, that the rock structure could hardly change in such a small distance.

  ‘The other four lakes are so close. No—’ he shook his head, ‘I’m sure it can be filled.’

  ‘It’ll be an expense for nothing,’ Kathryn persisted, even though she was reluctant to argue with him. ‘Mr. Southon did persevere, but they just can’t keep the water in.’

  ‘I’ll try, nevertheless. Do you know of a contractor who will do the work?’

  She knew of two, and found him the addresses.

  ‘Mr. Southon had estimates from both, and it was this one who took the work on,’ she said, handing him the paper on which she had written the information he required.

  Later that day Delia called, driving her sports car right up to the front door of the Hall. Kathryn answered her ring; Delia smiled in her usual superior manner and asked for John.

  ‘He’s somewhere in the grounds,’ Kathryn said, trying not to show her dislike of this girl. ‘He won’t be long—if you’d care to wait.’ She took her into the sitting-room and, feeling it would be rude to leave her, she sat down, though she did wonder what they would have to say to one another. They had never had anything in common, but at one time they could converse fairly amicably. Since John Hyland’s coming, however, Delia had for some reason become far more patronizing in her manner towards her, and Kathryn suspected the reason was that her own status had fallen considerably since Mr. Southon’s death. Seating herself on the couch, Delia broached the subject of Kathryn’s former dismissal for the first time as she said, casting her a sideways glance,

  ‘You gave us to understand John didn’t want you. What happened that you’re still here? Mother and Father are rather puzzled about it, but they didn’t like to question you.’

  But you would, thought Kathryn, at the same time chiding herself for always seizing on any opportunity of putting Delia in a bad light. And because she felt rather guilty she answered her question, speaking with much more cordiality than she felt.

  ‘Mr. Southon made provision for me to stay on until the end of the year,’ she explained, ‘so I decided to take advantage of that.’

  ‘But you had at first intended leaving. We said goodbye to you.’

  ‘I changed my mind,’ was all that Kathryn would say to that, but the other girl did not intend letting the subject drop yet.

  ‘Wasn’t John annoyed? I mean, he said he didn’t need you—or so you told us.’

  ‘The matter was out of his hands,’ replied Kathryn stiffly, no longer making an effort at politeness. ‘I had a right to stay and I asserted my right.’

  Delia leant back on the couch and crossed one elegant leg over the other. Her eyes were fixed on Kathryn for a space before they began to flicker and then her long lashes came down, hiding her expression.

  ‘John wouldn’t like that—having you telling him what to do, as it were.’

  ‘I have never told him what to do!’

  ‘Isn’t asserting your right, as you call it, telling him what he must do?’

  ‘I don’t think so. I would never presume to tell Mr. Hyland what he must do.’

  ‘Nevertheless, he must have been very annoyed at finding he couldn’t dismiss you. After all, the place is his now and he’d naturally want to run it in his own particular way.’

  ‘He does run it in his own way,’ responded Kathryn coldly. ‘My staying here doesn’t interfere with his methods—how could it?’

  Delia shrugged, and before Kathryn could reply to that John entered, a smile of welcome softening his face as his eyes lighted on his visitor.

  ‘I hope you didn’t mind my dropping in,’ she smiled, using her lashes as she glanced up at him. ‘I’d been shopping and thought I’d come back this way and call on you for half an hour or so.’

  ‘Mind?—certainly not. I’m delighted to see you.’ He paused as Kathryn rose and made to leave the room. Then he spoke to her, telling her he had rung the contractor, who was coming to make another attempt at filling the lake. His manner was again less frigid and his eyes less hard. Kathryn smiled at him and said she hoped he would be more successful than Mr. Southon had been when he endeavoured to have the lake filled.

  ‘I hope so,’ he returned, and Kathryn could not be quite sure, but the merest flicker of a smile seemed to touch his mouth in response to the smile still lingering on her own lips. What she was sure of was the sudden narrowing of Delia’s eyes as she glanced from Kathryn to John and then back to Kathryn again. Her mouth was tight, too, but as John turned to give her his attention her lips parted softly and her lovely eyes widened as they looked up to meet his admiring gaze. Kathryn left the room, quite sure that neither had even noticed her departure.

  Michael came for her at seven; John happened to be at the front as he pulled up and he immediately went over to him, greeting him affably and inviting him in to wait for Kathryn. She came down almost at once, looking most attractive in a flowered linen dress, sleeveless and short. She carried a white handbag and gloves, and her hair was held in place with a matching white headband.

  ‘Gosh, you look sweet!’ exclaimed Michael, forgetting John’s presence for a second as he turned to watch Kathryn as she came through the great dining-room into the hall. ‘Doesn’t she, Mr. Hyland?’

  A deep flush rose to tint Kathryn’s cheeks and she felt almost cross with Michael. John Hyland would not be pleased at having to comment on her appearance. But he ignored the question, although his eyes did flicker over her, as if he saw her for the very first time. His silence impressed itself on Michael who, realizing his lack of tact, flushed slightly and said, in an effort to throw off his embarrassment,

  ‘Shall we go?’

  Kathryn smiled and nodded; they both said ‘good evening’ to John and then went out to the car.

  ‘What’s he like to work for?’ Michael wanted to know as they drove alongside the lake before turning off on to the lane leading to the main road. ‘He’s great to talk to, but—well, he seems rather impersonal when he’s with you. Is he as good a boss as Mr. Southon?’

  Kathryn shook her head, and went on to explain about his wanting her to go.

  ‘I intended to at first,’ she continued, her eyes on the pretty, tree-lined lane ahead. ‘But he was so horrid to me that I decided to stay on.’

  ‘To spite him, eh?’ he grinned. ‘But the atmosphere won’t be at all pleasant, will it, in the circumstances?’

  ‘It isn’t, but we manage to get along without any open animosity.’

  ‘What will you do when you leave?’ He turned on to the main road and increased his speed. ‘You won’t get another job of that sort. What did you do before going to the Hall?’

  ‘I went there straight from school,’ she replied wistfully, recalling that wonderful day when she had sped home on winged feet to tell her mother she was going to work at Marbeck Hall. And now it was all over—or almost so. Another four months and she would leave it for ever. She could come back as a visitor, of course, but Kathryn knew she would never do that. Once she left, with her belongings, it would be for the last time; she would never enter the Hall again. ‘I don’t know what I shall do—go into an office, I expect,’ she added dejectedly.

  They went to a cinema in Macclesfield, then called at a roadhouse on the way home and had a meal. It was almost midnight when at last they reached the Hall, for Michael had drawn into a farm gateway and they had sat talking for over an hour, mainly about antiques. Michael was going abroad in two weeks’ time, and was hoping to have some new and interesting items for his shop whe
n he returned.

  ‘I wish you could come with me,’ he said as they were once more on the road. ‘It isn’t possible, I suppose? Have you had your holidays yet?’

  ‘I usually take them in the autumn, when we’ve finished with the visitors. In any case, it wouldn’t be right for me to go abroad with you, Michael.’

  ‘Why not? We’d have two rooms with two views. I’m not a bit like that.’ He laughed and Kathryn joined

  ‘Will you come, if I wait?’ She shook her head.

  ‘I won’t say I wouldn’t like to come with you, but what would people say?’

  They had reached the drive; he proceeded slowly between two beautiful lakes and pulled up at the front door. Lights were shining from the side windows of the sitting-room.

  ‘If one worried about gossip, Kathryn,’ he said, taking her hand and holding it gently, ‘one would never do anything or go anywhere. I make it a rule never to bother my head with what other people think.’

  ‘n excellent idea, if you can do it,’ she agreed, deriving an odd sort of comfort from his hold on her hand. ‘But I’m afraid I can’t, so don’t change your plans because of me.’

  The night was warm and sultry and when Michael had driven away Kathryn stood for a while on the steps, looking up at the stars and then across to the largest lake where the reflection of the crescent moon floated among the reeds and water-lilies. She heard the sound coming from the side of the house, the soft but firm tread of John Hyland; then he too was on the step, standing beside her, so tall and straight, his brown hair tousled slightly, making him appear more human than Kathryn had ever seen him.

  ‘It’s a very beautiful night,’ he said, surprising her, both by the appreciative note in his voice and by the way he looked down at her and smiled. ‘I’ve been out walking; the air here’s wonderful.’

  ‘We’re very close to the Derbyshire moors,’ she informed him. ‘And the air there is really invigorating. It blows over to us at times.’

  ‘Derbyshire ...? Very bleak in winter, so I’m told.’

  ‘The moors are, yes. But not at this time of the year. The heather’s out now and the bracken’s turning. The colours are really beautiful.’ She paused shyly before she added, ‘You should go up there—have a day. I’m sure you’d thoroughly enjoy it.’

  ‘I believe I should.’ His tones were soft and lazy; Kathryn was used to that drawl by now, but always she found something extremely attractive in it. Tonight, to her puzzlement and surprise, it seemed to affect her profoundly; she could not explain her emotions, but she was conscious of groping vaguely for some elusive thing and, unable to discover it, was left with a feeling of emptiness and even loss.

  It must be something to do with leaving the Hall, she concluded, but even as John moved, almost brushing against her unconsciously as he half turned to glance away towards the high tower of the church, Kathryn felt a strange quickening of her pulse; again the sensation was vague, and yet disturbing because of its very lack of substance.

  And she was unsure of herself too, which was not like her at all, for one of the assets contributing to the success of her job was that of confidence. But talking to the visitors was very different from talking to John Hyland. He was far too superior; he possessed a certain arrogance made none the less disconcerting because of its presence beneath the surface. His whole bearing was one of the aristocrat, and once again Kathryn reflected on what the newspapers had written about the new heir, the cowboy from the Rockies who would never have the slightest notion how to go on in one of England’s most famous stately homes.

  What would their relationship have been had he not made such an untimely appearance? Kathryn wondered. Had she been prepared, had she come up to his expectations, been the sort of person described to him by Mr. Lowry, then everything would have been so different. Kathryn felt sure he would not have dismissed her. She gave a little sigh. What use now to dwell on what might have been? Through her own folly and thoughtlessness she had antagonized him; his pride must have suffered greatly as he stood there, watching the skit on himself, and Kathryn was very sure he would never forgive her for that humiliation.

  ‘I think I must go in,’ she remarked, finding difficulty in speaking at all. But the silence was becoming oppressive and she herself felt awkward and, somehow, in the way.

  ‘Yes, it’s quite late.’ He stood aside for Kathryn to enter first, and then locked and bolted the door behind him. He seemed almost too tall for the room, Kathryn thought as he straightened up. For the ceiling was very low and beamed and he appeared to be a giant beside the suit of armour displayed against the wall at one side of the door. The Library was to the right and as his eyes strayed to the open door he seemed to hesitate, undecided. Then he said quietly, ‘Before you leave, Miss Ramsey, I would like you to give me some account of the books here. I see there is a large section on Cheshire, and I would like to have your advice on which to read, because I must know more about this place where I now live. You know which are the best books, I suppose?’

  His question surprised her, for she never expected him to ask her advice.

  ‘I do know the best books, yes,’ she murmured. ‘I’ll make a list for you.’

  ‘No, we can spend some time in there; I want to know exactly what I have and I don’t think there’s any reason for waiting. Perhaps on Tuesday, after the rush of the week-end, and when the accounts are all done,’ he decided. ‘Yes, we’ll make it Tuesday.’ The glimmer of a smile curved his mouth as he bade her good night before striding away, leaving her to stare after him, her mind in a turmoil as she tried to grasp the fact that, for the very first time, he had adopted a civil—and almost friendly—manner towards her.

  For the first time he had not made her acutely conscious of the strain she felt in his presence, the strain resulting from the memory of that first disastrous meeting between them.

  At last she moved and went upstairs, entering the Blue Room, and mentally trying to count the number of nights left to her in this beautiful and elegant apartment. Kings and princes had slept in the Hall Room, she knew, but what famous people had slept here? She stood in the centre of the room, dwelling for a while on the splendour of those medieval days when the house was at the height of its glory, musing on that age of chivalry when great banquets were held in honour of royal guests, when buck shooting took place in the grounds and colourful pageantry was displayed when the tournaments were fought out on the tilting ground in the park.

  When at last Kathryn undressed and slipped into bed she dozed and wakened on and off for a long while, and in her half-sleep she saw herself living in those far-off days, and she saw John Hyland ordering the most hideous tortures to be inflicted on her in reprisal for the insult he had received on first coming to the Hall.

  CHAPTER IV

  September colours were tinting the countryside; the weather had changed, too, bringing a nip into the morning air, and Kathryn had a fire lighted in the Library both to supplement the central heating and also to add to the cheerfulness of the room. John had said they would spend the afternoon on the books, and as a breeze was blowing rather hard Kathryn went upstairs to close her bedroom window. As she came into the Gallery she heard a faint sound and went to investigate. In the Solar bedroom she found her employer, moving around and sniffing audibly. He glanced up as she stood in the doorway, and asked her if she could smell anything.

  ‘I know it’s ridiculous,’ he drawled, ‘but I’ll swear I can smell incense.’ He looked at her challengingly, as if expecting her to laugh, but at the same time daring her to do so.

  ‘Yes, I can smell it,’ she smiled, faintly amused by his puzzlement. ‘We aren’t— The house isn’t actually haunted, but this smell is sometimes here, in the Solar Room.’ A tiny laugh did break from her lips now, for despite his challenge, he looked a trifle taken aback by her admission.

  ‘There’s some explanation for it?’ He stood by the bed, casting a frowning glance around the timbered walls.

  Kathryn nodded, an
d walked further into the room.

  ‘We think it comes from the room almost directly below this,’ she told him, and his brow furrowed in thought.

  ‘The smaller hall’s below this, I believe?’

  ‘The one leading into the courtyard, yes.’

  ‘And what happened there? Was some particularly foul murder committed?’ He seemed faintly amused and smilingly awaited her explanation.

  ‘About fifty years ago a skeleton was found in an old cupboard—’ She broke off as his smile turned to laughter.

  ‘A skeleton in a cupboard?—really?’

  ‘It was when they were removing the cupboard,’ Kathryn corrected, ‘and it was found behind, in the wall. No one has ever discovered anything about it—but I expect it was a murder. They buried the bones in the churchyard.’

  ‘A murder mystery... Well, I suppose every English stately home worth its salt has a ghost, or a mystery of some sort.’ No doubting his amusement, and Kathryn could not curb the hint of breathlessness she experienced at the change in his stem and forbidding countenance. And she could not understand that breathlessness either, for it remained with her long after they had left the Solar Room to go downstairs to the small hall from which it was thought the smell of incense emanated.

  ‘This is where the cupboard was.’ Kathryn showed him the wall, so innocent-looking with all the scars of the alteration erased.

  ‘What was this room—in the old days?’ he asked, glancing round with a new interest.

  ‘In medieval times it was the steward’s office. In those days there was the Manorial Court, which was held periodically—but you know about that.’

  ‘I don’t know a lot about those things,’ he admitted, surprisingly. ‘I gather the function of the court was to deal with problems concerning the Manor, though?’

  ‘Yes; there were all sorts of differences occurring between the peasants, and these would be brought before the court. Also, the peasants could be tried for offences against each other, and for disobeying the rules of the Manor—and for offences against the lord himself, of course.’