by Anne Hampson
At that he turned slowly round, looking at her long and hard, but no comment was forthcoming and a short while later they were in the Library, methodically going through the books, shelf by shelf. Both were so engrossed that the time flew and with a little gasp Kathryn realized it was long, past their tea time.
‘I think it can be brought in here,’ John decided, ringing the bell. ‘There’s much I still want to know. We haven’t even finished these shelves here yet. This is going to take much longer than I anticipated.’
‘Do you want me to have mine in here?’ she asked, unable to hide her surprise when John gave Edna the order to fetch the tea into the Library.
‘I don’t see why not.’ His interest was with the book he held and his words came automatically; nevertheless, they had the most odd effect on Kathryn’s composure.
Why should she suddenly feel like this? Was she being so foolish as to think he would forget the slight he had received?—would overlook her several offences which must have appeared so presumptuous to him at the time? Did she cherish the hope that he might decide to keep her on? No doubt about the answer to those questions; from the beginning she had hoped that by some miracle he would come to change his mind.
They sat at the small table by the fire, eating sandwiches and cakes, and talking about books. John was keenly interested and when tea was over Kathryn resumed her task of increasing her employer’s knowledge of the lovely treasures that had come so unexpectedly into his possession.
‘I think we’ll leave it for today,’ he said at length, glancing at the clock. ‘It’s only just over an hour to dinner and I’ve invited the Slades.’
Several books lay about and Kathryn returned them to the shelves, her pleasure evaporating at his words. The afternoon had been the happiest since the coming of John Hyland. For the first time they had worked together in harmony; she had forgotten the friction that existed between them—and she felt sure that he had forgotten it, too, if only for a short while. Why the coming of the Slades should have this sudden adverse effect on her spirits she could not say—unless it was because of her intense dislike of their daughter.
For a couple of weeks after spending those two pleasant days in the Library with John Kathryn felt inexplicably restless and flat. On trying to discover a reason for this the only conclusion reached was that, as her employer had thawed no further in his attitude towards her, her own position was in no way changed. She was to leave, it seemed, at the end of the year.
But towards the middle of September John again surprised her by dropping his cool indifference as he said, with a faint grimace, accompanied by a shrug of resignation,
‘You were right about the lake, Miss Ramsey. As you know, work has been going on for some time, but the contractors have given it up. It’s as you said, something to do with the underlying rocks; they’re more permeable than the rest of the rocks around here.’ Kathryn was cleaning silver—the magnificent candelabra from the Dining-Room—and she glanced up from her task, surprised by his admission, and by the smile appearing on his face.
‘It’s a pity,’ she returned, vaguely wondering what the experiment had cost him, for the men had been working down at the lake for weeks. ‘But I don’t think it’s all that important. We have four lakes and they’re all very beautiful.’ Unaware of the wistful note in her voice, Kathryn was puzzled by the odd expression that came to her employer’s face.
‘You’re extremely attached to this house, aren’t you?’ he said, glancing from the duster in her hand to the ornate piece of silver on the table.
Faintly startled, Kathryn wondered if he had noticed her use of the word ‘we’ again, and she hesitated uncertainly before answering,
‘One can’t help but become attached to it, Mr. Hyland.’
‘You’ve been here six years, so you told me?’
She nodded, reflecting on Mr. Lowry’s praise for the way she had managed since Mr. Southon’s death. He had said he could do nothing else but recommend her highly to the new owner of the Hall. John Hyland had naturally been puzzled at finding her so different from what he expected; perhaps he had been puzzled since, for despite his attitude towards her she had continued to work efficiently and conscientiously, having his interests at heart even though she was soon to be leaving his employ.
‘I came to Mr. Southon when I was seventeen,’ she said, as he stood there in silence apparently expecting an answer.
‘So this was your first job?’
‘Yes.’ Her eyes searched his face; there was a new interest here, and a certain friendliness he had not displayed since those days in the Library when they had worked together on the books. ‘I came as the guide, when the Hall was first opened to the public.’
‘And then you gradually took on all these extra duties ... which meant your living at the Hall.’ He was murmuring to himself, or so it seemed, and Kathryn recalled his saying that she had made herself almost indispensable to Mr. Southon.
‘It was owing to his health, and the extra duties were taken on gradually.’ Her gaze was unhappy as she continued, ‘Mr. Southon relied on me, and I wouldn’t have dreamed of letting him down.’ He did not reply immediately; when he did Kathryn felt certain she detected a hint of regret as he said,
‘I’m sure you wouldn’t, Miss Ramsey. You must have been a great help to your former employer.’ From then on life for Kathryn became more pleasant; she was now consulted on matters which were not clear to John, and her hopes of retaining her post had risen when on the following Sunday, after the doors had closed on the last of the visitors, he had said,
‘What exactly did you do during the winter months, Miss Ramsey?’
‘During the time the house was closed? I didn’t have as much to do then, but I cleaned all the silver and washed the china.’ She smiled faintly and added, ‘You have a great deal of that, and Mr. Southon would never trust it to either of the maids. Then there were always some letters, and other paper work. And later, as I mentioned, I drove Mr. Southon about—until he was unable to go out, that was.’
‘I see.’ He mused on this for a while and Kathryn waited, with faint expectancy, hoping he would add to it. But if the idea of retaining her services had occurred to him he had no intention of informing her about it yet awhile.
By the middle of October the crowds visiting the Hall had dwindled, but not appreciably so, for although the morning air was crisp and cold the afternoons were warm and sunny and there were prospects of an Indian summer. Delia was now a regular visitor to the Hall, and Kathryn suspected John was a regular, and welcome, visitor to the Slades’. And then one afternoon when Michael took Kathryn out for a run in his car he casually remarked, ‘There’s talk of an engagement between your boss and Delia Slade—but of course you must have, heard?’
She shook her head.
‘I haven’t heard, no, but they’ve become very friendly this last month or so.’
‘More than friendly; they’ve had their pictures in the local rag several times lately. They’re going about together, that’s for sure.’ He drew on to the forecourt of a little black and white building and brought the car to a standstill. ‘Tea for two—okay?’
She smiled. Invariably they stopped at the Tudor for afternoon tea.
‘Okay,’ she returned, and got out of the car.
The waitress gave them a corner table, facing the garden. Flowers were still in bloom and the sun was shining down from a clear blue sky. Michael sat close to her and Kathryn tried to edge away without making it apparent that she was doing so. No doubt in her mind that Michael was becoming serious, but Kathryn’s thoughts were elsewhere. Would her employer marry Delia? Strange that at first she had viewed the possibility without any sort of emotion whatsoever ... but now ... Now she felt a peculiar little nagging pain inside her at the idea of Delia’s becoming John Hyland’s wife. Yet she had to admit they were admirably suited, belonging as they did to the same set. Their natures, too, appeared to be in harmony, for both possessed an air of superiority,
and an underlying arrogance that gave the impression of coldness. That this coldness existed in Delia’s make-up Kathryn did not for one moment doubt, but with John she was not so sure. For lately she had seen a quite different side to his nature, a side which seemed to convince her he was not nearly so cold and unfeeling as his haughty exterior would imply.
‘What are you having?’ Michael’s low and pleasant voice cut into her thoughts and she turned to give him a smile.
‘The usual.’ Kathryn glanced up at the waitress. ‘Home-made scones?’
The waitress nodded.
‘And jam and cream?’
‘Cakes, too,’ added Michael. ‘But a pot of tea first, if you please.’
They were the only occupants of the cafe, and Kathryn found herself in an intimate situation which she would have given much to avoid.
Michael said thoughtfully,
‘You’ll be leaving in about ten weeks or so?’
‘Yes, that’s right.’ Dejection flooded over her, for John had still made no mention of keeping her on at the Hall. ‘I suppose I ought to begin looking round for another job.’
Michael glanced up and waited until the tray had been placed on the table.
‘How would you like to work in the shop with me?’ Kathryn turned her head in surprise.
‘In antiques? I’d love it, but you don’t require an assistant.’
‘I wasn’t thinking of an assistant, as such.’ His hand covered hers as it lay idly on the table. ‘How about you and me getting married? We’ve got the same interests and I’m sure we’d get along fine,’ and he added, with a little laugh, ‘I love you, Kathryn, truly. I suppose I should have said that first.’
‘I—I—’ Hastily Kathryn withdrew her hand and picked up the cream jug. ‘I can’t marry you, Michael,’ she said, an unconscious note of apology in her voice. ‘I don’t love you—I mean, I’ve never thought of marriage, not to anyone.’
‘Naturally you don’t think of marriage until you meet someone,’ he returned reasonably, not too put out by her refusal. ‘For the past six years you’ve been completely wrapped up in your job; you’ve said yourself you never had much time to get out and meet people. Well, you’ve met someone now, and I know you like me, otherwise you’d never have come out with me in the first place. You’re not that kind of a girl.’
‘I do like you,’ she said seriously, ‘but that isn’t love.’ She poured the milk into the cups, keeping her head averted to hide the confusion on her face. ‘I can’t marry you, Michael. Please don’t let’s talk about it any more.’
‘But you haven’t a job, and it’s going to be difficult finding one you’ll really like.’
She smiled faintly.
‘That’s no reason for getting married,’ she said, pouring his tea. ‘In any case, I’ll get a job without any trouble.’
‘Not one you’ll be happy in, though.’
‘I might. I haven’t looked around, have I?’
He shrugged, slightly downcast, but by no means defeated.
‘I meant it when I said I loved you, Kathryn. And I feel sure you could love me, if you tried.’
If she tried. One did not have to try when it came to loving. It just happened.
‘Please let it drop,’ she begged, passing him his tea, ‘I don’t want to be married. I’m quite happy as I am.’
‘You can’t go on like this for ever, though. All girls want to get married.’ Kathryn heaved a deep sigh and asked him once again to let the matter drop. ‘All right —but only for now. I’ll ask you again, when I’ve decided you’ve had time to think it over.’
Dusk was falling when they arrived back at the Hall, and John was standing on the step, gazing out across to the dark outline of the distant hills. He invited Michael in for a drink and they all went to the sitting-room, Michael and John soon becoming engaged in their favourite topic, paintings. Kathryn listened, speaking only when spoken to, but for some reason feeling strangely content and happy. Why this new sensation? There was no accounting for it, and yet it remained. Remained, that is, until, on answering the front door bell, Kathryn came face to face with Delia Slade.
‘Is John in?’ Delia swept past Kathryn without waiting for an answer. She looked young and chic in a tailored dress of fine tweed, its only ornamentation being a diamond and pearl brooch pinned to one corner of the high collar. Her hair was attractively styled without appearing too immaculate, and the merest hint of perfume emanated from somewhere about her person. She must captivate him, Kathryn thought, closing the door behind her. It was impossible that he could resist anyone so devastatingly beautiful.
‘We’re all in the sitting-room,’ she said, turning to lead the way.
‘All?’ The tones were crisp and cold, and there was a haughty lift of Delia’s brows.
‘Michael and I are with Mr. Hyland.’ Kathryn said no more, and she did not give Delia time to say more either, as she hurried away in the direction of the room in which the two men were still deeply engaged in conversation.
‘Delia—how nice!’ John rose instantly and drew out a chair for her. ‘You’ve met Mr. Robson?’ and, when Delia nodded and smiled charmingly at Michael, ‘Can I get you a drink?’
‘Thank you, John.’ Her long lashes fluttered as she looked up at him, and her lips were still parted in a smile.
‘I hope I’m not intruding,’ she added, her glance moving swiftly over the two other occupants of the room.
‘You’re never intruding,’ said John on a faintly admonishing note. ‘You should know by now that you’re always welcome here.’
Delia took the drink, her gaze meeting that of Kathryn, who was staring intently at her. For a moment John had his back to Delia as he moved over to his chair, and the smile on her lips vanished momentarily as Delia’s expression took on the light of triumph. After holding her gaze for a space Kathryn glanced away; at the same time John sat down and the smile swiftly returned to Delia’s lips. For a while Delia kept all John’s attention, but then he and Michael began to discuss pictures again. A slight disagreement arose and presently both got up and, with a word of apology to the girls, they left them, with the intention of going to the Gallery in order to examine the painting under discussion and thereby settle the argument.
A small silence followed their departure, and then Delia looked across at Kathryn, and the smile became the usual supercilious curve that was invariably in evidence on those occasions when Delia found herself alone with Kathryn.
‘You and John seem to have resolved your differences,’ she purred, leaning forward to take her glass from the table beside her.
‘Differences?’
‘He wasn’t pleased at the idea of your staying on here after he’d told you to go, but he seems to have forgotten it now. I’m glad,’ she added, obviously realizing just how tactless she was being. ‘It must have been unpleasant for both of you.’
Kathryn hesitated.
‘Did Mr. Hyland tell you he wasn’t pleased at my remaining here?’ She had to ask the question, although she found difficulty in doing so.
Delia’s lids drooped.
‘Not in so many words, but it was plain that he was dreadfully annoyed.’ A pause and then, silkily, ‘I can understand your attitude, in a way, because you had no other work to go to, but I’m afraid I couldn’t have gone against John’s wishes like that. He’s bound to be harbouring some sort of resentment against you.’ Kathryn sank back in her chair, crossing her legs and staring straight at the other girl with undisguised disdain.
‘I don’t see why he should harbour resentment against me, Delia. It was Mr. Southon’s wish that I should stay on for a year after his death—and it’s not unusual for the provisions made in a will to be observed, just the contrary, in fact.’
‘Oh, I agree, to a certain extent. But from John’s point of view the provision must have seemed irksome.’
‘I don’t see that he has any complaint,’ came the tart rejoinder. ‘Mr. Hyland was lucky to have inherited this
place at all. It was only because Mr. Southon never married, and because there were no nearer relatives. Mr. Hyland’s claim to the estate was extremely flimsy.’ Kathryn had been impelled to hit back, but she regretted her words immediately they were uttered, for she was sure they gave the impression that she resented John Hyland’s inheriting the estate.
A slow smile came to Delia’s mouth; she sipped her wine thoughtfully. There was an odd hint of satisfaction in her manner which, for some reason, sent a quiver of apprehension down Kathryn’s spine. But she shook it off, annoyed with herself for allowing Delia to affect her in this way. They sat in silence for a while and then, to Kathryn’s relief, the two men returned. Delia flashed John a smile and asked if the argument was settled.
‘Yes.’ It was Michael who spoke, ruefully. ‘Mr. Hyland was right. I don’t know why I argued, because I suspected he would know more than I.’
A generous admission, thought Kathryn, for Michael was himself extremely knowledgeable about paintings.
‘I’m sure I don’t know more than you,’ said John graciously, sitting down on the couch opposite to Kathryn. ‘I have a great respect for your judgement; it was only that in this particular case I felt I was right because I happen to have some Reynolds at home.’ Kathryn lifted her head quickly and he added, ‘In the United States, I should have said. This is my home now.’
‘You’re quite settled?’ Michael asked, watching John with interest. ‘You’ve no yearnings to go back?’
‘Obviously I have yearnings; but it’s my intention to settle here.’ By accident or design his eyes met Delia’s, and his expression became thoughtful. Then he glanced at Kathryn. She caught her breath; that odd feeling of restlessness crept over her and she could not take her eyes off his face. He smiled faintly, and Kathryn instantly became aware of Delia watching them. Turning, Kathryn gave a little start of surprise—for there was no mistaking the look of enmity on the older girl’s face. But even as she tried to discover some reason for it Delia’s expression underwent a swift and dramatic change as John’s eyes rested on her. An enchanting smile flashed in his direction and he quickly responded, quite unaware of the hostility that smile had just replaced.