The Marriage Wheel

by Susan Barrie

  Humphrey Lestrode helped himself to a cigarette from a silver box on the desk in front of him, tapped it on the back of his hand and smiled at her unexpectedly, and rather whimsically.

  “Have you any idea what the Bull charges for full board and residence?” he enquired, lighting his cigarette.

  She shook her head.

  “I don’t stay in hotels,” she told him huskily. “I simply can’t afford them!”

  He directed a puff of smoke in her direction, and smiled quizzically through it at her and her concerned face.

  “By comparison with most hotels the Black Bull’s charges are fairly reasonable,” he told her, “but even so they are not all that reasonable. If you’re going to decline to accept anything in the nature of a wage from me so long as Mrs. Wells and the fair Rosaleen remain there on a diet of three meals a day, with private bath thrown in, you’d better agree with me that the Dower House is an ideal place for them, and show some sort of eagerness to help get the place ready for them ... otherwise you’re going to be rather sadly out of pocket. And I don’t like being driven about by a resentful chauffeuse who is getting nothing at all for the pleasure of driving me.” Frederica felt cornered, but she still had plenty of arguments left. She also decided to be quite truthful.

  “My mother and sister have no right to expect anything from you, Mr. Lestrode, but they will take everything you’re willing to provide them with ... if you’ll let them!” Her face had flushed painfully. “It’s not that they’re immoral, or anything like that, but my mother has always had money, and now that she hasn’t got any she can’t do without it.” It was a trifle involved, but she gathered that he followed her reasoning. “As for Rosaleen, she ought to have had a job long ago, but my mother spoils her. She just won’t hear of it!”

  He was smoking his cigarette in a very placid manner, and leaning back in his chair. His eyes twinkled.

  “And why should she?” he demanded. “Your sister Rosaleen is the most beautiful thing I’ve seen for a long time, and your mother plans to marry her off—well, and as soon as she can! You can’t blame her if she doesn’t want her principal asset at the moment spoiled by rough usage.”

  “You mean work?” Frederica enquired briefly.

  “Yes, Fred.” He leaned towards her across the desk, and unnoticed by him she winced—there was such a vast deal of difference between being known simply as “Fred” and “Fair Rosaleen”. Apart from that she hadn’t any real objection to being called Fred. “Now, you’re a very different cup of tea altogether. I’ll admit that when I first saw you I thought you were the most ridiculously inadequate person I’d ever seen, and I simply couldn’t imagine you being of very much use to anyone. You look fragile, and you lack inches, but I’ve discovered that you’re pretty tenacious, and that’s a good thing. No doubt your mother found that she could depend on you to be the breadwinner—or a partial breadwinner—and she wouldn’t want to lose you in the matrimonial stakes. For one thing, you probably wouldn’t carry off the sort of prize that Rosaleen almost certainly can and will—”

  “Thank you,” Frederica said stiffly, wondering whether it was his intention to humiliate her with the truth.

  “You’ll probably marry some nice working-class chap one of these days—or even a professional man. You’d probably make a doctor or a veterinary surgeon a good wife. You could drive them about as part of your wifely duties, and I can imagine you bringing up a healthy family of fair-haired children...”

  “Thank you ... Thank you, sir!” Frederica said again, more stiffly than before.

  He waved a hand to indicate a chair on which she could be seated.

  “But Rosaleen—” and it seemed to give him pleasure dwelling on the name—“Rosaleen will require to be an ornament all her days, and when she has children they’ll be looked after by a team of nannies and governesses ... that sort of thing!”

  “In this day and age do you think you can be absolutely sure of that?” Frederica asked quietly.

  “Of course,” and he smiled into the upwards curling smoke of his own cigarette. “Of course!”

  Frederica waited a moment and then asked him whether he had any specific instructions for her. He glanced at her in some surprise.

  “No,” he said. “No ... except that I shall expect you to dine with us on Wednesday! I have invited a few other people to dinner as well, in order that your family can meet them. Rosaleen must have some social life.”

  “And Lucille?” she enquired, waiting near the door.

  He looked still more surprised.

  “Lucille is my housekeeper. She will not, naturally, join the rest of us. Her place is in the kitchen until I can find a cook and other staff.”

  “And it doesn’t concern you that it’s unfair to expect her to do so much work without assistance?”

  He shrugged.

  “It won’t kill her,” he said callously. “Hard work never killed anyone.”

  Frederica went away seething inwardly because for the first time she fully realised what an extremely hard-hearted and hard-headed man he was. And the ferment was increased by the memory which refused to fade of his somewhat impertinent disposal of herself and her future interests ... rearing a family of healthy children at the side of a busy doctor or veterinary surgeon.

  The fact that she herself had once nearly decided to become a veterinary surgeon did nothing to lessen the growing feeling of sullen animosity he had implanted in her breast.

  How dared he! And immediately on top of ascribing to Rosaleen all the family charms and virtues!

  She had no desire at all to be a member of the party that sat down to dinner in the charming panelled dining-room at Farthing Hall on Wednesday evening, and she realised the next time she saw Lucille that the instructions she had already received from her employer in connection with the dinner party did not please her at all. She said nothing about having to do the work of two or three people unaided; but she did go about with tight lips and resentful eyes as if a small fire of resentment was smouldering inside her.

  “I don’t want to meet Mr. Lestrode’s friends and be treated as if I was an equal and not an employee,” Frederica said truthfully, as she sat at the breakfast table with Lucille next morning—and of all the rooms in Farthing Hall she liked the big bright kitchen the most. “For one thing, I don’t enjoy being patronised, and for another it isn’t correct. How can you maintain a proper distance between yourself and the man who pays you your salary if he sometimes condescends to notice you and is quite capable of biting your head off the next time you see him?”

  Lucille, who was writing out a grocery list, lifted her eyes to gaze across the table at her with a somewhat ironical gleam of humour in their long-suffering grey depths.

  “On the other hand, why should you even attempt to maintain a proper distance between yourself and Mr. Lestrode when he invites your mother and sister to dine with him?” she counter questioned. “And takes them out to lunch immediately after making their acquaintance!” she added.

  Frederica looked uncomfortable. To her the reason was fairly obvious—Rosaleen had made a conquest! But she didn’t like to pass this conclusion on to Lucille.

  “I’m beginning to wish I’d never heard of this job,” she said quietly and seriously.

  Lucille smiled slightly.

  “Oh, come now!” she exclaimed, with an edge to her voice. “You’re not doing so badly. Your family is to be entertained in style by the boss, and you yourself are invited. I can’t honestly see that you’ve anything to grumble about!”

  “Except that I still wish I hadn’t heard of this job,” Frederica declared almost viciously, as she reached across the table for the marmalade. “I was much happier with Lady Allerdale ... really happy! She didn’t bother about my family,” she added, as if the advantage of having an employer who never really concerned herself with her family had never actually struck her before.

  Lucille smiled more sympathetically.

  “I don’t sup
pose Lady Allerdale could have found much use for your sister Rosaleen,” she remarked.

  Frederica had no idea what she ought to wear for the dinner-party, but on one point she made up her mind. She wasn’t going to appear in one of her uniform dresses, despite the fact that they were beautifully cut and styled.

  In the end she decided on a navy-blue chiffon dress which she had brought with her from London, and on Wednesday afternoon, as she had no particular duties to perform, she washed her hair and set it with rather more care than usual, her new short style, intended to give her a more coiffured and sophisticated look, was extremely attractive; and, in fact, the lovely bright gold of her hair looked vivid and arresting by contrast with the dark blue chiffon of her dress.

  She had never gone in very much for jewellery, but she decided to wear a necklace of pearls that her mother had once given her for a birthday present—not particularly good pearls, but warm and creamy and with a soft shimmer as they lay against the young curves of her neck.

  Before she put on her dress she spent time polishing her hair with a silk handkerchief, varnishing her nails with an inoffensive nail varnish and putting on her make-up; and when she was finally ready she reached almost defiantly for a flagon of cologne which stood on her dressing-table, and sprayed herself with it and added touches of matching skin perfume to the lobes of her ears and the insides of her wrists.

  She was not at all clear why she was taking such pains over her appearance, but she did admit to herself that she was ruffled by the knowledge that Humphrey Lestrode was of the opinion that she wouldn’t stand a chance if entered as a contestant in the same marriage stakes as her sister Rosaleen. Therefore she felt that it behooved her to let him see that she was not entirely without feminine appeal—even if it was destined to delight the eyes of a strictly professional man when she finally made her choice of a husband out of a limited number of applicants.

  When she went down into the kitchen to be inspected by Lucille she felt as if her stocks had been given a boost, for Lucille plainly thought she looked very nice indeed—in fact, rather more than just “nice.”

  “If that sister of yours—and so far I’ve caught only a glimpse of her!—can hold a candle to you in that dress I’ll be surprised,” Lucille delivered herself of the opinion. “I’ll be really surprised!” She was heated from the stove, but she surveyed Frederica with obvious pleasure. “You should always wear that midnight blue shade. It does the most extraordinary things for your complexion!” She walked round Frederica, eyeing her from every angle and inhaling her perfume appreciatively. “You don’t have to tell me that you’ve been to Paris,” she remarked. “You didn’t buy that stuff in England!”

  “No, I was fortunate enough to spend a whole week in Paris last year with Lady Allerdale,” Frederica admitted. “And it was she who bought me the perfume. She was a very generous employer until her solicitor insisted that she cut her expenses.”

  Lucille went back to stuffing her chickens. “Mr. Lestrode can be generous, too—when he pleases,” she revealed. “Extremely generous!”

  “He’s paying me a very generous salary.” Frederica surveyed her. Her brown eyes appeared to be brooding behind a pair of horn-rimmed glasses which she wore when she wanted to apply herself to some particular task, and there was rather a withdrawn look about her mouth. It wasn’t necessary for her to explain to the younger girl that at some time since she first made the acquaintance of Humphrey Lestrode she and he had worked very closely together, and there was little doubt about it she admired him ... otherwise she wouldn’t be helping him out in this manner while he was temporarily without anything in the nature of a domestic staff.

  But it struck Frederica as unfortunate that she and her family had made their impact on Lestrode at this particular time ... certainly it was unfortunate that Rosaleen had not been left behind in London. Lucille was almost certainly thinking the same thing as she performed her menial tasks at the kitchen table, and it did not surprise Frederica that she slammed the oven door once the chickens were safely inside the oven.

  For if instead of wearing a trim tailored house dress Lucille was arrayed in a smart cocktail suit or dinner-dress and ready to face the evening on the same side of the house as her employer she would undoubtedly do a good deal to cast even Rosaleen in the shade. For she had quite a Continental air of chicness; and her brown eyes were the most beautiful Frederica had ever seen.

  “I wish,” Frederica began, “that Mr. Lestrode had had the sense to invite you instead of me—”

  But Lucille wheeled round on her smilingly.

  “Don’t be silly,” she said. “I’ve probably had more cosy dinners in London restaurants with our joint employer than you and your sister are ever likely to have—unless she makes great headway this evening, and he takes you along to act the part of chaperone. And now, unless you want to be sprinkled with flour or something equally disastrous, I’d leave me to my chores and seek refuge in your own room. You’re ready early, but I’ll be bringing drinks to the drawing-room as soon as the first guests arrive. They’re a rather nice couple who live locally—I think he’s a stockbroker, or something of the sort. And Mr. Lestrode has also invited the local doctor, who happens to be a bachelor but not, I’m afraid, in your age-group,” and she smiled more naturally and rather teasingly at her fellow worker, before whipping off her apron and inspecting herself in a mirror in anticipation of the first knock at the front door.

  “Tonight is the night when I’m required to have half a dozen pairs of hands,” she said.

  As an evening devoted to light entertainment it was a complete failure from Frederica’s point of view. The hospitality was excellent, and Lucille’s chickens were deliciously tender and beautifully browned when they left the oven; the wines were first-class and the coffee had the quality of French coffee and gave off a delicious aroma when Electra poured it out in the drawing-room after dinner, and for those who appreciated Napoleon brandy there was Napoleon brandy.

  The dining-room managed to look completely furnished following upon Lucille’s efforts, and the dining-table was decked with a tasteful arrangement of flowers. The drawing-room, where already the best pieces of furniture had been assembled, and the Chinese carpet aroused admiration amongst the visitors, was bright with firelight and the mellow light from tall standard lamps when they returned to it after dinner, and Rosaleen seemed to float rather than walk as she crossed the Chinese carpet in a long narrow satin dress heavily encrusted with silver or pearl embroidery, and with her dimpled shoulders bare to the flattering attention of the lights.

  Electra wore black, as became the mother of two daughters—one of whom she hoped would marry in a reasonable space of time. But it was such costly black—even Frederica had no real idea how her mother managed to dress so extravagantly on her limited basic income—and cut on such youthful lines that Mrs. Wells might easily have been mistaken for the elder sister of her two daughters instead of their mother.

  She was skilled in the art of conversation, and she managed to keep it scintillating all through dinner. The prosperous-looking stockbroker whose wife was distinctly dowdy could hardly keep his eyes off her while the soup was circulating; and by the time they reached the savoury he was, she felt, her slave for life.

  Rosaleen was clever enough to play second fiddle to her mother, but she leapt into the conversation in a bright and disarming manner whenever Electra showed signs of flagging, and whenever her host made a point of drawing her into it.

  Frederica, who knew her place and was determined not to venture a foot outside it, said hardly anything at all while the meal lasted. And when they all returned to the drawing-room she attached herself to the dowdy wife of the stockbroker, who appeared quite grateful to be noticed by her, and was finally rescued by the middle-aged doctor who wanted to know whether it was true that she was driving Mr. Lestrode. The district, he assured her, had it that she was ... but he seemed to think that for once the local grapevine might have got its facts wro
ng as he gazed at her with very evident admiration on his face.

  “Both you and your sister are so extremely decorative,” he remarked. “Indeed, you are one of a very decorative family,” glancing whimsically at Electra, who was flirting outrageously with the stockbroker under the submissive eyes of his wife. “But if I had a young woman like you to drive me about I don’t think I could concentrate on my job.”

  “Then, since your profession is so very important, it’s a good thing I’m not driving you about,” Frederica replied a trifle absently, for Rosaleen was at the far end of the room with the host, and he was showing her his collection of snuff-boxes that were displayed in a Buhl-fronted cabinet.

  Rosaleen was not in the least knowledgeable about snuffboxes, but she was exclaiming rapturously over them. The host, in a beautifully fitting dinner-jacket, seemed to be standing very close to her, and his shoulder actually brushed against her slim bare arm.

  “Some people have all the luck,” the doctor remarked a trifle enviously. “Lestrode has got you to drive his cars for him—and, by the way, aren’t they rather on the powerful side for a little thing like you?—and it is only too obvious that your charming sister is exercising a kind of spell. But then I’m not surprised. She really is an exceptionally beautiful girl. And it’s high time Humphrey married,” he concluded thoughtfully, as if he was following a line of reasoning that had only one logical conclusion.

  Frederica felt mildly startled, although she knew perfectly well that Rosaleen already looked upon her employer as absolutely fair game.

  She managed to look sceptical.

  “My sister has many admirers,” she remarked, “and I’m afraid it rather amuses her to add to the list. But I should think Mr. Lestrode is fairly hardheaded ... and when a man reaches his time of life without being caught by some scheming female it surely indicates that he values his freedom and is clever at preserving it.”