by Susan Barrie
Dr. Wilmslow smiled at her in an amused but reflective manner.
“You think that is the reason why he is still a bachelor?” he asked. “Well, you could be right. But the cleverest men get caught sometimes, you know. And now that he’s bought this house and appears to be settling down it’s only reasonable to suppose that his thoughts will eventually turn to matrimony.” Frederica decided to change the subject.
“This is a lovely house,” she observed, after assuring him that she was perfectly competent to drive Mr. Lestrode’s two cars. “And it will be still lovelier when all the furnishing is completed and the grounds restored to their former beauty. At the moment I’ll admit they’re a bit of a wilderness.”
“All things take time,” the doctor agreed, his eyes still on the pair at the far end of the room. “Unfortunately I never married, so I’ve almost certainly missed a lot. But with a house like this, and a very personable human being into the bargain, Humphrey ought to have more sense!”
Whether Humphrey Lestrode felt his eyes upon him Frederica was unable to tell, but he turned suddenly and came towards them. Rosaleen followed hard on his heels, still declaring herself completely fascinated by the snuffboxes.
“Hello, young woman,” he said to Frederica. “Did I overhear you saying something derogatory about my gardens just now?”
Frederica denied anything of the kind.
“I said they were a bit of overgrown, but when Jason has worked on them a bit more they’re going to look marvellous.”
“Poor Jason would have a monumental task if I intended to leave the restoration of the gardens to him,” her employer remarked. “As a matter of fact, I’m doing nothing of the kind. I’m having a firm of landscape gardeners move in next week, and I think after they’ve toiled for a short while you will see something. Something very worth while, I hope!”
Rosaleen cooed delightedly at his elbow.
“Oh, that’s wonderful! A house like this should have a perfect setting.”
The host turned swiftly to smile at her.
“A perfect jewel in a perfect setting?” Then he turned back to her sister. “Since you’ve drawn my attention to my private wilderness I’d like to show you a corner of it when it’s softened by moonlight. And there is a very bright moon tonight! Come along with me, and I promise you shan’t snag your stockings in a briar patch.”
He was looking her up and down with something that could have been admiration, and could have been largely compounded of mockery. But his eyes did undoubtedly dwell on her slim and shapely legs, encased in her best pair of sheer stockings.
“Oh, can’t we all come along! ...” Rosaleen began; but Lestrode had an answer that left her without the option of pressing the matter.
“Not tonight, my dear. For one thing I wouldn’t like to risk ruination for that dress, and for another Dr. Wilmslow is simply longing to get to know you, and I’d be a brute if I snatched you away just as he’s about to sink his tentacles into you!”
Rosaleen laughed, but in a faintly annoyed manner ... and the doctor seized an opportunity that had unexpectedly come his way.
On the terrace outside the french window Frederica spoke a little peevishly to the man who employed her.
“I suppose you think it doesn’t matter if I ruin my frock!”
She saw his excellent white teeth as he smiled at her under cover of the darkness, for as yet the moon was only slipping into the sky.
“Didn’t I promise to protect your stockings?” he responded. “And I give you my word that I will, even if I have to carry you through the denser parts of the undergrowth!”
She stood at the edge of the terrace and shivered in the sharpness of the night air.
“It’s cold,” she protested. “Can’t we inspect your favourite corner of the grounds on a rather warmer night?”
He put his hand beneath her elbow and forced her to walk the length of the terrace at his side.
“As a matter of fact, I’m not going to subject you to any such ordeal,” he admitted. “I wanted to get you away to the library where we could talk for a few minutes, and as Lucille lit a fire in there after tea there’s little or no danger that you’ll freeze to death in there.”
He held open the french window of the library as he spoke, and she passed inside. He followed her, pressed the switch of the electric light and pulled the curtains across the window.
“There!” he said. “This is better than fighting brambles, isn’t it? And I must say in that dress it would have been more than inconsiderate of me to expect you to do anything of the kind.”
He stood looking her up and down, and she received the impression that he was still deliberately amusing himself at her expense. The library was certainly very cosy with the curtains drawn and a bright fire leaping on the wide stone hearth, but she felt vaguely uneasy that they were shut away from the rest of his guests, and if he wanted to talk to her as employer and employee he could still have done so in the presence of the others. He did, after all, pay her her salary, and chauffeurs were accustomed to taking orders in front of other people.
But it became increasingly obvious he had no orders to give her. He simply wanted to talk to her.
“You are a very attractive young woman,” he remarked. “Almost, but not quite, as attractive as your sister.”
“Thank you—sir!” she replied, with a somewhat bleak upwards glance at him that showed him the way the firelight danced on her long eyelashes.
“I mean it.”
Her voice this time was thick with sarcasm. “It is always a great comfort to a girl when a man thinks she is attractive—and when he mentions her in the same breath as her beautiful sister she begins to feel she owes him something!”
But Lestrode ignored the sarcasm.
“In that dress,” he told her, “you have a quality all your own. I don’t quite know what it is, but you should devote a little more time to your appearance and less to grubbing about under cars if you want the world to notice you.”
“I don’t want the world to notice me,” she assured him coldly. “And you must remember, Mr. Lestrode, that they are your cars I grub about under.”
He frowned as he kicked a log into place in the fire-basket.
“Talking about cars, I shall want you tomorrow morning to drive me to a neighbour’s house for lunch. And on the way back we’ll have a look at the Dower House and find out what can be done to it to make it habitable for your mother. I have decided that she can’t possibly live in the cottage—and certainly Rosaleen can’t.”
Frederica felt her lips thin a little, and her whole spine prickled a little with resentment.
“If my mother could put up with the cottage then most certainly Rosaleen could.”
He leant one broad shoulder against the mantelpiece, lighted a cigarette and studied her with an air of amused curiosity.
“Do you and your sister get on well together?” he asked.
“Fairly well.”
“It has struck me that you are not the best of friends ... and it can’t be the fault of Rosaleen. She is such a charming, gentle, amiable girl—in addition to being quite ravishing to look at. Is it because she is such a charmer that you are a little envious of the appeal she makes to other people?”
Frederica was incensed.
“Of course not!”
“You don’t feel passed over occasionally, and resent it?”
“Of course not!” she repeated. And then she gazed at him with growing anger in her eyes. “But I do resent your making such a suggestion,” she told him.
He continued to smile in a faintly inscrutable way, and she had the feeling that he was prepared to humour and even indulge her.
“Sisters don’t always get on well together,” he remarked, “any more than brothers do. But brothers are seldom envious of one another’s looks. It has occurred to me that in your case—”
“Then forget it,” she advised shortly. “I’m quite satisfied with my own looks.”
His eyes sparkled.
“Good!” he exclaimed, as if he was urging on a cricket side. “You must keep your end up, and you certainly made the most of yourself tonight. I was quite shattered when I caught my first glimpse of you before dinner.”
“Until Rosaleen arrived,” she observed drily. “After that, of course, I ceased to exist.”
He smiled as if he could really appreciate that line of repartee.
“Well, not exactly to exist,” he replied, in a lazy, drawling voice, “because you are very useful to me, and charming though she is I doubt whether Rosaleen could ever make herself useful to anyone. However, we mustn’t expect too much of anyone—certainly not a bewitching piece like her.”
The hall clock chimed, and he remembered his other guests.
“I flatter myself,” he remarked, “that this has been a very pleasant evening for everyone. I’m grateful to you, Fred, for bringing me into contact with your family ... but now I think we’d better rejoin the others.”
“I wish you wouldn’t call me Fred,” she burst out with sudden impetuosity.
He elevated one of his eyebrows.
“Surely you wouldn’t prefer that I made it Wells?” ‘
She looked, back at him almost defiantly.
“Yes; I’d rather be called Wells. I’d rather be called anything than Fred!”
His other eyebrow went up to match its fellow.
“Very well, Wells! ... Wells it shall be in future. And now if you’d like to go to bed—you’re the only one amongst us who has some actual hard work to do tomorrow!—I’ll make your excuses to the others.”
She turned on her heel and preceded him in the direction of the door to the hall.
“Goodnight, Mr. Lestrode,” she said in a slightly muffled voice.
He followed hard on her heels, and managed to open the door for her before she could perform this function for herself.
“You really are much too independent,” he observed in an amused voice behind her. “And it occurs to me that you have a temper!”
She glanced at him swiftly over her shoulder.
“Goodnight, Mr. Lestrode!”
CHAPTER FIVE
Frederica had the car round and in front of the house in good time to drive her employer the twelve miles to the house where he was to have lunch the following day, and Lestrode took his place in the back a bare minute or so later.
She was not surprised that he sat in the back, for except on the occasion when her mother and her sister had been passengers also he seemed to prefer the isolation and dignity of the back seat. No doubt, she thought, it afforded him some satisfaction to contemplate her back rather than her profile, for she was after all his paid servant, and there was less necessity to address an occasional remark to her than there would have been if he had sat beside her in the front of the car.
Even so, he did occasionally give her a few instructions, which caused her to remember his existence; but he was no back-seat driver, and her nerves were not harrowed by hearing him offer a sharp piece of advice so suddenly that she would almost certainly have taken the wrong turning, or lost control of the wheel. That, of course, would have been fatal, and no doubt he realised it.
The house where he was to have lunch was quite a famous one in the county, and Frederica was looking forward to seeing it for the first time. The thing she was not looking forward to was having her own lunch with the members of her employer’s host’s staff in the domestic premises of the house, and this had nothing to do with snobbishness, but was entirely due to the fear she had that she herself would be looked upon as rather an oddity.
Even in this enlightened day and age domestics are pretty much domestics, and she wasn’t even a female domestic—she was a chauffeuse; and she was perfectly well aware that she didn’t look the part.
For the occasion she had donned one of her smart new dresses, and as she sat behind the wheel she looked sufficiently attractive to merit more than one casual glance on the short journey to the dignified Georgian mansion where she was to deposit Lestrode. He was smiling as she set him down, and the smile seemed to flicker over her as he waved a casual hand.
“I shall probably be leaving about three o’clock. I’m sure they’ll fix you up with lunch somewhere in the kitchen regions, but don’t start a flirtation with the butler, will you? It wouldn’t be quite fair as he’s probably very elderly, anyway!”
Frederica tightened her lips and kept her eyes rigidly averted as he climbed the steps to the house. Then she made up her mind to do something which might have repercussions later, since the staff would almost certainly report on it, and drove off down the drive again in the direction of the village. There, as there was no inn of modest appearance where she might have bought herself a frugal lunch, she went inside the post-office which was also the general store and bought some chocolate and apples, and sat on the edge of a wood a couple of miles away to munch them.
It was very peaceful in the wood, and she enjoyed herself far more than she would have done in a servant’s hall echoing with chatter about the elevated human beings who were being regaled with first-class fare in the dining-room. But it was also a very warm day, and even with the windows open it was very warm against the leather upholstery of the car. She got out and walked about for a bit, and then as the car was perfectly safe, and it was a third-class road she was on, anyway, and probably very little used, she decided to penetrate the trees to a sylvan spot smelling deliciously of pine needles and other aromatic scents, and stretched herself out on a soft bed of turf and went to sleep.
Never in her life had she gone to sleep quite so rapidly—certainly without the least intention of doing anything of the kind—and the shock the process of waking up caused her was like the shock of waking to an alarm bell. She sprang up, dusted down the front of her dress and glanced at her wrist-watch in horror. It was ten minutes past three!
An anguished cry left her lips as she hurled herself back into the car. Fortunately it was only a bare couple of miles that she had to travel before representing herself for duty, but although she stepped recklessly on the accelerator that couple of miles seemed the longest she had ever travelled.
She imagined her employer waiting for her with grimly shut lips at the foot of the steps, but instead he was pacing up and down over the well-rolled gravel with an elegant lady in mauve silk shantung, and a white-headed gentleman with a stick who was pointing out some feature of the landscape when Frederica ground to a halt beside them.
Humphrey Lestrode, who had been walking with his hostess’s arm linked in his, paused and surveyed the car without the smallest appearance of surprise. But as Frederica met his eyes through her open window little chills sped up and down her spine, and she knew that this was one of those occasions when unruffled waters were likely to be stirred up—and probably quite violently—later on.
“Oh, so here you are,” he exclaimed casually, to the girl who met his strange dark eyes with a pair of very frightened green ones. “We were enjoying the sunshine, and I’m not in any particular hurry. But Lady Dillinger has been asking me questions about you, and now you’d better meet her.”
Lady Dillinger extended a blue-veined white hand to the girl who sat behind the wheel of the big, glittering car. Lady Dillinger herself was only a small and rather bird-like woman, but Frederica looked positively lost in charge of her handsome Daimler.
“My dear,” the old lady said in a warm voice, “I do think you’re wonderfully brave to drive someone like Humphrey about, and I really can’t believe it that you actually are a mechanic and know what to do when something goes wrong with the engine. Do you really get yourself all messed up with oil and things like that in the course of your duties?”
Frederica, who had not yet recovered from the shock of waking up in the wood, swallowed an uneasy lump in her throat and nodded.
“Sometimes,” she admitted. “It’s—it’s all part of the job,” she added huskily.
Sir Adrian Dillinger, who h
ad a charming and friendly face, and an equally warm and almost naive voice, also put his head in at the car window and spoke to her.
“You should have come and had lunch with us,” he said. “Why didn’t you bring her, Humphrey?” he demanded, looking over his shoulder. “She would have been very welcome! And it’s so seldom nowadays that we see anyone really young...” He bent lower and spoke in Frederica’s ear: “Our family, you know—all married and gone away to homes of their own,” he told her sadly. “It’s not often we see any of them nowadays!”
Lady Dillinger, too, lamented the fact that nowadays there were just the two of them, and it was a bit lonely sometimes. But she was more cheerful about it than her husband, who looked so chronically wistful that Frederica felt really sorry for him.
The afternoon sunlight was falling mellowly all about them, and the great trees that bordered the drive looked infinitely attractive with their deep green tops moving gently against the deep blue of the sky. There was a scent of roses in the air, and scented peonies, and on all sides of the house the well-cared-for velvety lawns looked like velvety skirts spread out to get the benefit of the afternoon sunshine. Frederica, who had hardly noticed the house before, took a quick look at it now and decided that this was a very charming house, and it belonged to two very charming elderly people.
“I hope you did have some lunch, my dear,” Lady Dillinger said to her through the window. “Garside always looks after visiting staff, and I hope he looked after you?”