by Susan Barrie
“Well, now that we’ve wasted so much time see if you can get us to our destination without landing us in a ditch,” he said, his tone so ungracious that it was hardly a comfort ... but at least the moment of acute danger seemed passed.
He was visiting his solicitor in Greater Corsham, and she managed to deliver him at the door of the legal chambers without becoming involved in any further incidents, and afterwards parked the car in the local car-park, and then did a small amount of shopping on her own behalf. She had already earmarked a small, attractive-looking cafe as a place where she might buy herself some lunch when the moment arrived, as they were not returning to Farthing Hall until the afternoon, but in the meantime she had arranged to meet her employer outside the George at twelve-thirty. Why he had arranged to meet her there she had no idea, and it certainly never entered her head that he proposed to stand her lunch. But that was precisely what he did intend, and when she stood gaping up at him in open surprise he actually smiled unwillingly.
“What in the world do you take me for?” he demanded. “And what sort of category have you placed yourself in simply because you work for me? If I can take your mother and sister to lunch surely I can take you?”
And although it didn’t sound exactly complimentary she followed him gratefully into the dim interior of the hostelry, and because it was a very warm day was glad of a long drink with some ice in it before he suggested that she went and washed her hands before joining him again in the famous centuries-old dining-room, where he had already reserved a table for two.
When she emerged from the ladies’ wash-room her nails were clean and her hair was softly combed and her deep blue eyes rather large with a mixture of awe and anticipation. Awe because she had never yet lunched alone with her employer, and anticipation because she was hungry and the hotel had a reputation for excellent food and service.
Lestrode was still in the bar when she crossed the entrance hall, but he slipped off a stool and joined her almost immediately. He looked her up and down with undisguised approval, and then nodded his head to give emphasis to that approval.
“You know,” he said, “there are moments when you remind me a little of your sister.” She realised that this was intended to be a high compliment. “But only very occasionally!” he added, immediately arousing in her a curious, numb form of resentment.
“Well, what is it to be?” he enquired, when they took their seats in the dining-room. “Apples first and chocolate afterwards, or vice versa?”
She flushed slightly.
“I know you’re not entirely convinced that I didn’t sneak off and have lunch at the inn that day you lunched with Sir Adrian and Lady Dillinger,” she said. “But the truth is that when I’m on my own I don’t always bother myself about lunch.”
“Which is one reason why you’re so slim,” he returned, some of the approval vanishing from his expression. “A little too slim for a young woman who has to earn her own living!”
She realised that this was his method of reproving her.
“You mean too slim to be a really useful mechanic?” the flush deepening in her cheeks. “Well, I’m awfully sorry about this morning, Mr. Lestrode ... I really am!” she assured him earnestly. “But I’m afraid I was rather nervous—”
“You mean I made you nervous?”
“Well...”
For an instant he actually looked wry.
“I have a habit of making people nervous,” he admitted. “Lucille used to be half terrified of me, and as she was my secretary in those days she unfortunately saw quite a lot of me. But with the years she has discovered that although I’m occasionally terrifying my bite is not always as bad as my bark! Lucille isn’t a bit frightened of me nowadays, and if she was she wouldn’t continue to work for me. Lucille has an independent spirit, but she also attaches herself like a limpet once her loyalty is aroused.”
Frederica regarded him thoughtfully as the soup plates were removed.
“Lucille does appear to be—rather devoted to you,” she murmured.
“Does that really astonish you?” he enquired. “Am I such an ogre in your opinion that you cannot envisage a situation arising that would provide me with the support of loyal employees?”
His hard eyes—the exact colour of which was not always easy to define—struck her as being somewhat concerned; and, indeed, the tone of his voice was concerned.
“Of—of course not,” she answered hurriedly. “It was just that Lucille—well, it seems strange to me that she should start off by being your secretary and then become your housekeeper. I—I mean, she’s very attractive!”
The hard eyes seemed to grow a trifle cold.
“I am well aware that she is attractive,” he said.
She crumbled bread on her plate.
“I—I just wondered why she changed her job—”
“You think housekeeping is rather nearer to taking over the role of mistress of the house?”
“Of—of course not! That is to say, I—well—!”
“You keep repeating the word ‘well’! I am not planning to marry Lucille one of these days, if that is what you think!”
“I wasn’t thinking anything of the kind!” she gasped.
“In that case I am more than satisfied.” But his mouth was hard again as he consulted the menu to decide upon the sweet that should follow his main course. “Perhaps it is important I should make it clear to you that Lucille is the sister of a very old friend of mine, and I employed her for the first time when she was in some sort of trouble. I suppose, as a result of that, and various other little things I have done for her, she became grateful. But there is no need for her gratitude, and no real reason for it. I have occasionally given her lunch—as I am giving you lunch today!—and even taken her out to dinner, and the odd theatre. But I repeat, I am not planning to marry her!”
She looked down confusedly at her Neapolitan ice-cream.
“I shall not make that mistake again,” she murmured.
“I’m glad.” His voice was cool, but it was also a trifle harsh. “It is important—very important!—that you should make no further mistakes of that kind, because I am planning to marry ... and in good time, I promise you, you shall be the first to hear all about it!” With much dryness he added: “When that day arrives you will have to make up your mind whether or not you wish to continue acting the part of my chauffeur!”
On the whole it was a pleasant lunch, and while they sipped their coffee afterwards in the oak-beamed lounge he told her quite a lot about himself and the kind of youth that had been his. He talked in a relaxed manner of his mother and his sisters—both married and living on the far side of the world—and she gathered that he had been quite a devoted son, but very much the man about the house, who had always received the adulation due to men about the house, which no doubt accounted for his faint air of holding womenfolk in slight contempt. But all the time he talked, and despite the comfortable friendliness of his tone, she felt that she had been put into the picture, as it were ... and whether or not her job lasted for any length of time was entirely up to herself.
He could dispense with her very easily, but he would keep her on if she wished to stay ... even after he was married.
She did not dare to risk a snub by enquiring whether his marriage was likely to take place soon, and in any case she was certain he would not have satisfied her curiosity. He would probably have regarded it as an impertinence, and told her she was being impertinent.
But she did wonder about Rosaleen ... and she wondered what her mother would say when she heard that he was to be married. The perplexing thing was his attitude to Rosaleen, and his obvious interest in her—to the extent of wondering how well she would fit into the Dower House. And it suddenly struck her as quite unlikely he would be thinking of the Dower House in connection with Rosaleen and Electra if he was also on the point of taking some unknown, and possible rather fortunate—according to the way you looked at it—female to be his wife and the sharer of hi
s generous income and the attributes that went with it.
Therefore ... Therefore it was just possible that there was no other woman, and he was simply bowled over by Rosaleen, and in the businesslike way he did most things had decided, although she as yet knew nothing about it, to marry Rosaleen!
Which would, of course, delight Electra. But Frederica felt faintly appalled—in fact, actually rather revolted—by the suddenness of a decision that had not so far taken any account of the way in which Rosaleen herself might react when the decision was made clear to her. For in spite of the fact that Rosaleen was undoubtedly flattered by Humphrey Lestrode’s undisguised admiration and the little attentions he had already paid her, so far as Frederica knew she was not actually bowled over by him as a man, and although her mother would wholeheartedly approve the match there was no evidence that Rosaleen herself would look favourably upon it.
During the next few days Frederica observed her sister somewhat carefully whenever she had the opportunity, and she attempted to find out by various means whether the lovely Rosaleen—so accustomed to receiving admiration that it didn’t always mean a great deal to her—was reserving a special place in her heart for Lestrode. But apart from chattering constantly about him and talking eagerly of the car he had more or less promised her she failed, in Frederica’s opinion, to give the impression she was a young woman violently attracted for the first time in her life to a personable man who was several years older than she was, but undoubtedly had a good deal of charm if you were a very feminine person with the power to arouse his interest and also his protective instincts.
Anyone like Frederica, for instance, aroused in him sensations of acute irritation because she was so admirably controlled and able to fend for herself. While admitting that she was extremely feminine to look at he disapproved of both her independent spirit and her ability while only too eager to criticise her when she failed to display ability.
She realised he had been very annoyed with her indeed when he had to come to her assistance over the changing of the wheel on the Daimler. He probably wouldn’t have done it if the driver of another car hadn’t been in a position to witness her straggles, and might possibly have reported on his utter lack of gallantry if he had continued to ignore her and demanded the maximum return for the salary he paid her.
Although she wasn’t entirely certain about that. She had suspected, even before he ordered her to abandon her efforts, that he was not feeling too comfortable about seeing her down on her nylon-clad knees in the road while she smashed her nails in his service. Some latent chivalry had stirred in him ... the kind of chivalry that was ever ready to lift its head in order to make life easier for Rosaleen, and because of Rosaleen her mother.
Frederica was privately very worried about the situation that had developed as a result of her employment with Lestrode. She couldn’t think it was right for Lestrode to have to foot the bill for her mother and sister to go on living at the village inn. It was one thing to have them with her if they intended to move into the chauffeur’s cottage, but quite another when they meant to take advantage of Lestrode’s generosity. Not even his interest—if he really was interested—in Rosaleen could sanction that. And as Electra was old enough to know better, and to have higher principles, it was becoming increasingly an additional worry for Frederica.
A fortnight after she had taken on the job of chauffeur at Farthing Hall they were still living at the inn. They seemed to be very comfortably settled in, and there was no longer any talk of making the chauffeur’s cottage habitable. For one thing Electra declared she didn’t like it, and when Electra declared quite definitely that she didn’t like a thing there seemed no point in arguing the matter.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Robert Rawlinson arrived at Farthing Hall to spend a weekend, and as Electra was one of his oldest friends it seemed perfectly natural that she, too, should be invited to forsake the comforts of the Black Bull and become a weekend guest at the Hall.
And naturally Rosaleen was included in the invitation extended to her mother, and Frederica was instructed to pick them up at the inn and drive them and their luggage the short distance to the Hall, thereby making it unnecessary for them to take a taxi.
Rosaleen had been to a local hairdresser and had her hair specially washed and set for the occasion. Normally she went to one of the most expensive hairdressers in London, but this was a man who had opened up recently in Greater Corsham, with West End experience behind him, and a customer such as the elder Miss Wells represented a welcome challenge to him. He worked over her spun-gold hair almost lovingly, and when she was finally dressed and ready for collection by Frederica at the inn she even caused Frederica to look slightly taken aback.
Everything she was wearing appeared to be new ... and it was plainly very expensive newness. Her shoes, she confessed, had been acquired as a bargain ... but Rosaleen had no real idea of what constituted a bargain. She was wearing a dove-grey suit, and the accessories that went with it were all exactly right. Electra was wearing her favourite black and white, with a great deal more white than black—which suited her admirably. And she, too, had tried the new hairdresser.
As she stepped into the back of the Daimler, and her younger daughter took her place behind the wheel, the attractive widow sighed with a kind of blissful anticipation.
“I am so looking forward to meeting Robert again,” she declared, as she lay back against the silver-grey upholstery. “He and I were always such friends ... such very close friends!”
“What about his wife?” Frederica enquired, as she started up the car.
“He no longer has a wife, darling,” her mother informed her in a tone of satisfaction.
“A widower?”
“Well, what else would he be since his wife is dead? And the poor dear does miss her very much. He told me so when I lunched with him in town. He is the sort of man who ought to have a wife!”
Rosaleen winked at her sister’s innocent back. “And fortunately for everybody concerned he has enough money to indulge his fancies and take on another half dozen wives if he feels like it,” she said. “A man with money, and lots of time on his hands in which to spend it. That’s what I like!”
Her mother reached out and patted her sheer silk-clad knee.
“Darling, you know perfectly well that Humphrey fits very nicely into that category! At least, he has the money, and I’m sure he’d always make the time if he had a wife who would encourage him to do so. He was telling me only the other day that he’s thinking seriously of taking a wife...”
“That Lucille woman, who acts as his housekeeper, would like to marry him,” Rosaleen observed cattily. “But,” she added, “I could tell her that she doesn’t stand a chance!”
“Not with you around, darling,” Electra murmured, for her favourite daughter’s ear alone.
When they drew up outside the front door of the Hall Frederica, declining to carry her sister’s luggage in from the car, although obligingly assisting her mother with hers, said in an aside to Rosaleen:
“I do hope you’ll be nice to Lucille while you’re staying here, Rosaleen. She isn’t just an ordinary housekeeper, you know ... and if you want my personal opinion she’d make an excellent mistress for Farthing Hall!”
Rosaleen’s lovely lips curled disdainfully. Her china-blue eyes sparkled with contempt as she answered:
“But that’s what you think, isn’t it, sweetheart? And I happen to know that Humphrey doesn’t think anything of the kind. He has other ideas, believe me!”
Frederica looked back at her challengingly.
“You?” she enquired.
Rosaleen shrugged her dainty shoulders carelessly, while her eyes avoided her sister’s.
“Perhaps,” she said, as if it was not up to her, anyway, to make revelations of this kind. “Your little sister does seem to have gained a certain popularity in this district.”
“Are you in love with him?” Frederica enquired, not entirely understanding why all at
once it was important that she should find out.
Rosaleen smiled as if the question amused her.
“It’s usual,” Frederica returned shortly. “If he plans to marry you, and you can think of no reason why you should turn him down!”
“Still thinking about Lucille?” Rosaleen’s tone was mocking. “But she’s had her opportunity to marry him, hasn’t she? All those years, and she failed to get her hooks well and truly into him as the vulgar would phrase it ... first his secretary, and then his housekeeper! And no longer as young as she once was, I’m afraid! It could be, of course, that she’s accepted a secondary role in his life, but I’ll cope with that when the time comes!”
“Then you are planning to marry him—” Frederica bit her lip, and their mother called from the top of the steps. “I think that’s an absolutely beastly insinuation to make about Lucille,” she protested hotly, “and quite untrue!”
Rosaleen slipped past her en route for the open front door, and she murmured for her sister’s ear, and not for the ear of the dark, attractive woman who stood holding the door open for them:
“Nothing is untrue until it’s proved, my sweet ... and in any case I’m not fussy! Not when the prize is a house like this!”
Innocent of the knowledge that she had so recently been discussed, Lucille conducted them to their rooms, and sought to find out whether they had everything they required. She had taken great pains preparing the rooms for them, and Frederica, who had helped in a very minor way with the curtains and polished one or two items of furniture, considered the amount of time and effort she had expended was far more than her relatives had any right to expect. She was not surprised when her mother, looking round the rooms and inspecting various details carefully after making the pleasing discovery that she and Rosaleen were to share a reasonably sumptuous bathroom remarked critically: