He stood up and walked over to the bookshelves. ' You have a very fine library, Miss Granger.'
' My father's.'
He glanced at some of the titles and lifted out a heavy volume, her father's last book on Greek drama. His hands, beautifully shaped for a man, were gentle on the cover, his long, thin fingers careful as he turned the pages. He remained immersed in the book for a few moments and then returned it to its place without any comment.
' My sister has grown very fond of you.'
Lucy was taken aback by the switch of conversation. ' I'm glad. She's a very sweet girl.'
A look of pleasure flitted across his pale features'. ' You're the first friend of Cindy's of whom I haven't disapproved.'
The remark was so pomp6us that she could not resist baiting him.
' I'd have thought you wouldn't like your sister to be friends with one of your employees.'
Again his pale eyes seemed to bore into her. ' What an odd opinion you have of me, Miss Granger. I may be many things that are undesirable, but I hope I'm not a snob.'
He bent slightly and held his hands to the fire. The flames coloured his face, giving it unexpected warmth and minimizing the austerity of his expression. ' You don't like my telling you that I feel in your debt, and I don't like it when you tell me the same! For the purpose of any future relationship it would be better if we forgot everything that has gone before and start merely on the premise that you are a friend of Cindy's whom I like.'
Once more Lucy's humour threatened to get the better of her discretion. What Paul had said was both intelligent and unexpectedly kind, yet his manner of saying it was more fitting for the board-room than the friends he had just said he hoped they were. Because she did not know what to say she remained quiet and he moved away from the fire and sat opposite her again.
' The specialist has been in touch with me about your progress, Miss Granger, and though you are well physically, he feels it would be advisable for you to take a month's holiday.'
' I don't want to go away. I've been among strangers so long that I'd rather remain at home.'
' I can understand that. And I hope you'll come to regard Charters as your home while you're there.'
' Charters?'
' Yes. My house in the country. The chauffeur will take you down tomorrow.'
The momentary warmth Lucy had felt towards him dissolved under this example of autocratic behaviour.
' I don't want to convalesce in your home,' she said. ' I'm perfectly happy here.'
Her change of voice told him he had made a mistake and she noticed the way he narrowed his eyes thoughtfully before speaking.
' I've offended you, haven't I, Miss Granger?'
'Not offended,' she said honestly. 'Merely irritated me by your bossiness.'
He chuckled, an unexpectedly human sound. But it was not the sound that surprised her so much as the way his face altered, becoming younger and softer. Even when he stopped smiling the softness did not disappear. It gave a gentle curve to his mouth and a warmth to his eyes, making her realize the attractiveness of smokey grey irises and the vulnerable look of the blue-shadowed eyelids. No one could doubt that Paul Harlow was a man in command of himself and others, and yet she was seeing now a defencelessness, a sensitivity she had not suspected. Could Bariy be right after all ? she wondered. Could this man's aloofness be merely shyness ?
' It isn't that I don't want to go to your home,' she said by way Of excuse. ' It's just that it'll make me feel even more in your debt than I do already. I know I saved Cindy from a nasty accident, but believe me most other people faced with a similar situation would have done exactly what I did.'
' Possibly so. But I would not offer the hospitality of my home to " most other people ".' He was speaking more quickly and the drawl was less pronounced. He had a nice voice, she thought dispassionately, and was reminded of her father, for it had the same unexpected warmth under the preciseness. She blinked in surprise at the way her thoughts had run. Warmth and Paul Harlow? Whatever had made her associate the word with him? But he was still speaking and she forced herself to concentrate on what he was saying.
' I can see I'll have to explain a few things to you, Miss Granger. I hope you'll bear with me. I never find it easy to explain myself at the best of times, but———— '
' You've never had to,' she said drily. ' You're a law unto yourself!'
' Not as far as my family are concerned!' He leaned forward in the chair, his hands clenching and unclenching. ' Cindy is my only family, Miss Granger. As you may be aware, we had the same father but not the same mother. Her mother died when she was a child and since then I've been responsible for her. I haven't always been able to give her as much time as I would have liked, but she's always been well looked after by an aunt of mine. Recently, however, Cindy has become difficult to control.'
' A young man?'
' I can see she has already told you.'
' She hasn't. But it's what I would have expected. She's very pretty.'
' She's also rich,' came the dry answer. ' And the young man in question is poor.' He paused and she guessed he was deciding what to say.
' I can see I'll have to tell you the whole story,' he said suddenly. ' You're not the sort of person to do something without knowing exactly why you're asked to do it. Cindy, as you are no doubt aware, is impressionable and naive. A few months ago she met a young man called Phillips. He's an out-of-work artist with big ambitions and little talent, and he regards my sister as his hope for the future. Cindy wants to marry him and I've naturally refused my consent.'
' Does she know why?'
' I left her in no doubt as to my reason,' he said drily. ' In fact, in the vernacular of the age, Miss Granger, we had a hell of a row. I was banking on the fact that she can't get married until she's of age and I hoped that by then she'd come to her senses and see Phillips for what he was. But in the last few months I've had the impression that she intends eloping with him and is only waiting until I am half way round the world on some business deal before doing so. The only reason she hasn't done so already is that Phillips is afraid I'll disinherit her.'
' Would you?' Lucy asked.
He hesitated. ' I'd make sure Phillips wouldn't be able to touch a penny of any money Cindy had. But I—I'd find it hard to allow my sister to live in penury, which is certainly how she'd Live if she had to rely on' that scoundrel to support her I Still, that's for your ears alone. My main concern is to stop Cindy from ruining her life.'
' Why don't you make her a Ward of Court ?'
' I don't want to broadcast to the world that a man in. control of millions of pounds can't control his sister.'
' There's a difference between controlling money and controlling someone you love.'
A glint of humour sparked in his eyes. ' Legal arrangements take time, and time is something I'm short of right now. I've instructed my solicitors to set things, in motion, and had hoped to be here until they were completed. Unfortunately, though, I have to leave for Japan in the morning.'
' And you think she'll elope while you're away?'
' Yes. I had a talk with her a little while ago and she's promised not to see Phillips while I'm abroad. I rather think she's hoping that if she obeys me over this I'll revise my opinion of him when I come back.'
' Only someone like Cindy could believe such a thing,' Lucy thought, for it was obvious to the meanest intelligence that once Paul Harlow made up his mind he was. not likely to change-it.
' I still don't see what all this had to do with my .staying at your home.'
' I should have thought it was obvious. Cindy is fond of you. In the few hours I spent with her she was continually talking about you. All the time it was; "Lucy ""says this " and " Lucy says that".'
She coloured at his use of her name, for it lent an unexpected intimacy between them.
' It's because of the influence I believe you have over her,' he went on, ' that I hope you'll agree tc do as I ask. If you convalesce at Charters it will
cover the entire period I'm away and will give me enormous peace of mind. Although Cindy's promised not to see Phillips in my absence I'm pretty sure that if she's left on her own she won't have the will power to keep her word. But if you're with her, if you can watch her and——'
' I've no intention of staying in your house as a spy,' Lucy said sharply.
' But you will come?'
' Yes/,'she said slowly. ' You've made it difficult for me to refuse.'
' Thank you.'
He walked to the door, and with an odd sense of disappointment she knew that having accomplished what he had set out to do, he saw no need to remain. Did he ever do anything without an ulterior motive? she wondered, and watched him from beneath her lashes as he picked up his hat and gloves.
She preceded him into the hall, stopping in surprise as she saw a magnum of champagne on the hall table.
' It's a welcome home present for you,' Paul Harlow said behind her.
She swung round and looked at him, her face alight with pleasure. ' If you'd told me it was here we could have drunk a toast to your trip tomorrow.'
' I hope we'll be able to drink other toasts together,' he said precisely.
She ran her hand reverently over the gold foil top of the bottle. It was wrapped in cellophane, but the words 'Louis Roderer' were visible beneath, and though ignorant of vintages, she knew enough to recognize that this was one of the best.
' I haven't drunk champagne since my—since my father's last work was published.'
' I should have thought someone like you could have had champagne whenever you wanted.'
She looked at him questioningly and he continued, faintly embarrassed: ' I mean a girl as—as pretty as- you must have many willing to give you what you want.'
' Oh, sure,' Lucy replied with unexpected sarcasm.
But I'm not willing to give them what they want!'
He laughed and put his hand on the door knob. Close to Mm she was aware of his tallness and leanness, saw too the faint lines fanning out either side of his eyes and the deeper ones etched around his mouth. How old was he? she thought. Thirty-five, thirty-six? Yet he looked older: a tired and worried man.
Impulsively she put her hand on his arm. 'Don't worry about Cindy, Mr Harlow. I'll do my best to take care of her while you're away.'
' I'm sure you will,' he said, and looked at the hand on his sleeve. Embarrassed, she pulled it away, but he reached out and caught it, binding to look at the scars.
'The doctor said they'll disappear soon,' she said quickly.
'I'm sure they will,' he replied, and unexpectedly raised her hand to his mouth and kissed it.
She was still standing by the door, amazed and disconcerted, when he murmured goodnight and left.
CHAPTER III
Even if it had not been for the problem of Cindy and the clash of loyalties it presented, the thought of being Paul Harlow's guest was enough to make Lucy fearful.
'A fine convalescence I'm going to have,' she told Meg wryly, and could not help reflecting that an immediate return to work might have presented less nervous strain.
But her promise had been given and despite her fears she could not suppress a touch of eagerness at the thought of the approaching visit. It was not necessary to work very long at Industrial Holdings to hear stories of the splendours of Charters; the size of the grounds, the collection of pictures, the beauties of the Italianate garden. As the hours passed Lucy's mood swung between trepidation and excitement, and when at last she sat wrapped around in beaver rugs in the upholstered depths of a Rolls—a caramel and silver one this time—on the first stage of her journey to Paul Harlow's country home,, she found she was regarding her visit with an odd sense of inevitability.
A fine drizzle had been falling for most of the day, but the rain cleared by the time they reached the outskirts of London and the last rays of a wintery sun appeared briefly from behind the clouds. Dusk was already falling 'as the car turned off the main Chichester road and the chauffeur drew back the glass partition to tell her they were almost at their destination.
Lucy thanked him and reaching for her bag, powdered her nose. In the half light her face had the pallor of milk and her large, slanting eyes were deeply shadowed. Though the journey had been comfortable she was surprised to realize how much it had fatigued her; she was still weaker than she had thought and would certainly have to take things easy for the next few weeks. As she returned her compact to her bag, she saw that the car had turned into a narrow winding road banked by trim hedgerows. They halted in front of high iron gates and the chauffeur pressed the horn. The door of a white lodge opened and a woman hurried forward to open the gates for them, giving a half curtsy as they passed.
It was so like a scene from a film that Lucy wanted to laugh. The car moved down a straight tree-lined drive that seemed never-ending and the feeling that she was being wafted into another world grew stronger as the car came out beyond the trees and turned into the clear space before Paul Harlow's home. An exclamation of delight escaped her. Splendour she had anticipated, but a splendour of ostentation. Never had she expected a house of such true beauty. Built in three wings with porticoed front, it was the finest example of early eighteenth-century architecture with graceful Doric columns and long windows looking out on to a terraced garden. Away to the right, half concealed behind a rose walk, were stables and outhouses converted, as she later learned, into garages, playrooms and an indoor swimming pool.
' It isn't a house,' she thought in sudden fright, as the chauffeur opened the door and she stepped out on to a gravel path. ' It's a palace.'
But there was no time for panic. Already the front door was opening and, stepping past a butler, she found herself shaking hands with an elderly woman with untidy grey hair and vague blue eyes hidden behind old- fashioned spectacles.
' I'm Beatrice Harlow,' the woman said. ' Welcome to Charters.' She squeezed Lucy's hands between hers. ' I'm sure you'd like to go to your room and tidy. Tea will be waiting for you as soon as you come down.'
Signalling a footman to take Lucy's case, the woman led file way across the marble-floored hall to the wide curving stairway.
' I've put you in the west wing, near .to Cindy. She thought you'd prefer that to being in one of the main guest rooms.'
They had reached the top of the stairs and Beatrice Harlow turned down a long corridor and opened a door at the far end.
' Good,' she murmured, peering in. ' The fire's lit and your luggage is already here. We call this the Rose Room. I hope you. like it?'
' It's lovely,' Lucy exclaimed, and walked into a room whose area was as large as her entire fiat. It was patterned with a delicate rose wallpaper that echoed the intricate pale green and rose design of an antique Chinese carpet, while the white and gold French furniture was, even to Lucy's inexperienced eyes, worthy of a museum. Beatrice Harlow pointed to a bell, rope hanging at the head of the bed.
'When you're ready, ring for the maid and she'll show you to the music room. We always take tea there unless we have visitors. I hope you'll forgive me if I don't join you, but I always have a nap before dinner. If I don't I find myself nodding off in the middle of the sweet!' She pointed to a door. 'The dressing room's through there and the bathroom is beyond.it. Cindy's room is across the corridor.'
' Is she here?' Lucy asked, taking off her coat.
' She should be back about six o'clock. She developed the most dreadful toothache this morning and rushed off to town to the dentist. Now you make yourself comfortable, my dear, and then go down to tea.'
Left to herself, Lucy started to unpack, and as she hung her few dresses in the magnificent fitted Cupboards lining the dressing room and stowed her chain store underwear on one of the dozen shelves, she was glad the old lady had not suggested sending a maid to help her. She shook out the folds of her old white net dinner dress and thought regretfully of the one she had ruined on the night of the staff party. She could only hope there would be very little dressing for dinner
during her stay here.
When she had washed and made herself tidy she tugged the bell as she had been instructed, and waited for someone to come and collect her. Lodge gates and bell ropes and a house the size of Buckingham Palace I Suddenly she was seized with a desperate homesickness for her own flat and she was almost debating flight when a rosy-cheeked maid came in to lead her to the music room.
Here again she was overawed by size and splendour. A magnificent crystal chandelier was the centrepiece of an intricately painted ceiling depicting Apollo and the Muses, while Second Empire bibelots and chairs presided over a thick-piled Spanish Savonnerie carpet. Tea was set out on a silver tray in front of the log fire, and as she relaxed in the warmth, the opulence of her surroundings seemed less awe-inspiring. After all, what did it matter if her clothes were shabby and she herself unused to luxury? Everyone knew who she was, and there was no question of having to maintain a false front with Paul Harlow and his family.
Paul Harlow… Where was he now? Sitting in an aeroplane thousands of feet above the earth? She had a sudden longing to see him, to hear his precise voice again. Strange how in this great alien house he alone should represent the one familiar object to her. Remembering all he had said to her yesterday, she hoped she had not taken on more than she could do. The little knowledge she had of Cindy told her that any authority would be hotly disputed; one could only cajole her; one could not order and expect her to obey.
She pushed aside the tray and drew her armchair closer to the fire. The flames glowed on the gold damask curtains and threw into relief the moulding of the fireplace. So this was the intimate room where the family partook of tea when alone, she thought humorously. Why, it was large enough to accommodate at least a hundred people!
Still smiling at the thought, she leaned back and closed her eyes, enjoying the luxury, letting her thoughts drift at random.
' A little more fat and you'd pass for a della Robbia angel.'
Startled, she opened her eyes and turned to see where the gay, strangely insolent voice was coining from. There was the click of a light switch and she found herself looking into the dark, mocking eyes of a young man. He wore tight-fitting black trousers and a loose black sweater that made him look as if he would be more at home in a Chelsea coffee bar than an eighteenth- century music room.
Rachel Lindsay - Love and Lucy Granger Page 4