Dear Dragon

by Sara Seale

  "You didn't know I'd been very ill, did you?" she jeered in her brother's mocking tones. "You wouldn't have spoken to me like that if you had, would you? Everyone waits on me in this house, and it's my right—you'll have to learn, too."

  "I won't be staying," said Alice, restraining herself with difficulty from running to put her arms round the beautiful, peevish child.

  "Why not? Don't you like Pendragon?"

  "I don't know your half-brother. I'm only here by chance as a result of missing my train back to London."

  "Keverne brought you, didn't he? I heard the commotion last night. Pendragon never allows Keverne to have his friends here. I shall say I want you for a Zombie, then he'll have to let you stay."

  "And if I don't care to?"

  "But you will. All the girls fall for Keverne—even some of the Zombies did."

  Alice found herself being a little shocked by this mixture of na'iveness and precocity and she was relieved when the door opened and Emma came into the room.

  "What is it, Doone?" she said, then gave a little start as she saw Alice.

  "Why didn't you ring the bell for her?" she asked a little curiously.

  "Because," replied Alice gently, "she seemed able to do it for herself. No one had told me, you see."

  "She is to have her breakfast here with me," Doone said and spoke rather as if. she were addressing a servant. "Bring something on a tray, please."

  "Miss Brown's breakfast has been getting cold in the day-room for the past hour," Emma said and gave Alice a look which plainly implied that she was causing unnecessary trouble.

  "If you will show me where the day-room is, I'll go along and have it now," Alice said, but Doone shouted arrogantly:

  "No! She will have it here, or do you want me to complain to Pendragon? You haven't been near me all the morning, Emma."

  "The baby's not well, I told you. Very well, Doone, I'll fetch a tray, or send Mrs. Biddle in with something."

  "Before you go, please carry me back to the sofa. You're strong enough."

  "You can," said Alice unexpectedly, "manage perfectly well yourself. If you want an arm I'll give you mine."

  Emma Pendragon gave her one startled glance and went quickly from the room.

  The child walked carefully back to the sofa and Alice replaced the rug over her legs, then knelt down and began picking up the jig-saw pieces. Doone lay in sullen silence and did not speak at all, but when the breakfast tray was brought in by an elderly woman who, apart from a curious stare at Alice, made no comment, she became a child again, snatching morsels of bacon from Alice's plate and demanding a share of her coffee from the slop-basin.

  She chattered inconsequently about her family, her likes and dislikes, and a great deal about herself. It was, Alice supposed, natural that, living such an isolated existence, she should have grown morbidly self-centred, but after Doone Pendragon, only Keverne seemed to matter. Emma she clearly despised, Merryn, the third brother, was dismissed as a dullard, but Keir she seemed reluctant to mention at all.

  Despite her earlier aversion, Alice found her curiosity being aroused in this feudal sounding family with their strange, unfamiliar names and their arrogant belief in their own rights.

  "Don't you care for your eldest brother?" she asked, puzzled by the child's dismissal of the man who was mainly responsible for her well-being, and saw the color leap under the smooth, honey-toned skin.

  "He's my half-brother. It's not at all the same," she said.

  "Perhaps not, but he's head of your house and, I understand, responsible for all of you."

  The full lips curled in a bitter, unchildlike smile.

  "And he's responsible for my condition, too," Doone said, with a strange mixture of hate and triumph. "It's his fault that I'm sick—ask Keverne, ask Merryn, ask any of them!"

  Alice stared at her with horrified dismay, then the sound of the heavy front door slamming and an outburst of barking echoing through the hall, made them both jump.

  "You'd better go, they'll be bringing my lunch soon," Doone said, suddenly subdued, and she lowered her lashes, avoiding Alice's eyes.

  Above the noise of the barking dogs a man's voice could be heard shouting an order. Pendragon had returned.

  CHAPTER TWO

  I

  ALICE made her way into the hall already influenced by Doone's sudden submission at the advent of her half-brother. He stood in a shaft of light from one of the high windows, cuffing down a pair of greyhounds which fawned on him with hysterical pleasure, and in the cold light of day she saw, for the first time, the little threads of grey in his black hair. He wore an old tweed jacket, patched with worn leather at the elbows, and a bright handkerchief was knotted round his throat, giving him the same air of a buccaneer that Keverne had worn. But his eyes were not Keverne's eyes as he turned and looked at her, and disconcerting in quite another way. Where Keverne's and his sister's were nearly black and full of a warm devilment, Keir's were grey and chilly and promised nothing more than critical appraisal.

  "Good morning, Miss Brown, I hope you slept well," he said, but there seemed to be a trace of irony in his voice. Had he known, she wondered, angrily, how strange her surroundings would have seemed to her, and taken pleasure in the fact that her insignificant background had left her unprepared for the feudal splendors of Polrame?"

  "Yes, thank you. How soon can I leave?" she replied, and his eyebrows lifted.

  "An unflattering demand, so early," he said. "And where, might I ask, are you intending to go?"

  "Back to London."

  "And then?"

  "It can hardly matter to you, can it, Mr. Pendragon?"

  "Oh, I don't know. You seem very young to be cast on the capricious uncertainties of fortune as a result of your own folly. Have you any money?"

  The dogs left him to come and sniff at her inquisitively and she did not answer, stooping instead to caress the lean muzzles thrust into her hand. They were a handsome brace, one brindle, one black and white, and almost immediately they jumped up at her, trying to lick her face.

  "Down, Bryn, down, Buckie!" ordered Keir sharply. "They seem to have taken a fancy to you, but you haven't answered my question. Have you any money?"

  As the dogs obediently lay down at his feet, she stood, twisting her hands together like a child rebuked.

  "Not much," she said and saw him smile.

  "Enough, perhaps, for the fare back to London, and what then?" he said.

  "I shall look for another job."

  "In the meantime you have to live. You don't strike me as a young person capable of looking after yourself, Miss Brown. You had better remain here for a few days longer before embarking again on something hasty, I think."

  "I couldn't trespass any further on your hospitality," she replied with stiff formality, and the corners of his mouth twitched.

  "I think you will," he said. "Your trunk, which you left at the station, will be sent up here this afternoon."

  "Am I your prisoner, then?" she demanded childishly, tilting her nose in the air. What he had just said was only common sense, she supposed, but he made it sound like an order rather than an offer of hospitality.

  "If you like to think of it that way," he replied im-perturbably. "Lunch should be about ready. The dining-room is in here."

  It was an uncomfortable meal, Alice thought, sitting opposite Emma at the long, sturdy refectory table. Keir, at the head, made little effort at conversation and Emma ate her food with the quiet absorption of one long accustomed to silence, getting up every so often to wait on them. The room was high and bare and rather gloomy. Indifferent oil paintings in heavy gilt frames hung on the walls and the ponderous sideboard was laden with the massive silver admired by another generation. Alice wondered if it was Emma who kept it all clean and polished and whether it was her husband or Pendragon himself who had established her position there as a superior housekeeper and little more. Then she heard Keir enquire suddenly for the boy and saw his face softening, in momentary c
oncern at his sister-in-law's reply.

  "Would you like me to get Mackinnon out? He can have a look at Doone at the same time," he suggested, but she shook her head.

  "There's no need for a doctor at present," she said. "If I could just give more time to him, Pendragon. He's teething and gets fretful when he's left too long."

  "Of course, my dear. Why not?"

  "Keverne says I fuss too much—and there's Doone. Is Miss Brown staying?"

  "For a day or so, anyway."

  "Not permanently? She would have taken Doone off my hands."

  Keir's mouth twisted in a wry little smile.

  "I doubt whether Miss Brown would hold her own for very long with Doone," he said, and looked startled for a moment when Emma replied placidly:

  "I think you might be wrong, Pendragon. Miss Brown answers back."

  Keir gave Alice an amused glance.

  "Yes, I've noticed that," he said gravely. "Have they met, then?"

  "Oh, yes. Doone has taken rather a fancy to her."

  Alice sat up straight on her hard, high-backed chair and cleared her throat. She was tired of them discussing the situation as if she was not there.

  "What's the matter with the little girl?" she asked.

  "She had a bad go of rheumatic fever a year or so ago. It left her with a weak heart so we have to be careful," Keir answered expressionlessly.

  "Then she's not really an invalid?"

  "Dr. McKinnon doesn't think so," Emma said and Keir shrugged.

  "Mackinnon was never one to pander—all the same, we have to be careful. The least excitement, the least exertion can bring back those palpitations, and then the whole house suffers."

  "She sounds to me as if she is simply spoilt," Alice remarked cheerfully. Emma smiled but Keir's eyebrows rose a fraction.

  "Very likely," he observed dryly. "But you will admit, there's possibly a reason for it."

  "I don't think so," said Alice. "It's sad to be delicate, but it doesn't give an individual absolute rights over others."

  "Really, Miss Brown, you're a very surprising young person," said Keir, pushing back his chair to observe her with interest. "Where did you learn your wisdom so young?"

  "Aunt Brown," said Alice simply, and he smiled.

  "Ah, yes. Aunt Brown, who did her own baking, and brought you up by old-fashioned methods, I fear. And what did you think of Doone, apart from the fact that she was spoilt, of course?"

  "She's quite lovely, and she will get stronger, won't she?"

  "In time, as long as we're careful. It's a pity you aren't older, Miss Brown."

  "Because then I might have done for a Zombie?"

  Even Emma looked startled and Keir laughed. "Oh, so you've heard of my half-brother's name for my unfortunate ex-employees," he said, and Emma, with the hesitant timidity of someone whose opinions were generally considered to be of no account, observed tentatively:

  "Perhaps it is youth that Doone needs, Pendragon. We are all so much older—we can't meet her on her own ground."

  "And Miss Brown can? He sounded sceptical, but Emma persisted with unwonted stubborness:

  "Someone young—someone who answers back. Doone's never learnt to play and scrap like other children."

  "Absurd," he said with sudden impatience. "Besides, the young lady made it very plain last night that she had no wish to enter my employ, didn't you, Miss Brown?"

  "You had already made it plain that I was unsuitable," Alice pointed out and her tone of voice so clearly conveyed that she would have liked to add: "So snubs!" that he smiled again.

  "So I did, and so you are," he replied, and rose, intimating that the meal was over. "I shall take the rest of the afternoon off from the mine, Emma, on second thoughts, so you can give your whole time to the boy. Miss Brown and I will keep Doone company."

  He left the room and Emma began to stack the dishes. Alice started to help her but she shook her head.

  "There's no need. I just do this from habit. There are the daily women in the kitchen to do the work, but Pen-dragon won't have servants living in. If he should ask you to stay for Doone, Miss Brown, please accept."

  "He's hardly likely to. You heard what he said, yourself," Alice replied.

  "Doone can persuade him," Emma insisted and Alice moved uneasily.

  "I don't know that I would care to be employed by Mr. Pendragon," she said. "He seems rather—rather overbearing."

  "They all are," Emma replied and Alice remembered that Keverne had said it was a Pendragon trait.

  "But you-" she said impulsively. "You are not like

  that. How did you come to—oh, I beg your pardon—I was going to be impertinent, I'm afraid."

  "How did I come to marry one of them, you were going to ask, weren't you? Well, that's an old story and no longer matters. I'm used to them all, and I'm content." Emma spoke prosaically as she stacked plates, and Alice, watching her, experienced doubts as to the correctness of her first impression. Emma Pendragon might be a misfit in this uncomfortable household, but she was not the nonentity she sometimes appeared.

  "Your little boy," she said gently with sudden understanding. "He's what matters, isn't he?"

  "Yes," Emma replied, with a small, secret smile. "He's what matters. Now, Miss Brown, if you would be kind and amuse Doone for an hour or two, I can get back to the nursery."

  Alice made her way to Doone's room and found that Keir was already established there. The child looked sulky and resentful but when she saw Alice, her face lit up again.

  "You needn't stay, now, Pendragon," she announced carelessly. "Alice Brown will amuse me far better. She talks to herself."

  "Does she, indeed? And supposing I want to stay, Doone?" he replied good-naturedly and she made a small grimace.

  "Then you'll stay. You always do what you want, Pendragon," she said ungraciously. "There's a new puzzle here, Alice Brown. Will you start it for me?"

  "Not now. I don't feel like doing puzzles," said Alice uncomfortably aware that Keir was watching her, and probably sizing her up. If Doone could ignore him, however, so could she.

  "Oh, all right," the child replied with surprising docility. "What shall we play?"

  "Have you got Snakes and Ladders, or Ludo?"

  "Yes, over there in that cupboard. Find Snakes and Ladders. I always win at that.

  Alice obediently rummaged in the cupboard where every conceivable schoolroom game appeared to be stowed. She found the board and the dice and the counters and spread the game on the table by Doone's sofa, then pulled up a low stool for herself.

  "Which colour will you choose?" she asked.

  "Green—no, red. You must have green because your eyes are green."

  "Not the colour of those counters, I hope!"

  "That would be funny, wouldn't it? Emerald green eyes like a snake—you don't look like a snake, Alice Brown."

  "Thank you very much!"

  The game proceeded endlessly, as such games will, and Doone, when she found she was losing, grew petulant and cheated when she thought Alice might not notice, but after one of her more flagrant efforts, Alice firmly slid one of the red counters down a snake and remarked severely:

  "That's the third time you've cheated. You threw a four and turned it over when you thought I wasn't looking."

  "I didn't."

  "Yes, you did. I saw you the other times, too. You can have another throw, if you like, to make up."

  "I shall have another throw anyhow, so there!" shouted Doone and Alice replied calmly:

  "Then I shall, too, and that will make us quits."

  Without more ado, Doone swept board and counters on to the floor just as, this morning, she had thrown down the jig-saw puzzle.

  "You should have let me win! The Zombies always let me win or I worked myself up," she stormed.

  Alice looked at her in shocked amazement.

  "Well, I'm not a Zombie, and if you want me to play with you you'll have to observe the rules like anyone else," she said. "Where's the fun
of winning if somebody lets you, anyway?"

  "Because—because I'm not like other girls and that gives me rights."

  "It does nothing of the kind, and you're just like other girls except that you're not very strong. Suppose you were paralysed, or—or—hadn't any legs? You could be much worse off than you are."

  For a moment Doone just stared, too surprised to answer back, then with difficulty, she managed to squeeze out two tears.

  "How dare you speak to me like that, you—you beastly girl!" she cried.

  "Beastly girl, yourself!" retorted Alice with gusto, and flicked the remaining counters on to the floor. "There! You can pick them up again when you've nothing better to do."

  "You know I can't."

  "You can reach perfectly well from your sofa, without getting up. I don't mind collecting the ones that have rolled away, then, if you like, we'll start again."

  They had both forgotten Keir, who said nothing but watched with interest as, without another word, Doone leant over the side of the sofa and began retrieving the board and the counters within her reach. Alice crawled about on the floor, scooping up the others. One counter had rolled under his foot and he picked it up and handed it to her silently, smiling a little at the embarrassment which came into her face as she remembered his presence.

  The game started again and Doone rattled the dice with exaggerated nonchalance, but she kept a wary eye on Alice and did not argue when she lost a throw.

  "Well," said Keir, rising and straightening his long back, "I think I'll leave you both to it. When you've had enough, Miss Alice Brown, you'll find tea waiting for you in the day-room."

  "I want her to have tea here with me," Doone said at once.

  "Well, perhaps we'll all have tea with you, since I've taken the afternoon off from work," he replied, ruffling the dark curls as he passed behind her sofa.

  "No, I don't want you, Pendragon," she said shaking her curls impatiently at his touch, and Alice was surprised by the swift look of pain which suddenly twisted his hard face.

  "Very well, I'll tell Mrs. Biddle," was all he said, however, but he paused to regard her gravely as she threw her next remark at him over her shoulder.