When they reached the short wooden jetty set amongst the reeds Ginny realized that Luke had not exaggerated when he described the boat as an old tub. It bobbed on the surface of the water like a corpulent old porpoise, but Ginny had no difficulty in getting aboard. Anthea, still impeded by her high heels, staggered, then landed in an ungraceful heap in the bottom of the boat. Angrily aware that she was not cutting a particularly glamorous figure, she took her place and brushed back her dishevelled locks.
With an air of practised ease Luke fitted the oars into the rowlocks and began to pull with strong easy strokes towards the centre of the lake. It was obvious he was quite at home in the boat and Anthea, as she recovered her poise, was quick to notice this.
‘Somehow I hadn’t visualized you as the open-air type, Luke!’
He glanced at her quizzically. ‘Neither I am. It’s simply that when we were kids Rikki and I used to spend most of our time on the lake. We used to have lots of fun pretending we were pirates, sailing in on our schooners to sack the old keep.’ He frowned as though wrestling with a new and puzzling problem, then added, as though he had forgotten their presence, ‘I sometimes wonder where the parting of the ways came with us.’
‘Perhaps it lies in your completely opposite attitudes to the eternal question,’ Anthea said lightly.
Luke, his eyes still worried, regarded her intently. ‘What exactly do you mean?’
Anthea shrugged. ‘Oh, just that I imagine Rikki would think that all was well lost for love, whereas you would put the Kendrick pride before everything, perhaps even your own happiness.’
Ginny, who had been gazing at the opposite shore and trailing her hand in the water, had listened a little abstractedly. It was not the sort of conversation she felt capable of joining in and she realized Anthea would not have welcomed her views even if she had been inclined to proffer them. She felt wrapped in a dreamy contentment as her eyes lingered on the tree-lined shore and she caught the gleam of white marble and looked forward to seeing this tiny pavilion built for a Kendrick bride. The water was icy cold, and as she withdrew her hand her bracelet slipped from her wrist. She have a little cry of dismay as she saw it slowly sink into the water. It had been a present from Mrs. Clarkson - a broad gilt band studded with multicoloured stones. It was gaudy and ornate and of no particular value, but Ginny had treasured it.
As she saw it slide beneath the water she plunged her arm after it frantically, but it eluded her grasp. Leaning over, she caught a faint glimmer from the stones as it disappeared amongst the rank weeds at the bottom of the lake. Without being aware of it she had inclined her body dangerously over the side, and now as she gave one last frantic lunge, she pitched headlong into the water with a scream of terror. The lake was paralysingly cold and seemed to hold her limbs in a vice as she plunged endlessly downwards towards the muddy weed-grown bed of the lake. She was drowning, she realized, and kicking out wildly propelled herself upwards. At this point the lake seemed to be at its deepest and her lungs felt as if they were bursting when suddenly she regained the surface, felt herself grabbed by the arms and, spluttering and gasping, she was heaved aboard by Luke. For a moment her eyes met Anthea’s, wide with fright, then Luke, without speaking, was already turning the boat towards their starting point.
He was furious, Ginny realized, so angry in fact that it was only as they were nearing the jetty that he deigned to question her as to how it had happened. Falteringly Ginny explained how the bracelet had slipped from her arm, and her efforts to retrieve it.
‘It’s obvious you’ve never been taught how to behave in a boat,’ Luke said with cold distaste. ‘The lake is very deep at that part. You were risking our lives by such antics.’
‘I’ve very seldom been in a boat,’ Ginny admitted, her teeth chattering uncontrollably.
Her reply seemed to surprise him and for a moment the anger left his face.
Anthea, however, was not prepared to let the subject drop. ‘To think that we might all have been lying at the bottom of that ghastly lake, all because you were so keen on that piece of cheap trumpery! It’s not as if it were worth anything,’ she added.
‘I know it wasn’t worth much,’ Ginny replied, her voice trembling with shock and the realization that she had aroused the wrath of both her companions. ‘But I valued it. You see,’ she added, not realizing the incongruity of her words, ‘it was a sort of link with the past.’
‘Link with the past!’ Anthea gave a shrill little laugh. ‘How quaint and sentimental you sound, Ginny. ’
Ginny stole a covert glance in Luke’s direction, wondering a little fearfully if he also were sharing Anthea’s derision, but to her surprise his eyes were fixed on her with grave speculation.
‘Perhaps it’s because Ginny feels fearful of the future!’ ‘Good heavens, what an extraordinary idea,’ Anthea said in genuine surprise. ‘Personally I feel that the future holds nothing but the nicest things for me, but then I’m really only at the beginning of my career and I’m not the sort of person who can imagine failure.’
‘In that case, you’re remarkably lucky,’ Luke said dryly. ‘Not everyone is fortunate enough to possess your selfconfidence.’
‘I think timid, fearful people get exactly what they deserve,’ Anthea said a little sharply. ‘You have to wrest from life what you want. I think,’ she added, ‘that I’m a little like you, in that way.’
He raised his eyebrows. ‘Thanks for the character reading, Anthea, but I think you’re labouring under a misapprehension. Anyone with an attitude like that would be decidedly unpopular. ’
‘But then you don’t care whether you’re popular or not, do you?’ she asked sweetly.
He smiled faintly as though conceding a point. ‘No, perhaps I don’t.’
They had reached the jetty and Ginny found to her dismay that cold and shock had rendered her legs helpless. Anxious as she was to avoid any further reference to her foolish behaviour, she made an effort to stagger to her feet, but collapsed as though her legs were made of cotton wool.
‘Well, you certainly had more of an adventure than you bargained for,’ Luke said as he swept her into his arms and swiftly carried her towards the house. She was uncomfortably aware that Anthea was stumbling along behind them, trying to keep up with his swift stride and at the same time retain her balance.
‘Must you go so fast, Luke?’ she called petulantly, as her heel twisted against a boulder.
‘In case you don’t know it,’ he called, ‘Ginny is soaked to the skin and will get pneumonia unless we get her back to the house fairly soon. ’
‘And I suppose I don’t count?’ Anthea panted.
‘Now you’re being ridiculous,’ Luke returned and, hurrying his steps, increased the gap between them.
When they reached the house they were met by Mrs. Clifford. Rather impatiently Luke evaded her anxious queries and twittering solicitude and carried Ginny directly up to her room.
‘I shall send Mrs. Hingston up immediately,’ he said. ‘If the Clifford woman weren’t such an ass she might have been of some assistance to you. In the meantime get out of your wet clothes.’ He let his eyes travel slowly around her room, his glance lingering on the shabby toilet articles on her dressing-table. They were pathetically out of keeping with their ornate surroundings. Then, turning, he shut the door gently behind him.
Later on, after a hot bath, Ginny sipped a bowl of hot soup served by a grim-faced Mrs. Hingston. As she put down the spoon Anthea tapped at the door and pushed her head in. ‘I thought I’d look in and see how the interesting invalid is getting on,’ she said sweetly. ‘Luke has been showing such solicitude that I’ve begun to wonder if you’re at death’s door.’
Mrs. Hingston took the opportunity provided by Anthea’s arrival to make her departure and as the door closed behind her Ginny lay back against her heaped-up pillows, wishing wearily that Anthea had not come. Somehow her conversation always seemed to generate a feeling of tension, as though her
very presence
were a challenge.
Anthea crossed to a mirror and stood idly regarding herself. ‘Luke has left strict instructions that you’re not to come down to dinner tonight - I do hope you’re not too disappointed.’
‘Why should I be?’ Ginny asked.
Anthea shrugged. ‘Oh, just an idea I had. After all, anyone with half an eye can see how you glow in his presence. Personally I’ve always considered it rather a mistake for a girl to be transparently obvious. Men don’t like it, actually. It embarrasses them — but then you haven’t had an awful lot of experience with men, have you, Ginny?’
‘No, not much,’ Ginny agreed.
‘Then take my tip,’ said Anthea, her eyes suddenly hard as they met Ginny’s in the glass, ‘lay off Luke. He’s not for you, my dear.’ She turned and surveyed Ginny directly, noting the small slight form, the face pale with fatigue against the incongruously elaborate hangings. ‘Any more than this room is your proper background.’
Ginny sat bolt upright with shock at these words, and Anthea, as though realizing suddenly that she had been offensive, said hurriedly, ‘Don’t misunderstand me. I’m perfectly certain that you yourself would prefer something plainer. Would you like me to speak to Luke—’ She stopped abruptly as she saw the expression on Ginny’s face.
‘No, I shouldn’t,’ Ginny said sharply. ‘I’m happy here. I love the Peacock Room and you mustn’t interfere - do you hear me, Anthea?’
Her manner was so unusually incisive that Anthea looked taken aback. ‘Oh, very well,’ she said huffily. ‘If that’s the way you want it! I was only trying to be helpful, but I can see that you choose to misunderstand my motives.’ And she flounced from the room.
Ginny lay back on her pillows again and wearily closed her eyes, a prey to conflicting emotions. She had no doubt as to Anthea’s motives. Her pretended solicitude had been merely a cover for the attempt to wrest the Peacock Room from her.
Grudgingly Mrs. Hingston had begun to accept Ginny’s presence in the kitchens, especially as she became engaged in a whirl of Christmas preparations. She found her extremely useful when it came to cleaning fruit and chopping peel and made use of her when it came to the hundred and one chores connected with preparing Christmas fare.
Upstairs Anthea and her mother occupied their time in lounging about the house, or going for drives in the surrounding countryside, so that on the whole, except for meal times, Ginny was able to keep out of their way.
Although the slated kitchen was large it was cosy at this season of the year with the glow from the enormous iron range, the air scented with the smell of spices.
Mrs. Hingston, who had been busily stirring at an enormous bowl with a wooden spoon, paused and rested her arm. ‘I think now, Miss Ginny,’ she said, ‘you might take over here. There are a few things I want to fetch from the pantry. ’
Willingly Ginny took her place and slowly began to stir the thick sticky concoction, as Mrs. Hingston hurried along the passage, and becoming engrossed, began to whistle softly.
‘Don’t you know that a whistling woman is considered unlucky?’ a deep voice said from the door. And, glancing up, Ginny realized with a little start that she was being observed by Luke.
‘I didn’t know you were superstitious,’ she returned with an air of awkward lightness.
Slowly he came into the kitchen. ‘But then there are lots of things you don’t know about me, Ginny.’
She glanced down and made a great business of cleaning the sides of the basin with the wooden spoon. ‘In that case you must stir the pudding for luck. ’
‘I certainly must,’ he agreed. ‘In fact we must stir it together, Ginny.’ Quite suddenly he was behind her, his large brown hand clasped over hers. As he dug the wooden spoon into the thick viscous mass he said with mock dismay, ‘Good heavens, you don’t mean to say that Mrs. Hingston leaves you to do this on your own? It feels like molten steel!’
‘Mrs. Hingston wouldn’t be flattered if she heard you say that of her beloved pudding,’ Ginny laughed.
‘Nevertheless,’ he said, ‘your arms are not strong enough for this sort of thing. However, she’s not one for innovations, so I suppose we’ll have to stick to the tried-and-true method. Time seems to have stood still as far as she is concerned.’
‘That must be rather nice,’ said Ginny, a little wistfully. ‘I mean,’ she added hurriedly, ‘if time could stand still for the really nice things.’
‘Such as?’
She hesitated. Such as this moment, she felt like blurting out. The feeling of his strong arms on hers, his very nearness filling her with an ecstatic happiness that made her heart thump, so that for a moment she wondered nervously if he could hear it.
‘Wasn’t it lucky I came in search of Mrs. Hingston?’ he said softly. ‘To think I might have missed the mystic rite of stirring the pudding!’
‘Now you’re laughing at me,’ she said shyly.
‘Not really - but these things are important to you, aren’t they?’
She nodded. ‘I expect it’s because I’ve never really belonged anywhere!’ Then she added, with an air of discovery, ‘It’s sort of symbolic - of home and security, like a picture Mrs. Clarkson had of rosy children gathered round a table, waiting for their turn to stir the Christmas pudding.’
He smiled. ‘Mrs. Clarkson’s establishment seems to have been a fund of knowledge.’
‘But then it wasn’t the right sort of knowledge,’ she said thoughtfully.
‘No? And what do you consider the right sort of knowledge?’
Ginny rested her arm and considered the question. ‘All the things important to a girl: how to dress and walk and say the right things at the right times. Oh, a hundred and one things! If I told them all you’d just laugh at me.’
‘No, I shouldn’t,’ he said gravely, ‘though I think you’ve
got your values mixed, haven’t you?’
Ginny shook her head resolutely. ‘Not really. If one wants a thing badly enough one should fight for it. ’
‘That sounds like Anthea’s philosophy,’ Luke smiled.
‘So Anthea has a philosophy, has she?’ Anthea’s husky voice broke in. ‘My, my, but you do make me sound like a bluestocking!’
She stood at the door dressed in tights that were as close as another skin. Her hair, caught up in a black velvet bow, spiralled loosely down her back.
‘Even the most ungallant could hardly describe you as that,’ Luke said dryly. ‘Neither should I imagine you to be the domestic type. That’s why it’s so extraordinary to see you in these surroundings.’
Anthea shrugged. ‘ Simply that I saw you disappear in this direction and wondered what the attraction was.’ Her glance slid to Ginny. ‘Or were you simply here to lick the spoon?’
Luke laughed in genuine amusement. ‘You don’t mind showing your claws, do you, Anthea?’
‘No, why should I?’ she said indifferently. ‘I can’t bear these namby-pamby butter-wouldn’t-melt-in-the-mouth types. They’re just hypocrites. No woman is as innocent as she pretends. Am I not going to be asked to stir the pudding too?’ she asked sweetly.
Suddenly aware of her closeness to Luke, Ginny stood back, and Anthea, her perfect figure showing to full advantage, took her place.
‘Well, Luke, aren’t you going to assist me, as you did Ginny?’ she asked.
‘Of course,’ Luke said, and Ginny noticed that once inside the compass of his arms Anthea swayed towards him, her eyes meeting his with a look of challenge.
Later on when Mrs. Hingston had returned to the kitchen, Anthea departed, and Ginny observed, with a feeling of sick
dismay, how soon Luke followed.
When she had finished her chores in the kitchen, she slowly made her way upstairs and was in time to meet Rikki coming through the hall door.
He flung off his coat, shuddering elaborately. ‘One has to hand it to Anthea,’ he said. ‘In spite of the weather she’s at the moment driving off towards the village with Luke. I can picture the
m, safely ensconced in the local hostelry, exchanging sweet nothings.’
‘I expect so,’ Ginny answered flatly. Wearily she leaned against the banister, her finger tracing the outlines of a carving, unaware that, even to Rikki’s self-engrossed mind, she looked defenceless and childlike.
‘I think,’ Rikki said thoughtfully, ‘it’s about time I put a spoke in Anthea’s wheel, and I’ve a feeling I know just exactly how to do it. ’
Ginny looked at him in alarm. ‘What do you mean?’ she asked sharply.
‘Never you mind,’ he said, and Ginny saw with alarm that his eyes were sparkling with mischief. ‘It so happens that I feel in a benevolent mood. My own love life is, at the moment, going with a bang, and it also happens that I don’t fancy Anthea as a sister-in- law.’
Ginny, finding that she could elicit nothing further, slowly climbed the stairs.
Inside the Peacock Room, she closed the door and paused, aware that some radical change had come over her room. Then, glancing about, she noticed the silver-backed hairbrush, comb and mirror which had replaced her own simple toilet articles, the tall crystal scent-bottle and expensive cosmetics that littered the dressing-table. Swiftly she crossed to the wardrobe and flinging open the door saw that rows of dresses and suits had replaced her own few possessions. Feverishly she pulled open the bureau drawers, finding layers of expensive negligees and undies. Someone had systematically cleared the room of all her possessions.
Her legs trembled as she sat down upon the stool before the dressing-table and gazed unseeingly at the white-faced stranger with the shocked eyes who stared back at her from the mirror. So Anthea had at length got her way: the Peacock Room was now hers. An overwhelming sense of injustice gripped Ginny and she jumped to her feet. She would demand an explanation from Mrs. Hingston! She would not weakly allow this beautiful room to slip from her grasp, just because Anthea desired it.
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