Falcon's Keep

by Henrietta Reid

  She was half way to the door when the housekeeper entered. For once, Mrs. Hingston had lost her habitual aplomb. As she saw the anger and accusation in Ginny’s face colour touched her cheekbones. She said swiftly, ‘I was sure you wouldn’t mind moving across the passage, Miss Lovelace: the room is every bit as big, although it isn’t as pretty, I’ll admit, but after all you won’t be here all that long, and Miss Clifford has been at me ever since she came about the Peacock Room. ’

  ‘Why? Does Miss Clifford intend staying longer than I do?’ Ginny asked bitterly.

  The housekeeper evaded her eyes, then, advancing further into the room, she turned and shut the door in a deliberate fashion. With the air of one taking Ginny into her confidence she said, ‘I don’t suppose you’ve noticed, Miss Lovelace, but Mr. Luke seems very taken with Miss Anthea.’

  Astonishment replaced Ginny’s initial anger. ‘And what has that got to do with it?’ she said.

  The housekeeper crossed to the dressing-table and lovingly straightened the silver-backed mirror. ‘ Simply that I wouldn’t be at all surprised if he’s thinking of making her his bride. It looks to me like he’ll not part with her easily - at least not till she’s promised to be mistress of Falcon’s Keep.’

  ‘ So that’s why you’ve given her the Peacock Room,’ Ginny said slowly, ‘because you feel she’ll be here long after I’m gone!’

  The housekeeper picked up some manicure articles and carefully fitted them into a red morocco case. Turning, she faced Ginny with a cold stare. ‘It’s not for me to say how long you’ll be remaining on, Miss Ginny, but it’s only right that Master Luke’s future bride should have the room she has set her heart on.’

  ‘You’re very sure he intends to marry her?’ Ginny said through dry lips.

  Mrs. Hingston gave a superior smile. ‘Anyone can see he’s very attracted, and what man wouldn’t be?’ she added. ‘She’s a beautiful and talented young lady and she knows her own mind too! When she wants a thing done, she sees it’s done. That’s the kind of mistress Falcon’s Keep needs.’ Her face had an exultant expression as though she was already visualizing the return of the old days when the house had been full of guests and she, as housekeeper, had shared in its glory.

  Ginny realized that Mrs. Hingston was not aware of her feelings towards Luke, and felt grateful for this. She knew the almost pitying contempt the housekeeper would feel should she realize that Ginny herself was aspiring to the position already allotted in her own mind to Anthea.

  Suddenly her unaccustomed belligerence seemed to drain from her. She turned and walked towards the window, gazing out once more on the view which had so often given her pleasure.

  ‘If I were you,’ the housekeeper said softly, addressing Ginny’s averted face, ‘I wouldn’t mention the change of rooms to Mr. Nicholas. He’s old now and it would only upset him.’ Then as she turned to the door she added, ‘Or Mr. Luke for that matter,’ and Ginny realized that the housekeeper had been confident that pride would prevent her discussing the matter with Luke.

  That evening she sat wrapped in misery, only half listening to the conversation at dinner which on the whole was conducted as a monologue by Mrs. Clifford. She had a triumphant air, and Ginny realized it was partly because her daughter had succeeded in wresting from her the Peacock Room. It was while she was in full spate on the subject of Anthea’s career that Rikki put in with an air of studied innocence, ‘I’m amazed, Mrs. Clifford, that Anthea doesn’t seem to be interested in the part of Sibylla.’

  For a moment Mrs. Clifford looked taken aback. ‘Well, I’m sure I didn’t know you were so au fait with theatrical matters, Rikki,’ she said with an edge to her voice.

  ‘Oh, but I am,’ Rikki informed her. ‘I have a friend in town who keeps me in touch with all the latest gossip and scandal, and it seems Sibylla is a plum part. Most up-and-coming actresses would give their back teeth to land it.’

  Mrs. Clifford turned to her daughter with an artificial laugh. ‘Rikki’s right, you know,’ she said. ‘It would be wonderful for you - a part that would suit you to perfection.’ Anthea glanced at her mother warningly, then said sweetly, ‘But it’s so peaceful and relaxing down here. I feel I simply couldn’t tear myself away.’

  ‘You mustn’t let Falcon’s Keep smother all initiative,’ Rikki put in. ‘After all, your art should come before everything else, shouldn’t it?’

  Anthea directed on him a look of concentrated venom, then turning towards Luke said, ‘I do feel there are more important things in life than one’s career.’

  ‘Such as?’ Rikki inquired maliciously.

  Anthea shrugged. ‘Oh, marriage, I suppose, and a family.’

  ‘But of course she’s not thinking of that yet," Mrs. Clifford put in quickly. ‘Her career is the only thing that counts at present. Isn’t it, Anthea?’

  Anthea glared at her mother in undisguised fury, and it was obvious that only with an effort was she able to bite back the words that sprang to her lips.

  ‘In that case,’ said Rikki, ‘I shall be delighted to drive you to London for the auditions. I’m perfectly certain you’ll get the part. Sibylla is a woman of the world, a selfish, predatory female with her eye very much on the main chance.’

  ‘That’s enough, Rikki,’ Luke said quietly. ‘You’re being in bad taste.’

  Unabashed, Rikki resumed his meal, and Anthea, relieved that the subject had been dropped, began a desultory conversation.

  Just before dinner ended Rikki returned to the subject. ‘You will be sure and let me know if you want to audition for the part? It won’t be the smallest trouble for me to drive you to town. ’

  That is nice of you, Rikki,’ Mrs. Clifford said gushingly. ‘Isn’t it, Anthea?’

  Anthea chose to ignore her mother’s appeal and Luke said mildly, ‘You mustn’t let us interfere with your career, Anthea. It would be a pity if you lost this opportunity because of the soporific effects of life at Falcon’s Keep.’

  Anthea laughed prettily. ‘ Oh, very well, then! As I appear to be surrounded on all sides, I suppose I’d better try.’ But Ginny could see that the idea of returning to the stage held little attraction for her and that she resented the fact that Rikki had forced her into a position where she would have to put her talent to the test.

  Later that night as she was about to enter her room she heard voices from the Peacock Room, the door of which was slightly ajar. Anthea’s clear, carrying voice made every word perfectly distinguishable.

  ‘Really, Mother, why must you always interfere? Can’t you see that this idea of auditioning will make Luke think that an actress would be a discontented bride? Why had you to bring up the subject of my career, just when things were going swimmingly?’

  ‘You’re much too sure of yourself, Anthea,’ her mother said sharply. ‘It does a man good to know that a woman is independent, and lately you’ve been just a little too obvious about Luke.’

  ‘Obvious?’ Anthea echoed shrilly.

  ‘Yes,’ her mother snapped, ‘and Luke has quite likely noticed it. He’s the type of man who likes to do the hunting. If you don’t watch out you’ll lose him to that little self-effacing ninny, Ginny Lovelace.’

  Evidently something in her mother’s tones gave Anthea pause. ‘Oh, very well,’ she said sullenly, ‘I’ll audition, but I don’t expect to get the part.’

  ‘Perhaps not,’ her mother agreed, ‘but you’d better make a very good try. You’ll find Luke’s like most men, he’ll be a great deal more interested if he thinks you’re hard to get.’ Slowly Ginny closed the door of the room into which Mrs. Hingston had moved her. Rikki had been so sure that he was putting a spoke in Anthea’s wheel, but her mother, wise in the ways of the world, was turning it to her daughter’s advantage.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Ginny watched Anthea and Luke as they stepped out into the sunlit snow, Anthea clinging to Luke’s arm and talking to him animatedly. It was Christmas Day and when Luke had suggested Ginny join them on a walk, Ant
hea had hastily reminded her that she had promised Mrs. Hingston that she would assist her with the Christmas dinner. If only it weren’t in her character to be so eager to please, Ginny thought wistfully as she watched their footsteps leave blue depressions in the icing-white carpet of snow.

  Then her fingers touched with a little thrill of pleasure the bracelet of antique silver studded with turquoises that she had been given that morning by Luke. The Kendrick family had the custom of exchanging merely token gifts at Christmas and Anthea’s present from Luke had been a brilliantly coloured hand-painted scarf.

  ‘My, my, but we are favoured!’ Anthea had tried to hide the chagrin in her voice as her eyes lingered on the bracelet.

  Luke eyed the necklace Anthea was wearing, gold and jade with matching ear-rings. ‘There are so very few things I could have given you that you haven’t already got, Anthea,’ he said dryly, ‘and Ginny has never made a secret of the fact that she has not been blessed with this world’s goods.’

  Anthea was on the point of replying when her mother glanced at her sharply.

  ‘Oh, but I love this,’ she said quickly, ‘the colours are perfect.’ And she draped the scarf across her head, tilting her face provocatively. ‘Well, don’t you think I suit it, Luke?’

  For a long moment he gazed at her. ‘You look very beautiful wearing it, Anthea,’ he said. ‘I chose the colours because I thought they would complement yours.’

  ‘Then I shall treasure it always,’ said Anthea, lowering her voice, so that Ginny barely caught the words, ‘because you were thinking of me when you bought it.’

  Now, as she remembered Anthea’s words, she felt all pleasure drain from her. Her own gift, it was true, had been of more value, but had he given it simply with the intention of paying a debt? A guest of his had lost something she valued, therefore it must be replaced. In his eyes, no doubt, the silver and turquoise trinket would be the nearest he could secure to her own cheap gilt affair.

  As she saw Luke and Anthea, small in the distance, disappear into a grove of conifers, the branches thickly snowladen, she turned away from the window. She would not have enjoyed the walk, she realized, any more than she had enjoyed the outing with them on the lake, but it would have been nice to feel the cold air on her cheeks and to feel the crunch of white snow beneath her feet.

  Vaguely she was aware that the phone had begun to ring, but as she was on the point of going to answer it she heard Mrs. Hingston’s footsteps. The ringing came to an abrupt halt as she lifted the receiver. The call would be for Rikki, she was thinking idly. He was the one of the household who received the most calls and spent a great deal of his time exchanging lighthearted banter with his friends.

  But as Mrs. Hingston appeared in the doorway, Ginny glanced at her in alarm. Her face was pale and shocked-looking and she had lost the expression of tight disapproval that she usually wore. ‘I’ve just had bad news, Miss Ginny,’ she said tremulously. ‘It seems my sister has met with an accident - a car crash. She’s a good deal younger than I am and she has a large family. They want me to come and give a hand until she comes out of hospital. It looks like I’ll have to go whether I like it or not.’

  ‘Go?’ Ginny echoed, her mouth falling open in amazement. ‘You mean now? Today?’

  Mrs. Hingston nodded. ‘One of her young ones is a bit delicate and her husband is at his wits’ end to know what to do, but then he was never any good around the house,’ she added disparagingly.

  ‘But you can’t go,’ Ginny wailed. ‘What about Christmas dinner? I’d never be able to manage on my own.’

  ‘Oh yes, you will,’ Mrs. Hingston said bracingly. ‘The girls got everything ready before they left. It’s true you’d have to keep a close eye on the turkey and be careful not to overdo it, but apart from that it should be plain sailing. ’

  ‘Plain sailing?’ Ginny repeated. ‘But I don’t even know how to set a pudding on fire!’

  In spite of herself Mrs. Hingston gave an unwilling smile. There was something endearingly ludicrous about this admission, and her voice had a new softness as she said, ‘Mr. Luke will give you a hand with that, so don’t worry about it.’ Then Ginny realized that in her own worries she had forgotten Mrs. Hingston’s immediate problems. ‘I do hope you’ll find your sister isn’t too badly hurt,’ she said contritely. Mrs. Hingston’s face resumed its grim expression.

  ‘ So do I,’ she said, ‘but it doesn’t sound too good from what I hear. It was a bad smash. But there’s no use in standing here talking. I’ll run up and put on my hat and coat and pack a few things. I’ll get Mr. Rikki to drive me to the station.’

  Later on, enveloped in one of Mrs. Hingston’s checked aprons, Ginny contemplated the turkey with dismay. To her eyes it seemed enormous, and she suddenly remembered that she had forgotten to ask Mrs. Hingston before her hurried departure how long it would take to cook. It was a job that

  Mrs. Clarkson had never entrusted to her, though she had a vague idea that on the size of the turkey depended its length of time in the oven. In the end she decided that she would simply leave it in until it became the pleasant golden brown that she had so often heard described in cookery articles. Resolutely lifting up the roasting dish, she popped the turkey into the oven and adjusted the heat. Thank goodness, she thought fervently, she had remembered to question Mrs. Hingston about that at least. The pudding had to be reheated, cranberry sauce made and the hundred and one last-minute chores in connection with a Christmas dinner to be attended to.

  Hot-cheeked, she was busily working at the laden table, when Rikki came in. He looked at her in amazement. ‘Do you mean to say Luke and Anthea aren’t back yet, and that you’re labouring here all on your own?’

  ‘I don’t see Luke being of much assistance in a kitchen,’ Ginny said dryly. ‘Or Anthea, for that matter! As Mrs. Clifford said, she’s not used to it.’

  ‘In that case I shall lend a hand, he said with an air of heroic resolve. He reached over and tucked a checked glass cloth into his waist.

  ‘Oh no, you mustn’t!’ Ginny cried in alarm, visualizing the chaos he would probably create.

  Ignoring her, Rikki placed a strainer on his head, grabbed a basting spoon in his right hand and a dish cover in his left and struck an attitude. ‘Don’t you see me then as the Sir Lancelot of the kitchen?’

  ‘I most certainly don’t,’ Ginny laughed.

  Reluctantly he doffed his ‘helmet’ and laid down his ‘shield’, and dolefully ran his finger around a bowl that had held brandy butter. ‘Mmm, that tastes good,’ he said appreciatively. ‘Luke and Anthea don’t know what they’re missing. However, I expect they’re enjoying themselves in their own particular way, although frankly, I should find it rather cold for canoodling. ’

  Ginny laughed a little unsteadily. ‘You have a one-track mind, Rikki.’

  ‘No, I haven’t. It’s simply that I understand women, and Anthea’s the type to make the very most of her opportunities. You don’t think they’re out there, for instance, admiring the beauties of nature, do you? Can you see Anthea pointing out a cloud effect, or going into rhapsodies over the shape of a tree trunk?’

  ‘Even if she did,’ Ginny said thoughtfully, ‘I don’t imagine Luke would be terribly interested. He’s just not that type.’

  ‘You’re right there,’ Rikki said sombrely. ‘He has the mind of a computer. ’

  ‘No, he hasn’t,’ Ginny said softly. ‘It’s simply that he’s steadfast and direct and not swayed by silly romantic notions.

  If he falls in love with Anthea it will be for keeps.’

  ‘Poor little Ginny,’ said Rikki, slipping a consoling arm round her waist.

  For a moment Ginny, feeling comforted by his obvious goodwill, leaned her head wearily on his shoulder. It was just then that Anthea, followed by Luke, walked into the kitchen.

  ‘Well,’ Anthea gasped, ‘do you always do your love-making in that quaint rig-out, Rikki?’

  Rikki snatched the glass cloth from his waist and flung
it on the table. ‘And must you always be such a confounded little cat, Anthea? I found Ginny tackling the Christmas dinner by herself, and I was simply lending a bit of moral support.’

  ‘Your moral support seems to have been quite acceptable,’ said Luke, his voice tight with anger. ‘No doubt it brings back memories of happy days at Mrs. Clarkson’s.’ He turned and strode from the kitchen, and Ginny gazed after him helplessly, realizing how impossible it would be to explain to him.

  ‘Goodness, what a fug!’ Anthea said distastefully. And Ginny realized what a dishevelled figure she cut with her hot cheeks and wispy hair, the room filled with steam from the pudding.

  ‘By the way,’ Anthea went on carelessly, ‘we collected some Christmas roses from the greenhouse, and left them in the pantry. If you feel you’d like to arrange them for the table I’ll keep an eye on things here.’

  Ginny gazed at her doubtfully. Her offer was unusually magnanimous. Then she felt a little ashamed as she met the frank stare in Anthea’s wide smoky-blue eyes. Perhaps, now that she had seen Luke’s anger, she was regretting the snide remark she had made as she entered the kitchen.

  ‘Thanks,’ Ginny said awkwardly. ‘It will be nice arranging flowers for a change. You won’t forget to baste the turkey, will you, Anthea? Mrs. Hingston made a special point of that.’

  Anthea laughed shortly. ‘I’m not quite helpless, you know.’

  ‘I’ll bet you’re not,’ Rikki said sotto voce, as he sat on the table helping himself to some roasted almonds.

  Anthea swung on him furiously, and Rikki in mock alarm jumped to his feet and began to back from the room.

  A little reluctantly Ginny took off her apron and Anthea slipped into it. Strange how even in a shabby cotton apron Anthea’s curves showed to such advantage. As Ginny walked along the passage to the pantry Rikki followed her.

  ‘If I were you I’d keep an eye on her,’ he said. ‘If you ask me she’s up to no good - probably wanted us out of the kitchen so she could poison the cranberry sauce.’