Winterwood

by Dorothy Eden

  “I’m not a governess,” Lavinia said calmly. “I’m in charge of your physical health, which at the moment comes before your education. I’m afraid my orders will have to be obeyed. By you, too. Do you understand?”

  “Only if it pleases me,” Flora said sulkily. “I’m to be humored. The doctor said so.”

  “And I don’t want any more repetitious remarks. I’m going to tell Mary to draw the curtains as soon as you’ve eaten your luncheon so that you’ll sleep. I don’t want to hear any more from you until four o’clock.”

  Before she went down to luncheon herself, Lavinia heard Flora telling Mary, who had brought her tray, that she was very clumsy and inefficient, and much too small.

  “How old are you?”

  “Thirteen, miss.”

  “I’m only eleven, and I’m sure I’m taller. If I could stand up I would prove it. Miss Hurst is going to make my legs strong enough so that I can stand.”

  “That’ll be grand, miss,” came Mary’s cheerful voice.

  “Why do you have to work when you’re really no bigger than Edward?”

  “Because my dad likes the bottle, and my mum has six smaller’n me at home. And they has awful big appetites.”

  “Don’t they get enough food?” Flora asked in a shocked voice.

  “We has plenty of bread and dripping. But I’m going to be a housekeeper one day and then I can help my mum and my brothers and sisters, see?”

  “Don’t you want to be married?”

  “I’d as soon dig my grave.”

  This macabre statement brought an admiring giggle from Flora.

  “Goodness! You must hate men. If I don’t get married, either, and I don’t suppose I will, you can be my housekeeper. Papa will buy me a house…”

  Remembering that conversation, Lavinia was able to face Charlotte at luncheon with perfect equanimity.

  “I thought it a good idea to make this change, Mrs. Meryon. Mary is such a cheerful little creature. Flora will like having her about.”

  She didn’t at first notice Charlotte’s anger. She had learned to look for her petulance, her imperious manner, and her constant dying air, as exhaustion overcame her or a headache was threatened, but she hadn’t yet met this hectic look of unreasoning temper. In one moment Charlotte had changed from her languid camellia beauty to something quite distraught.

  “Miss Hurst, you are taking altogether too much on yourself. Are you suggesting my daughter make a friend of a servant?”

  “Charlotte, my love!” Daniel spoke quickly and placatingly. “Miss Hurst is only doing her best—”

  “Oh, yes, you will take her side, of course. I’ve seen that ever since we left Venice, Miss Hurst is the complete paragon.”

  “Miss Hurst happens to be the one person Flora has liked since her illness.” Daniel still spoke with patience. “If only because of that she is a paragon, I agree.”

  “Yes!” Charlotte had pushed back her hair and was standing. The rose pinned among the lace ruffles of her bodice trembled violently. “She has already seen that she occupies the best bedroom. You have taken away my favorite yellow parlor for her use. And now she presumes to manage my servants.”

  “Mrs. Meryon!” Lavinia’s heart was beating almost as violently as Charlotte’s. “I did come here only on the condition that I had complete charge of Flora.”

  “And I made a condition, too. That you were engaged on trial only.”

  Lavinia was standing, also.

  “If you wish to terminate my employment, Mrs. Meryon, I am only too happy—”

  Daniel would not allow her to finish.

  “Don’t talk nonsense, Miss Hurst.” He went to put his arm round his wife. “Charlotte, I’m going to take you upstairs. I think you should rest.”

  At first she pushed his arm away violently, but then sank against him. The hectic flush had died from her cheeks, leaving her with an extreme pallor.

  “Yes, I must rest I’m so tired. The journey—having a dying woman in the house—you warned me it would be too much for me.”

  Daniel led her away. Sir Timothy, who had said nothing during the uncomfortable scene, motioned to Lavinia to resume her seat.

  “Your soup’s getting cold, my dear. No need to starve. Daniel knows how to manage her.”

  Lavinia was still inclined to tremble.

  “Was it my fault, Sir Timothy?”

  “Don’t give it a thought, my dear. Charlotte enjoys making a fuss.”

  “Was that all it was?”

  The old man nodded. “And it won’t be the first scene you’ll see. She’s a highly strung creature. She gets overwrought with one thing and another, and then you have it—firecrackers!”

  But Daniel didn’t seem to dismiss the affair quite so lightly. When he returned to the dining room, his face looked drawn and remote. Nevertheless, he noticed Lavinia’s anxiety and said,

  “Don’t worry, Miss Hurst. You did nothing wrong. The exchange of Phoebe for Mary is an excellent idea. My wife agrees.”

  “Agrees! But—”

  “She has a headache. That makes her a little unreasonable. She wants you to go up and see her after luncheon.”

  Charlotte lay on a couch in a darkened room. At first Lavinia could see only the pale shape of her face. But presently her eyes adjusted themselves to the gloom and she saw the bed with its ornate headboard and rich satin spread, the multitude of bottles on the bedside table, the bowl of roses scenting the air.

  “You wanted to see me, Mrs. Meryon?”

  “Come in, Miss Hurst.” Charlotte’s voice had its familiar languor. “I am quite prostrate. I shouldn’t have attempted to go down to luncheon.”

  “Can I get you anything?”

  “Just pass me my smelling salts. The bottle with the crystal stopper. Does life ever become too much for you, Miss Hurst?”

  “Occasionally. But I—but you—”

  “I know what you’re going to say. That I have a beautiful home, a husband, children. That is all true. But one is never free from problems, even so. I have my wretched health. And Flora. What would you do with a crippled daughter all your life, Miss Hurst? And now my poor aunt as well. One gets frightened—” Her voice died away.

  “Frightened of what, Mrs. Meryon?”

  But Charlotte was following an odd line of thought.

  “I had sixteen trunks when I came to Winterwood as a bride. And my dowry. Oh, I didn’t come of an ancient or a noble family. But my husband didn’t care about that. He said I was so beautiful he couldn’t stop looking at me. It was true, too. And I still am, even if the money’s all gone, even if Winterwood is such a hungry monster.”

  Her eyes fluttered shut, then opened again, showing themselves still a little wild from that hysterical scene. Lavinia waited a little, then said, “Why did you want me, Mrs. Meryon?”

  “Oh, just to tell you that your duties are entirely with Flora. Don’t concern yourself with anything else.”

  “The business about Mary is concerned with Flora, Mrs. Meryon.”

  “Yes, yes, I realize that. I will inform Mrs. O’Shaughnessy of the new arrangement. If it makes Flora happy, then I am happy.”

  But she wasn’t happy. She kept staring at Lavinia, until Lavinia was impelled to ask, “Is that all, Mrs. Meryon?”

  “Yes, that’s all. Just remember your duties are with Flora.”

  “But have I exceeded—”

  Charlotte waved an agitated hand.

  “Please, Miss Hurst! I don’t want to discuss the matter further. It is only that you haven’t the right manner. Miss Brown and the others were meek. They kept their eyes downcast.”

  “Perhaps that’s why they couldn’t manage Flora, Mrs. Meryon.”

  “Perhaps. But I won’t have your eyes roving all over the place. Devote them to your charge.”

  Lavinia returned to her room to continue the letter she had begun to Robin. She read the last sentence, “If only you could see the room I am sitting in you would be happy for me.” S
he went on compulsively, finding the act of writing a relief. “But I am disturbed by Mrs. Meryon’s behavior. She is delicate and inclined to be hysterical and she made a quite unprovoked scene at luncheon. I can only think that she has something on her mind. She seems suspicious of me, as if I will see too much. She seems frightened, too, although of what except her aunt’s impending death, I can’t imagine. Is it that she is jealous of me—how can she be, she is so beautiful herself? Is it that she has moods when her mind becomes slightly deranged? I did think that for a moment today. Mr. Meryon is so tender with her. But there is something hanging over this place…”

  Lavinia’s pen dropped from her hand there, and she stared into space. Charlotte was not the only one who was afraid. Lavinia knew that Jonathon Peate would come to Winterwood. Although she had tried not to think about his threat, it was always at the back of her mind. She didn’t know his purpose. She was sure it was not good. But each day was making her more anxious that no one should discover her secret. The scene with Charlotte, for some reason, had intensified her anxiety. Fear was catching.

  But perhaps she, like Charlotte, was suffering only from the weariness and strain of the long journey.

  She lay down on the sofa at the foot of the bed, and before she knew it was sound asleep. She was wakened by the sound of voices quarreling.

  She sprang up and opened her door to find Eliza, who had been given the permanent duties of nurse because the old lady had taken a fancy to her, hurrying along the passage to Lady Tameson.

  “Miss Hurst, did you give Miss Flora permission to go in to my lady? I left her having a nice nap, and here I find her sitting up playing cards. Did you ever! Listen!”

  Flora’s voice, high and shrill, was the loudest, but Lady Tameson was far from inaudible.

  “You cheated, Great-aunt Tameson! I saw you! You ought to be ashamed of yourself!”

  “I did nothing of the kind, you unpleasant child. My king has taken your queen.”

  “But you took it from the wrong pack. I saw you cheating. I refuse to play with you any more.”

  “Then good riddance. I’ll be glad if you’ll leave me in peace.”

  Lavinia hurried into the bedroom to find Flora with her wheelchair drawn close to the bed, Lady Tameson sitting bolt upright, and cards all over the counterpane.

  “Flora, what is this? You’re supposed to be resting.”

  Two pairs of guilty eyes turned. Flora began to giggle, and Lady Tameson drew in her mouth, although her hand crept across the counterpane toward Flora’s.

  “Save your breath scolding her, Miss Hurst. I invited her in. But I regret it now. She has been rude and objectionable.”

  “Miss Hurst, Great-aunt Tameson cheated. I saw her quite distinctly. She’s old enough to know better.”

  Lady Tameson’s mouth tightened into a nutcracker shape. Her black eyes snapped.

  “I won the game. My king took your queen. If you’re going to play games with me, you’ll find that I usually win.”

  “I’d rather lose than cheat,” Flora shouted, her face scarlet. “I wonder you dare to, since you’re going to die so soon. What will you say to God?”

  It was unfortunate that Charlotte, better for her rest, was just coming downstairs with Edward. Edward raced forward, his face bright with anticipation of trouble.

  “What is it, Flora? Have you been rude to Great-aunt Tameson?”

  “No, I have not. Telling the truth isn’t being rude.”

  “Flora!” Charlotte’s voice was tight with anger. “Go to your room. Miss Hurst, this is exactly what I was warning you about. If you can’t keep Flora in order you are no better than the others. I can’t have my aunt upset by all this noise.”

  Lady Tameson sat up straighter.

  “I’m not upset, Charlotte. I was merely explaining to my great-niece that when I play games I usually win.” Her eyes glinted strangely. Charlotte saw the look, but before she could say anything, Flora persisted, “She wanted to play, Mamma. The doctor said she was to be made happy.”

  “Flora, you would oblige me by not answering back. Go to your room immediately. And although you say you’re not upset, Aunt Tameson, you look very flushed. I think you should rest quietly. If you’re feeling dull, Edward will show you how nicely he can read and write. Teddy darling, I want you to fetch your new reading and writing books and your pencils.”

  Edward pouted, caught his mother’s eye, and muttered, “Yes, Mamma.”

  As he followed Flora out, Flora turned to him contemptuously. “Are you going to suck up to her? I thought you hated her.”

  “Mamma says I have to.”

  “Why are you wearing your velvet suit? It makes you look like a little angel.” Flora’s voice was sharply sarcastic. “Are you supposed to make Great-aunt Tameson think you’re her little Tom?”

  Edward’s anxiety was greater at that moment than his sense of injury.

  “I don’t want to read to her. She’s too old. I don’t like old ladies.”

  Flora was merciless. “Are you afraid she’ll die while you’re there? She might, too. I bet you wouldn’t get her her medicine in time. I bet you’d just scream for Mamma.”

  Charlotte came out of Lady Tameson’s room.

  “Children! Do what I told you to at once.” It seemed that she was even angry with her beloved Edward. “Miss Hurst, I cannot have these children constantly quarreling. They must be kept apart until Edward’s tutor arrives. I suggest you take Flora out for some air in the garden before the sun goes. Teddy, I told you to fetch your books.” Her voice softened. “Don’t be alarmed, my pet. Mamma will stay with you.”

  The sun had almost gone. It hung, a red ball, beyond the woods, and there was mist in the air. Joseph had to help Lavinia with Flora’s chair down the steps of the terrace where the two sphinxes, accustomed to desert vistas, looked over English lawns and fountains with round, surprised eyes. Flora meant no time to be wasted on dull lawns and gravel walks. She ordered Lavinia to take her through an opening in the privet hedge, across the archery lawn, past the slope that led down to the shrubbery and the ornamental lake, across the walled kitchen garden with its herbs and strawberry beds, its raspberry canes and espaliered peach and apricot trees, and through a door in the brick wall to the little blue garden.

  It was an enchanting place. Butterflies drifted about the blue and purple michaelmas daisies; there were late sweet peas, heliotrope and blue phlox. Earlier in the year, Flora said, there was lobelia, gentians, and morning glory. She eagerly wheeled her chair down the uneven paving stones to where the morning glory vine had climbed all over the stone infant’s head on its slender plinth. Leaves lay across the rounded brow and the broken nose. Moss had filled the eyes. There was a crack in the stone that distorted the smiling mouth.

  Lavinia pulled the vines away and began to scrape the moss out of the eyes. Flora watched her silently. When she had finished and the round-cheeked face was clean and curiously naked, Flora sighed.

  “I always used to do that, but I can’t now, and I wouldn’t allow anyone else to touch it. It’s my baby.”

  “It’s a charming garden,” Lavinia said.

  “My grandmother made it. She put the baby here, too. It was before Papa was born, and she thought a lot about babies. She used to sit here and long for one of her own. And then when Papa was born she died.”

  “How sad.”

  “It’s not sad in this garden,” Flora denied vigorously. “No one is allowed to come here without my permission. If you sit under the fig tree over there no one can see you from the house. It’s the best place in Winterwood to be private.” Suddenly she added, “You may come here, Miss Hurst, when you want to be private. Only remember to shut the door in the wall so that Edward can’t get in.”

  “Poor Edward.”

  “He’s not poor at all. He’s sucking up to Great-aunt Tameson. I expect he wants one of her diamond brooches to give to his future wife. Though I can’t imagine who would marry him. Will you sit under the
fig tree and long for a baby, Miss Hurst?”

  Flora’s rapid change of subject took Lavinia unawares. For once she couldn’t quickly compose her face. She had been thinking of Daniel’s mother sitting idly in the sun, her face peaceful and content, as she dreamed of the birth of her baby. A stone one, charming as it was, had not needed to suffice for her.

  It wasn’t true that this garden wasn’t sad. It was unbearably sad.

  “You are too young to talk about things like that, Flora. Let us go in. It’s getting chilly.”

  Flora permitted herself to be wheeled away without protest. But it was too much to hope that she had given up the subject.

  Upstairs she said, “What will you wear to dinner tonight, Miss Hurst?”

  “My blue silk, I expect.”

  “Is that your only good dress?”

  “If you don’t count this brown one I have on.”

  “Would you like a pink one, like the one you said I could have?”

  “Naturally, but I can hardly ask your Mamma for one for myself as well, can I?”

  “You looked beautiful at the opera. Papa said so.” Flora was thoughtful. Suddenly she said, “Don’t be sad, Miss Hurst.

  “Sad?”

  “About not getting a baby. Your face was sad.”

  “You imagine things,” Lavinia said roughly. “And don’t despise my blue silk too much. It’s very suitable.”

  The change in Charlotte at dinner was remarkable. It was because Daniel had brought her a gift, a little Italian greyhound bitch with a red leather collar. He had been calling on the new people at Croft House. It appeared that they bred this fanciful kind of dog.

  Charlotte was enchanted with it. She gathered the slim shivering little creature into her arms and said that she would call it Sylvie.

  “Thank you, my love,” she whispered. She was wearing a red dress, and now that pleasure had brought some color to her cheeks she looked astonishingly lovely. Lavinia, who had come on the tender little scene in the drawing room, for the bell had rung for dinner some minutes before, thought—he loves her.

  The greyhound was a charming toy, and Charlotte insisted on having it at her feet during dinner. Her headache had quite disappeared, she said, and she had become very gay.