by Susan Barrie
“You mean that Mr. Errol believes that all members of the opposite sex are unable to cope for themselves and should be humoured?” Edwina enquired, with an air of innocence.
Marsha frowned quickly.
“No, of course not. For one thing Mr. Errol is a connoisseur. He collects books and pictures and other rare things, and he likes his womenfolk to be rare. Tina, as yet, is no beauty, but she is certainly not just an ordinary child, and with care she may develop into an appealing young woman. There is a lot of Spanish blood in the family, you know, and those eyes of hers are already rather remarkable. I think you will agree with me that everything she thinks and feels is given away by her eyes.”
Edwina, who had so often seen Tina looking sullen and brooding, and perhaps a little dangerous, was inclined to agree with her on this head, also.
“It is difficult, when a child is only eight years old, to know how she is going to develop,” she observed. “At the moment Tina is not really very far removed from an ordinary, easily understood child.”
Miss Fleming, who by this time was sitting gracefully on one of the flowered cushions that made the old-fashioned wide window seat very comfortable and enticing, and already beautifully dressed for the evening in misty blue chiffon that made her eyes look mistily blue as well, helped herself to a cigarette from her neat gold purse handbag, and lighted it with a deliberate movement before taking up this point with emphasis.
“Ah, but that is where you are quite wrong! Tina is so very far from being an ordinary child that I shudder for her future sometimes. In the wrong hands she could develop into a holy terror.”
“Then let’s hope she will never fall into the wrong hands,” Edwina murmured.
Miss Fleming surveyed her through a haze of smoke.
“I give you my word that that is most unlikely to happen,” she replied with the same amount of emphasis. “In some ways Tina is very fortunate, because her uncle is not the only one who takes a great interest in her. I do. I have known her for years—Jervis’s sister was quite a close friend of mine, as a matter of fact—and naturally I feel I want to do everything I can for her. From the slight difference we had when I arrived here you might have gathered that we are not the close, firm friends that we are ... but I do assure you we shall be even closer, firmer friends in the future. Poor Jervis simply cannot be allowed to cope single-handed with the task of looking after her for much longer—”
“But I thought I was here to help him cope with her,” Edwina interrupted without very much expression in her voice.
Marsha Fleming smiled contemptuously.
“You? But, my dear girl, you’re an outsider, a paid employee. What Tina needs is boundless affection, and someone who is closely related to him to look after her. I don’t feel that I’m giving away any secrets if I show you this...” And she extended her hand, on the third finger of which an exquisite opal surrounded by diamonds sent forth a delicate shimmer like softly tinted damask. It was such a very beautiful ring that Edwina, who neither coveted jewellery nor possessed very much of it herself—and certainly nothing of any value—gasped.
“Oh, but that is—exquisite!” she exclaimed.
Marsha continued to smile.
“I’m glad you like it. You’d be a strange young woman if you didn’t. And I don’t suppose I really need to tell you that it’s an engagement ring—Mr. Errol bought it for me only a few days ago in London!”
Edwina wrestled with her expression and strove to appear as if she was merely extremely intrigued, and not in the very slightest degree dismayed ... which, now that there was no longer any room for conjecture, she actually was.
And why she should be dismayed she couldn’t even think.
“You must allow me to—to congratulate you,” she said hurriedly, the words falling over one another slightly. “And if I’m the first to be permitted to do so ... well then, I feel very flattered.”
“You’re not the first.” Marsha looked dreamily at the ring on her finger, and her flower-like pink mouth smiled in a kind of secret fashion. “My grandmother, whom we visited yesterday, was actually the first. Not even my mother knows yet. But we shall announce the engagement very soon, of course. It’s just that for the moment Jervis—Mr. Errol,” she corrected herself, when she remembered that she was talking to an employee—“feels the same way as I do, and as becoming engaged is something that is unlikely to happen to us ever again we want to keep the excitement and the thrill of it to ourselves for a while. I don’t know whether you’ve ever known what it’s like to have a wonderful secret, and to hug it to yourself ... but that’s how it feels at the moment.” She flickered her long eyelashes at Edwina. “As if it’s too precious to share.”
“I—I see,” Edwina said rather awkwardly. Marsha flickered her eyes at her again.
“Do you? I expect you’re the kind of young woman who thinks that half the pleasure of becoming engaged lies in letting all your friends and relations know as quickly as possible.”
“Well, as a matter of fact,” Edwina admitted, “I have very few friends who would be interested in my becoming engaged—if I did!—and hardly any relatives.”
“Is that so?” But Marsha was plainly becoming bored, and she went on admiring the ring on her finger in silence, until she suddenly remembered the reason why she had taken the somewhat unusual step of imparting such a vital piece of information to a virtual stranger who did not even share the advantages of her birth and background. “I thought you ought to know because it will make it clear to you why I’m taking such an immense amount of interest in Tina,” she explained. “Naturally, as a very feminine person, I would take an interest in any case, but as the future wife of her guardian ... well, you do see that I’ve a right to be a little critical if I feel like it sometimes.”
“Of—course,” Edwina answered, and even in her own ears her voice sounded as stiff as if she had swallowed a ramrod.
“And when I said that I want her to go downstairs to dinner tonight I meant it because I really have her interests at heart, and I know what a child of her age really enjoys. So you will see to it that she wears something pretty and suitable, won’t you? And of course you’ll come downstairs with her,” a little grudgingly, however, and with a thoughtful look from under her long eyelashes. “Tina is a darling child, but I’m not at my best after a long day, and I wouldn’t want to have to cope with her alone. You’ll be responsible for her, of course!”
“I’ll see that she behaves herself,” Edwina replied automatically.
“Good. Not that I think she’s in the least likely to misbehave herself, but one can never tell with a child.”
She glanced suddenly at the clock on the mantelpiece, and announced that she must go.
“Mr. Errol is waiting for me,” she said. “But I’m glad we’ve had this little talk. I feel we know one another very much better.” But long after her echoing footsteps had faded from the room Edwina wondered what she meant by that ... and the only thing of importance that she had gleaned about Miss Fleming was that she would shortly become Mrs. Errol. Mrs. Jervis Errol.
She wondered that Miss Fleming had considered it necessary to take her, Edwina, into her confidence, because it was no real concern of hers. But there were possibly a number of reasons why the beautiful blonde had done so.
She wanted the governess to understand that very shortly her authority would be questioned ... indeed, it would exist no longer. And she wanted to make it absolutely clear that she was not just an ordinary guest at Melincourt ... like Miss Candy Shaw, for instance.
There could have been another reason ... because she had taken a dislike to Miss Sands—at any rate, she did not entirely approve of her—and she would be glad if she handed in her notice.
But Edwina had no really sound grounds for believing that. It was rather something that she sensed and suspected.
CHAPTER VIII
SHE dressed Tina in embroidered Swiss muslin and herself in the rather old-fashioned black lace t
hat had already come in for adverse criticism from Tina, and the two of them went downstairs to join the others in the drawing-room about ten minutes before the dinner-gong sounded in the hall.
Jeremy Errol gave her a welcome that was unfeigned and very near to being quite rapturous, and although he deplored the fact that she had to be accompanied by the member of the family whom he referred to as ‘the brat’ he seemed to take it for granted that her standing in the household was more or less on a par with the standing of Miss Shaw, at least; and he insisted on sitting near to her at dinner because, as he said, he could keep an eye on Tina for her at the same time that he made sure she wasn’t being neglected.
“I don’t understand why you don’t have all your meals down here with the rest of us,” he observed, as he put a glass of sherry into her hand and advised her to drink it up quickly because the gong would sound at any moment. He looked round at his half-brother, who was standing on the rug in front of the flower-filled fireplace and looking extremely thoughtful although his unacknowledged fiancée and Miss Shaw were both very close to his elbow, and demanded in a loud voice to know why it was that Miss Sands had to remain incarcerated in the nursery quarters for the better part of each day, when by rights she should have the freedom of the house.
Errol’s eyebrows went up, but he merely smiled faintly. Miss Shaw said sarcastically, “To protect her from people like you, Jeremy,” and it was obvious to Edwina that she resented the particular attention the host’s relative was paying her. It was an age when class distinctions were supposed to have been banished, but Miss Shaw, obviously, was not entirely up-to-date in some matters ... and most certainly not when they involved her men friends.
Marsha, on the other hand, smiled also, and added her warning to the statement made by Miss Shaw just in case Edwina was easily taken in by flatteries.
“Yes, do be warned about Jeremy, Miss Sands,” she begged. “He really finds it quite impossible to resist a pretty face.”
Which was an admission, on her part, that Edwina had something to recommend her apart from her ability to cope with children.
Throughout the meal Edwina had the impression that her employer was not entirely happy about her presence at the dinner-table. She was right at the bottom of the table, and well away from him, while his niece sat on the other side of Jeremy, who was next to Edwina, but from the occasional thoughtful looks he directed at the governess it was not, in his opinion, a satisfactory seating arrangement.
Edwina wished that she had elected to remain upstairs where she normally had her evening meal, and as Tina always behaved impeccably at mealtimes—save on the occasion when she outraged her uncle by upsetting her lemonade and lowering a mess of rice pudding into her lap—there was no real need for her to be present to keep an eye on her.
Tina was not, after all, a very small child. Her attitude to life was in advance of her years, and as she liked social occasions she did her best to shine at them and was as clever as a monkey at imitating her elders. On the present occasion she even asked to be allowed a small glass of the champagne that was served with the main course, but Edwina intervened firmly to prevent this, and she was supported by Jervis Errol himself.
He frowned quite blackly at the child. “Champagne is not for infants,” he told her. “Don’t be precocious, child.” He actually sounded seriously irritated. “Drink your fruit juice, and don’t let’s have any more nonsense!”
“Jervis!”
Marsha reproved him from her seat on his right hand.
"“Don’t be a spoilsport when the child is enjoying herself! I was permitted a sip or two of champagne when I was her age ... And, in any case, you don’t need to bark at her! Tina, poppet,” smiling engagingly at her future niece, “your uncle didn’t mean to snap your head off.”
“Allow me to make it clear that that was precisely what I did mean to do,” Jervis said coldly, with cutting emphasis, as Tina gazed big-eyed at him. “I don’t approve of exhibitionism, as Tina knows very well, and asking for champagne at her age is one way of drawing attention to herself.”
Even Edwina looked considerably taken aback by this.
“I’m sure she didn’t mean—” she was beginning, when Jeremy spoke up in his niece’s defence, and she was unable to proceed.
Jeremy encircled Tina’s slight shoulders with a protective arm, and tweaked the ear nearest to him. He advised:
“Don’t listen to Uncle Jervis to-night, sweetheart. He’s not in a very good mood, obviously. Something must have disagreed with him at lunch.”
“Nothing disagreed with me at lunch,” Jervis snapped.
“Then Marsha can’t have been very kind to him.” He grinned across the table at Marsha. “Have you two had another quarrel? Or is this the aftermath of the one you had the day before yesterday? I must say, for two people who see such a lot of one another and plainly desire: to go on seeing even more of one another you do both seem to have an extraordinary capacity for ruffling each other’s feathers. One moment I’m absolutely certain you’re about to announce your engagement, and then I’m not so sure.”
Marsha smiled mysteriously.
“The course of true love never yet ran smoothly,” she observed. “And in any case, the onlooker never sees most of the game, you know.”
“Apparently not.”
But for one moment, as he gazed at his half-brother, Jeremy looked and also sounded dubious.
“I’m fortunate, because I’ve taken a vow never to fall in love... not seriously.” This time he turned sideways and smiled at Edwina. “What’s your opinion on the subject, Miss Sands? Or haven’t you had enough experience yet to be able to offer one? You look to me as if you ought to have had a great deal of experience ... but perhaps looking after a kid like Tina rather put you off marriage, and the serious side of life.” Once again he tweaked his niece’s ear, but apologetically this time. “No offence, infant, but if I had to trail around after you all day I’d think twice about acquiring something like you one of these days. However, Miss Sands strikes me as very, very feminine, perhaps she isn’t so easily put off.” And his light blue eyes sparkled at her provocatively.
Her employer looked as if the savoury, which had just been brought to table, revolted him. He declined to touch it himself.
“If you must talk nonsense,” he said sharply to Jeremy, “please have the goodness to spare Miss Sands. She is not in a position to tell you to mind your own business, so kindly refrain from enquiring into her personal concerns.”
At this Marsha, who had been smiling thoughtfully at the champagne bubbles at the bottom of her glass, lifted her slender eyebrows in real astonishment. She turned her extraordinarily light blue eyes full on the man in the well-cut dinner-jacket who occupied the seat at the head of the table.
“Are you feeling quite well, darling?” she enquired, a note of concern in her voice. “Perhaps something you ate at lunch did upset you—”
“Don’t talk nonsense.”
The delicate eyebrows remained poised.
“I’m not in the habit of talking nonsense.”
“Every woman talks nonsense at times, and some women more often than others.” He reached for the cheese that had been placed close to his elbow, and hacked away at a piece of Cheddar. “It’s because I’ve remained a bachelor so long and become fully conversant with the defects of women that I want my niece to grow up with a little more reserve than most of them seem to have. She’s unlikely to do so, however, if she listens to the kind of dinner-table conversation that’s taking place to-night, and in future, Miss Sands—” looking at her as if he was unwilling to exclude her from his condemnation of her sex—“I’ll be glad if you’ll consult me first before bringing Tina down here at this time of night. Instead of guzzling champagne and making herself ill with rich foodstuffs she ought to be in bed.”
“Well!” Marsha exclaimed, and then decided to leave it at that.
Edwina also decided that it was not the moment to explain to him that
she had received her instructions from Miss Fleming, who was apparently soon to become his wife; and instead she asked in a subdued voice whether he would prefer it if she and Tina returned to their quarters without waiting for the meal to finish.
He growled something in answer ... and then looked full at her and apologised wryly.
“It would appear I am not in the best of humours,” he admitted. “And no, I don’t think it would be a good idea if you left the room before the rest of us. I think you’d better join us for coffee in the drawing room, and then Tina can recite The Owl and the Pussy-cat or Goblin Market for our entertainment. I’m sure she’d enjoy the opportunity to air her lungs.” It was plain he was not yet in completely restored good humour, and for some reason he seemed to have a desire to make acid observations and rather cutting rejoinders. But on Tina he gradually began to smile with greater indulgence, and Edwina, too, was addressed quite normally by him, and he appeared to be harbouring nothing in the nature of a grudge against her.
Marsha regarded him occasionally and very thoughtfully out of otherwise inscrutable blue eyes, and Candy Shaw challenged him to a game of two-handed rummy, which took them off to the library where a card table was set up. Before they left the drawing-room he looked significantly at Tina and jerked his head towards the door, and Edwina understood that they were being dismissed. But Jeremy Errol protested determinedly: