by Peggy Gaddis
There was small comfort to Sam in the impulsive words, and after a moment he asked brusquely, “Have you talked to Miz’ Beth about thinking you hate him and still not being sure you’re not in love with him?”
Judy shook her head. “She hopes I’m outgrowing him. And, oh, Sam, I wish I were! I wish I were!”
They both sat in silence for a long moment, looking out over the sun-drenched valley below them, the sleek, handsome cattle grazing in the daisy-starred meadow. A faint wind was touching the willows, so that they seemed to be leaning forward to admire their own reflection in the slow-moving water.
It was Sam who stirred first and stood up, looking down at her with eyes that yearned and that tried to hide that yearning.
“You’d better be getting home, honey,” he told her gently, “before Miz’ Beth gets worried about you.”
She stood up, as docile as a child, and moved toward Starlight.
“I suppose I had,” she agreed, and swung into the saddle.
She looked down at him where he stood beside her patting Starlight’s velvety muzzle with a gentle hand.
“Thanks, Sam,” she said huskily.
Puzzled, he repeated, “Thanks? For what?”
“Oh, for listening to me make a fool of myself,” she said.
“When you make a fool of yourself to me, honey—that’ll be the day!” Sam assured her.
“And thanks again for that. I’ll see you around, Sam. ‘Bye, now!”
She lifted the reins, and Starlight set off at a gallop along the path toward the Manor.
Chapter Four
It was several days later that Beth came down the stairs to the main hall and heard a car in the drive, then voices and a great deal of laughter and shrieks of merriment. She went to the big front door, frowning at such noise.
A sports car, bright red and gleaming, had stopped beside the steps, and behind it stood a sedan that was as expensive as the sports car, but of a dark, gleaming color. A girl in an expensive white car coat was still behind the wheel of the sports car, calling to the people in the sedan behind her, and the man who lounged beside her was eying her with amused exasperation.
“It’s straight out of Gone With the Wind, the girl in the sports car was calling to the four other people who were getting out of the sedan. “And just my luck, I left my hoopskirts and crinoline back in New York!”
Beth walked down the steps to the sports car and said quietly, “I’m so sorry, but I’m afraid you have come to the wrong place. This is Oakhill, and there’s a very sick man here. What place were you looking for?”
The girl who lounged behind the wheel of the bright red sports car was dark-haired and very beautiful, with surprisingly blue eyes that raked Beth from head to foot as she answered insolently, “We’re looking for Bix Bullard and his place, Oakhill. Isn’t this it?”
“Well, yes, it is,” Beth answered, somewhat taken aback. “But I’m afraid he isn’t here right now. He’s out with the superintendent, looking over the new dairy herd.”
The girl flung her lovely head back and laughed joyously.
“Did you hear that, gang? Old Bix, the country gentleman, out looking at dairy cows!” She shrieked as if it had been the most delicious joke imaginable. It’s certainly way past time we came down to dig him out of this impossible, incredible mess! How the poor darling must have suffered in this awful place, with nothing to look at but cows and, I suppose, pigs and chickens. The complete farmer, our darling Bix! But we’ll soon put a stop to that, won’t we, gang?”
There were echoing assurances from the others. Then the girl in the sports car got out, looked Beth over and said, “Who are you? The old man’s nurse?”
“I’m the housekeeper, Mrs. Ramsey,” Beth answered evenly.
“Oh, that’s good,” the girl said carelessly, and indicated the luggage in both cars. “Have someone take those in, please, and put them in whatever rooms you have assigned us.”
Beth stared at her shocked.
“You’ve come on a visit? You’re staying?” she gasped, too surprised even to attempt to be diplomatic.
The girl from the sports car lifted her dark head haughtily, and her eyes chilled.
“We are Bix Bullard’s friends, and he has asked us here for a visit. Do you mind?” Her voice was so sarcastic that Beth’s face flushed with burning color and her eyes turned cold.
“I don’t mind at all. Why should I? After all, this is Bix’s home, and he has a perfect right to invite anyone he chooses. But he said nothing to me about expecting guests.”
“Does he have to ask your permission?” asked the girl insolently.
“Of course not,” Beth managed with an effort to retain her slight hold on her temper. “But I should have been told how many rooms would be needed so they could be ready.”
The girl’s blue eyes raked her up and down, and she said with venomous sweetness, “In any well-managed household, a trained housekeeper always sees to it that there are guest rooms available.”
The very slight but definite emphasis on the words “well-managed” and “trained” could not possibly have been overlooked, and Beth stiffened. But before she could speak, there was the sound of hoof-beats on the bridle path, and Bix rode into view, turning his horse to a startled, rearing halt as he saw the cars and the people about them.
“Bix, precious!” cried the blue-eyed, dark-haired girl. As Bix flung himself out of the saddle, she ran to meet him, to hurl herself into his arms and to lift a radiant, laughing face to his, kissing him firmly and as though she had every right in the world to do so.
Bix held her for a moment, then looked at the others a trifle dazedly. At last he saw Beth, who was watching him, waiting for him to give her some small share of his attention.
“Oh, well, hello everybody,” Bix greeted the group, and then added, “But I didn’t expect you until the end of the week.”
“Oh, we knew you were having such a miserable time we decided to come on earlier. Things were getting a bit dull, anyway, and we felt you needed cheering up.” The girl laughed and tucked her hand through his arm and drew herself close to him.
He turned to Beth and said awkwardly, “I’m sorry, Miz’ Beth. I meant to tell you tomorrow that they were coming so rooms could be prepared for them.”
The girl lifted her head, and her eyes were frostily amused.
“If you’ve reached the point where you have to start apologizing to the servants, darling, then we really should have come much sooner,” she drawled.
Before Bix could manage an answer to that, Beth spoke smoothly. “If you’ll take your guests into the drawing room, Bix, I’ll have tea sent in.”
“Tea? Ugh!” The girl cut in swiftly. “Make it cocktails. Or, considering the ante-bellum scenery, maybe it should be mint juleps.”
“Whatever you wish,” Beth said quietly.
“Come right along, Marise.” There was color in Bix’s face and a false heartiness in his voice as he greeted the others and swept them into the house, while Beth summoned some of the house servants to remove the luggage from the two cars.
Before she had finished, Judy came riding up, and stared at the cars and the small sea of luggage which was being removed from them, and looked at her mother in astonishment.
“We’ve been invaded?” she asked.
“We’ve been invaded,” Beth told her grimly. “Scoot back to the kitchen and see whom you can round up to get guest rooms ready for them. There will be four rooms needed; maybe six. I don’t know. Nobody bothered to tell me.”
“Why, that good-for-nothing skunk!” Judy burst out, and Beth looked at her, wryly amused.
“You’re speaking of Bix, I take it?”
“Who else? How dared he bring a swarm of house guests, when he knows how ill the Old Gentleman is, and not give you any warning!”
“According to the gal in the red sports car, in any well-managed household, a well-trained housekeeper is supposed to see to it that there are always rooms available for unexpected
house guests,” Beth quoted Marise.
Judy’s eyes flashed fire. But before she could manage an answer, one of the guests came back to the drive beside the cars. She was a tall, good-looking, very attractive young woman in her late twenties, and her smile was warmly apologetic as she addressed Beth.
“I’m Alison Parker, Marise’s cousin,” she said quickly. “I came to apologize for her shocking behavior and to tell you who we are and that we will try not to be too much trouble.”
She glanced at Judy, essaying a friendly smile. But Judy did not respond, so Alison turned back to Beth.
“Marise will want the best room,” she said lightly. “She always does. The two boys will be glad to share a room; and Tony and Mimi, being a married couple who are ostensibly chaperones, will occupy one room. As for me, I’ll be glad to bed down anywhere that is convenient.”
“Well, thanks, Miss Parker, for the information,” said Beth gratefully. “I’m glad to know that only four rooms will be required. Everything would have been ready if we had had any knowledge that you were expected. Bix should have told me.”
Alison said cheerfully, “Oh, I’m sure he would have in time. But Marise acts on impulse. We weren’t supposed to come for several days, but suddenly she felt she couldn’t endure being away from Bix another moment, so here we are. May I help?”
“Thanks, that won’t be necessary.” Beth smiled at her. “You already have by letting me know how many rooms will be required. Scoot, Judy!”
Alison glanced at Judy, with a tentatively friendly smile, to which Judy still failed to respond. And as Judy walked away, leading the horse, Alison watched her go and suddenly laughed.
“If Marise had had the faintest idea there was anybody as lovely as Judy, she wouldn’t have allowed Bix to come in the first place,” she drawled.
“Not even when his grandfather is so ill?” asked Beth, as she shepherded the house servants with their burden of luggage into the house.
“Oh, she might have let him come if she had known his grandfather was so ill, but if she had known a lovely creature like Judy was here, she would have come with him!” Alison said firmly. She added, “Who is she, by the way?”
“My daughter,” answered Beth briefly, and said quietly, “Suppose you go on into the drawing room and see that Bix takes proper care of his guests. Since tea is not required, I’m sure he can handle the cocktails. Or mint juleps, if the guests prefer them.”
“Sure I can’t help?” asked Alison.
From the foot of the stairs, Beth smiled and shook her head.
“Thanks, no, the girls are coping,” she answered. There was the sound of scurrying footsteps upstairs, smothered giggles and voices, and Alison exchanged a smiling glance with Beth and turned toward the drawing room as Beth went quickly up the stairs.
Judy came to meet her at the head of the stairs and said softly, “Stay out of the kitchen. Mam’ Chloe is in an uproar! Six guests for dinner without a moment’s warning!”
Beth winced. “Maybe I’d better go quiet her down. You see to the rooms, honey. The Marise girl wants the best one, her cousin says.”
Judy’s brows went up. “Well, natch. I guessed as much the minute I saw that car. I’m sure it belongs to her and not the tired-appearing young man with straw-colored hair who looked as if he’d like to have somebody lift him out of the car.”
“Judy, darling,” said Beth quietly, “they are friends of Bix. And this is his home. He has a perfect right to invite his friends here if he wants to.”
“Well, sure! But shouldn’t he have warned you they were coming so you could be prepared for them?”
“I’m certain he would have, but they arrived earlier than he expected them,” Beth answered. She added gently, “The Marise girl seems to have quite a claim on him.”
Judy’s head went up in a little gesture that reminded Beth of Starlight’s haughty fling of her head when something displeased her.
“So?” was all she said as she turned and went back to the front of the house, where the two giggling maids in neat fresh uniforms were busily getting a room ready for its guest.
Beth watched her, then went down the back stairs to the kitchen. Even before she reached the baize door that closed it off from the rest of the house, she heard Mam’ Chloe’s voice lifted in stern orders. Beth pushed the door open and stepped into what seemed to her at the moment bedlam, but that eased off as the three maids and the cook saw and recognized Beth.
“This is a fine howdee-doo, Miz’ Beth,” announced Mam’ Chloe, hands on ample hips, bandanna-bound head held high. “Six people comin’ for dinner this time of the afternoon, with no warning. What’s that Mr. Bix think I’m going to feed these people?”
“He doesn’t know you as well as I do, Mam’ Chloe. I’m sure you can whip them up a dinner that will make them very happy. Is the dining room ready?”
“Jethro and Ezra are fixin’ it now,” Mam’ Chloe answered, slightly mollified by Beth’s expressed faith in her.
“Good!” said Beth, and turned to go.
“Miz’ Beth, you knew these people was coming, with the Old Gentleman so sick?” Mam’ Chloe’s voice caught her at the door. Beth looked back at her and shook her head.
“I’m as surprised as you are, Mam’ Chloe,” she admitted helplessly.
Mam’ Chloe nodded.
“I got some fine rat poison, Miz’ Beth,” she offered. “You think maybe they like their vittles well-flavored?”
Beth broke into a laugh and shook her head.
“Behave yourself, Mam’ Chloe,” she ordered, eyes twinkling. “Give them the very best dinner you can manage, and I know Bix will be very happy.”
Mam’ Chloe gave her a stern, steady-eyed regard.
“Don’t seem to me like I care a whole heap if he’s happy or not,” she said frankly.
“Well, after all, Mam’ Chloe, Oakhill is his home,” Beth pointed out gently. “Some day he will be master here. We have to keep that in mind, remember?”
Mam’ Chloe’s eyes dropped, and she heaved a vast sigh as she turned away.
“Yessum, I’ll remember,” she said heavily.
Beth went quietly up the stairs and carefully checked the rooms that had been made ready for the guests. As she was finishing with the room assigned to Marise, the door of the Old Gentleman’s room opened and the nurse appeared, looking puzzled.
“What is all that noise, Miz’ Beth?” she asked curiously.
Beth explained swiftly and briefly, and added anxiously, “Is it disturbing the Old Gentleman?”
“Oh, no, I don’t think he’s conscious of it, the poor dear,” the nurse assured her. “It’s just that I was surprised to know that there was a party when he is so ill. But I suppose his grandson did get a bit bored here where everything is so quiet. I suppose he calls it dull, though I can’t imagine anything more wonderful than to live in a lovely old place like Oakhill. But then I’m not a young man accustomed to the excitement and clamor of a large city.”
“I suppose it has been dull for him,” Beth agreed. “And I do hope his guests won’t create any disturbance for the patient.”
“Oh, I’m sure if they know how ill he is, they will curb their noise. I’m certain Bix has told them about his grandfather,” the nurse answered, and went back to her patient.
Beth went down the stairs and to the door of the drawing room. The laughter and gay voices ceased as she stood there waiting for their attention. Bix rose and came to meet her, looking mildly ashamed.
“Were we disturbing Grandfather?” he asked awkwardly.
“The nurse says you are not,” Beth answered. “I came to say that the guest rooms are ready, and I’ll be glad to show your guests to their quarters.”
“Good! I’m dying for a shower and some clean clothes!” Marise stood up. “I suppose the maid has unpacked for me?” she addressed Beth.
“I’m afraid not,” she answered the girl’s insolence politely but coolly. “The maids are housemaids. I’m
afraid they are not trained to be ladies’ maids or to be trusted with unpacking such luggage as yours.”
“Well, really! Bix, you have gone primitive, haven’t you?” Marise scolded him.
Alison said good-temperedly, “Stow it, Marise. I’ll unpack for you while you shower. Now come along like a good girl.”
Marise turned on her sharply.
“Don’t talk to me as though I were five years old and feebleminded,” she snapped.
“Then stop behaving as if you were,” Alison said, still in that firm but quite pleasant voice. She drew Marise with her out of the room, the others trailing along.
When Beth had shown them all to their rooms and was starting back toward the stairs, Bix overtook her and said in awkward apology, “Miz’ Beth, I’m sorry about all this. I didn’t expect them until the end of the week and wasn’t even sure they would come then. That’s the reason I hadn’t warned you.”
Beth said quietly, “This is your home, Bix. You have every right to invite anyone you choose, and there is no reason you should have warned me.”
Bix gave her a small-boy abashed grin and answered, “It would have saved you a lot of bother if you had known in advance, Miz’ Beth, and I’m sorry you didn’t.”
She smiled forgivingly at him as she answered, “Well, there was no real inconvenience, except that they had to wait for their rooms to be made ready. Mam’ Chloe has plenty of food on hand; I have no idea what she will give you to eat, but I’m sure it will be good. I do hope your guests will like it.”
“Oh, I’m sure they will,” Bix answered hastily, as though it didn’t matter whether they did or not.
He walked with her toward the stairs, where he paused to say, his tone awkward, unhappy, “Alison says Marise was nasty when they first arrived. I do hope she wasn’t unbearably offensive.”
Beth said politely, “Not at all! She was disturbed that you were not here and that their rooms were not ready.”
“Well, I guess maybe she’s just a little bit spoiled and a bit arrogant,” Bix went on with his shame-faced apology. “She really is beautiful, you see, and she has so much money she practically has to hire people to count it for her, and I suppose it’s given her—well, a sense of importance and power. Sometimes she just doesn’t bother to think, or stop to be even casually courteous. But the ‘gang’ as she calls us, understands her and overlooks her bad manners.”