by Lucy Gillen
CHAPTER SEVEN
IT was difficult for Charlotte to accurately interpret her own reaction to that unexpected end of her afternoon out with Scott. Nothing, she felt sure, had changed at all really, even though he had refused to come any further than the front doorstep. Despite their vowing that it did not matter whether he came-in or not, he had stayed on the outside, and his refusal had been accompanied by a laugh that was so loaded with meaning that Charlotte had reproached him for it. She was the first to admit that he was a very attractive man, and he kissed her in a way that no one else had ever done, but she was prepared to believe that it was very likely a. case of practice makes perfect, and she still did not altogether trust him. He had quoted the Everslade family motto to her as Fortune Favours the Bold, and she was ready to accept that he believed it wholeheartedly. He wanted Blanestock and he meant to have it, one way or another he had vowed as much. Seduction of its present ,owner could well be part and parcel of his determination to achieve it, although she could 130 H not still the bright little hope that i-t wasn't. H' She saw him rather less during the next few , days, and by the time the formidable Mrs. Borden Was installed as housekeeper the opportunity of -being alone with her was rather less. For one thing, they were no longer likely to sit in the kitchen having coffee, as they had done more than once in the V. past. The kitchen was now Mrs. Borden's domain, 'and ladies paid only occasional visits to consult I about meals, etc., so she was given to understand. It was not a state of affairs that Charlotte was altogether happy with, but she supposed she would get used to it in time. Scott now called at the front I door, like any other visitor, and the impressive Mrs. I Borden seemed to bother him not at all. 'Why don't you come in as you used to?' Charlotte asked him one day after Mrs. Borden had ushered, him into the sitting-room. The hazel eyes twinkled wickedly at her as he ! perched himself on the edge of an armchair, elbows on knees, hands together. 'Because I don't want to lower your standing with the Duchess,' he told her, using the nickname he invariably did for her housekeeper. y . 'I thought you didn't give a cuss for what Mrs. I Borden thought,' she retorted. 'You said you didn't, and you urged me not to either.' , 'Ah well, I wasn't sure you'd taken my advice,' he told her solemnly. 'But if you prefer it, I can go .back to sneaking in by the back door, although the 131 Duchess' probably have a nasty turn each time if I do.' Charlotte giggled. 'I hope she does,' she told him, maliciously. 'She scares the living daylights out of me, I'd like to know she was having the vapours about one of her "best" people!' Scott grinned, shaking his head over her honesty. 'That sounds very pussy,' he told her. 'I don't claim to be any more "best" than you do, so stop being a little snob, Charlie Brown, before I'm forced to do something about it.' , 'I'm not being a snob,' Charlotte denied. 'I'm just seeing it from Mrs. B's point of view, that's all.' She looked at him speculatively from under her lashes, then smiled. 'Will you really come in through the back door, Scott? Like you used to?' He looked at her steadily for a moment. 'For you anything,' he said softly, and she laughed, a light, lilting sound that betrayed the excited flutter in her heartbeat. 'Then do it,' she" told him. 'Give her a shock next time you come.' He bowed his fair head in mock humility. 'Your word is my command, madame.' 'That Charlotte told him bluntly, 'I don't believe ' Mrs. Borden, Charlotte was quite sure, would not approve of people who rummaged around in the cellars, but she had long been curious about that 132 park and damp-smelling dungeon beneath the house. Exploring it while she was completely alone fan the house had been rather risky, in case she had an accident, but now that she had the housekeeper to keep an eye on her comings and goings it was ,'safe enough. . Accordingly she put on a fairly old dress one morning after breakfast and, waiting until the housekeeper was busy in the kitchen, opened the thick plank door and went down. She hesitated at the top of the steps and groped for the light switch i she knew was there, flicking on the low-watt lamp. There were an enormous number of cobwebs and no doubt an occupant for most of them, a thought , that gave her food for thought, for she was not very fond of spiders at the best of times. -It smelled dank and very uninviting too, but she could see several large trunks down there in the gloom, and she was curious to know what, if anything, was in them. She left the. door an inch or so ajar and made her cautious way down the rickety wooden steps that shook alarmingly and made her wish she had not started. It would be even more precarious now to try and turn while she was part way down, however, so she went on, clinging on tight to the flimsy handrail. The dampness was even more evident when she 'got to the bottom and she shivered in the dimly lit cave that arched above her head, festooned with : cobwebs and alive with other, more worrying, sounds. It was to be expected that there would be : i33 mice down here, of course, she thought ruefully. The trunks she was interested in stood, fortunately, quite near the light, so it was not necessary to move them at all, merely to prise the heavy lids open, a task more easily said than done, for the. . damp had long since rusted the hinges. The first of the three, and the smallest, held what." she immediately dubbed mementoes, and she handled them with a care that she would have given. to her own precious trinkets. A locket and several rings, quite good pieces, and a little box with a silver clasp that she had some difficulty in opening. When she did manage to open it she stared at the contents in wide-eyed surprise for a moment. There were seven or eight photographs and a small painted miniature, all depicting the same woman and none of them very old, so that it did not take Charlotte long to decide that the subject of them was undoubtedly Mary, Lady Everslade, nee Bishop. Evidently the old man, however bitter he might have been at his rejection by the woman he loved, could not bring himself to destroy her likenesses, S and he had stored them down here in this damp, dark cellar, well preserved in their protective box. She was a pretty woman, if her photograph was anything to judge by, and Charlotte gazed at them for some time, her mind busy with the idea of an old man so bitter about losing this nice, pretty woman that he had spent the last few years of his life in misery 'and loneliness. She would, she de-I 134j I &ided, give them to Scott and he could decide what Should be done with them. r She managed, after much effort, to get the second trunk open at last, and she had just started rum-Imaging through its contents, mostly papers, when She saw something that caught her eye. It was a handwritten document in a large scrawling hand and the signature at the bottom of it was in no doubt. The letters stood out large and black even in this dim light and the name 'Ezra Albert Blackwell' sprawled almost the width of the paper. It was a will of some sort, that much was obvious, and she had just noticed the date on it when a sound at the top of the steps made her look up sharply. 'Oh no!' There was no mistaking the sound she heard. It was the snicking of the lock on the cellar door, and she was now a prisoner in that damp, cold place unless she could make Mrs. Borden hear her and open the door again. No doubt the housekeeper had found the door ajar and closed it without a thought that Charlotte might be down there. Such a thing would never occur to her. Tucking the will she had just found and the photographs of Mary Bishop into the spacious pocket of her cardigan, she began a perilous climb back up those rickety steps. The door was very thick, but sooner or later the woman would hear her as she passed and let her out, though heaven knew what her reaction would be. 135 She had gone no further than the first three steps, however, when there was a loud and ominous creaking and she stopped, one hand to her mouth as the hand rail shook in her hold. Another step and the creaking became worse and, before she had time to cry out or jump for safety, the steps were wrenched away from the brick wall of the cellar and collapsed, in a cloud of dusty wood on the stone floor. It was debatable if the noise it made was audible in the house upstairs, for it made surprisingly little impact. It was too rotten. Charlotte supposed dazedly, as she picked herself up from the floor and gazed upwards hopelessly at the twelve or so feet of insurmountable space between her and the door into the house. She stood there for several minutes trying to decide what was best for her to do. Shouting was the only course open to her, for there was no wind
ow in the cellar, nor even a grating and the more she thought about it, the more panic-stricken she became. Perhaps no one would find her After all, why should they think of looking for her in the cellar? Even Scott would give her credit for more sense than that, and Noel would not even think of coming down himself, let alone see Charlotte down there. She shouted at the top of her voice, and shouted again, a hundred times, but there was no reply and she put a hand to her strained throat after a while, tears of fear and frustration coursing down her dust streaked face at the hopelessness of it. 136 I, It was when she looked at her watch, after a miserable two hours curled up against the wall where the stairs had been, that she realised that she was to have met Noel for dinner that evening, and her heart leapt hopefully. He would, surely take some pains to search for her when she was not waiting for him, even if Mrs. Borden did not raise the alarm at her absence from lunch. But it was obvious, when one o'clock came and I went, that either Mrs. Borden had presumed her out for lunch, or was not even considering looking for her absent employer in the old cellar. She could hear nothing of what was going on in the house, the walls were much too thick for that, and she could I- almost imagine people looking for her within a few feet of her and never- knowing she was there. It was a situation which had all the ingredients of tragedy, she realised only too well, and she tried again, shouting at the top of her voice until it grated harshly in her throat and became no more than a thin croak. Then she leaned her hot forehead against the damp brick wall and wept unashamedly. It seemed like days later when she heard, at long last, the sound of the rusty key in the lock above - and raised her head wearily. She must be imagining things, she thought, looking bleary-eyed at her i watch-again and seeing that only four hours had gone since her last desperate effort to attract attention. The lights were on in the hall she could see, and i37 she got to her feet, unable to shout as she wanted to, to tell them that she was there, instead reaching up her arms in a silent plea, and hearing Scott's voice, hushed with shock. 'My God, she is down there!' She remembered little of what happened after that, but someone came down with a ladder and she was carried in a not very expert fireman's lift over a broad shoulder, then willing hands took her and helped her to stand in the bright warmness of the hall. 'Charlotte! Charlotte!' The arms that held her tightly belonged to Noel, she knew and he held her as if he would never let her go, until Scott's ever practical voice penetrated her fuzzy brain and even now made her frown. 'Don't just stand there,' he ordered. 'Get her to bed while I ring Doctor Waring.' 'I was ' Noel began, but was curtly interrupted by Scott again. "All right,' he said, 'you ring the doc and I'll take her upstairs.' He wasted no more time on words, but lifted Charlotte into his arms and strode across the hall with her, and on up the stairs with a red-eyed Mrs. Borden following meekly. The housekeeper indicated Charlotte's room with one hand and opened the door with the other, then stood back while he walked across the room with his burden and put her gently down on the bed. For a moment he stood looking down at her in silence, then he shook his head. 'You pie-eyed little nut,' he 138 I aid then, huskily, 'you might never have been bund, do you realise that?'' 'I know.' There were no words coming from her, only a whispered croak, and he shook his head again, as if he lost patience with her. 'Take care of her,' he ordered the housekeeper, and the impressive Mrs. Sorden bowed her head meekly and murmured compliance as he strode across the room. He turned i the doorway and looked back at Charlotte. 'And at do exactly as the doctor tells you, Charlie brown, or so help me I'll break your beautiful neck!' He was gone, and for a moment the housekeeper oked at the closed door, then she turned to Charitte and Charlotte had never seen her look so meek id contrite. Her eyes were red-rimmed as if she id been weeping, but surely the formidable Mrs. orden would never do such a thing. One bony hand clasped the other under her thin ?som and she looked for all the world as if she was about to apologise. I didn't know you were down there in the cellar, Miss Brown, I swear I didn't!' she declared. 'I didn't close the door on you on pur-pose, I swear it.' . Charlotte wished she could have found enough Jice to reassure her. It was like" seeing some idolurnble to see a woman of Mrs. Borden's calibre soectly humble. Instead Charlotte reached out a and smiled as best she could to convey her pneaning. I know I should have looked down there be' fore I closed the door,' the housekeeper went on, evidently feeling the need to reveal all, now that she had been encouraged. 'But that horrible damp old place gives me the creeps, and I just closed it and locked it up quick without even thinking.' 'Of course you did,' Charlotte tried to say, but managed only a croak. 'I didn't mean anything, and I don't see that Mr. Lingrove has any call, or any right, to go dismissing me like that.' Charlotte's eyes conveyed her surprise, and she fought desperately to give that harsh croak some form. 'Dismissed you?' she asked, and the housekeeper nodded, her hands twisting together miserably. 'He gave me my notice,' she said. 'He was so angry he looked as if he was going to hit me first off when I remembered about the cellar door. Then he said if you were down there I was dismissed without notice or references.' Oh, did he? Charlotte thought, and had to admit to being more intrigued than annoyed at the moment. She had yet to learn what Noel's reaction had been, but something a lot less violent she was prepared to bet on. Scott would not bother to conceal his feelings, not for anybody, and she had to admit to finding his rather emotional reaction rather gratifying even if it had completely demolished poor Mrs. Borden. She smiled reassuringly at the woman and indicated that the notice of dismissal was hereby re140 voked, making the woman smile with unbelievable gratitude. 'I'd better help you into bed, ma'am,' ! Mrs. Borden told her, resuming some of her habitual manner. 'The doctor'll not be long, I expect.' ? The doctor was not very long, and neither was he concerned about the result of her fall and connement. His main concern was the damage to her throat, but he even smiled about that as he looked down at her and fastened his case. 'It'll soon heal,' he told her cheerfully. 'Though bound to be painful for a while, and you mustn't of course.' He smiled at her. 'That's not a very popular instruction with the ladies, I know,' he added. 'But it is the quickest way of getting your voice back. Miss Brown.' . She indicated by signs that she would like to get but he shook his head. 'Stay there for the rest of today,' he told her. 'Then see how you feel in morning. This prescription will take care of throat, the rest of your bumps and bruises will care of themselves in good time.' He left her feeling much better already, and ranting nothing so much as to ask Scott what he meant by sacking her housekeeper without her permission. Only wanting to say things to him and able to were two very different things, and she have to content herself with looks and actions. I was two days before even a glimmer of her voice back and in the meantime Charlotte was to put up with Scott's delighted baiting of 141 her. She had resorted to poking out her tongue at him in desperation, and Noel, coming in at the crucial moment, had been obviously horrified at the gesture. 'How are you. Charlotte?' he asked, handing her a huge bouquet of early chrysanthemums, and she smiled ruefully, one hand to her aching throat. 'Better,' she croaked hoarsely, and wrinkled her nose in defiance when Scott put a finger to his lips. 'I never thought about bringing you some flowers,' he said frankly. 'I suppose I could have, we've got plenty in the gardens.' 'You could have,' she echoed huskily, and laughed at his expression. Noel looked at him meaningly, as if he expected him to get up and go, but Scott showed no sign of taking the hint, 'looking quite at home in one of the armchairs in the sitting-room. 'I was rather hoping you might feel like coming for a ride,' Noel ventured, and she looked at him and smiled. 'I would,' she told him. 'The damp air isn't good for your throat,' Scott opined, and she raised a brow. 'How would you know?' 'Because it's common sense,' he retorted. 'And if you don't stop talking you're going to have a relapse anyway.' She ignored the jibe and instead smiled at Noel who sat, much less at ease, in another armchair. 'I'd love a ride,' she told him in a hoarse whisper. 'Just 142 as soon as I've put my flowers in water.' He smiled his, satisfaction and looked at Scott in a way that left no doubt he considered himself
the winner of that round anyway. 'I'll get you a vase and some water, shall I?' he offered, and Charlotte smiled her thanks. As soon as he was gone from the room Scott looked at her for a moment, then smiled knowingly. 'You just have to go now, don't you, Charlotte? Just to show me you don't have to take any notice of what I say.' 'I don't have to she retorted in her whispery voice. 'You haven't any say in what I do, any more than you have in whether I sack my housekeeper or not.' 'Ah, I wondered if she'd tell you or not,' he said, apparently unperturbed. Charlotte looked at him curiously. It hurt more than she cared to admit, to talk, but she wanted to know from his own mouth what had made him dis: miss the housekeeper so grandiosely. 'You had no right to do it,' she told him, one hand 'to her throat. 'And I can't think what made you >