The Daughter of the Manor

by Betty Neels

  She shook up her pillows and tried to settle down. They would have to have a talk about it, fix the date of the wedding and discuss their future. She closed her eyes and presently slept uneasily.

  There was no chance to talk to Tony in the morning; when they got back from church he went with her father to the library and over lunch the talk was of nothing much. She suggested over their coffee that they might go for a walk but he told her that he would have to go back to London within the hour. ‘You should see the pile of work on my desk,’ he told her. ‘But I was determined to come to your dinner party, darling. It was a great success. I’ll be down again just as soon as I can manage it.’

  She said soberly, ‘Tony, I think we must have a talk—about the wedding and where we’re to live and—oh, a whole lot of things I’m not sure about.’

  ‘Of course, darling. We will the very next time I come.’ He bent to kiss her. ‘You’re my darling girl and we are going to be very happy.’ He spoilt it for her by adding, ‘And very rich…’

  ‘I don’t care about being rich, Tony.’

  ‘You will. Lovely clothes, and theatres, and meeting all the right people.’

  She said coolly, ‘The right people live here too, Tony!’

  He kissed her again. ‘Yes, of course they do. I’ll phone you this evening.’

  It was later in the week, when she had walked down to the village to Mrs Pike’s shop, that that lady leaned over the counter to say confidentially, ‘Those gentlemen staying over at the Blue Man—they’ve not been bothering you, Miss Leonora?’

  ‘Bothering me? I didn’t know there was anyone staying in the village, Mrs Pike, and why should they bother me?’

  ‘Well, they been asking questions about the house, wanting to know how many rooms there was and how much land there was with it. When Mr Bowles over at the Blue Man spoke up and asked them why they didn’t go to the house and ask Sir William since they were so anxious to know, they shut up like clams, said as how they were just curious. All the same, they’ve been sitting in the bar of a night, dropping questions here and there. Your pa’s not thinking of selling, like?’

  ‘Absolutely not, Mrs Pike. What sort of men are they?’

  ‘Oh, gents, miss, quite the city men, if you get my meaning; they wears ties and carries umbrellas. Nicely spoken too.’

  ‘You don’t know where they’re from? I mean, has some house agent got it into his head that my father is going to sell the house? I can’t understand it. Perhaps I’d better go across and tell them that they are mistaken.’

  ‘Oh, I wouldn’t do that, miss,’ said Mrs Pike, ‘seeing as how they’d know at once who you was. You leave it to me; I’ll get my George to go over for a pint this evening. He’s a sharp one; perhaps he can ferret something out.’

  ‘Would he? That would be very kind. Mrs Pike, you won’t talk about this to anyone, will you? I can assure you that my father has absolutely no intention of leaving the house.’ She picked up her shopping. ‘I’ll come down in the morning…’

  She went back home wishing there were someone she could talk to about it, but that wasn’t possible; her parents would be upset and worried and Nanny would probably go down to the Blue Man and demand to see these men and give them a piece of her mind. A pity that she wasn’t on better terms with Dr Galbraith, she reflected; he was someone one could confide in and get sensible advice from in return.

  She worried about it all day and half the night and, making some excuse about fetching a particular brand of biscuits Mrs Pike was getting for her, went to the village directly after breakfast.

  There were several people in the shop, and when it was empty at last Mrs Pike seemed very reluctant to talk.

  ‘Mr Pike heard something?’ she asked Mrs Pike. ‘Something you don’t like to tell me?’

  ‘Well, yes, miss. Mind you, it’s only gossip; you can’t believe half you hear these days. I dare say there’s a good reason…’

  Leonora smiled and looked so calm that Mrs Pike decided to talk after all.

  ‘Well, it’s like this, miss—these gentlemen has come here to look over the house and see if it’s worth doing up and if the land is good for selling to build on…’

  At Leonora’s quick breath she paused. ‘The house is to be a kind of headquarters for visiting business-men—them big nobs with millions.’ She eyed Leonora carefully. ‘I hates to say this, Miss Crosby, but the man who sent them is your Mr Beamish.’

  Leonora had gone very pale but she said composedly, ‘Mrs Pike, I can’t thank you enough—or Mr Pike—for your help. I’m sure there’s some misunderstanding but at least I know whom to see about it. I’m quite sure that my father knows nothing about this but I’ll talk to Mr Beamish about it. There must be an explanation.’

  ‘Yes, miss, that’s what we thought. Mr Beamish seems such a nice gentleman…’

  ‘Yes,’ said Leonora, and added, ‘I’ll be off. I want to do some gardening.’

  She made herself walk normally out of the shop, even turning to smile at Mrs Pike from the doorway, and somehow she had to go through the village looking the same as usual. If she could manage not to think about it until she got home… She gulped; when she got home she wouldn’t be able to think about it either, let alone say anything.

  She marched down the street, saying good morning and smiling as she went, with Wilkins close at her heels. She was going past the surgery when Dr Galbraith came out, shutting the door behind him. She would have gone past him with a brief greeting but he fell into step beside her.

  ‘What is the matter?’ he asked, and added, ‘No, don’t tell me for the moment. The car’s across the street; we’ll go back to Buntings.’

  Because she would have burst into tears if she had attempted to speak just then, she went with him and got into the car and sat silently with Wilkins’ elderly whiskers pressed into the back of her neck.

  At the house the doctor got out, opened her door, let Wilkins out, and as Cricket came to the door said briskly, ‘Could we have coffee, Cricket? In the sitting room, I think; Wilkins can go into the garden with Tod.’

  Cricket cast a look at Leonora’s face, murmured soothingly and went to the kitchen while the doctor led her across the hall and into the pleasant little room bright with sunshine.

  The door to the garden was open and racing across the grass lawn came a dog, barking his pleasure at the sight of them. It was impossible to tell what kind of a dog he was, but there was a strong bias towards an Alsatian and more than a hint of retriever; he had a noble head and a curly coat and a feathery tail and liquid brown eyes.

  ‘Tod,’ said the doctor briefly. ‘Sit down here; Wilkins can go into the garden too and make friends.’ He said over one shoulder, ‘Cry if you want to.’

  ‘I have no intention of crying,’ said Leonora stiffly, and burst into tears.

  She hadn’t wept like that for a long time, not since bouncer, the family cat, had died of old age, lying in the sun at the back of the house. She sobbed and sniffed, hardly aware that she was making a fine mess of the doctor’s jacket, her head buried against his shoulder while she muttered and mumbled and wept.

  Presently she lifted a sodden face. ‘I’m so sorry; I really am. I never cry—well, almost never.’

  ‘A mistake; there’s nothing like it for relieving the feelings.’

  His voice was kind and his arms comforting. ‘Now mop up and sit down and tell me all about it.’

  He offered a large white handkerchief and nodded to Cricket to put the coffee-tray down on a side table, then he went to the door and stood watching the two dogs, who were still cautiously getting to know each other, not looking at her, giving her time to wipe away her tears and tuck back her hair. She gave a final sniff. ‘I’ll let you have your hanky back,’ she told him. ‘I’m quite all right now.’

  He poured their coffee and gave her a cup and offered biscuits to the dogs.

  ‘They seem to like each other,’ said Leonora, anxious to get the conversation onto an i
mpersonal footing again.

  ‘Naturally. They are intelligent animals.’ He sat down opposite her but not facing her directly. ‘Begin at the beginning, Leonora.’

  ‘It’s all so silly; I mean, I don’t believe a word of it. There must be some mistake.’

  ‘If there is, we can, perhaps, discover it.’ He was sitting back in his chair, quite at ease—a man, she reflected, who could solve the knottiest problem without fuss.

  ‘Well,’ she began, and poured it all out in rather a muddle, for, just for once, her common sense had forsaken her. ‘I simply can’t understand why Tony has sent these men. I’m quite sure he has said nothing to Father. Besides, Father wouldn’t even listen to a plan like that—’ she gulped ‘—to build houses on our land—and where are we supposed to live? It doesn’t make sense.’

  It made sense to the doctor although he didn’t say so.

  ‘Would you like to go to London and talk to Tony? Ask for an explanation? There may be a reason of which you know nothing. Perhaps he intends to surprise you in some way, but if you tell him that you are worried about the rumours he will tell you what he has in mind. Since he is to marry you, I imagine it is some scheme beneficial to you and your parents.’

  He didn’t imagine anything of the kind—Tony Beamish was capable of manipulating affairs to suit himself—but perhaps it wasn’t as bad as Leonora thought it was. After all, the man loved her, presumably; he wouldn’t want to hurt her in any way, even if it meant forgoing whatever ambitious plans he had.

  Leonora said suddenly, ‘I think you’re right. I’ll go up to town and see him. I’ll not tell him I’m going. I’ve an aunt living in Chelsea—I can say I’m going to see her and go and see him after he gets back from work.’

  ‘That sounds like a good idea. I have to go up to town myself tomorrow afternoon. I’ll be there for a day or two. If you’re ready to come back with me, well and good; otherwise you can get a train.’

  ‘Thank you; I’d like that. I’ll stay the night, perhaps two nights. I’m very grateful for your help.’ She put down her coffee-cup. ‘I’ll go home…’

  ‘I dare say you would like to wash your face first,’ he observed in a matter-of-fact voice. ‘Cricket will show you where to go.’

  She was still pale when she rejoined him but quite composed. He doubted if her parents would notice anything amiss although Nanny probably would. She thanked Cricket for the coffee and waited while the doctor saw the dogs onto the back seat of the car.

  As he drove the short distance to her home he told her, ‘I’ll be leaving around two o’clock—I’ll call for you.’

  At the house he got out to open her door and then allow a reluctant Wilkins to join her. ‘You’re quite sure that you want to go and see Beamish?’

  She nodded. ‘Oh, yes. Otherwise I’m going to fuss and fret, aren’t I?’

  He smiled down at her. ‘You’re a sensible woman, Leonora.’

  After he had driven away she went slowly indoors, not sure that she liked being called ‘a sensible woman’ in that casual manner.

  Her mother and father saw nothing unusual in her wish to visit Aunt Marion. ‘A good idea, darling,’ said her mother. ‘It will make a nice change for you, and Aunt Marion loves company. Perhaps you’ll see Tony. Don’t stay too long, though; remember there’s the village bazaar coming up and I’ve promised that we’ll help—take a stall or something. Mrs Willoughby will tell you, I’ve no doubt. Lydia Dowling will be organising it so I expect you’ll have to go to see her to talk about it.’

  Nanny looked at Leonora sharply when she told her that she was going to visit her aunt for a day or two.

  ‘A bit sudden, isn’t it? Going to see that Mr Beamish, are you?’

  ‘Well, yes, I expect so. Nanny, why don’t you like him?’

  Nanny bent over a saucepan, inspecting its contents. ‘We all have our likes and dislikes,’ she said reluctantly. ‘I dare say I’ll get around to liking him in a while.’ She sniffed. ‘Perhaps he’ll improve with marriage.’

  Leonora, packing an overnight bag later, hesitated as to what to take with her. She intended to see Tony on the following evening. There wouldn’t be time to change when she reached her aunt’s house but if she stayed for a second day she would need a dress, since Aunt Marion had old-fashioned notions about changing for dinner.

  She crammed a stone-coloured jersey dress in with her night things and added a pair of high-heeled shoes. She would go in the tweed suit and easy shoes; both had seen better days but they had been good when new. Her handbag and gloves were beyond reproach. She had a very small income from a godmother’s bequest—money she seldom touched, saving it for a rainy day. Well, that day had come; she would nip down to the village in the morning and get Mrs Pike to cash a cheque…

  The doctor was punctual. He came into the house and spent five minutes talking to her mother and father before settling her in the car and getting in beside her. Beyond asking her if she was comfortable he had little to say as he drove along minor roads to reach the M4, and once on the motorway he shot smoothly ahead.

  ‘Your aunt knows you are coming?’

  ‘Yes, I phoned her last night. She’s a very hospitable person and very sociable. She may not be there when I arrive but she has a marvellous housekeeper who’s been with her for ages. I’m to stay for as long as I like.’

  ‘Will you give me her phone number before I drop you off? I’ll phone you when I’m ready to leave in case you would like a lift back.’

  ‘That’s very kind of you. I don’t expect to be in London for more than a day or two. If Tony’s free he might drive me home.’ Before she could stop herself, she added, ‘I’m sure it’s a mistake—a misunderstanding. He’ll explain…’

  ‘There is always an explanation, Leonora, although sometimes we have to look for one. Will you see him this evening?’

  ‘Yes, I’ll go to his flat. I’ve never been there; it’s in a street just off Curzon Street.’

  The doctor raised his eyebrows. ‘A very good address. He is a successful businessman, I should suppose.’

  Somehow, talking about Tony made the whole puzzling business seem far-fetched. She said slowly, ‘I wonder if I’m just being very silly…?’

  ‘No. If the whole thing is, as you say, a misunderstanding, then the quicker it is put to rights the better. Five minutes’ talk together and probably you will both be laughing over the matter.’

  ‘Yes, I’m sure you’re right. Are you going to be busy while you’re in London?’

  ‘A seminar and a couple of lectures I want to attend, friends to look up. A theatre, perhaps.’

  He would have friends, she reflected, and since he was single, handsome and an asset to any dinner table he would be much in demand. Besides, perhaps he would see this girl who had called his dog by such a silly name. She switched her thoughts away from that; it was none of her business what he did in his private life.

  Her aunt lived in a narrow street of small but elegant houses; the doctor, following Leonora’s directions calmly, drew up before its pristine door, flanked by two bay trees in tubs, and got out to open Leonora’s door.

  She got out, waited while he fetched her overnight bag from the boot and then held out a hand. ‘Thank you very much,’ she told him. ‘I hope I haven’t brought you too much out of your way.’

  ‘No, no. I’ll wait until you are indoors…’

  Her aunt’s housekeeper answered her knock and she turned to smile at him as she went inside.

  Mrs Fletcher, the housekeeper, greeted her placidly. ‘The mistress is out, miss; I’m to show you to your room and give you tea. Mrs Thurston will be back around six o’clock.’

  So Leonora tidied herself in the charming room overlooking the tiny back garden and had her tea in the elegant sitting room.

  Aunt Marion, a childless widow, had been left comfortably off by a doting husband, so that she lived pleasantly in her little gem of a house, surrounded by charming furniture and leading the kind of lif
e she enjoyed—shopping, bridge parties, theatres—at the same time retaining a warm heart and generous nature. Sir William was a good deal older than she and she saw very little of him, but years ago, when they were children, she had been his favourite sister, and still was.

  She came home soon after Leonora had finished her tea, embraced her niece warmly and demanded to know why she had come on this unexpected visit.

  ‘Not that I’m not delighted to have you, my dear—you know that—but it’s not like you… Is there anything wrong at home?’

  Leonora gave her reasons, carefully couched in neutral terms.

  ‘Ah, yes, of course you must have a talk. The whole thing sounds preposterous to me, but I know what villages are—someone has got the wrong end of the stick.’

  Leonora nodded, not at all certain about that; all the same, her aunt’s bracing opinion put heart into her and when they had dined she declared her intention of going to Tony’s flat.

  ‘Now? Wouldn’t you like to phone him first?’

  ‘No, I don’t think so. I mean, if I just walk in and ask him he’ll tell me at once, if you see what I mean.’

  Her aunt understood very well. She was another one who wasn’t quite happy about Tony Beamish. Let the girl catch him on the hop, as it were!

  ‘Take a taxi, dear,’ she advised. ‘Have you sufficient money?’

  When the taxi stopped outside the block of flats where Tony lived, Leonora got out, paid the driver and stood a minute looking around her.

  It was a dignified street, lined with large houses and sedate blocks of flats—the kind that had enormous porticos with a lot of glass and wrought iron and a uniformed man just inside the door. Tony had told her that he was on the first floor and she looked up as she reached the entrance, half expecting to see him at one of the windows.

  The porter enquired whom she wished to visit and offered to phone Mr Beamish’s flat and announce her.

  She smiled at him. ‘I’d rather you didn’t; it’s a surprise.’ She declined the lift, walked up the wide stairs and knocked on the door bearing his name.