by Anne Mather
Domine looked distressed. ‘He took me out of the orphanage when I had no one,’ she reminded him.
‘So he did! And we’ve still not discovered why!’
‘You’re impossible!’ she exclaimed. ‘No one can be so unfeeling about their own father!’
He gave her a derisive stare. ‘You think not.’ He shrugged. ‘In any event—you will stay. What have you to lose? In six months I’ll be unable to prevent you leaving.’
Domine nodded. ‘We’ll see.’
‘Damn you, don’t fob me off with your temporizing!’ he snapped, grasping her shoulders in hard, unyielding fingers. ‘I’ve said you’re to stay, and you will stay. Yes?’
Domine caught her breath in her throat. Although his fingers were bruising the flesh of her shoulders she did not try to struggle free. She had not been this close to him before and she could feel the heat of his body that was almost touching hers and see the darkness of the hairs that grew above the open collar of his shirt. His eyelashes veiled his expression and she thought how long they were, and how dark against the blueness of the pupils. A gold watch encircled one wrist while a ruby signet ring sparkled on the small finger of his right hand.
‘You’re hurting me,’ she said chokingly, and immediately she was free, although she was aware he was staring at her with a strange look on his face.
‘I’m sorry,’ he muttered harshly. ‘But you angered me.’
Domine shivered. ‘I’m sorry, too,’ she murmured.
‘And you will stay.’ It was a statement, not a question.
‘Very well.’ She felt strangely exhausted and had not the strength to fight him any more today.
‘Good.’
Without another word, he turned and left the room, and after he had gone Domine felt limp. Never before had she realized the emotions that could be involved between a man and a woman, and there was a stirring sense of elation inside her that had nothing to do with anything she had ever before experienced.
With an impatient shrug she thrust these thoughts aside, but she was beginning to realize that life with James Mannering could never be dull. She wondered what thoughts had run through his mind as he had stood staring at her so strangely. Had it all been anger, or had he realized, too, that she was flesh and blood and feelings?
Later, after she had re-braided her hair, she went and washed before breakfast, removing the pants Lily had lent her and replacing them with the velvet dress she had been wearing the night before. In spite of the outdated clothes and uninspiring colours she could see a faint colour in her cheeks, and she did not look quite so drab as she had done the previous day. Certainly, plenty of fresh air would remove that pallor from her cheeks for good. And if James Mannering wanted her to stay at Grey Witches why should she refuse? Somehow, now, she felt more capable of facing Mrs. Mannering and Melanie, and after all, Henry Farriday had taken it upon himself in the first place to remove her from the orphanage and the care of the welfare societies. Had she remained in the orphanage this situation would never have arisen and therefore she could not be held entirely to blame for it, could she?
As she fastened the buttons of her dress she thought she might be able to buy a pair of trousers at the village shop. If she was to stay here, she would have to have a pair. They were the most suitable gear for going about the farm, and she had no intention of spending her days indoors.
It took quite a deal of courage to go down to breakfast, however, but when she got there she found her guardian was not present at the table. Only Melanie Grant and Mrs. Mannering were there, and as they were smoking cigarettes with cups of strong black coffee, they had obviously almost finished. They both looked at her a trifle cautiously as she entered the dining-room and for a moment she thought that the disturbed tenor of her mind must somehow reveal itself in her face.
Wishing her hostess good morning, she seated herself at the table, but when Lily came to ascertain her needs she asked only for toast and coffee. She waited, hands folded, wishing she could think of some bright topic of conversation, but happily Mrs. Mannering had no such difficulty.
‘Did you sleep well?’ she asked, and Domine nodded and said she had. Then Mrs. Mannering went on: ‘You went riding with James and Melanie; did you enjoy that too?’
Domine bent her head. ‘Very much,’ she replied quietly, realizing that Melanie was regarding her with some small amount of anxiety, and she wondered whether the older girl was still wondering what the outcome of her spiteful revelations might be.
Mrs. Mannering bit her lip. ‘It’s strange that James should have forgone his breakfast this morning,’ she ventured, glancing speculatively at each of her companions. ‘He usually enjoys a good meal after an energetic ride over the moors.’
Melanie sighed. ‘I expect he’ll make up for it later,’ she said broodingly. ‘You know very well he takes half his meals in the kitchen while he’s here. After all, he’s more used to that part of this house, isn’t he?’
Mrs. Mannering’s bland expression hardened. ‘Are you trying to say something, Melanie?’ she asked softly.
Melanie coloured. ‘If I am, I meant nothing by it,’ she denied swiftly. ‘You know it’s true! James never wanted to eat in here! It brought back too many memories, he said!’
‘James says a lot of things that should not be taken too seriously,’ remarked Mrs. Mannering icily, ‘as no doubt you’ll already have gathered, Melanie.’
Melanie pushed her cup aside. ‘Yes, he takes after you in that respect, dear aunt,’ she returned offensively. ‘Particularly when it comes to getting what he wants!’
Mrs. Mannering was obviously controlling her temper with difficulty. ‘I think, Melanie, that we should not discuss such personal matters in front of our—guest.’ She ran her tongue over her lips. ‘After all, our petty bickering can be of no interest to Domine.’ She smiled at Domine. ‘What are your plans for this morning, my dear? Have you thought about what you’d like to do?’
Domine accepted the toast and coffee Lily brought in at that moment and intercepted a rather amused gleam in Lily’s cheerful eyes. Obviously she was used to the uneasy relationship that existed between her mistress and her mistress’s niece.
‘I haven’t made any actual plans,’ Domine said now, buttering herself a slice of toast, the argument between Mrs. Mannering and Melanie successfully dispelling her own feeling of depression. ‘But I should like to see the village, and I thought I might walk down there after breakfast.’
Mrs. Mannering considered this. ‘Yes, I think that’s quite a good idea. This afternoon, though, we must devise some kind of occupation for you. This is a lonely place, and there isn’t a lot to do short of reading or watching television. There are the horses, of course, but one can’t spend all one’s days riding, can one?’ She glanced rather meaningly at Melanie’s usual attire of riding gear, and again Domine sensed the antagonism.
Melanie rose to her feet. ‘There are always the stalls to be cleaned out,’ she remarked dryly. ‘Would you have me wear the kind of garments you favour for mucking out the pigs?’
Mrs. Mannering gave a distasteful gesture. ‘Really, my dear Melanie, you’re getting far too touchy! Did I say anything that gave you to understand I was chiding you?’
Melanie grimaced. ‘You didn’t have to, dear aunt. I know you of old.’
‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, Melanie!’ Mrs. Mannering’s delicately lacquered nails bit into the tablecloth. ‘Go and do your mucking out—or whatever it is you’re waiting to do. I shan’t stop you!’
‘I’ll bet you won’t.’ Melanie strode to the door and then turned. ‘Just remember, your petty jibes are like water off a duck’s back!’ She snorted mockingly. ‘Half of the pleasure in James’s presence is the knowledge that while he’s here at least I’m not the only brunt of your machinations!’
‘Oh, stop it, Melanie!’ Geraldine Mannering was really angry now, and there were two bright flags of colour in her cheeks. ‘You know perfectly well that Reuben and Brian can
handle all the farm work there is to be done. Your predilection for burying yourself in manure and coming in here smelling like the piggery is no concern of mine!’
‘And you know perfectly well that without my help the stables would never be touched!’ Melanie stormed at her.
‘Well, the horses are unnecessary now, anyway. James isn’t here frequently enough to warrant their keep!’
‘Oh, you—you—’ Words failed Melanie, and she turned and banged out of the room.
After she had gone it took Geraldine Mannering several minutes to re-assume the smiling countenance she had previously displayed, and Domine whose appetite had been dispersed by the argument she had just uncomfortably been the witness to poured herself a second cup of coffee and wondered how she could foolishly have imagined that Grey Witches would be a home to her.
Geraldine eventually regained her composure, and smoothing the tablecloth rather nervously, she said: ‘You must excuse Melanie, my dear. She does get rather overwrought when I tackle her about her appearance.’
‘Did you?’ asked Domine, fingering her cup thoughtfully. ‘Tackle her about her appearance, I mean.’
Mrs. Mannering frowned. ‘What do you mean?’ she asked, rather sharply.
‘Well, I didn’t think Melanie was involved—at least, not until she involved herself, that is.’
Mrs. Mannering hesitated a moment. ‘Well, yes, I suppose you’re right, but Melanie is aware of my displeasure regarding her mode of dress, and any kind of suggestion from me that those horses are in jeopardy brings forth a veritable tirade.’
‘Does—does she help about the farm?’
‘Yes. You see, although this is a large estate, run by an estate manager who you’ll meet eventually, we have retained enough land to provide a kind of home farm. The estate stretches for many acres, you understand, and much of this is run by the tenants. Did James explain any of this to you?’
‘He said his—his—father had owned most of the houses in the village,’ stammered Domine, rather uncomfortably, and Mrs. Mannering gave a rather sardonic smile.
‘You seem to have difficulty in accepting that James is your great-uncle’s son,’ she remarked mockingly.
‘Why—no, that is—I—’ Domine was at a loss for words. ‘Won’t you go on about the farm?’ she suggested. ‘I—I—am interested.’
Mrs. Mannering looked as though she would have liked to have said more, but instead she accepted Domine’s suggestion and continued: ‘Well, it’s true to say that Henry was the biggest landowner hereabouts.’ She found this knowledge very satisfying, that Domine could tell from her expression. ‘But it’s the land immediately surrounding the house that we are discussing, aren’t we? You see, when Henry was alive both the house and the land were adequately tended by his staff. Unfortunately, on his death, some of the servants found it difficult to accept me as mistress here, and naturally they had to be dismissed.’
‘Naturally,’ echoed Domine inaudibly.
‘Lily was different. She’s been here only a couple of months and felt she owed no particular allegiance to Henry Farriday. The cook is new. She’s a very capable woman from Leeds, and between us we manage to maintain the part of the house we are now using.
Of course, you haven’t seen over the place yet, but it’s quite monstrously large, much too big really for anyone. But I like it.’ She relaxed in her chair complacently.
‘And Melanie?’ ventured Domine quietly.
‘Melanie? Ah, well, Melanie is the daughter of my late sister. When my sister died two years ago and Melanie was left alone in the world, I suggested to Henry that she might be allowed to come here and live with me. He agreed, and originally she intended to take a job in Helmsley or perhaps Whitby. There is transport to these places, you know,’ this as a kind of aside from the main subject of her discourse, and Domine nodded, wondering whether there was some other reason for advising her of this fact. However, Mrs. Mannering went on: ‘But when it became apparent that Melanie enjoyed working with the animals, Henry suggested that she might care to take on the job of exercising the horses. Of course, one thing led to another, and after some of the staff left when Henry died, I’m afraid Melanie had to help in other ways.’
‘The pigs?’ murmured Domine, a dry note in her voice, and Mrs. Mannering shrugged her slim shoulders.
‘Someone has to do it,’ she said indifferently. ‘And staff are very hard to come by in an out-of-the-way place like Hollingford. Nowadays, the young folk make for the cities. Henry’s staff were all middle-aged or elderly. They didn’t know any other kind of life.’
Domine was beginning to understand. She could even feel a kind of sympathy for the absent Melanie. She wondered why she stayed here, treated with such comtempt by her aunt, and then she realized what compelled Melanie to live under such conditions. It was James Mannering, of course. She ought to have thought of that at once, but somehow she doubted whether Geraldine Mannering would consider her a suitable applicant for the position as her son’s wife. No, the more Domine thought about it, the more convinced she became that Mrs. Mannering would have her eyes set on higher planes. She was an ambitious woman, her position here proved that, and while she might argue with her son, and disagree with some of his actions, basically, in her eyes, he could do no wrong.
Domine finished her coffee and rose from the table. ‘Well, Mrs. Mannering,’ she began awkwardly, ‘as there’s so much to be done, perhaps I could help—while I’m here.’
Mrs. Mannering’s eyes flickered. ‘While you’re here,’ she echoed pensively, and Domine felt sure she was considering whether or not to enlighten her son’s ward as to her actual position at Grey Witches. Then she said: ‘Yes, I think that might be a good idea, Domine, a very good idea indeed.’
Domine enjoyed walking down to the village later in the morning. It was quite a pretty village with its beautiful old church and weathered buildings. In the general stores she was able to purchase a pair of cheap jeans which she thought would do to wear about the farm, and also some writing materials and stamps to enable her to write to Susan. She thought the other girl might be interested to learn how she was progressing with her famous playwright. She smiled wryly. No exciting London life for her, just a rather nebulous position in a farming household, where everyone seemed to be at each other’s throats.
When she returned to the house there was a Land-Rover parked at the front entrance, and she looked at it curiously as she mounted the steps and entered the hall. She had hoped to escape to her bedroom without being seen, but Mrs. Mannering was standing in the hall, talking to a young man, and when she saw Domine she indicated that she should join them.
‘So there you are, Domine,’ she said smilingly. ‘I want you to meet the estate manager, Vincent Morley. Vincent, this is the late Mr. Farriday’s great-niece.’
Vincent Morley was tall and stockily built with thick fair hair and a good-natured countenance. Now he glanced at his hostess, and said:
‘Isn’t this James’s ward?’
Mrs. Mannering’s smile vanished. ‘Yes, of course,’ she said disagreeably, ‘but the relationship is still the same.’
Vincent Morley inclined his head and shook Domine’s hand warmly. ‘I’m very pleased to meet you,’ he said in a friendly fashion. ‘When did you arrive?’
‘Yesterday evening,’ replied Domine, returning his smile.
‘And are you staying long?’ he inquired.
Domine shrugged her shoulders. ‘I’m not really sure, Mr. Morley. It depends—it depends on what plans my—my guardian has made.’
Vincent nodded. ‘I see. Well, I hope to see you about the place if you do stay for any length of time, and if you want a conducted tour I’d be happy to offer my services.’
‘Thank you,’ Domine smiled, and the young man and Mrs. Mannering moved towards the front door, continuing the discussion they had been having before Domine’s arrival. Domine waited until they were looking the other way, and then sped up the stairs to her room. She
had no desire to have yet another conversation with Mrs. Mannering at the moment.
In her room, she found her suitcases had been unpacked for her and her clothes hung away in the capacious wardrobe. Looking at them, she felt a sense of dissatisfaction assail her. While it had not seemed important to wear anything attractive in the convent she felt that here she looked terrible in drab school garments. Even those clothes that Great-Uncle Henry had seen fit to provide her with were thick and out-of-date, and she wondered whether there was any chance of her obtaining some new clothes.
Glancing at her watch, she saw that she still had almost an hour before lunch and with sudden decision she extracted one of her dresses from the wardrobe. It was a mustard-coloured jersey with long sleeves and a loose appearance that was given shape by a tie-belt. Laying it on the bed, she studied it critically, remembering with clarity the smartness of Lily’s uniform, cheap or otherwise.
At the bottom of her suitcase she found a pair of scissors, and with drastic decision she cut six inches off the hem of the dress. Then she found her sewing kit and sat on the bed, hemming a neat edge round the bottom of the skirt. This done, she held it against herself. It was certainly shorter than anything she had ever worn, but she didn’t think it was too daring. Then she studied the style. There wasn’t much she could do about it except to make a couple of tucks in the bodice to give it a little shaping. She discarded the belt altogether and with trembling fingers she stripped off the velvet dress and put the mustard dress on.
To her astonishment and satisfaction it looked not at all bad, and the colour was bright enough to complement the darkness of her complexion. She applied a coral lipstick to her lips and stood back to get the full effect. Of course her hair still looked childish, but she didn’t consider herself old enough to wear it in a knot on top of her head. That would look quite ridiculous, and besides, she wasn’t trying to look older, just less dowdy.
Lily’s summons to lunch came soon afterwards, and with some trepidation Domine left her room. Happily both Mrs. Mannering and Melanie were already seated at the table on her arrival, and only James Mannering was still in the lounge, a glass of whisky in one hand, and a sheaf of papers in the other. He barely glanced at Domine as she entered, and she hastened across to the door of the dining-room, hoping to pass unnoticed. But just as she thought she had made it, his voice halted her.