by Anne Mather
Vincent left her at the entrance to Grey Witches, taking her hand enthusiastically and thus avoiding the awkwardness of a first kiss. ‘You will come out with me again, won’t you, Domine?’ he asked.
Domine nodded. ‘If you want me to. Thank you for taking me to meet your mother. I did enjoy it. And you’ve been very understanding, wasting time in dress shops and shoe shops, and so on.’ She smiled apologetically, accepting the parcels from him.
‘It was a pleasure,’ exclaimed Vincent eagerly. ‘Well, I’ll say good-bye, then.’
‘Yes.’ Domine turned to the door. ‘Good-bye, Vincent.’
Vincent hesitated, looked as though he would have liked to have kissed her, and then hastened down the steps to the Land-Rover, raising a hand as Domine pushed open the heavy door and entered the hall and was temporarily illuminated in the light emanating from inside the house.
During the next week, Domine went out with Vincent three times. He took her to the cinema, to a meeting of motor-cycle scrambling enthusiasts, and once out to dinner to a roadhouse near York. On the latter occasion, Domine wore her new dress and coat, together with the accessories including the long black boots. She was amazed at the difference the modern clothes made to her appearance, and during the afternoon Melanie, who she had found was quite an adept at such things, cut and styled her hair, shortening it to just above her shoulders and giving the ends an upward tilt.
When Vincent came to call for her she was gratified by the eager light in his eyes, and the way he helped her gallantly into the Land-Rover. ‘I suppose you really ought to be driving in a super sports car,’ he murmured regretfully, ‘but as I get this vehicle provided for my estate work, I didn’t see much point in wasting money on another car.’
Domine smiled mischievously at him. ‘You don’t have to explain yourself to me,’ she said. ‘I don’t mind.’
Vincent touched her hand for a moment. ‘I think you’re adorable,’ he said honestly. ‘Tonight—I don’t know!’ He shook his head. ‘You look altogether different. It’s those clothes. The bright colours suit your colouring.’
‘Thank you, Vincent,’ she said demurely, and felt a sense of contentment assail her. Vincent was always so nice, so pleasant, so sweet. She was amazed that some girl hadn’t snapped him up before this. After all, he would be very easy to love.
And yet would he? argued a voice inside her. Wasn’t he just a little too easy-going? Life with him might be dull—very dull! She wrinkled her nose. Anyway, it was nothing to do with her. Whatever his thoughts might be in the matter, their relationship remained that of friends and nothing more, and that was how Domine intended it should stay. After all, in less than four months she would be leaving here for good, and she might never see him again.
The roadhouse was neon-lighted, and expensive, and the meal they enjoyed surpassed anything Domine had previously experienced, except perhaps for the dinner Graham had prepared for herself and James Mannering that night at the apartment. When it was over, he taught her to move with him round the dance floor, it could not be called dancing, and she laughed a lot and relaxed completely.
Afterwards they drove back to Grey Witches across the moonlit moors, and Domine thought she had never seen them look so beautiful. It was a marvellous evening, cold and frosty, but brilliant, and the stars seemed brighter than usual. Hollingford was mostly in darkness, many of the villagers who rose early to attend to their chores went to bed early, but there were plenty of lights at Grey Witches, and as they turned into the drive Domine saw a familiar car parked at the entrance. Immediately her heart began to thump uncomfortably, and Vincent said: ‘That’s James’s car, isn’t it?’
Domine nodded. ‘I think so. I didn’t know he was coming back.’
Vincent gave a wry smile. ‘When does anyone know anything about James Mannering?’ he asked dryly. ‘Does it bother you? That you were out when he arrived?’
Domine swallowed hard, straightening her shoulders. ‘Heavens, no!’ she denied quickly. ‘Besides, what I do is nothing to do with him.’
Vincent raised his eyebrows. ‘I should have thought he wouldn’t agree with you there,’ he remarked. ‘You are his responsibility after all, and it’s late, later than I expected, actually.’
Domine sighed. ‘I’m not a child, Vincent.’
‘Agreed. Point taken.’ He smiled. ‘Do you want my support when you go in?’
Domine shook her head. ‘No, that won’t be necessary, Vincent. In fact, I think it would be as well if you didn’t. If James has just driven up from London he’ll be in no mood for visitors.’
‘That’s right.’ Vincent nodded, bringing the Land-Rover to a halt near James’s car. ‘In any case, I shall have to call and see him tomorrow. I always call when he’s here to let him know everything that’s going on.’
Domine nodded, and slid out of her seat, leaning in at the window. ‘Okay,’ she said. ‘Don’t bother to get out. I can mount the steps without encountering any pitfalls, I think. See you tomorrow, Vincent?’
‘Sure thing!’ Vincent was eager. ‘Goodbye.’
As he drove away, Domine mounted the steps and entered the house through the heavy front door. Closing it, she realized all the hall lights were on, and strewn all over the hall floor were grey suitcases. Frowning, she shook her head. This couldn’t all be James’s luggage. He must have brought someone with him. Even as this thought crossed her mind, she heard a sound, and looking up she encountered James’s eyes as he stood watching her from the door of the lounge. He was surveying her rather appraisingly, and she felt a ridiculous sense of pleasure that she was looking her best. Certainly the new clothes and the new hairstyle added years to her appearance, and she no longer looked like the schoolgirl he had collected from the convent.
‘What have you been doing until this hour?’ he asked, and she realized that he was furiously angry. His voice was cold and there was an ominous glint in those blue eyes, now like chips of an iceberg.
Domine recovered from the sense of disappointment she had experienced at being treated so harshly the moment she returned to the house, and said lightly: ‘Didn’t your mother tell you where I was?’
James came fully into the hall. In a dark suit, his hair slightly tousled as though he had been raking his hands through it, he looked disturbingly attractive, but she almost took a step backwards at his expression. ‘Yes, she told me,’ he snapped violently. ‘But it’s now almost midnight. And I didn’t ask where you’d been, I asked what you’d been doing.’
Domine stiffened. ‘We’ve been driving home from York,’ she retorted, a coolness creeping into her own tones. ‘It does take quite some time, you know. And I wasn’t aware that there was any curfew tonight!’
‘Don’t be insolent,’ he bit out coldly. ‘Even my mother was concerned about you.’
Domine hunched her shoulders. It didn’t matter that this was the first time she had been so late, or that Vincent himself had regretted leaving it so late to return home, she objected to his heavy-handed method of handling the situation. On top of which, her appearance obviously gave him no pleasure from the way he was scowling at her.
‘Is that all?’ she asked now, uncaring of whoever it was he had brought with him. Her curiosity had dissipated with her happiness.
‘No, it is not all, damn you,’ he muttered fiercely. ‘What have you been doing to yourself?’
Domine looked mutinous. ‘You said I needed taking in hand, remember?’ she taunted him.
James clenched his fists, and then thrust his hands into the pockets of his trousers. ‘And who cut your hair?’ he inquired harshly.
Domine sighed. ‘Melanie. And she didn’t actually cut it. She trimmed it, that’s all. For heaven’s sake, I thought you’d be pleased that I don’t look such a frump as I did when you went away!’
‘You never looked a frump,’ he asserted moodily. ‘Are those clothes new, too?’
‘Yes!’ Domine was past trying to humour him. ‘I’m sure you consider them bad t
aste, don’t you? Well, I don’t! I like them. And so does Vincent!’
James muttered an expletive. ‘Did Melanie sharpen your tongue while she was using the scissors?’ he snapped angrily. ‘Just who do you think you’re talking to, young Domine?’
‘Don’t patronize me!’ she was exclaiming indignantly, when she became aware that they had an audience. A woman had come to stand at the door of the lounge and was regarding them with obvious interest. It was not Yvonne Park, as Domine had half expected, but an older woman, a woman of perhaps James Mannering’s own age, but beautifully made up to look years younger. She was wearing a close-fitting dress of mauve lurex-threaded jersey and her hair was the same silvery blonde as Yvonne’s, but whereas Yvonne’s had been curly, this woman’s was straight and clung to her head like a cap. She was small and slim, with delicate features, and there were rings on every one of her slender fingers.
‘What’s going on, James?’ she asked, in a husky voice that bore the faintest trace of an accent. ‘Who is this? Your ward?’
James turned, and seemed to suppress a gesture of impatience, before he spoke. ‘Oh, yes, Lucia,’ he said, at last, ‘this is my—ward, Domine Grainger. Domine, this is Signora Marcinello.’
Domine stepped forward, over the suitcases, and shook hands with the Italian woman rather reluctantly. This was the widow that Melanie had been talking about, the one whose husband had killed himself.
‘How do you do, Signora,’ she said politely. ‘Did you have a good journey?’
Lucia Marcinello smiled rather languidly. ‘It was as well as could be expected on your crowded English roads,’ she exclaimed. Then she touched her forehead lightly with lacquered fingertips. ‘James, did you get my aspirin?’
James withdrew his gaze from Domine’s stubborn young face, and took his hands from his pockets. ‘God, no!’ he exclaimed. ‘I forgot all about them. Where did you say they were?’
‘In the glove compartment, darling,’ murmured Lucia, running a hand across the smooth material of his suit. ‘I’m sorry to be such a nuisance …’
‘It’s no bother,’ replied James pleasantly, and leaving the two women together he opened the front door and disappeared down the steps. Lucia’s attention returned to Domine, and taking her arm she drew her into the lounge.
‘Come,’ she said, ‘we must get acquainted. So you are Domine! You are much different from my expectations. James told me you were little more than a child.’
Domine controlled her expression. ‘Ja—I mean, my guardian, is rather old-fashioned,’ she replied, with composure. ‘He imagines anyone under the age of twenty-one still drinks milk out of a bottle—with a teat!’ She smiled rather sardonically, and Lucia looked surprised.
‘Is that how you think he imagines you?’ she asked. ‘No, I do not believe it! But you are young, touchingly so.’
Domine compressed her lips. ‘Are you staying long, Signora?’
Lucia Marcinello sank back in her chair and put a weary hand to her brow. ‘Oh, I do not know,’ she replied. ‘But I had to get away from London. The press, you know?’ She sighed heavily. ‘They will not leave you alone. If they think you have some lurid story to tell them, your life is not your own until it is told.’ She glanced round as James came back into the room, and accepted the tablets he handed her, catching his hand as well and imprisoning it in two of hers. ‘But James has been so understanding, haven’t you, darling? He offered me this place as a kind of retreat, and I jumped at the chance. Anywhere I might go belonging to Giulio will already have been covered by the press. But this place is so lonely, so secure, somehow. I’m sure no one will find me here, James.’
‘Let’s hope not,’ he replied, a trifle shortly, and straightened, withdrawing his hand from Lucia’s as Melanie came into the room from the kitchen pushing a trolley on which was a jug of coffee, some sandwiches, and a thick cream sponge. ‘Thank you, Melanie,’ James nodded, taking the trolley and wheeling it across the room for her. ‘It was good of you to bother.’
Melanie shrugged. ‘It was nothing,’ she said indifferently. ‘You don’t mind if I leave you to it now, do you? It’s late, and I have an early call.’
‘Won’t you join us for coffee?’ protested Lucia appealingly. ‘I have been such a nuisance—’
‘No, thank you,’ Melanie interrupted her, and gave Domine a nod. ‘Hello there,’ she said. ‘Did you have a good time?’
Domine nodded, and as Melanie made for the door, she hastened after her, ‘Domine!’
That was James. ‘Where are you going?’
Domine turned apprehensively. ‘To bed,’ she answered briefly.
Lucia’s eyes were wide. ‘Oh, surely not?’
‘I—I have an early call, too,’ Domine excused herself, and without waiting to see James’s annoyance, she went out of the room with Melanie.
In the hall, she caught the older girl’s arm, and whispered: ‘When did they arrive?’
Melanie shrugged. ‘Just before you did.’
‘And where’s Mrs. Mannering?’
Melanie half-smiled. ‘She suddenly developed a severe headache and had to go to bed,’ she replied, shaking her head. ‘She’s not going to like this at all!’
Domine nodded. ‘No, I can understand that.’
Melanie shrugged again, and put her arm across Domine’s shoulders. ‘Come on,’ she said. ‘Don’t look so downcast. I gather from the argument that ensued in the hall while I was making supper that James didn’t exactly enthuse about your appearance.’
‘Enthuse?’ echoed Domine gloomily. ‘He practically said I looked a mess!’ She sighed. ‘Oh, Melanie, why has he brought that woman here?’
Melanie frowned. ‘Well, you heard what she said. I suppose that was why.’
‘And do you think there’s anything—I mean—do you think she’s his—well—mistress?’ She flushed scarlet.
Melanie chuckled as they began to climb the stairs together. ‘That’s a good old-fashioned word, if you like,’ she commented cheerfully. ‘And as to the answer—well, I should hardly think it’s likely. After all, Signora Marcinello has just been widowed and James does have some sense of propriety.’
Domine wondered why she should feel such an immense sensation of relief at Melanie’s words. It was disturbing to consider that her own demeanour depended wholly on the actions of the man who had constituted himself her guardian.
CHAPTER SEVEN
THE next morning Domine was up early as usual, and was helping Melanie to feed the animals when James came strolling into the stable yard. He was alone, and Domine wondered how the immaculate Signora Marcinello was this morning. Certainly, she would find all the peace she needed at Grey Witches providing she did not get involved with Mrs. Mannering.
James frowned when he saw Domine carrying two buckets of water, and said sharply: ‘Just how long has this been going on?’
Domine stood down her burden and straightened. ‘Just how long has what been going on?’ she asked coolly. ‘My helping Melanie?’
‘Yes.’
She shrugged. ‘Almost since I came. You knew I helped about the farm.’
James thrust his hands impatiently into his trousers pockets. ‘I knew you helped, yes,’ he agreed, ‘but not to this extent or at this hour!’ He chewed his lip, looking across at Melanie. ‘Well?’ he said accusingly.
Melanie heaved a sigh. ‘She doesn’t have to do it.’
Domine compressed her lips angrily. Once again he was trying to put her in her place. ‘No, I don’t,’ she said now, backing up Melanie’s statement. ‘But I like to—and I want to! Contrary to any notions you might have had about my life previously, we were not left to laze around at the convent. There was plenty for us to do, and we did it. And what’s more, we enjoyed doing it!’ She hunched her shoulders. ‘You don’t live here, Mr. Mannering, so don’t expect to come back on visits and throw your weight around so far as my activities are concerned!’
As soon as the words were out, Domine longed to w
ithdraw them. Even Melanie was looking slightly uncomfortable, and James Mannering looked positively furious.
‘Now wait a minute!’ he muttered harshly, ‘I do not intend to listen to that kind of impudence from you! Obviously, things have been happening in my absence, and not for the better!’ He looked across at Melanie. ‘What have you been telling this girl?’
Melanie shrugged awkwardly. ‘Nothing, absolutely nothing.’ She sniffed thoughtfully. ‘If you ask me, she’s just getting wise to the world in general and you in particular!’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
Now Melanie coloured. ‘Oh—nothing,’ she muttered. ‘Look, excuse me, will you? I’ve got work to do!’ and she turned and went into the barn.
After she had gone, Domine bent to lift her buckets again, but he prevented her, his hand on her wrist. ‘Not yet,’ he muttered bleakly. ‘I want to talk to you.’
Domine sighed. ‘Can’t it wait?’ she asked rudely.
‘No, damn you, it can’t,’ he replied angrily. ‘Get your horse! We’re going riding!’
Domine wanted to refuse, but she didn’t dare. There was something about his expression that brooked no interference in his plans, and with ill grace she saddled Rosie and rode ahead of him out of the yard.
Once on the moors however, some of her apprehension disappeared in the pure joy of being free of any constraint for a while. She sighed almost contentedly, hardly aware of the contemplative gaze of her companion.
Weatherwise, it was not a promising morning. Ahead of them, to the south, storm clouds were rolling up, giving the moors a strange and brooding air, while the coastline was obscured by a veil of mist. The atmosphere was damp and chilling, and Domine shivered. She was just wearing a chunky sweater over an old tee-shirt of Melanie’s. Once she glanced round, and saw that the house and its surrounding buildings had been swallowed up in the mist, and there was something a little unnerving about being out on the moors with a man to whom she had shown so little respect.