Mr Stirling was good company, and he and Cicely passed the meal pleasantly by talking about their favourite books.
‘I didn’t know you were a fan of Sherlock Holmes,’ said Alex, joining Cicely after dinner, when coffee was served in the drawing-room.
‘Oh. Yes, I am,’ said Cicely. She and Mr Stirling had talked about the splendid stories over dinner, and Mr Stirling had obviously mentioned the fact to Alex.
‘I didn’t notice any of Conan Doyle’s stories in the library,’ he said.
Cicely gave a mischievous smile. ‘That’s because I took them all with me!’
He laughed. ‘How are you settling in at the Manor?’ he asked. ‘Is your room to your liking? I haven’t had a chance to ask you before now.’
‘Yes, thank you, it is.’
‘Because if you would like another one you have only to say.’
‘No. I am very comfortable where I am.’
He was about to speak when one of his guests hailed him from across the room. ‘I say, Evington, what about a game of billiards.’
‘I’m afraid that will be impossible,’ he said.
‘Impossible? Pish!’ said the young man. ‘Nothing’s impossible.’
‘I’m afraid this is. You see, there’s no billiard room.’
‘What? No billiard room. Good Lord! You’ll have to hurry up and build one then.’
Cicely turned away. In one way she could not take exception to what the young man had said, for most country houses had billiard rooms. But it hurt her to have the Manor’s inadequacies spoken of. She knew it needed bringing up to date, but she loved it anyway, and although she could now enter it without feeling a loss of spirits, and had indeed enjoyed seeing it en fête, she did not like to hear it belittled.
Looking up, she caught Alex’s eye in the mirror. He was looking at her curiously, as though wondering what had brought the sudden look of pain to her face. But there was more than curiosity in his eyes. There was an unmistakeable gleam of tender concern as well.
Fortunately, Alice came up to her at that moment and distracted her, forcing her to break eye contact with Alex and give her attention to the other guests. Otherwise she might have been guilty of giving way to wholly inappropriate feelings . . . feelings that were becoming increasingly hard to deny.
She saw no more of Alex that evening, and as she undressed for bed later that evening she was grateful for it, because as she finally blew out the candle - the gas lighting not reaching this part of the house - she realized that staying at the Manor was going to cause her difficulties she had not foreseen. Not only was it going to bring her into contact with Alex every single day, but it was also going to force her to acknowledge her unfortunate reaction to the beautiful Miss Postlethwaite, whose statuesque image haunted her until she fell asleep.
Chapter Seven
Alex was up early the following morning. Although most of his guests thought the forthcoming ball was nothing more than a housewarming gesture, there was one person who knew that it had been arranged in order to snare the man who had almost ruined his sister’s life by framing her for a theft she didn’t commit. That person was Miss Eugenie Postlethwaite - or, as she was more usually and correctly known, Mrs Eugenie Dortmeyer.
Alex went down to the library as soon as he was dressed. He had arranged to meet Eugenie at half past seven. As the long-case clock struck the half hour the door opened and Eugenie, looking magnificent in a long tailored skirt and high-necked blouse, entered the room.
‘Eugenie.’ Alex smiled. Taking her hands, he kissed her on the cheek. ‘It was good of you to get out of bed so early. I thought we had better meet at this hour so that we would not be in any danger of being interrupted by any of the other guests.’
Eugenie returned his greeting. ‘I understand.’
‘In fact, it was good of you to come to the house party at all,’ he said, indicating a chair for Eugenie and then, when she had settled, sitting down himself. ‘Especially at such short notice.’
‘To help you catch that rat I’d have come a lot further,’ she said, not mincing her words. ‘And done it at the drop of a hat.’
There was a hint of an American twang in her voice. After growing up in the same neighbourhood as Alex, Eugenie had set out to explore the world. She had fallen in love with, and eventually married, Hyram Dortmeyer, an American magnate, and now spent most of her time in Boston or London. But she had responded to Alex’s plea for help and had been only too happy to join him at the Manor.
She ran her eyes appreciatively round Alex’s study, taking in the splendid book shelves and large mahogany desk before turning to look out of the French windows. ‘You’ve found a beautiful place here,’ she said, as her eyes roved over the sweeping lawns.
‘Yes. It’s perfect.’
‘It’s lucky your Miss Haringay had to sell.’
‘My Miss Haringay?’ He raised his eyebrows. ‘She is not my Miss Haringay.’
‘No?’ Eugenie gave him a knowing look.
He returned her gaze. ‘No.’
‘That’s funny. From the way you were looking at her -’ began Eugenie.
‘And what do you mean by that?’ he interrupted.
She laughed. ‘Why, nothing, Alex . . . except that every time you look at her your eyes smoulder and your hands clench, as though you want to sweep her off her feet and carry her up to the bedroom,’ remarked Eugenie with a mischievous look in her eye.
Alex gave an exasperated sigh. ‘Ever since you’ve married you’ve become incorrigible,’ he said.
‘I have, haven’t I?’ she asked innocently. ‘Marriage does that to a person.’ She twinkled at him. ‘You should try it yourself.’
‘If I thought I’d be as happy as you and Hyram I’d marry tomorrow.’
Eugenie was unperturbed. ‘You would be.’
‘Perhaps. But even if I asked Miss Haringay to marry me tomorrow – which I have no intention of doing - I doubt if she would have me. She regards me as a cross between a Philistine and Attila the Hun.’
‘Really? I haven’t seen that in her face when she looks at you. What I’ve seen is her looking at you as though you’re forbidden fruit: tempting, but dangerous,’ she said. ‘What makes you so sure she doesn’t like you ?’
‘First of all, because I knocked her off her bicycle and then laughed at her when she fell into the duck-pond -’
‘In that case, I’m not surprised,’ said Eugenie.
‘Secondly, because I wouldn’t let the Sunday school hold their picnic here -’
‘That’s not like you,’ said Eugenie, surprised. ‘You’re usually so thoughtful where other people are concerned. Especially children.’
‘Not when I have a lot on my mind,’ Alex admitted. ‘And not when I’m ordered to do it by a busybody who hardly lets me unpack before ordering me about. And thirdly -’
‘Yes?’
‘Thirdly, she doesn’t like cits.’
‘A few obstacles have never stopped you getting what you wanted before,’ said Eugenie. ‘Why don’t you make her change her mind?’
‘It’s tempting, I have to admit,’ said Alex, remembering every delicious encounter with Cicely. ‘But marriage involves more than physical attraction, it involves trust and respect, and there was no way I could ever trust someone from her world. Not after what they did to Katie. And now, to business. We are here to catch Goss.’
‘Ah, yes, Goss. I came here to help you catch a thief, not to tease you about Miss Haringay, although I have to admit, I’ve kind of enjoyed it!’ said Eugenie.
‘Yes. A thief,’ said Alex, ignoring her remarkes about Cicely. ‘The Honourable-’
Eugenie snorted. ‘More like dishonourable.’
‘ - Martin Goss.’
Eugenie looked appreciatively round the room again. ‘The Manor’s the perfect place to catch him.’
Alex stood up and strode over to the fireplace. ‘It is. It’s the perfect setting in which to spring the trap, and it’s near enough t
o Goss’s own place to make it seem natural for me to invite him. He can just, without too big a stretch of the imagination, be considered to be one of my new neighbours.’
‘And he’s accepted the invitation, you say?’ asked Eugenie.
‘Yes.’ Alex gave a twisted smile. ‘The Honourable Martin will be delighted to attend.’
‘Then we’ve got him.’ Eugenie spoke with confidence.
‘Not yet,’ said Alex cautiously. ‘There’s still a long way to go before we can say that. But we’re well on the way.’
‘And what about the bait?’
‘I’m picking the necklace up from the jewellers tomorrow. I meant to go yesterday, but - ’ He hesitated, as he thought of Cicely’s exploding range ‘- something came up. But you’ll have it in time for dinner this evening. That way it will have a chance to excite gossip, and once Goss hears about it he’ll be sure to want to steal it. He’s in low funds at the moment, and he needs something to get him out of the clutches of the moneylenders. The necklace will appear like a dream come true to him.’
Eugenie sighed. ‘It’s just a pity Hyram couldn’t be here,’ she said. ‘He would have loved to see us catch the rat. But it wasn’t a good idea, not after he was at the last house party where Goss stole something. If Goss saw him he might decide it was too risky to steal something else in case Hyram put two and two together. And that’s why I wanted to come as my maiden self, because if he was introduced to Mrs Hyram Dortmeyer, it would be just as likely to make him decide it wasn’t worth the risk. Besides, I like being Miss Eugenie Postlethwaite again for a few days, it makes me feel young.’
‘You will always be young!’ said Alex.
‘Flatterer,’ she said, but she smiled.
‘If I can’t flatter my oldest friend, who can I flatter? It’s not everyone who would help me catch a thief. And I want to catch him so badly. I want to hand him over to the authorities so that he’ll be made to pay for what he did to Katie - and, incidentally, to make sure he doesn’t do it to any other innocent young girl. For the duration of the party you will be Miss Postlethwaite, proud possessor of a fabulous necklace.’ He stood up. ‘I should be back from the jewellers by three o’clock, but to be on the safe side I suggest you meet me here at four tomorrow. I will hand over the necklace, and you, my dear Eugenie, will wear it every day until it’s stolen.’
* * * *
Cicely, having finished her breakfast, was putting the finishing touches to her toilette. Being Sunday, the assembled company was going to church, and Cicely was to be one of their number.
As she settled her plumed hat on her head she caught sight of Alex walking down the drive and as she saw him her spirits lifted and she realized that her feelings towards him were now wholly different to what they had been when he had arrived in the village. She had thought he would be brash and heartless and humourless, but as she had come to know him she had come to realise that he was no such thing. He was strong and brave and ambitious, but he had a softer side, too, and, like her, he loved to laugh. and he made her light up whenever he was near. He was also someone she could rely on. It was a novel experience. Her father, dear though he had been, had in many ways been more like a child than a grown man, and he had always looked to her to see to the practicalities of life; and since his death the burden of sorting out the muddle he had left behind had fallen entirely on her shoulders.
Even better was the way Alex made her feel whenever he was near, and the way he made her feel inside when he touched her. She had never known such wonderful feelings existed.
To make her pleasure complete, she saw that he did not escort Miss Postlethwaite, who had just emerged from the house. Instead, he escorted one of the married women. So there was nothing between the two of them after all!
The day seemed impossibly bright. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, the sky was blue, and she had a whole week of Alex’s company to look forward to.
‘Ready?’ asked Alice, coming into the room.
‘Ready,’ said Cicely.
The day passed in an agreeable haze. After church came luncheon, and then a whole host of entertainments, at which Alex always seemed to be by her side, and the following morning, too. Alex excused himself in the afternoon, saying he had some urgent business to attend to in town, which reminded Cicely that she, too, had business to attend to, for she wanted to walk down to the Lodge and see how the repairs were progressing.
Reassuring Alice that she did not need any company she set off down the drive. The builders - local village men, trustworthy and reliable - were hard at work, and told her they expected to finish the job by the end of the week. Cicely was relieved. At least she would have a house to return to when the party came to an end. It was with a spring in her step, therefore, that she returned to the Manor.
The summery sound of leather on willow greeted her as she walked up the drive, and she realized there must be a cricket match going on. As she rounded a bend this was confirmed by the sight of the gentlemen, in their white flannels, playing the traditional game. They made an attractive spectacle against the green of the lawns, which Cicely had to admit were far better tended under Alex’s care then they ever had been under her father’s.
Underneath the chestnut tree, a number of ladies were watching the game. Cicely looked for Alice and Mrs Babbage, but her friends did not appear to be spectating. They would be in Alice’s room, she guessed, altering their evening dresses.
She crossed the terrace and headed towards the side door, intending to join them so that she could alter her pale pink chiffon gown, making it a little different so that Alice could wear it in a few days time. But as she passed the study something flew past her ear and fell with a thud into the flower bed. She looked round, startled, but on seeing old Mr Hart running towards her she realized it must have been the cricket ball. She was about to walk on, so as not to interfere with the game, when she noticed that Mr Hart was clutching his side. He was puffing and blowing, and she decided he needed a bit of help. Abandoning the idea of not interfering, she lifted her skirt an inch or two and stepped daintily across the flower bed in the direction of the thud.
‘Oh, Alex, it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen!’
The words drifted out of the open French windows.
Cicely looked up, surprised. Just inside the windows, their backs towards her, were Eugenie and Alex.
Cicely felt her heart beginning to beat faster. Eugenie was holding aside a few stray tendrils that had escaped from her fashionable pompadour hairstyle and Alex was fastening the most exquisite emerald necklace round her neck.
Cicely watched, transfixed, as Eugenie turned to face him, arranging the necklace across her high-necked blouse.
‘It’s enchanting!’ said Eugenie with stars in her eyes. She kissed Alex on the cheek.
Cicely went red to the roots of her hair and she wanted to run away as fast as she could. She looked round for the ball, seizing it as soon as she laid eyes on it, then hastily returned to the terrace and gave it to Mr Hart.
‘Thank you, my dear,’ he said with a gasp. ‘I’m not as young as I was, I fear.’
Cicely handed him the ball with a fixed smile and an encouraging word, then hurried into the Manor.
It is none of my business, she told herself, as her mind replayed the events she had witnessed in the study. It was only by the most unlucky chance that she had seen and heard anything untoward, and she ought to forget about it at once.
But she could not forget. She could not wipe away the memory of Eugenie’s look of joy when Alex had given her the necklace, or the kiss Eugenie had bestowed on his cheek. There could be only one reason why Alex had been giving Eugenie such a valuable piece of jewellery: they must be about to announce their engagement. Either that, or . . . Cicely flushed, as she remembered that fashionable house parties often provided illicit lovers with a chance to meet and indulge their passion. What a fool she had been to read anything into Alex’s attention to her! It had meant not
hing at all; perhaps it had even been a blind, to disguise his relationship with Eugenie.
Cicely took a firm grip on herself. Whatever the reason, she must not allow herself to think about it. Alex’s private life was his own affair, and if she had read anything into his attentions, then more fool her. He had never said anything to her of his feelings, and that was surely proof that the electrical connection they shared was ultimately unimportant to him.
She fought down an urge to go to her own room, where she had the inexplicable feeling that her spirits would sink still further, and she went instead to Alice’s room, where Alice and Mrs Babbage were hard at work altering the dresses they had worn the evening before.
‘Cicely,’ said Alice, looking up. ‘You’re just in time! We were wondering what you would think of adding a lace frill to your pink chiffon.’
Cicely made an effort to take an interest. She looked at the dress critically as Alice held a band of lace around its neckline.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I think that would be a good idea. It doesn’t seem out of place, and makes the dress look quite different.’
Pulling out her hatpin and putting it on the dressing-table, Cicely laid her hat beside it and then set to work.
The three ladies spent the next hour cutting and sewing, adding frills, removing flounces and attaching silk flowers, until the dresses they had already worn had been altered in some slight but noticeable way.
‘There,’ said Cicely, looking at her pale pink gown when she had finished. It now had a wide flounce of lace around its neckline and a similar trimming round its hem.
‘It looks quite different,’ said Alice, pleased. She held up her own delicate primrose gown, which had been adorned with silk flowers.
‘Very good,’ said Mrs Babbage looking closely. ‘It will not fool someone who has been looking at your clothes closely, of course, but to the casual observer your gowns will appear to be new, particularly as you will be swapping them between you, and wearing them three or four days apart.’
Mrs Babbage, too, had altered her gown. She had removed the train, which had been attached at the shoulder, and had removed the sleeves. It would not pass close inspection, but with luck it would be taken for a new outfit.
Marriage at the Manor Page 10
