‘The gaiety of grey’ was not really an apt description where she was concerned.
She had a feeling that her grey eyes were not gay but serious and she thought that they were perhaps a little dull. She was not sure. But how could one judge oneself and know what one’s eyes conveyed to someone else?
The Duchesse was lucky, she reflected, despite all the miseries of her married life, despite all she had suffered, to have eventually found love.
Olinda glanced up at the side of the bed towering above her and raised her head to where the inside of the canopy depicted flying cupids encircling two hearts pierced with an arrow.
‘A bed for love’, Olinda told herself and realised that she had looked up really because her eyes were hurting.
It was not surprising!
She had worked for so long that she had completely forgotten the time and now the sun had long since lost its strength, the room was full of shadows and it was impossible to go on sewing any longer.
Olinda began to put her needles and silks back into the bag she kept them in.
She had just reached out her hand for her long, thin, pointed scissors, when the door of the room opened. As it did so a man’s voice outside in the passage deep and resolute said,
“Mrs. Kingston, I have been looking for you.”
“I’m sorry, my Lord,” Mrs. Kingston replied, “I was just goin’ – ”
Olinda realised that she was about to say that she was going to the Duchesse’s room to fetch her, but the Earl cut her off abruptly,
“I want to know, Mrs. Kingston, what you mean by putting Mademoiselle Le Bronc on the second floor.”
“On her Ladyship’s orders, my Lord.”
“Is that how you treat my friends when I bring them home?” the Earl asked and now there was a note of anger in his voice which was quite unmistakable.
“I’m sorry, my Lord,” Mrs. Kingston said again in a flutter, “but her Ladyship said – ”
“I can imagine what her Ladyship said!” the Earl said sharply. “You will change Mademoiselle Le Bronc immediately to one of the rooms on this floor. One of the State rooms, Mrs. Kingston!”
“Yes, my Lord, of course, my Lord, if that’s what you wish.”
“It is what I wish! My friends will be treated with proper respect by everyone! Everyone in the house, Mrs. Kingston, is that clear?”
“Yes, of course, my Lord.”
There was a pause and then the Earl added,
“It was not your fault, Mrs. Kingston, I realise that. And, incidentally, where am I sleeping?”
There was a silence that Olinda could not help feeling had something ominous about it.
Then Mrs. Kingston replied a little hesitatingly,
“I thought, my Lord, you’d like to be in the King’s room.”
“Why not in my rightful place, Mrs. Kingston?”
“Of course, if that’s what your Lordship wishes, I’ll make arrangements immediately.”
“I would, of course, wish to sleep in my father’s room, in my father’s bed,” the Earl said speaking slowly. “That is where all the Earls of Kelvedon have slept, have they not, Mrs. Kingston?”
“Yes, my Lord, of course, my Lord.”
She ceased speaking and then the Earl said violently,
“And throw that damned usurper out of there!”
Olinda heard Mrs. Kingston give a far from inaudible gasp and at that moment there was another voice asking,
“What are you saying, Roque? What orders are you giving Mrs. Kingston? I have already told her where your friend is to sleep.”
“And I have countermanded your order, Mama. I realise quite well why you chose the second floor, but my friends, like yours, are entitled to the best!”
There was silence and then the Dowager Countess said,
“That will be all, Mrs. Kingston.”
“Thank you, my Lady.”
There was a sound of Mrs. Kingston moving away and then to Olinda’s consternation she heard someone stepping into the room and the Dowager Countess saying more clearly,
“Why did you come back here, Roque, to make trouble?”
The Earl had obviously followed her and now Olinda wondered frantically what she should do.
Should she reveal herself? If she did, they would realise that she had already been eavesdropping. Before she could make up her mind, the Earl said,
“It is you who are the cause of the trouble, Mama. I have come back from France to find out exactly what you are doing in my absence.”
“What I am doing, when you bring that creature here!” the Dowager Countess said, her voice rising. “I do not intend, Roque, to act as chaperone to one of your fancy women.”
“My fancy woman, as you call her,” the Earl said bitterly, “is on a par with your fancy man, Mama! I have brought Yvette to lend me moral support – or shall I say in an effort to make the foursome complete!”
“How dare you!” the Dowager Countess exclaimed. “How dare you speak to me like that!”
“How dare you behave as you have in my absence?” the Earl retorted. “But after all this is the reason why I went abroad.”
“And you should have stayed there!” the Dowager Countess snapped.
“This is still my house!” the Earl replied.
“Have you forgotten, my dear son, that you cannot keep it up without money? The money that your father left to me completely and absolutely for my lifetime!”
“I have not forgotten that!” the Earl replied, “and do you imagine for one moment that my father would have left you in such a position, except that he trusted you? With one word I could have destroyed that trust but because I loved him, because I could not bear to hurt him, I allowed him to live and die in his fool’s paradise.”
“With the result, my dear Roque, that whatever you may say, I have the upper hand! If you throw me out of the house, then you cannot keep the place going. I hold all the aces, I think!”
“Exactly, Mama!” the Earl replied. “But the house is mine and, while it remains mine, I will not allow your lovers, those young pimps who toady to you because you are a rich woman, to alter or deface my possessions!”
“So that is what has brought you back,” the Dowager Countess exclaimed.
“Exactly!” the Earl agreed. “Lanceworth told me that you wished to change the Orangery into an indoor tennis court. I can hardly believe, Mama, that you have taken to tennis in your old age. It is therefore obvious who it is who wishes to spoil a perfect example of William and Mary architecture.”
“It will be so much more expensive to build a new court altogether,” the Dowager Countess countered.
“Perhaps you could go without quite so many gowns for one year. Or perhaps your lover without so many racehorses and an expensive car!” the Earl remarked acidly.
“What I give Felix is my business,” the Dowager Countess snapped. “I do not suppose Mademoiselle Le Bronc, if that is her real name, is a cheap acquisition!”
“On the contrary, she is very expensive,” the Earl said. “That is why I thought that she would be such a suitable companion on this visit.”
“Then you can take her back to the gutter where she came from,” the Dowager Countess said. “I will not sit down to meals with such a creature!”
“In which case I will not sit down with Felix Hanson!” the Earl parried. “What a delightful idea, Mama! Let’s dine alone and quarrel with each other in front of the servants. An audience always gives such a piquancy to the type of interchange we have with each other.”
“I will not stay here being insulted!” the Dowager Countess cried. “Keep your little French prostitute and she can sleep wherever you like. Doubtless it will be in your bed!”
“I might say the same of Felix Hanson, Mama. Except that I assure you, while I am in the house he will not sleep in my father’s room however much he may try to take his place in other ways!”
There was a steely note in the Earl’s voice that was unmistakable.
“I hate you, Roque! I hate you in this mood! Why did you have to come back? Why can you not stay away and go on debauching yourself and trying to pretend it is my fault!”
“It is your fault, Mama, as it always has been,” the Earl answered.
There was a long pause and then the Dowager Countess said in a somewhat uncertain voice,
“Why do we not forget the stupid adolescent dramas you are now far too old for.”
She paused to add,
“You loved me so much when you were a boy. In fact you worshipped me! It was only jealousy that made you rage – and how you raged! – when you first realised that I had taken a lover.”
The Earl made a sound that might have been indicative of disgust.
“What else could you expect?” the Dowager Countess asked. “Your father was so much older than I was and I wanted love, Roque! I could not live without it!”
There was an unmistakable note of pleading in her voice as she went on,
“Let us try now and be adult about this.”
“In what way?” the Earl asked wearily.
“You could take your rightful place here.”
“Would you be content, Mama, to be alone with me?”
Again there was a pregnant silence, until the Dowager Countess cried,
“Do you really mean alone? Do you really want me to grow old, to have no one to admire me but you? I cannot do that, Roque, I cannot! I want Felix! I need him! He is all I have left of my youth.”
“And that answers your suggestion very completely,” the Earl said coldly.
There was a little cry, the sound of people leaving the room and the door slammed behind them.
Olinda drew in her breath with a gasp as she realised that she had been sitting tense and still to the point that it had been hard to breathe.
Now she rose slowly to her feet feeling ashamed that she should have been eavesdropping, but knowing that it would have been impossible for her to interrupt and reveal her presence.
She was a little stiff from sitting on the floor for so long and as she rose she put out her hand to steady herself against the bed.
Then, as she did so, she realised that she had been mistaken. The room was not empty as she had thought, nor had both the people who had been talking left it when the door was slammed.
The Earl was standing at one of the windows, gazing out.
He could not have heard her move because she was standing behind the bed for some seconds before a sense of her presence infringed on his mind and he turned his head.
He looked at her incredulously. At her wide eyes, a little frightened and apprehensive, at her fair hair silhouetted against the brilliance of the curtains, at her small hand resting on the bed cover.
It seemed to Olinda as if neither of them could move and she felt that he in fact was as shocked into surprise as she was.
Then he asked abruptly, his voice seeming to vibrate round the room,
“Who are you and what are you doing here?”
CHAPTER THREE
The Earl stared out of the window.
The lake was molten gold in the sinking sun, the swans moving slowly over its smooth surface and the crimson rhododendrons were reflected in the water.
He thought how often he had dreamt of this particular view when he had been abroad. Always it had brought him an inexplicable pain.
Ever since he had been a child, the beauty of his home had moved him unaccountably and at times when he was away from it at school or University it had been almost too poignant to visualise it. Yet it had always been in the back of his consciousness, a part of himself, a part of his heritage.
He could feel the loveliness of it now, like a cooling hand on his hot forehead gradually soothing away the anger that an interchange of words with his mother had aroused.
Always Kelvedon could bring him peace and a feeling that the violent emotions that consumed him to the point of driving him away from his home were unnecessary.
‘I love you,’ he wanted to say to the lake, to the arched bridge which spanned it, to the great trees centuries old that stood in the Park, to the green lawns sloping down like emerald velvet to the water’s edge.
And beyond the shrubberies that enclosed the gardens like protecting arms, there were the high woods, in which, when he had been a child, had dwelt Knights and dragons and the mysterious supernatural beings who somehow also featured in the history of his ancestors.
He felt his breath coming more calmly. Then some sixth sense made him feel that he was not alone.
Instinctively he turned his head.
In the shadows that were beginning to gather in the Duchesse’s room he saw on the other side of the bed a small pointed face with large grey eyes, framed by hair so fair that a ray of the sinking sun might have been left behind.
For one incredible moment the face, which could have belonged to some nymph from the tapestry behind it, appeared to have no substance and to be attached to no body.
Then he realised that the woman or girl who was standing there was wearing a grey gown.
“Who are you?” he asked, “and what are you doing here?”
There was silence for a moment.
Then a low musical voice replied,
“I am sorry – I did not wish to – overhear what was being – said, but it seemed – impossible to – interrupt.”
“Who are you?” the Earl asked again.
“I am an embroiderer and have been engaged to repair the curtains of the bed.”
“And you were, of course, hidden whilst my mother and I were in the room.”
“I – am afraid so.”
“And you thought we had both left the room?”
“Y-yes.”
The grey eyes were very apologetic and after a moment Olinda said hesitatingly,
“You – must be aware, my Lord, that I would – never – repeat anything that I – overheard and I will in fact try to – forget – it.”
“I should imagine that would be impossible,” the Earl said dryly. “But I accept your assurance that what you heard said in this room will go no further. Will you tell me your name?”
“Olinda Selwyn.”
“I am sure I can trust you, Miss Selwyn.”
“Of course.”
Olinda moved from behind the bed and the Earl saw that she was taller than he had thought. At the same time she was so slim and graceful in her grey gown that he was not surprised he had mistaken her for a nymph.
‘She is very young,’ he thought, seeing the soft contour of her face and the long column of her throat, which supported the head of incredibly pale gold hair.
It stirred some memory in his mind, but he could not think what it was.
She was moving towards the door and he spoke again,
“Have you been here long, Miss Selwyn?”
“I arrived last night. I am hoping that my embroidery will give satisfaction.”
“Do you have to work?”
“Yes. I need the money.”
She glanced at him again. Then she opened the door and, passing through it into the corridor, closed it very quietly, leaving him alone.
The Earl stood staring after her until as if it was an effort he left the Duchesse’s room to walk along the wide corridor to the Master suite.
He knew that, when he reached it all traces of its previous occupant would have been removed and in fact he found Higson, the old valet who had looked after his father, hanging his clothes up in the wardrobe and setting his riding boots and shoes beneath them.
“It’s nice to see you, Higson,” the Earl said, holding out his hand.
“I’ve been prayin’ that your Lordship would return before I retired.”
“You are retiring?”
The question was sharp.
“There’s been complaints, my Lord, that I’m too old for my job.”
“Complaints, who from?”
There was a pause before the old valet answered quietly.
“You mean one in particular,” the Earl insisted.
Now the anger was rising within him again and seemed to make every word he spoke sound ominous.
“I’m afraid, my Lord,” the old man faltered, “I don’t move fast enough for the gentleman, who’s always in a hurry. Although his late Lordship and yourself, my Lord, always said I’d no one to equal me with hunting breeches, I finds it difficult to understand all the new-fangled clothes that’s required for motorin’, for golf and a number of other games we never had before at Kelvedon.”
“How old are you, Higson?”
“Sixty-three, my Lord, and good for a number of years more if things were like they were in the old days.”
“Then you will not retire, Higson. Is that understood?” the Earl asserted.
There was a sudden light in the man’s eyes that had not been there before.
“You mean that, my Lord? But her Ladyship said – ”
“I am the Master of this house, Higson, and I will not have the servants who have served my father and me pensioned off until they are ready to leave. Besides I require you to look after me.”
“You intend to stay, my Lord?”
The question obviously took the Earl by surprise and he walked across the room to stand in front of the mantelpiece staring at his mother’s portrait before he replied,
“I don’t know, Higson, and that is the truth.”
“We needs you, my Lord, we need you badly. We’re not happy, none of us, without you.”
The Earl turned round.
“What do you mean by that?”
“The stables don’t like the new motor car, my Lord. The horses are not much in use and the gentleman, when he does ride them, is not like your Lordship.”
“Meaning what, Higson?” the Earl enquired.
“He’s hard on them, my Lord.”
“In what way?”
Again there was a pause before Higson said,
“Hard hands, a whip and sharp spurs, my Lord, don’t make a horseman.”
“Damn it! I will not have that swine ruining my bloodstock!”
“It’s not only that, my Lord,” Higson went on. “Her Ladyship is only interested in the racehorses these days. The hunters and the teams your Lordship used to drive yourself are seldom taken out. It’s breakin’ Abbey’s heart.”
A Dream from the Night Page 5
