Cloud Castle

by Sara Seale

  “What’s wrong now?” Raff asked, watching her face with amusement “Ireland isn’t a universal beauty spot any more than England is, you know.”

  “I suppose not only—well, you see, the other side has tantalised me ever since I’ve been here. I’ve always wanted to come across.”

  “And now you’re here you find it was a mirage, like so much else in life. A good example of stopping on your own side of the fence, perhaps. What’s on the other side is seldom what you imagine.”

  She glanced up at him quickly, wondering if his words held a special meaning, but his grey eyes were merely quizzical as they met hers.

  “Well,” she said, “I’m glad we don’t live this side. Ours is much nicer.” He smiled, thinking how innocently she assumed an integral part of his household, and went into the store to execute his order.

  “And what would you be wantin’ all this lot again for, O’Rafferty?” Casey demanded, scanning Marcia’s list with a jaundiced eye, and Judy was unsurprised to find, since he dwelt in such ugliness on the north side of the lough, that he was the dour type of Irishman with little warmth and humour. “Didn’t Mr. Maule come across yesterday with this very same order, and him without the price again for me last account?”

  “I wrote a cheque at the beginning of the week—he must have forgotten it,” Raff said absently. “I didn’t know he’d been across yesterday. Miss Maule must have made a mistake when she sent me over this morning.”

  “ ‘Tis the very same list she wrote. I mind the way it read and the corner torn off at the top.”

  “She must have forgotten, or given me the wrong one. I’d better take back another supply, though, to avoid a wasted journey.”

  “That’s needless extravagance,” Judy interposed disapprovingly, and Casey suddenly became affable. He was, it transpired, that rare product of his race, a man careful of his money.

  “Now that’s common sense,” he declared. “Even your fancy guests couldn’t have ate all that lot in the time, or drunk all the liquor. Come back tomorrow, or the next day, but come yourself, O’Rafferty. Is this the young lady from England who gives an eye to your buks?”

  “Miss Ware is my secretary, yes. Why do you tell me to come myself, Casey?”

  The little man lifted his shoulders in a shrug and turned down his mouth at the same time.

  “I wouldn’t be knowin’ why. Just a fancy I had, maybe,” he said vaguely.

  “Well, it won’t be convenient. I’ll take the stuff now, so get a move on and pack it up, or we shall be late for lunch,” Raff replied a little curtly.

  “Will you now? And miss that felly Grogan if he’s as fly as I think he is?”

  Raff frowned.

  “What do you mean? He wasn’t expected at Slyne this morning, as far as I know.”

  “He passed here earlier with that van of his, and I know where he was bound for. He always takes the north road for the castle because of the bumps in t’other. Says they’d destroy them gew-gaws he calls his art treasures. You’d not be doin’ business with a felly like that, would you now? If you want a price for some of that stuff you have at the castle, there are better men to deal with than Dan Grogan, and I’m tellin’ you that as a friend, mind.” Judy watched Raff visibly freeze. It would, she realised with surprise, touch his pride badly to have the district imagine that he was obliged to sell the family treasures because the guest house was not paying as well as it should.

  “Thanks, Casey, I’m sure you mean it kindly,” he replied stiffly. “Now, if you’ll please get on with that order, Miss Ware and I will wait outside.”

  “You’ve forgotten,” Judy said slowly. “Grogan was probably bringing back the tallboy. Don’t you remember? He took it away to repair.”

  “So he did,” said Raff, his face clearing, but Casey leaned across for a final word.

  “Funny that felly always visits the castle when you’re out of the way,” he said with a wink. “Thick as thieves they are, him and Mr. Maule. Miss Doyle tells Willie-the-Post, and Willie spreads the tale wherever he delivers the letters—thick as thieves, they all say.”

  Raff walked out of the store before he had finished speaking, and Judy, after stopping to the end for politeness’ sake, joined him to sit on the wall outside and wait, but he offend no further conversation. His earlier mood had completely altered, she saw, and she was careful not to disturb those inward thoughts with idle chatter when they embarked again with the provisions, but all the way back to the south side of the lough her own thoughts plagued her. Had Marcia’s repeated order been a genuine mistake, or had she really wanted to get Raff out of the house, and if so, for what purpose?

  Then Judy remembered the fake chest in the Small Saloon and her eyes widened as her first suspicions began to crystallise. She could hardly wait for Raff to make fast the boat before springing ashore and running into the house to see if the tallboy had been returned.

  II

  She ran across the hall and down the long corridor to the Grand Saloon, aware only vaguely of the familiar sounds of the house; Mary Kate’s shrill voice somewhere from the kitchen quarters, Rosie’s light footsteps pattering backwards and forwards to the dining-room, the clocks striking the hour with varying degrees of accuracy. The Grand Saloon was empty of visitors, and the sunlight, streaming in at the window, caught the faded tapestry and mellow patina of old wood into a hazy Conversation Piece which made her pause, drinking in the beauty of old things of which her father had made her so much aware, then her eyes went round the room, seeking the tallboy.

  It was there, but not as she remembered it. The furniture had been shifted and it stood now in a dark corner where any change or discrepancy would not be noticed. It is a racket, she told herself fiercely, as she advanced into the room, and was then aware of the click of high heels behind her on the polished floor which could only be Marcia’s. “Grogan’s brought it back, as you see. He’s made a good job, I think, but of course I haven’t your knowledge of antiques,” Marcia said, and Judy turned to face her, thinking, even in that moment of distrust and the certainty of what she would find, how well the older woman graced the room. She leaned, with studied effect, on the arm of a high-backed Jacobean chair, smoking one of her inevitable cigarettes, and the smoke rose in a thin, graceful spiral to mingle with the dancing motes in a shaft of sunlight.

  “Why have you put it in that dark corner?” Judy demanded, and scarcely knew that her voice was accusing. Marcia gave an imperceptible shrug and tipped her ash with an automatic gesture on to the carpet.

  “I like to rearrange things from time to time,” she said “Don’t you approve, darling?”

  The tone was teasing but delicately indicative that a brash young newcomer had no right to doubt or criticise, and Judy turned her back and walked over to the tallboy, aware that both Raff and Noel had suddenly joined them.

  “Why are you in here?” Raff asked.

  “Judy wants to make sure of the tallboy,” Marcia said, with a little ripple of amusement “She seems upset because we’ve changed the furniture around.”

  “Make sure?” Raff repeated, with a frown, and Noel grinned, and began to stroll across the room with the conscious elegance he could adopt so well when he knew he was being watched.

  “She imagines there’s been some dirty work. Like you, she doesn’t think much of poor Grogan and his rather obvious blarney,” he said. “Well, Judy—are you satisfied with the job he’s done, or do you still think the piece should have been sent to experts in Dublin who would have charged twice as much?”

  She was aware of him negligently propped against a cabinet watching her fingers run over the smooth veneer of the tallboy, seeking out flaws that would proclaim it a copy, but her touch faltered and was finally still. It was the genuine article restored very cleverly, she had to admit, and she turned to meet Noel’s mocking gaze.

  “Satisfied?” he asked, and she nodded, aware now that she had precipitated some minor crisis in their relationships. While Noel’s eye
s were frankly derisive, and Marcia’s smilingly tolerant, Raff’s expression was one of barely concealed impatience.

  “If Judy has finished giving her opinion on the furniture, we might go in to lunch,” he said.

  They followed him back to the dining-room, and Marcia slipped an arm round Judy’s waist.

  “You shouldn’t try to make an issue out of something before you’re sure, darling,” she said softly. “Raff doesn’t like atmospheres, you know.”

  “I haven’t,” said Judy stubbornly, “been trying to create an atmosphere.”

  “Haven’t you? Well, we’ll give you the benefit of the doubt You’re very young, after all, and don’t know quite as much as you think you do about old furniture and—and other things.”

  If it was a warning, Marcia’s gracious friendliness gave the lie to it but there was an atmosphere, Judy had to admit eating her lunch in uneasy silence, and was not surprised when Raff asked suddenly:

  “Did you mislay your list this morning, Marcia, that you sent me out with yesterday’s? Casey seemed surprised that we needed the identical order again so soon.” Marcia’s lovely dark eyes grew wide and bright with apology.

  “Oh!” she exclaimed. “That must have been your fault, Noel—you would come and natter while I was trying to give Mary Kate the orders for meals and I must have confused my lists. I’m sorry, Raff darling; now I suppose everything’s duplicated.”

  “I suppose it is. What was on the fresh order that couldn’t have waited till next time?”

  “How should I remember? Whatever it was, we’ll have to make do till the van comes out from Knockferry. I’m sorry if you had a wasted morning, Raff, but Judy will have enjoyed the unexpected jaunt. You did, didn’t you, Judy?”

  Raff did not give Judy time to reply, but continued quite pleasantly:

  “There seem to be some odd rumours going about via Miss Doyle and Willie-the-Post. I really would prefer that you cease dealing with Grogan for repairs and such-like, Noel.”

  Noel shot his sister a wry little smile.

  “You should know by now how rumours circulate in lonely country spots like this, old man,” he said airily. “What are they saying—that Marcia and I are swopping your antiques for reproductions, or that Grogan has ulterior designs on prim Miss Doyle?”

  Judy thought she heard Marcia catch her breath for an instant, but her eyes, as well as her brother’s, held only affectionate amusement If the Maules were indeed up to such tricks, then Noel called a very pretty bluff.

  “Of course not,” Raff replied, with a reluctant smile. “The implication was, I think, that I’m secretly selling my stuff because the guest house doesn’t pay. I don’t like that sort of rumour, Spongy, or the running up of debts.”

  “Spongy...” Noel repeated, giving him a speculative glance. “You haven’t called me that for a long time, Raff. Any connecting thought, would you say? And what’s this about running up debts?”

  “Casey’s account wasn’t paid yesterday, and I gave you a cheque a week ago.”

  “Oh, is that all? I’ll take it over next time—not to worry!”

  “No,” said Raff. “Give it to Judy this afternoon and she’ll put it in the post.”

  “Of course,” drawled Noel, a flash of insolent malice in the eyes that rested for a moment on Judy. “That’s what she’s here for, isn’t it—not to stick her charming little nose into affairs that don’t concern her?”

  “Darling, why drag poor Judy into this?” Marcia said sending a warm woman-to-woman look across the table to Judy. “And Raff—you really shouldn’t haul my little brother over the coals in front of your secretary. He is, after all, your manager.”

  They had all finished their lunch and were sitting, smoking, over their coffee. Judy, feeling distinctly uncomfortable, saw the surprise in Raff’s face and could have hit him for his apparent obtuseness.

  “I’m sorry,” he said mildly. “I wasn’t trying to trick anybody off. I simply thought that over hotel matters we all pulled together. What’s eating you both?”

  “Nothing, darling,” said Marcia on a sigh. “I suppose we thought—oh, well let it ride.”

  Raff got up to leave the table and, in passing behind Marcia’s chair, rested both hands on her shoulders for a moment and bent over her. It was an oddly revealing little gesture, Judy thought, both intimate and conciliatory, and Marcia’s response was as plain as she slid her own hands over his.

  “Come along Judy, we’ve the morning’s work to catch up on,” he said, straightening up again and as Judy rose and followed him, Noel called after them:

  “Send her along to my office for that cheque. There are one or two others she can deal with, now I come to think of it.”

  She did not want to go to the manager’s office, knowing, if Raff did not, that Noel held her personally to blame for any fault-finding his employer might have done. She was not surprised that he deliberately kept her waiting while he idly searched through files for the missing cheque nor when he looked up suddenly to say softly:

  “Don’t try to make mischief here, Judy. You haven’t been engaged to snoop and tell tales, and it won’t get you anywhere.”

  “I haven’t snooped, neither have I told tales,” she answered, giving him a level look.

  “Haven’t you? But you’ve stirred up a nice lot of trouble.”

  “Casey’s rumours did that Raff—Mr. O’Rafferty is easygoing up to a point, but he’s proud, too.”

  “So it’s Raff now, is it? What’s your game, my clever little puss?”

  “What’s yours?” she retorted, and he laughed.

  “I have no schemes that could further my own future here,” he said. “But you, my dear little Judy, have the advantage of your sex. Can it be possible that you have notions of becoming mistress of Slyne?”

  He saw her colour and the angry glint in her eyes, and dashed behind his desk in mock alarm.

  “Don’t hit me!” he said. “I must admit that you look attractive when you’re roused—damned attractive—but you can’t hold a candle to Marcia all the same, and she has prior claim in the matrimonial stakes, you know—though why the O’Rafferty should attract a woman of her type and temperament, I wouldn’t begin to understand—still, there it is, so be warned.”

  “If you’ll give me Casey’s cheque and any others you’ve mislaid, I’ll go back to my work,” Judy said, her lips a little white. He presented her with several, and as she turned to go, caught her round the waist and pulled her on to his knee.

  “Why not be a bit more forthcoming with me, if Raff won’t play?” he asked. “A little gentle dalliance could do neither of us any harm, and I’m beginning to think you have possibilities I’ve missed until now.”

  She sat there stiffly, making no attempt to free herself. “What, not even a struggle! But you aren’t very responsive either, are you?” he said.

  “One doesn’t struggle with wolves—it only makes them more ardent,” she replied calmly, and he laughed in spite of himself.

  “When you’ve time to spare for me, Judy, I should like to get on with some work,” Raff’s icy voice said from the doorway.

  Judy sprang to her feet, knowing her sense of guilt must be evident in the wave of colour that rushed to her face. Noel, quite unabashed, observed with his impudent grin: “Caught in the act by the boss—how compromising! Really, my dear fellow, you might warn us more tactfully of your approach another time. One likes to preserve the conventions when one is under observation.”

  Raff said nothing, but turned on his heel and walked away, and Judy, picking up the cheques, followed him back to his study. They sat down in icy silence, she at her typewriter, he in his familiar chair on the other side of the desk. She glanced surreptitiously at his face and was astonished to see the anger there. He might justifiably be annoyed by his misinterpretation of the scene he had interrupted when she should have been working, but such frozen displeasure seemed out of proportion. Then she saw the disappointment in his eyes, a disapp
ointment which seemed to refute the anger, and she remembered him then, admitting her to the warmth and intimacy of his half-reluctant confidences those times when he had seemed to want her company; even this morning when she had lectured him absurdly and made him laugh. But the glory of the morning had faded outside, too; the day had lost its brightness and turned to rain.

  She sighed. Excuses had never been her way out, but she did not want him to hold her cheaply.

  “Mr. O’Rafferty...” she said, “... it wasn’t what you thought I mean—” she stopped, aware of the futility of trying to explain away an incident without attaching the blame elsewhere.

  “Your private affairs are no concern of mine, so long as they don’t interfere with the efficient running of the guest house,” he said in a hard, brittle voice. “You are quite at liberty to join Noel’s obliging band of girl-friends if it amuses you, but not in working hours, please. Now, if you’re ready, I have some dictation for you to take.”

  III

  It was, she thought afterwards, absurd to care one way or another what he thought of her, for as he had told her, her private affairs were no concern of his; but she did care. She found she minded very much that he should have caught her apparently behaving like any little empty-headed floozie not particular where she bestowed her favours. Judy was no prude, but she began to suspect that he might be; was it not said that the Irish, as a race, were fundamentally chaste? Raff had loved his Kathy, who must have satisfied whatever ideals he might have about women, and perhaps he was beginning to love Marcia, exposing once again a vulnerability in himself that neither of the Maules would understand.

  It was this, of course, and not the slight to her integrity that she minded, Judy discovered, lying on her hard bed with the broken spring in the darkness of the nursery. His mistaken opinion of a girl he employed and scarcely knew could not hurt him as it could hurt her, and he would not know, for she had not known herself, that he had become important to her in a way no man had since her father had died. When? That day at the inn by Lough Creagh? The morning’s simple trip in the boat to the other side; or even the moment of shock and anger when he had so coldly rebuffed her and she had seen the odd disappointment in his eyes?