Miss Silver pursued an equable conversation with Miss Olivia Benevent. She was aware that she was being condescended to as an unknown and probably distant relative of Louisa’s. She was, however, perfectly able to sustain her part in a tactful and dignified manner, choosing such subjects as the beauty of the Cathedral and the remarkable number of old and historic buildings in Retley and the neighbourhood.
‘Louisa tells me that you yourself own a very interesting old house.’
Miss Olivia did not disclaim the ownership.
‘It has been a long time in the family.’
‘That, of course, adds very much to the interest. There must be so many associations.’
Miss Olivia was not displeased at being offered an opportunity of talking about the Benevents. Miss Silver listened with the attention which family history does not always command.
‘Then it was your ancestor who actually built the house? Louisa tells me that it really does stand, as the name would suggest, under the hill. Was the site chosen, do you know, in order to provide shelter from a prevailing wind?’
Her interest was so unaffected that Miss Olivia found herself imparting the fact that the site had actually been determined by the presence of the small Tudor house in which Ugo di Benevento had resided prior to his marriage with the daughter of a neighbouring landowner.
‘She was a considerable heiress, and it was of course desirable that a more suitable residence should be provided. We have no means of knowing what decided them to build on to the existing house, but that is what they did. A good deal of it was not touched, and remains very much as it was in the sixteenth century.’
It was at this point that the name of Stephen Eversley reached her. It was pronounced by Louisa Arnold in a tone which Miss Olivia mentally stigmatised as shrill, and it was followed by what she considered to be an unwarrantable assumption.
‘You are giving him a commission to restore Underhill, are you not?’
Miss Olivia entered the conversation with an air of authority.
‘My dear Louisa, Underhill is not in need of being restored. If Mr. Eversley gave you that impression he must have been under a grave misapprehension. It is not, I believe, for a professional man to discuss an employer’s business, and I am surprised that Mr. Eversley should have done so. It was his uncle to whom we applied for an opinion as to whether some structural repairs were necessary, but instead of coming himself he sent his nephew, a young and inexperienced person in whose judgment we cannot feel the same confidence. We have therefore informed Mr. Stephen Eversley that we shall not require his services.’
There is no knowing what Louisa Arnold might have said in reply. Her colour rose sharply. It was perhaps fortunate that Mrs. Warburton should at that moment have evinced the intention of returning to her seat. Since she was an extremely large person, this necessitated everyone else in the row getting up and making room for her to pass. Louisa had therefore to refrain from the no doubt well chosen words in which she might have reminded Olivia of Stephen’s unexceptionable connections and deprecated her use of the word employer.
All the places were filling up again. Stephen and Candida emerged from the curtained recess and resumed their seats. To an attentive eye it would have been obvious that they were not really there at all. They walked in some Cloud-Cuckoo-land and listened to an older song than that which a Minor Canon’s niece now warbled. There was a piano accompaniment by a stout lady in puce and a violin obligato by the Minor Canon – altogether a charming performance, and a voice as clear as running water. But the other song was the sweeter.
Chapter Seventeen
Derek had penetrated to the farthest corner of the room and the one least commanded by Miss Olivia’s eye. He seemed to have quite a number of friends, and had been graciously received by Mrs. Mayhew, who was wont to deplore the fact that he had never really cultivated his musical talent – ‘Such a charming touch.’
During the next interval he was found to be at Jenny Rainsford’s side, and it was there that Miss Olivia discovered him. Her sight being excellent, the distance did not prevent her being struck by something in his manner. It was usual enough for him to turn that charming smile upon all and sundry. He possessed an amiable nature and a strong desire to please. He could have smiled upon fifty girls without causing her the least uneasiness. It was because he did not smile at Jenny Rainsford that she felt disturbed. Whoever the girl was, Derek was looking and listening in a deeply serious way. And the girl was doing most of the talking.
She regarded her with some attention. There was nothing particular about her looks. She was not very tall, and she had nothing very special in the way of features – brown curls, blue eyes, and rather a round-shaped face. Her dress was one of those modern high-necked affairs, the top in blue and black brocade coming down over the hips and worn with a tight black satin skirt. Frowning, Miss Olivia accorded it a certain distinction. She turned to ask Louisa Arnold who the girl might be – ‘Over there at the far end, talking to Derek.’
Louisa had plenty to impart.
‘Oh, that is Jenny Rainsford.’
‘And who is Jenny Rainsford?’
‘My dear Olivia, you must remember her father, poor Ambrose Rainsford. Such an eloquent preacher. He was the Vicar of St. Luke’s. But first his wife died leaving him with three little girls, and then he did. I don’t think he had the heart to go on alone.’
‘I suppose the girls had to,’ said Miss Olivia drily.
‘Yes, indeed. Jenny was seventeen, and the other two were younger. There wasn’t any money at all, and she went into Adamson’s garage. If you have ever been there you must have seen her. She answers the telephone, and takes the orders, and rings up about theatre tickets. Mr. Adamson says she is most business-like and efficient and he doesn’t know what he would do without her.’
Miss Olivia could not have disapproved more. What an occupation for a girl whose father seemed to have been a gentleman! She said in her curtest manner,
‘She looks a good deal more than seventeen to me.’
‘Oh, yes – she must be twenty-three or twenty-four now. The second girl is married, and Linda who is the clever one has got a very good secretarial post, so they are off Jenny’s hands.’
Miss Olivia broke off the conversation abruptly. She had no wish to hear any more about Miss Jenny Rainsford. If she could have overheard what was being said between her and Derek Burdon, the uneasiness which had led her to drop the subject would have been very seriously increased. Every word, every tone would have betrayed them. At the moment when she attracted Miss Olivia’s notice Jenny was saying, ‘He only told me this afternoon, but I think he has quite made up his mind – ’
‘To retire?’
‘Well, that’s just it – he doesn’t want to go on working, but he doesn’t really want to retire.’
‘Darling, he can’t have it both ways.’
‘Well, he thinks he can. He has got it all worked out. He would like to take a partner who would run the show and pay him over say two-thirds of the profits. He wouldn’t ask him to put in more than a thousand if he felt it was someone he could get on with.’
‘Oh, he wants to go on working?’
‘Well, not to say working. He’d just like to come in and potter round when he felt like it. You know, he hasn’t really been up to it for some time, and the place has gone down, but it could soon be worked up again. It would be a wonderful chance for someone – Derek, it would be a wonderful chance for us.’
‘Us!’
‘Yes, darling. I didn’t mean to talk about it here, but I just can’t keep it back.’
‘I couldn’t do it. I don’t know the first thing about running a business.’
‘But you know about cars. Mr. Adamson always says you’re a first-class mechanic – the Army did that for you. And you’re a very good driver. As for the business side, I’ve got it all at my fingers’ end. There’s nothing you wouldn’t learn easily enough as soon as you got going on it.’
She looked up at him, her eyes very blue, very serious.
‘How much have you saved?’
‘Nothing like that.’
‘How much?’
‘I only started just over a year ago. I’m not much good at saving.’
‘I said, “How much?” ’
‘Well, about four hundred.’
She let the blue eyes smile.
‘But that’s very good. I didn’t think it would be as much as that. You’ve done frightfully well.’
Jenny didn’t praise very often. He considered ruefully that she hadn’t had much reason to praise him, but when she did, it was worth having. He felt abashed and humble.
‘I’ve been able to put away most of my salary, and they gave me another hundred for Christmas.’
Jenny stopped looking at him. She hated the salary for which he didn’t work. She hated the cushioned life with the two old ladies. She hated the things that people said, or that she thought they might be saying. But she loved Derek. And she believed that Derek loved her. And if he loved her, he had got to work for her and for their life together. The salary and the cushions must be given up. They must live on their own hard work. She said,
‘I think we can do it.’
‘Darling, four from ten leaves six.’;
She nodded gravely.
‘Derek, I didn’t tell you that old Cousin Robert Rainsford left me a thousand pounds. Peg had two hundred out of it when she married, and Linda had two hundred and fifty to help her through college and get her started.’
‘Then we are only fifty pounds short. Would Mr. Adamson wait for that?’
She said, ‘I’ve got fifty saved.’
He gazed at her with genuine pride.
‘Darling, you’re a wonder! If it wouldn’t send the balloon up like a rocket, I’d kiss you!’
She let her eyes smile back into his for a moment, then was serious again.
‘Mr. Adamson is going to live with his married daughter. They’ve got that nice cottage a couple of miles out, and he loves the children, so he won’t be wanting the house any more. There are six rooms and it would suit us down to the ground. It was bombed in the war and rebuilt a couple of years afterwards, so it’s all modern – built-in cupboards – frightfully labour-saving. We can have the curtains and the floor-coverings for a song. I chose them for him, so they’re all right. And if we want any of the furniture, he’ll let us have it cheap. It really is the most marvellous chance.’
It was. He knew that well enough. Opportunity doesn’t knock a second time upon the door that will not open. He saw that quite clearly. And he saw the things that would come in if he opened the door. There would be a lot of hard work, and he hated work. There would be Jenny. He didn’t mind messing about with cars. It was one thing to do it now and again with a car of your own, and quite another to do it all day and every day with strange crocks whose owners wanted them made over new whilst they waited and got terse with you when you said it couldn’t be done.
Jenny’s steady blue eyes looked up at him. He had a feeling that they looked right through him and could see just what he was thinking. He was ashamed of some of the things. He didn’t want Jenny to be ashamed. He said quite simply and humbly,
‘Do you think I could make a go of it?’
Jenny said, ‘Yes, darling.’
Chapter Eighteen
The Deanery party broke up in due course. Everyone told Mrs. Mayhew how much they had enjoyed it, and in most cases they spoke no more than the truth. Louisa Arnold, coming back into her own house with her cousin, was really quite reluctant to admit that the evening was over and to say good night. It was so very pleasant to linger by what was left of the drawing-room fire and gossip for a while.
‘I am really quite charmed with Candida Sayle, but, my dear, did it not strike you that Stephen was too?’
Miss Silver smiled. She could have expressed it a good deal more strongly than that, but she refrained.
‘And, my dear Maud, did you notice Derek Burdon and that nice girl I was telling you about, Jenny Rainsford? They seemed to be having quite a serious talk, and I don’t think I have ever seen Derek look serious before.’
‘He is very good-looking.’
‘Oh, quite charming. And he really plays delightfully. Not highbrow enough for Mrs. Mayhew, but she can’t help liking him – no one can. He has been dangling after Jenny for months. Olivia Benevent was watching them to-night, and she didn’t look at all pleased – not at all. It’s a shocking life for him, being spoiled and pampered at Underhill, but I don’t see how he could get out of it now. I fancy Olivia would like to get him married to Candida.’
Miss Silver was wearing the dark blue crêpe-de-chine. With the gold locket which bore her parents initials in high relief and contained locks of their hair, it supplied her modest needs. For the party at the Deanery she had subsituted light silk stockings for her usual wool, changed during the summer months for lisle thread. With an almost new pair of glacé shoes, she had felt very well equipped. She said a little primly,
‘I do not fancy that Miss Olivia has any chance of seeing her wishes fulfilled. Young people have a way of taking these matters into their own hands.’
‘Oh, yes, indeed!’ But Olivia always has to have things her way. She was like that as a child, and she could be very nasty indeed if she was crossed.’
‘No one can expect to have his own way all the time.’
‘Well, Olivia does. And she bullies Cara shockingly – she always has. Maud, didn’t you think she was looking terribly ill? I really felt quite concerned.’
‘Miss Cara?’
Louisa Arnold nodded.
‘I thought she looked terrible. And all that black – so unbecoming.’ She looked down complacently at her own full skirt of mauve and blue brocade. ‘But of course it is just about three years since Alan Thompson went off in that extraordinary way. Cara was always one for keeping anniversaries. A great mistake. I remember Papa saying so – “dragging things back to be miserable over, when Heaven in its mercy has lightened the load of grief!” ’
Miss Silver smiled benignly.
‘Your father was not only a sensible man, he was a Christian.’
Louisa Arnold’s eyes were suddenly moist.
‘Oh, yes!’
The Miss Benevents drove home in silence. Miss Cara was exhausted, but in Miss Olivia’s case it was the silence of displeasure. Derek and Candida, in front, had their own thoughts. If they had been alone they might have found quite a lot to say, but since everything must be overheard, they kept their warm and happy counsel.
Arriving at Underhill, the three ladies entered the hall, and Derek took the car round to the garage. Miss Cara’s ascent of the stairs was slow and so halting that Candida put an arm round her and went with her to her room.
‘Can I help you, Aunt Cara?’
‘Oh, no, my dear – no. I will just sit in my chair until Anna comes – if you will ring the bell – I am only a little tired – so many people all talking at once.’ She leaned back and closed her eyes.
Candida went out into the passage and looked along it. She wouldn’t go until Anna was in sight.
But it was Miss Olivia who came towards her in her purple dress, her gold and amethyst ornaments catching the light. Not for the first time Candida found herself wondering whether the black hair was a wig. It was so incredibly shiny and so very, very black. There was never a break in the even waves, or a hair that was out of place. The dark eyes looked coldly at Candida.
‘What are you doing here? It is time we were all in bed.’
There was nothing to soften the words. Candida coloured high.
‘It was Aunt Cara,’ she said.
‘What about her?’
‘She seems so tired. She said Anna would come – ’
‘Anna will assist us both. She always does.’
A little spark of anger kindled in Cand
ida. She said quickly and warmly,
‘I don’t think Aunt Cara is well – I don’t really. People kept saying tonight how ill she looked.’
‘They should mind their own business.’
Candida said,
‘I nursed Barbara for three years. I think Aunt Cara is ill.’
Miss Olivia’s face changed suddenly. The features went sharp. There was a cold fury in the eyes. Her hand came up and struck. A quick blow took Candida on the cheek-bone. The heavy amethyst bracelet tore a long scratch across her chin.
She stepped back, too much shocked for anger. Miss Olivia said in a voice edged with rage,
‘Hold your tongue!’
Neither of them saw Anna until she was there between them, her face twitching, her hand shaking on Candida’s arm.
‘What is this! No, no – there is nothing – I am stupid! It is late, and Miss Cara will be tired! We shall all be tired in the morning!’
Candida said in a level voice,
‘Yes, Aunt Cara is tired. You had better go to her.’
Miss Olivia Benevent walked past them into her room and shut the door.
Chapter Nineteen
Candida walked away. She had nothing to say to Anna. She had nothing to say to anyone. She was too horrified to be angry. The sudden violence appalled her. It seemed so completely without reason – in such unexplained conflict with Olivia Benevent’s dignity and self-control.
When she reached her room she took off the white dress and hung it up in the gloomy Victorian wardrobe on the right of the door. She wondered if she would ever want to wear it again, because Miss Olivia had chosen it and given it to her. And then it came to her that she would forget that and only remember that she had worn it when Stephen held her in his arms. The shocking feeling began to pass. She began to wonder why the thing had happened. She had said that Miss Cara seemed ill, and Olivia had struck her. There didn’t seem to be any sense in it. Perhaps there wasn’t ever any sense about people getting angry, but as a rule you did know why.
The Benevent Treasure Page 13
