by Betty Neels
CHAPTER FIVE
IT WAS the best part of a mile to Green Park, but Sarah had the rest of the afternoon and evening to herself, although she would go back in time for supper. Lunch had been a scanty affair, and she hadn't much more than the price of a cup of tea with her. The pleasant feeling engendered by the knowledge that she was looking her best made the mile seem a good deal shorter than it was, and the park, when she reached it, had few people in it. She strolled along, glancing down with deep satisfaction at the rose-patterned skirt and the elegant shoes. Indeed, she was so engrossed in their contemplation that she walked into someone coming towards her.
She knew at once who it was, for her nose was within an inch of a vast expanse of waistcoat which could only belong to the Professor. She said crossly, "Oh, no…' and then, aghast at her own rudeness, "Good afternoon, Professor Nauta."
She detected mockery in his "Good afternoon, Miss Fletcher," and his slow appraisal of her person. "Well, well, it would be rude to say that I scarcely recognise you, wouldn't it? Would it be appropriate for me to quote Chaucer? "And she was fair as is the rose in May"…"
Sarah eyed him with dislike. "Roses have thorns-Shakespeare said that-and good day to you, Professor. You are not only rude, you are unkind too."
She looked up at him with her pansy eyes and met his hard gaze unwaveringly, and then was totally disarmed by his sudden smile. It was kind and friendly and contrite. "Forgive me, Sarah, I am not sure what prompted me to speak to you like that. I wonder why, when we meet, I feel the urge to annoy you?"
"I have no idea," said Sarah, trying to ignore the smile, her voice frosty, "but I accept your apology, Professor. Goodbye."
He put out a hand and held her firmly by one arm. "Good, then could we cry truce for half an hour? Tea at Fortnum's, perhaps?"
She longed for tea. "I think that you forget that you are asking the housemaid to have tea with you."
He looked down his nose at her. "My dear girl, I'll take my tea with anyone I choose. I am an ill-tempered, rude and impatient man, but I am not a snob."
"In that case," said Sarah, thinking of her tea, "I'll accept."
She made a splendid tea, and she had to admit afterwards that he had been a pleasant companion, not once fixing her with a cold eye or making nasty remarks, but carrying on the kind of conversation which put her quite at ease. Perhaps too much so, she thought uneasily, for he had remarked in the most casual of voices that having no family at all must make life lonely for her.
"Your father-?" he had asked gently, and she had told him that he had died several years earlier.
"And your mother?" She had told him too that her mother had died when she was in her teens.
"So you took over the housekeeping, I suppose?" His voice had been gentle.
"My father married again…"
He'd made a sympathetic noise. "And your stepmother died and left you alone once more?"
"She still lives at my home," she had answered. She remembered saying that now, and felt vexed that she had told him so much. Never for one moment did she imagine that he would have gone to the trouble to discover where her home was.
She changed out of her new outfit, hung it carefully away and went to her supper, where she detailed her day's activities without mentioning tea with Professor Nauta.
Lady Wesley was enjoying herself so much that she had decided to stay another week in town. Moreover, she intended to give a final party for her friends before she went. Beyond making known her wishes for this event, she left the actual arrangements to Mrs. Butler, who in turn passed on the extra work to Parsons, Sarah and Kitty. The big reception-room on the first floor had to be polished and hoovered, flowers fetched, extra chairs brought in and the floor made ready for dancing. In the dining-room downstairs small tables had to be set up, extra china and glass found, silver polished and napkins and tablecloths starched and ironed. Of course, Cork presided over the entire undertaking, making his wishes known to the housekeeper who in turn instructed the rest of the staff. By the day of the party they were all tired, irritable and longing to get back to the country, especially Mudd, who had to put up with Lady Wesley's inability to make up her mind as to what she should wear.
There was to be a dinner party before most of the guests arrived with close friends and relations who lived in and around London. Sarah, helping Parsons with the table under the eagle eye of Cork, arranged the knives and forks and spoons just so, and rehearsed to herself what her duties would be during the evening. Cork had said that she was neat and quick enough to wait at table-she was to watch what Parsons did, look slippy with the vegetable dishes and be ready to take away the plates at the end of each course. "And once the guests arrive, you are to circulate with your tray and be ready to help any lady who wishes to retire."
"He means go to the loo," whispered Parsons. "You have to put down your tray and go upstairs with her and wait if she wants you to. Can't think why-a lot of fuss about nothing, if you ask me."
There was to be no supper in the servants' hall; they were given high tea instead, and then told to go and put on their clean dresses and aprons ready for the evening. Miss Mudd had already gone upstairs to get Lady Wesley dressed, and Cook and Kitty were putting the finishing touches to the handsome dinner.
Sarah showered, let Charles into the garden, gave him his supper and started on the task of getting her abundant hair to lie smoothly on top of her head. This done, she pinned a clean, starched cap on it, surveyed as much of her person as she could in the looking-glass and went back to the house.
She could hear voices and laughter from the small drawing-room behind the dining-room and, peeping round the baize door into the hall, she watched Cork, bearing a tray of drinks, make his stately way to where Parsons was waiting. He turned to answer the door once more, and Sarah whisked her head inside to stand in a corner of the kitchen, waiting for the gong.
At its first stroke, she nipped into the diningroom and took her place beside the massive buffet. Parsons was already at the other end of it and Cork was at the door, holding it open for the company. Lady Wesley, looking pleased with herself, swept in with an elderly gentleman with a fierce moustache, and her ten guests followed. The ladies all looked very nice, thought Sarah, studying haute couture at close quarters-which reminded her of her own new clothes so that she smiled. But only for a moment-a look of consternation came over her face as the Professor entered, his handsome head bent over a beautiful blonde girl wearing a scarlet dress which Sarah, who was rather oldfashioned, considered indecent. They sat down with their backs to her and she sighed with relief. It was unlikely that any of the guests would look at who was serving them-they only saw a dish and a hand holding it…
Parsons was serving the soup, and Cork was occupied with the wines. Sarah changed her weight from one leg to the other and listened to the cheerful sound of people enjoying themselves. Strange to think that ten years ago she would have been sitting at table and someone else would have been standing waiting to take away the plates. Cork's discreetly modulated warning cough brought her back to the present. She slid around the table collecting the soup plates while the conversation hummed around her. She reached the girl in red satin-the dress wasn't decent, she could see right down her front… She balanced the plate and stretched out an arm for the Professor's plate. He had turned to talk to his other neighbour, but he looked round before she could take the plate away and saw her, and then looked up into her face. Not a muscle of his features moved, and her ferocious stare dared him to so much as recognise her. Alll the same, she had the nasty feeling that he was laughing silently.
But she had taken the plunge now; she handed out petits pois, creamed spinach and carrot sticks, while Parsons went ahead of her with the new potatoes. When she reached the Professor she took great care not to look at any part of him. She concentrated on the spinach and tried not to see his large, well-kept hands as he helped himself.
Why should I be bothered about his hands? she asked herself as
she replenished her dish for second helpings.
After that there were various sauces to hand round, plates to collect and cheese to offer and, since the other guests were expected very shortly, the coffee was served at the table too. She was waved away by Cork when she had taken round the coffee-cups, and went to stand by the buffet again until everyone got up to go upstairs. She joined the mad rush to get the table cleared, take the dishes down to the kitchen and collect the trays of canapes ready to offer once all the guests had arrived.
But before then she had to post herself at the foot of the staircase, ready to assist any lady who required help. Parsons was in the hall, taking cloaks and wraps as Cork admitted a constant stream of people, but presently the last of them had arrived, leaving her free to follow Parsons down to the kitchen. "Cor, what a crowd," said Parsons. "Only hope they don't stay all night. My feet are killing me. I say, Sarah, what did you think of that girl in the red dress? The one next to Professor Nauta-I bet you a week's wages she hadn't got a thing on underneath…"
Sarah felt a certain satisfaction in agreeing with her.
The party went on for a long time-the last guest went some time after one o'clock in the morning. Miss Mudd, having spent the evening in the housekeeper's room drinking tea and reading Woman's Own, went grumbling upstairs to put Lady Wesley to bed. The Professor had left before midnight, called away to some emergency or other, and he had made no attempt to speak to Sarah-not that she would have welcomed that. She trotted to and fro clearing away the debris of the party, yawning her head off and longing for her bed. It was an hour later before she tumbled into it, too tired even for the cup of tea the cook had made for them all. Charles, pleased to see her again, climbed on to the divan and curled up beside her, and she was asleep within minutes.
It seemed only minutes when her alarm went off and she had to get up again.
They were returning to the country in two days' time, so there was a good deal to do. Sarah spent her scant leisure in the garden, nicely concealed behind the shrubs under her window, lying in the sun while Charles prowled to and fro.
They travelled back on the Saturday directly after breakfast, and she was delighted to be back in the country, although right at the back of her mind was the thought that she wasn't likely to see the Professor again. And the rest of the day was busy enough getting the house just so, ready for Lady Wesley who would arrive after lunch. They had their own midday meal first, and after the flurry of Lady Wesley's arrival they took a well-earned rest.
"And don't forget church in the morning," warned Cork. "And Sarah, Parsons wants the evening off tomorrow, so you'll have to make do with a free afternoon." He paused to see what she would say, and when she said nothing at all, he went on, "Half-past six, ready to lay up for supper and see to the rooms."
She said, "Yes, Mr. Cork," cheerfully enough; for some reason she was glad to be kept busy. She would go for a walk after her dinner on Sunday, she told herself, and shake off the feeling of despondency. She was tired, so were they all-in a day or so they would all settle down into their accustomed routine.
Charles, back in his own territory once more, lay passive in the yard behind her room, and presently she joined him, lying on the grass half-asleep.
Parsons had a boyfriend, which was why she wanted Sunday off. She told Sarah about him as they prepared the bedrooms for the night. Head porter at one of the big London hotels, she explained proudly, and they were going to marry i n six months' time. "Gets good tips," said Parsons, "and I hang on to almost all my wages. We've enough to put down on a nice little house close to Waterloo-handy for the tube-I'll get a part-time job. Shouldn't wonder if you don't get my job, Sarah. Mr. Cork thinks highly of you, and even old Mudd likes you. Haven't you got a young man, then?"
"No-no, I haven't. I knew several boysyoung men-when I was at home, but when I came to London I-I lost touch with them."
"You'll find someone," declared Parsons comfortably. "Nice girl like you-too good for this job, too." She paused expectantly, but Sarah had nothing to say so she went on, "Not that you aren't a good worker. I bet you had a posh education. Mr. Cork said he never had to tell you once how to lay up a table or explain how people like Lady Wesley live."
Sarah folded a counterpane back very neatly. She smiled at Parsons. "I'm very happy here with you all. I think of you as my friends, and I hope you don't mind."
"Lor' bless you, of course not. Now, about tomorrow…"
Lady Wesley went to church in her car while the rest of them walked, for it was only ten minutes or so. The church was quite beautiful, its atmosphere redolent of great age, and the rector seemed almost as old. It was a pity that he preached such long sermons. Sarah sat between Miss Mudd and Parsons and allowed her mind to wander. She wondered what the Professor was doing with his Sunday-at his home, wherever that was, perhaps out with friends, spending it with some pretty girl… She rose to her feet with everyone else and sang the last hymn. After lunch she would be free for a few hours. She would see to Charles, and then go for a walk-there were plenty of bridle-paths she could explore.
Mindful of Mr. Cork's instructions, she presented herself at exactly half-past six in Mrs. Legge's room. That lady was taking her ease with the Sunday papers and a glass of port.
"There you are," she remarked unnecessarily. "Well, Fletcher, you've had a few hours to yourself at any rate, and I'll see that you get some free time in the week to make up for your day off. Now go upstairs before you do anything else, and make up the bed in the Blue Room. Lady Wesley's niece is coming for supper and spending the night. Then get the table laid. Soup, cold salmon cutlets, salad, asparagus and potatoes on the side. Fruit and ice-cream, cheese and biscuits. They'll drink white wine. Mr. Cork will check the table when you've finished. Off you go."
The big house was quiet. Sarah nipped along to the Blue Room, her arms full of bed-linen, made up the bed, saw to the towels, checked soap and sponges and bath oils, fetched a handful of flowers from the garden and arranged them in a vase. It was strictly forbidden to cut any flowers without the gardener's permission, but there was no one about and the room looked so much nicer with the lilies of the valley and the early roses on the dressing-table. She closed the door and went smartly down to the diningroom. The leaves had been taken out of the vast table, but it was still far too big for three people. She began to arrange the linen and lace tablemats at one end. She was setting the cutlery just so when the half-open door was pushed wide open and the Professor walked in.
She frowned at the sudden delight she felt in seeing him, said with the politeness of a welltrained servant, "Good evening, sir," and rearranged the spoons. She felt light-headed with joy, and shaken just because he was standing thereshe would think about that presently when she had the time. It would help matters if he said something instead of just standing there, doing nothing.
"Promotion?" he wanted to know blandly. "Am I to congratulate you, Sarah?"
"No, Parsons has a day off."
"And you, when do you have yours?"
"I had the afternoon part. Mrs. Legge will let me have time off when I can be spared." She clashed the knives in a pointed manner. "You will excuse me, sir, I have to get the table laid."
"Well, I can see that for myself," he said reasonably. "But don't expect me to believe that you can't do two things at once if you want to."
"But I don't want to," said Sarah:
He gave a short laugh. "In that case, I'll go." and he went.
There was no denying the fact that she was disappointed-which, considering she didn't like him, was unsettling.
Lady Wesley's niece arrived presently and Sarah, following Mr. Cork's stately progress, took her coat and her case and went upstairs with them while she went into the drawing-room. Sarah could hear laughter from the half-closed door as she descended to the kitchen. The niece was pretty and beautifully dressed; perhaps she was the reason for the Professor's visit. Sarah drank the cup of tea Cook had ready for her, and listened carefully to M
r. Cork's instructions.
Supper on Sundays was later than the usual dinner hour. Sarah took up her position by the sideboard as the last booming notes of the gong sounded. They were louder than usual-Mr. Cork had had words with Knott and was taking it out on the gong, but nothing of his feelings showed on his face as he stood by the open door as Lady Wesley and her guests took their places at the table. The niece was seated facing Sarah, while the Professor sat with his back to her. The niece's name was Muriel de Foe-Burgess, and despite her prettiness she was insipid and, moreover, anxious to please. Sarah, shamelessly listening to the conversation as she handed out plates and took them away again, heard her agreeing with everything that was said so that the talk kept coming to a halt, for she contributed no remarks of her own. Although she became quite animated as she described, blow by blow, an episode from one of the soap operas on TV, since neither Lady Wesley nor the Professor had any idea of what she was talking about they could do nothing more than make polite murmurs. Sarah, observing the Professor's broad back closely, was quite sure that he was bored despite his beautiful manners. And why should I be so certain of that? she wondered, handing round the cheese.
The answer struck her like a thunderbolt as she watched him cutting a portion of Brie. It was so unexpected that the plate wobbled and he paused deliberately, not looking at her, and a good thing too for she had gone very pale and then red. Her insides were shaking like a jelly so that, contrary to Mr. Cork's careful teaching, she had to steady the plate with her other hand. It was, she thought distractedly, the worst possible moment in which to discover that she was head over heels in love with him. She set the cheese back on the table and offered biscuits, and went to stand behind him again, dreamily admiring the back of his head, just for the moment perfectly content to mull over the sheer delight of her discovery.
She was recalled to her surroundings as Lady Wesley got up and sailed to the door. "Coffee in the drawing-room, Cork," she said as she left the room with Muriel and the Professor strolling behind, chatting pleasantly.
