by Jane Corrie
The row that had been simmering between Caroline Carmichael and Laura finally broke during dinner on the Thursday evening.
The conversation had centred on the evening's entertainment when Sir George had suggested that the young folk might like to amuse themselves by dancing to the radiogram in the loggia off the conservatory, instead of taking part in the bridge sets usually made up among the guests.
This suggestion was met with consternation from Rebecca, who had dreaded such an event. So far she had managed to keep within a comfortable distance from Janus Leon, and had got used to the mocking challenge in his vivid blue eyes whenever
their glances met. It was this look of his that had made her determined to keep her distance. It said all that she had suspected about him—that he was playing with her, and she was absolutely certain that should she attempt any concession in her attitude towards him, she would meet with the kind of set-down she had handed out to him, but for entirely different reasons. His was the evening up of a score, while hers was the simple fact that she did not care for the man.
To Rebecca's relief Laura, for reasons of her own, not least the thought of spending the whole evening in the detestable Caroline Carmichael's company, for it went without saying which of the entertainments she would choose, since she was as accomplished at bridge as she was at tennis and sorely tried whoever her unfortunate partner turned out to be, vetoed the suggestion with a firm, `I'd rather read a book: How about you, Rebecca?' she asked, giving her a look that pleaded for her co-operation.
`Same here,' Rebecca replied quickly, not needing any encouragement to support Laura.
'I think a little dancing would be a splendid idea,' Mrs Carmichael cut in firmly, giving Laura a glare. `You can read a book any time. The trouble is,' she said, turning confidingly to Sir George, 'these young people get too much leisure these days. My Joanna's a secretary in the Admiralty, No loafing about for her,' she tacked on spitefully, looking at Laura.
Under the table Rebecca's foot nudged Laura's in an effort to calm her down, but the danger
signals were already there. Unwittingly, Caroline had touched upon one of Caroline's pet grudges against her father. She could do charity work, but no daughter of his was going out to work, etc, etc; and as Laura had no particular bent towards supporting old ladies behind the counter of a charity shop, or rushing about London in the dead of night with urns of soup for the down-and-outs, she remained a lady of leisure until she could get her father to take a more reasonable view of things.
`Aren't you a little tired, too?' Laura enquired of, her arch-enemy, in a sugary sweet voice that made Caroline blink in surprise. 'I mean, tennis this morning, and a swim this afternoon—all that exercise! I know I'm tired, and so is Rebecca. Goodness knows how you keep up with us. I only Hope I have half your energies when I get to your age.'
There was a moment's stunned silence after this sweet-sounding double-edged comment, and then everybody started talking at once. Sir George coughed, and Rebecca could not be sure if it was embarrassment or the effort of trying to keep his face straight that had brought on the coughing fit.
Mrs 'Layman, who intensely disliked Mrs Carmichael, and who looked as if she wanted to pat Laura on the back, declared heartily, 'Give me a good book any day,' or a good game of bridge,' her pale blue eyes resting for a moment on Caroline Carmichael's outraged features as she struggled to compose herself.
There was no further mention of dancing, and as soon as Sir George settled down to a game of bridge with Mrs Layman and Colonel Franly,
Rebecca accepted John's invitation for a walk in the garden, and did not miss the narrowing of Janus Leon's eyes at her quick acceptance of the suggestion. It was an invitation she had refused the previous evening from Janus on an excuse of tiredness.
The evenings had been even worse for her than the days, as she did not play bridge, neither did Laura, and if she had hoped for a quiet evening's chat with Laura, Janus Leon had soon disabused her of that hope, for he elected to join the abstainers, solely on account of Rebecca's abstinence, she was sure, and to give him another chance of annoying her.
John had no such excuse, and as the guests were now down to a mere four—five if one counted Rebecca, he was needed to make up a set. Caroline Carmichael was under no such obligation, and promptly joined the abstainers, not wanting to miss a chance of getting Janus Leon to herself.
That, however, was how it had been the previous evening, but with Mrs Carmichael flouncing off to bed declaring that she had a headache, and throwing Laura a look that plainly said who had caused it, the evening, from Laura's point of view anyway, looked a more promising prospect.
The walk in the garden was not a very good idea, Rebecca soon found, for as she had suspected, John proposed to her, but as it had been a case of any port in a storm, she could not very well complain, and she managed to steer the conversation on to other channels after a gentle refusal, wishing once again that she did feel something for him,
because she had been plagued with a restless feeling lately that was foreign to her nature and she could only put it down to dissatisfaction with everything in general.
Her gaze rested on a particularly lovely, white rose climber on the trellis ahead of them. What
was the matter with her? Why should she feel so dissatisfied with everything? She had a good job, hadn't she? Not a very exciting one, it was true, but who wanted excitement? Her fingers caressed the white silk petals of the roses when they reached the trellis, one half of her listening to John telling her how much he was looking forward to a week of peace on Saturday when the guests would have gone, and something about not giving up hope of her finally accepting him, the other half trying to come to terms with whatever ailed her.
Excitement, she thought—was that what was wrong with her? Had the short spell of work that she had done for Janus Leon aroused these thoughts? She had admittedly enjoyed the work, particularly as he had abided by her wish to leave her to get on with the work and had kept out of her way, and what a difference that had been from the role he was now adopting!
She sighed inwardly. She was tired of college work, she might as well admit it. She had caught a glimpse of other more interesting occupations and it had unsettled her. Perhaps she ought to join Barbara, she thought dryly. With the redoubtable Margaret keeping Janus Leon quiet, she could take on other assignments.
Her hand dropped suddenly away from the rose
as she envisaged herself seated at one of the desks in the bureau office. No, that was not for her. At least in the College she could move around. She gave another inward sigh. She was just being stupid. When she got back to work she would wonder how she had ever imagined herself doing other work, she fevently hoped that this would be so; if not, she would have to look for other work, only she had no idea what.
The following morning, Rebecca found herself accompanying Janus Leon on a tour of the gardens. It had all been arranged so adroitly that she had had no chance of getting out of it.
It appeared her offer of assisting him in collecting data for his novel had proved a rash one, for he had taken her up on it, choosing a time when John was otherwise engaged, being delegated the task of going down to the local station to collect a unique species of orchid for his father, whose hobby was growing these exotic plants.
As soon as breakfast was over, Janus Leon presented her with a notebook, and remarked casually that he was accepting her kind offer of assistance in collecting background data for his novel.
It took Rebecca a moment or two to work out what he was talking about, and seeing her look of bewilderment, he said with a grin, 'You can take notes for me on the background scenery.'
Hearing this, Laura said eagerly, 'Oh, I'm the one to help you there. There's lots of history about the place Rebecca wouldn't know about.'
Not to be outdone, Mrs Carmichael also offered her services. 'My memory goes back a lot further
than yours. It must be accurate, you know,' she added maliciously as s
he stared at Laura.
Whatever Laura would have replied to this, and it would have been something on the lines of her last shot in their skirmish the previous evening at dinner, was fortunately defused by Janus Leon's smooth query as to whether either of them could take dictation, which settled the matter, and he waved aside any further offers of assistance by remarking, 'It's just my own impressions I'm after. I'm not looking for historical data,' and swept Rebecca off before Sir George, who had just joined them, added his offer of accompaniment.
The morning was a bright sunny one, in contrast to an over clouded one the previous day, and Rebecca thought about the coming week, and hoped the weather would be as kind as it had been that week. In fact, she concentrated on anything but the fact that she had been railroaded into spending a morning alone with the man she had gone to great pains to keep at a respectable distance. Under the circumstances, she could not have refused; in any case he had taken care that she had no chance of refusing.
By now they had reached the trellis walk that she had walked with John the previous evening, and she was reminded of her thoughts and how unsettled she had felt, and told herself it was all the fault of this wretched man. If he hadn't been such a hard taskmaster she wouldn't have had to help Barbara out and' would have never experienced other work that had made her dissatisfied with her own job.
`You seem a bit tetchy this morning,' Janus remarked, as they left the trellised walk and walked on towards an ornamental pool that looked clear and refreshing in the morning sunlight. 'Didn't he come up to scratch?' he asked, as he stood surveying the scene in front of him through narrowed eyes.
Rebecca, who had opened the notebook ready to take notes as soon as he had stopped, glared at him. 'Do you want me to take notes, or are you going to turn this into an inquisition?' she demanded angrily.
Janus looked back at her standing a little behind him, and for a moment she caught a blaze of fury in his blue eyes; the next moment he was back to the mocking stage. 'So he did propose, but it wasn't what you were angling for,' he said dryly. 'I thought he looked a bit down when you came back.'
Rebecca's small sandaled foot tapped out her annoyance and impatience with this maddening man, and she kept her eyes on the notepad and the pen held in readiness.
He seemed to be in no hurry to oblige her. 'You know, looks aren't everything,' he said smoothly, `and not in this class. It's background that counts. Now if you were Lady Peabody's daughter—well, that would be different. The chap's crazy about you, okay, but he'll have to watch his P's and Q's when it comes to matrimony.'
He moved on past the pool and towards the open parkland section, and Rebecca, after quelling an urge to turn her back on him and go back to the
house, slowly followed him. She might as well let him enjoy himself, she thought, and regretted the fact that she had had to turn John down, if only to make this detestable man rearrange his thinking.
To her amazement, Janus suddenly lost interest in her relationship with John and started to give dictation. His portrayal of the woodland scene in front of them surprised Rebecca with its accuracy, correctly identifying the species of trees, and mentioning many details that she would have missed had she tried to describe it.
His botanical knowledge particularly surprised her, and forgetting their differences, she asked, `Have you studied this?'
He turned from his surveillance of the scene and looked at her. 'Because I'm an- Australian, you mean?' he replied. 'I went to university here. Cambridge, as a matter of fact.' His bright blue gaze flicked over her slight figure briefly as he added, 'We didn't have a glamorous bursar's secretary then, but it was a bit before your time, wasn't it?'
Rebecca's eyes returned to the notebook. Blast Laura! she thought crossly. He had evidently not wasted much time in pumping her for information about her.
`A bit dull, I should think,' he went on casually. `All those learned men, but some of the dons are younger, aren't they? That's where you met John Sanderson, of course. Still, as I said, there'd no future in that direction. Not according to his sister, and she ought to know.'
Rebecca stared down at the notes she had made;
but her hand that held the book trembled slightly with rage. Of all the detestable men! What right had he to discuss her with Laura, or anyone else come to that? Quite apart from the fact that he had put the wrong interpretation on Laura's assertion that she would never marry John. As clever as he was, he did not know the half of it.
For the next thirty minutes Rebecca followed him round the estate taking copious notes, and having got all that he required in the form of material he suggested that they take a breather, and indicated a garden seat opposite the garden pool.
So far Rebecca who had managed to contain her temper, adopting a businesslike attitude and refusing to reply to his earlier personal remarks, now wondered if he was going to make a pass at her. Considering that he thought her a scheming woman out to better herself by marrying into the aristocracy, he would consider her fair game.
Oddly enough, she was not alarmed, even though they. were some way away from the house, and if he had some such plan in mind, she could expect no help.
He watched her eyes as they lingered on the seat, then went back to him, and correctly interpreted her thoughts. 'I'm not going to get amorous,' he said dryly. 'I've got a business proposition to put to you.'
Rebecca's lovely deep blue eyes widened in surprise. What an extraordinary man he was! she thought, as she settled down on the seat, taking
care not to sit too near him, for she still did not trust him.
`Look, you're wasting your time here,' he said abruptly. 'I've been thinking about what you said about my needing a personal secretary, and you were right.' His eyes that had been surveying the pool now suddenly rested on her. 'I'm offering you the post,' he said.
Rebecca wanted to say yes, but something held her back. It was what she wanted, wasn't it? Why then had she to refuse him? Because she knew that she was going to refuse him. Her lovely eyes stared back at him. What was it about him that so annoyed her? Was it his arrogance, or was it her pride because he persisted in thinking the worst of her? She wasn't used to that kind of treatment. Either way, it wouldn't work. She took a deep breath. 'Thank you for the offer,' she said quietly, 'but I'm afraid I must refuse—I'm quite happy where I am,' she added firmly.
He hadn't liked that at all, she noticed, although she had given her reply without any trace of antagonism. 'Liar!' he said softly. 'You're not going to give up hope where Sanderson's concerned, are you? Fancy yourself as Lady Sanderson one day, do you?' He stood up abruptly. 'If there's anything I can't stand it's a snob,' he said harshly. 'That's where we Aussies can teach you Brits a lesson. We accept folk for what they are, not what they've got. As for titles, we don't bow and scrape over there.' He stared at the notebook in Rebecca's hand. `Could I prevail upon your kindness to transcribe that?' he asked sarcastically. 'I've got a portable typewriter in my car.'
Rebecca was still smouldering over his unfair accusation that she was a snob. 'Any stenographer could do it,' she said coldly. 'My shorthand is perfectly legible,' and she thrust the book towards him.
He did not take it but stood looking at her through hooded lids. 'I'll pay for the work. Let's see, we've spent about an hour on this, haven't we? Whatever your price is I won't quibble. Do the transcribing and I'll double it,' he said harshly.
Two bright spots of colour adorned Rebecca's cheeks. It wasn't so much what he had said about giving her price, but the way he had said it, making her feel like a street walker. He'd meant to be insulting too, just because she had refused him. She stood up abruptly and put the notebook down on the seat with a firmness that surprised her, for she was absolutely furious and would have liked to throw it at him. Her eyes flashed sparks of fury as they clashed with his bright blue ones that flashed back an answering warning. 'You couldn't afford me, Mr Leon,' she said haughtily. 'I'll present you with my time for free!' and with her head held high, she
marched off towards the house. If he dared to address her again, she would slap his face, she thought furiously, no matter who witnessed it!
CHAPTER FOUR
WHEN Rebecca reached the house, she went
straight up to her room, glad that she had en-
countered neither Laura nor John, who were probably down by the swimming pool awaiting her arrival, but she was in no mood for social chat. She needed a little time to compose herself after her head-on clash with Janus Leon, not to mention his extraordinary offer. Why on earth had he to pick on her? As famous as he was, he would have no trouble in getting staff. Her soft lips firmed as the thought occurred to her that he had only been trying it on, just testing, as they say, and if she had said yes—Her smooth brow creased. He had meant it, of this she was certain. Whatever else he was, he was not the type of man to waste time on petty revenges.
She shook her head slowly. How on earth he had expected her to accept the job after accusing her of running after John for purely mercenary reasons was beyond her. She only hoped he showed more tact when interviewing the numerous applicants for the post when it was advertised.
Rebecca gave a light shrug at this thought. It was no concern of hers, happily. Anyone was welcome to the job, and she couldn't think of a more miserable position than to be in constant contact with a man like that.
Feeling much more cheerful, she changed out of her dress and put her swimming costume on. She ought to get a bit of sunbathing in before lunch, she thought, noting that the time was only a little after eleven.
As she picked up her towelling wrap and collected her sunglasses the thought occurred to her that she ought to write to Barbara. She would be
