by Lucy Gillen
Colour warmed her cheeks suddenly when realisation dawned at last, and Isa wished the floor would open and swallow her up, there and then. She had frightened herself into believing that an overgrown fish was something alien, and been terrified of it attacking her and, worse still, she had given Toby the opportunity to laugh at her ignorance.
His laughter was what rankled most, and she blamed him for not realising just how genuine her fear had been. "I know nothing at all about fish," she told him in a small, tight voice that resented both her own gullibility and his scorn. "I've never seen anything like that in my life before. It was so —so ugly!"
"They're certainly ugly brutes," Toby agreed readily, "but I've never heard of one being. taken for a prehistoric monster before. It wouldn't have eaten you, no matter what it looked like doing!"
Isa glared at him reproachfully, seeing again those sharp, pointed teeth in the creature's great jaws. "How could I be expected to know what it was?" she said. "I've never seen a pike, as far as I know!" She shuddered again briefly. "I hope I never do again !"
"How could you know?" Toby echoed, and shook his head while his eyes regarded her steadily. "I hadn't realised just what a little town bird you are."
There was something in his voice, something in her Own reaction to it that gave her a sensation of being on the brink of excitement, and she hastily took a firm hold on her all too susceptible emotions. Once more she stuck out her chin and looked at him with reproachful eyes. "All right, maybe I was silly about the fish, whatever it was," she allowed reluctantly, "but that doesn't absolve you from blame altogether. You own the wood and that pool and you should be responsible for seeing that no one comes to harm in there. You're responsible
for seeing that no one comes across that pool unexpectedly and falls into it, like I did !"
Toby's long fingers stroked his chin thoughtfully for a moment, then he raised one brow. "Are you teaching me law?" he asked quietly, and Isa flushed.
"No, of course not," she denied, "it's just that—"
"Oh, I know you're still suffering from an injured pride because you fell foul of that monster in the pool," he said quietly but insistently, "but don't take it out on me, Isabella. I'm legally responsible, as you imply, but I don't expect to pay someone else to look after things for me and then have to do the job myself."
"Mr. Carmichael, I—"
"I wasn't await that the pool had fallen into such neglect," he pressed on, "for the simple reason that I seldom, if ever, go near the place, but I do pay a man full-time, and two others part-time, to make sure that the whole place is kept safe and tidy. I don't expect to have to check on my employees every five minutes, although in view of your complaints it seems I shall have to in future." The blue eyes looked at her challengingly and for the first time Isa realised just where her angry outburst could lead. "You follow my meaning, I'm sure," Toby said softly.
Isa nodded, biting her lip on the realisation that it would be Chris who eventually bore the brunt of her complaint. "I suppose it was my own fault in a way," she admitted, in an attempt to make things easier for Chris. "It was falling into the water immediately after spotting that great fish thing. It
frightened me and I was angry about not having been warned."
"Was angry?" Toby queried, and she bit her lip when she saw the glint of mockery in his eyes.
"I can see now that I shouldn't have blamed you for it," she told him. "I shouldn't have—"
"Given me a lecture on my responsibilities?" Toby suggested quietly, and Isa looked up and met his eyes. It was a long time before she could look away again and her heart was pounding remorselessly in her breast, her legs suddenly weak and seemingly incapable of holding her weight.
"I'm—sorry," she managed at last, and he smiled.
"You always are, Isabella," he told her, "but you still fight me as determinedly, don't you? Couldn't you, just once, try giving me the benefit of the doubt occasionally, like you do Chris Burrows? You'll have to admit that you wouldn't have backed down so readily if there hadn't been a danger of Chris getting a rocket from me, would you?"
"I—I suppose not." She made the admission reluctantly, but it was no good denying it, and she had been reminded suddenly of Chris's story about his girl-friend being sent away by Toby. The incident still puzzled her and she looked at Toby for a second, her present situation briefly forgotten. Try as she would, she could not see Toby sending a young girl away for further education simply because he was jealous, and she shook her head over it, without realising she was doing it.
"Now what have I said?" Toby asked, and cocked a brow at her.
Isa hastily shook her head again. "Oh, nothing,"- she told him, and rapidly recalled the subject of his question. "I'm sorry, Mr. Carmichael."
"Hmm !" He eyed her for a moment, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "I suppose your Aunt Carrie's upbringing forbids you to use your employer's christian name, even though you wade into an argument with him without a second thought?" he suggested, and Isa blinked for a moment uncomprehendingly. "Well?" he prompted.
"I—I don't know," she said at last in a small voice. "I'm not sure if Lady Carmichael would—"
"Grandmama is much less of a Victorian than you are!" Toby retorted swiftly, and laughed when he saw her expression. "Don't use her as an excuse, Isabella!"
"I don't need an excuse!" She felt her heart lurch crazily when she met his eyes. A bright deep blue that glittered at her from the depth of those quite unsuitably feminine-looking eyelashes.
"Then why not?" he asked.
Isa was at a loss to know what to say, but obviously he was waiting for her to say something, and she felt suddenly shy as she faced him, her eyes trying to avoid the infinitely disturbing gaze of his. "I don't know," she confessed.
"You didn't hesitate to call Chris Burrows by his first name, did you?"
The question took her by surprise and she looked up swiftly, again reminded of the girl from the village and her involvement with the same two men. "I—I don't quite see what that has to do with it,"
she said, and he laughed, shaking his head over her prevarication.
"It has nothing at all to do with it," he admitted. "But I like to know where I stand, and it seems Chris has a much better standing than I have—now I know!"
Isa looked startled for a moment, then she shook her head slowly, looking at him with curious eyes. "You don't really like Chris, do you?" she asked, and a moment later was appalled by her own indiscretion.
Toby, however, seemed no more than mildly amused by the accusation and he was smiling, though a little wryly, she thought. "I rather think the boot's on the other foot," he told her quietly. "But—no, there are things about Chris Burrows I don't exactly admire, and his getting too close to you is one thing that worries me."
Stunned for a moment, Isa stared at him. "I—I don't understand," she said at last in a small voice.
Toby said nothing for a moment, but he left his place by the mantel and walked across to the window, turning his back to her in a stance that reminded her of their first meeting. "Has he told you about Faith Merton?" he asked suddenly.
"I—I don't know." She sought hastily to recall if Chris had given a name to the girl he had spoken of, and decided he hadn't. "He told me that he was —that he had a girl-friend once, a girl from the village."
"That's right, Faith Merton, she was seventeen at the time, and pretty as the proverbial picture."
So near now to Toby's version of the story, Isa felt she had the opportunity to hear it all and curiosity drove her on to ask questions she would normally never have dreamed of asking, saying things that were frankly inquisitive. "Chris says—" She swallowed hard. "Chris told me that you sent her away to college," she ventured, and he nodded.
A moment later he turned and looked at her, his eyes hinting at their customary laughter as he studied her for a moment. "Though not for the reasons Chris would have given you," he said. "Grandmama took an interest in the girl and—well, it was th
ought best to get her away from here."
"Because Chris wanted to—because he was serious about her?" she asked, and Toby took several seconds to answer.
"Because he wanted her to live with him," he said at last, and shook his head over Isa's gasp of surprise.
"Not to—"
"Not to marry her, if that's what you're going to ask" Toby told her bluntly. "She was only a village girl, you see," he said, and this time it really did sound like a quote instead of an opinion.
"I see." She licked her lips, too stunned for the moment to know what she thought, but surprisingly thankful that her opinion of Toby had been confirmed.
He stood over by the window looking across at her. "He hasn't said anything of the same sort to you, has he, Isa?" he asked, and Isa hastily shook her head.
"No," she said huskily. "He—he's asked me to marry him."
He looked startled for a moment, then frowned, his blue eyes sweeping swiftly and anxiously over her face as he spoke. "You haven't said you will?" he asked, as if he wanted to be convinced, and Isa shook her head. Without another word he walked across and came and stood in front of her, saying nothing for the moment, and Isa would have given much to look up at him and have some idea of what he was thinking. Instead she kept her eyes averted and tried to keep a more firm control on her emotions. "Isabella." She glanced up, drawn by the tone of his voice, and he reached out with one hand and drew a finger tip down the softness of her cheek.
It was a delicate, sensitive moment of suspense, and Isa could feel her whole body trembling. Then suddenly there was a sound from the hall, a light creaking that Isa hazily recognised as the stairs creaking and as if a spell had been broken, she stepped back hastily out of Toby's reach and brushed back her hair in a nervous gesture that was echoed by the tremor in her voice.
"Lady Carmichael!" she breathed huskily. "I must go and see if she can manage on her own!"
She did not catch the words he said, in her haste to depart, but she could have sworn that they were curses and as she went out of the room and across the hall to the old lady, she wondered what would have happened if the interruption had not come when it did.
CHAPTER EIGHT
ISA did not see Chris for a couple of days, and in a way she was thankful to have the time to think over what she had learned about him. He had never been other than courteous towards her and she was convinced that his expressed desire to marry her was genuine, but in the light of what Toby had told her she was bound to see him differently.
All along she had harboured doubts about the malice he had attributed to Toby, but it came as a surprise to realise that she was prepared to believe Toby's version of the story wholeheartedly. Facing Chris again, with the knowledge she had now, would present certain embarrassing problems, and when she looked at her reflection briefly, she could see the doubt reflected in her eyes.
It was cooler today and the sun appeared only Way from behind clouds that were blown along by a wind more chill than she expected, so that she shivered as she walked out of the house and wondered if she should have worn a coat. Walking would soon warm her, she decided, and turned down the hill in the direction of the river, more by instinct than conscious effort.
It was almost certain that she would see Chris, for he always looked forward to their Saturday meetings, and sooner or later she was going to have to
decide whether things past were to make any difference to her own feelings for him, but she had a strange reluctance to make the discovery today. What his reactions would be if he ever found out that she had heard the other side of the story about Faith Merton remained to be seen, but she hoped he need never know, and especially who had told her. If he did it was bound to become one more reason for his disliking Toby, and she had no desire to add to that.
It was darker and cooler under the trees today, and little of the spasmodic sunlight penetrated the latticework of branches over her head. Also the birds seemed less active too, and the chiller stillness reminded her uneasily of the gloomy wood on the south boundary.
She walked slowly, down towards the river, more reluctant than she had ever been to meet Chris, although it would almost certainly determine once and for all her. relationship with him. There was no reason, she told herself over and over again, why his affair with Faith Merton should affect her own feelings towards him, but she knew in her heart that it would.
He was not waiting for her on the river bank, as he so often was, nor did he appear from among the trees as she walked along the bank in the direction of his cottage, and she was aware of a growing uneasiness at his absence. Always, when he was unable to see her for some reason, he let her know he would not be there, but today he had said nothing about having other things to do and she was left
with the discomfiting memory at the back of her mind of Toby's hint that Chris would eventually carry the blame for her complaints about the south wood pool.
She saw him at last in the small, neat garden that surrounded his cottage, industriously hoeing between rows of carrots and peas, and her heart gave a brief, warning flip of anxiety when she noted the studiously averted head. He must surely have heard or seen her coming and she would normally have expected him to look up and greet her, instead it seemed as if he had not even noticed her.
She walked to the gate set in a surrounding hedge and stood there looking at him for a moment in resigned silence, her regret at his lack of welcome mingled with a hint of impatience as she tried to sort out her own tangled emotions. It was plain to her that Toby had conveyed his displeasure about the state of the pool, and probably her own accidental ducking too, for Chris would hate being reprimanded by Toby more than anything.
"Chris?" She spoke quietly, and for a moment wondered if he had heard her, for he made no response.
Then suddenly he turned and she was faced with the angry gaze of his grey eyes, making it plain why he had not been there to meet her. "Hello, Isa," he said in a flat, unfriendly voice. "I didn't expect to see you again."
"Oh, Chris. I can't believe you thought that!" She opened the gate and went through into the garden, closing it carefully behind her, while Chris
simply stood there with his two hands round the handle of the hoe, so tightly clasped that the bones of his knuckles showed white,
"Why not?" he asked harshly. "You complained to the boss about me, didn't you? Do you expect me to thank you for giving him a chance to play the big, important employer he thinks himself?"
His mouth twisted into an expression of bitter derision and he went back to his hoeing while Isa stood just inside the gate, biting her lip, appalled by his reaction. She had expected him to be hurt, perhaps even angry, if he knew she had caused the complaint, but she had not anticipated such fierce bitterness as he was showing and it stunned her into silence momentarily.
After a moment she walked along the narrow path beside the row he was working on, and reached out to touch his hand, noticing how hard and unyielding it felt to her touch. "I'm sorry, Chris," she said, and looked at the gauntly good-looking face anxiously. "I had no intention of getting you into trouble. I hoped Toby wouldn't say anything about my complaining, but I suppose I should have known he would."
"You should have known!" Chris echoed bitterly, and it was obvious from his expression that he found her use of Toby's christian name far from palatable. "You seem to have progressed well in the past few days," he remarked acidly. "Now he's Toby !"
"Oh, Chris, please!" Regret for the trouble she had inadvertently caused him was rapidly giving
way to anger in the face of his determined self-pity and she remembered Lady Carmichael's dislike of that same characteristic in him. She had thought the judgment rather harsh at the time, but now she was beginning to understand it. "I told him off because I thought it was his responsibility!" she told him, her eyes bright and angrily impatient. "I had no idea he would blame you--I didn't even realise it was anything to do with you!"
He said nothing for a moment, but the hands holding t
he handle of the hoe eased slightly and eventually he shook his head, looking at her with an expression that was almost as contrite as it was suspicious. "I never did tell you the truth about my work here, did I?" he asked in a dull, flat voice, "but I suppose you knew?"
"I knew," Isa agreed quietly, "but it doesn't matter in the least what your job is. It makes no difference to me!"
"No, no, of course it wouldn't." Pity was already taking over from impatience as she watched him, and her instinct now was to assure him that getting him into trouble with his hated employer was the last thing in her mind.
"I—I think he was concerned in case anyone else fell into the pool as I did," she ventured. "It would fall upon him if anyone did, he's legally responsible, and that's what I pointed out to him."
"Yes, of course." He shook his head again. "I suppose I did go off half-cocked," he admitted. "Of course you didn't intend the blame to fall on me, Isa, I should have realised that. It's just that Mr.
Carmichael couldn't resist getting at me about it—the opportunity was too good to miss!"
It was difficult to encourage his return to reason without putting all the blame on to Toby, and Isa was extremely reluctant to do that. She could see Toby's point of view with surprising clarity suddenly and barely stopped to wonder why. "I—I really don't think Toby saw it merely as an opportunity to reprimand you." she said cautiously. "You're too--too sensitive about him, Chris."
"Oh, am I?" The question was bitterly sarcastic. "And I suppose you'd know him so much better than I do, wouldn't you?"
"Nothing of the sort!" Isa denied swiftly and impatiently. "It's just that I don't see Toby Carmichael as the kind of man who indulges in petty spite, that's all!"
"Oh, of course not!"
Isa drew a deep breath, ready to defend both. Toby and herself against a tirade of unfair abuse, but something made her bite back the angry words before they were formed, and she let out a great sigh instead, shaking her head at him in a last attempt to make him see sense. "I didn't come here to quarrel with you, Chris," she told him as calmly as she was able for the churning sensation in her stomach caused by a chaos of emotions she was incapable of controlling. "If you don't want me to stay then I won't, but I hate to think of us fighting over this and perhaps spoiling what has been, to me anyway, something pleasant and rewarding." -
