Enemy Lover

by Pamela Kent

  “Well, we’d better be getting on our way, hadn’t we? There doesn’t seem any point in hanging about here.”

  Angus replied with a casual smile.

  “Yes, by all means let’s be getting on our way. I’m growing a little tired of this benighted spot. But no doubt that’s because I’ve just been on the line to London!” and his smile deliberately provoked her. “Awkward when one is forced to dwell in one spot and all one’s instincts prompt one to fly back to the delights of another!”

  Tina preceded him out to the car, and for the first mile or two she said nothing at all. Angus sang lightly above the soft purr of the engine—running in very sweetly despite the car’s ill-usage of the day before. And his good humour practically forced her to remark a trifle acidly at last:

  “Of course, you don’t have to force your body to dwell in one spot, while you’re hankering after being in another. You could try and convince Miss Gaylord’s father that you’re a worthy suitor for his daughter by trying for some other job that would keep you near to her. A job in the supermarket, for instance!”

  Angus laughed as if the idea really amused him.

  “One day I might be forced into that,” he admitted.

  They arrived at Giffard’s Prior in time for lunch, and the housekeeper came out to greet them. If she was surprised—and she must have been amazed, Tina realised—by the sight of Sir Angus in a chauffeur’s uniform, at the wheel of the sleek grey Bentley, she of course refrained from allowing this surprise to show, and Sir Angus explained away the oddness of the situation by saying lightly that he had decided the time had arrived when he should justify his existence by working in a workaday world.

  “Like you, Mrs. Appleby,” he said coolly. “You wear very well despite the fact that you have to work, and I’m sure it won’t do me any harm to copy your example. Now, shall we get these cases into the house?”

  Tina was sure that the look Mrs. Appleby directed at her was strongly critical of her for daring to employ a member of the Giffard family, but as she couldn’t go into explanations on the spot—or, indeed, at any time, since Angus would have strongly disapproved—she had to put up with the slight sourness of the glance. The late Sir Angus had employed a butler, but he appeared to have left in the last few weeks.

  “If you think it necessary to take on a manservant we could get on to the agency in London this afternoon, miss,” Mrs. Appleby suggested, but Tina said at once that she didn’t think it was in the least necessary to add a manservant to their staff, and the older woman elevated her eyebrows.

  “Well, if you’re unlikely to do very much entertaining, and you plan to live simply, I suppose it won’t be necessary,” she agreed.

  Angus sent her a derisive glance sideways.

  “You can always get me to wait at table if you’re stuck, he told her affably. “There’s not much I don’t know about wines, decanting, and so forth, and it would give me the greatest pleasure to open the door, to a few of my old friends. The astonishment on their faces would compensate for a good deal!”

  Tina declined to return even a brief answer to this, but when they were in the house and her luggage had been borne upstairs to her room—or the room the housekeeper had had prepared for her, for it was up to her to decide which room she would occupy once the novelty of being mistress of the house had worn off, and she felt a little more capable of making decisions—she waited for Angus to return down the main staircase and told him she would like to have a word with him after lunch.

  “Certainly,” he returned, with the same affability as before. “Where shall we have our chat? In the library?” And then he noticed Mrs. Appleby lingering in the hall, and in order not to disappoint her he drew himself up smartly and saluted his employer. “I am at your disposal whenever you want me, madam. Just tell Appleby to send for me. And now I’ll go and see whether Cook can give me some lunch in the kitchen.”

  When he had departed and the green baize door shutting off the kitchen quarters had swung to behind him, Tina noticed that the housekeeper was still standing there and regarding her a trifle primly. Mentally squaring her shoulders, Tina seized the opportunity to say something about Angus, for she realised that some

  explanation was expected of her.

  “I’ve no doubt you think it—strange,” she began, “that Sir Angus is wearing that absurd uniform and driving me about. Well, it was his own idea entirely ... You might call it a whim of his. There is a reason, of course, but it’s not really anything at all to do with me.”

  Mrs. Appleby’s eyebrows ascended once more.

  “People are going to think it extraordinary,” she commented, “everyone who has ever known or met Sir Angus!” There was delicate emphasis on the „Sir.’ “Personally, I got quite a shock when I recognised him in that peaked cap, and wearing, as you rightly call it, that absurd uniform. But although I’ve known Sir Angus since he was a boy of fifteen I’ve never presumed to question anything he’s done, or has been caught doing. So you can depend upon it I shall say nothing now!”

  “Thank you,” Tina acknowledged the condescension with slight dryness.

  The housekeeper flushed slightly.

  “I think I can say I know my place, and it isn’t my job to ask questions. But naturally we were all a bit put about—surprised— when the news leaked out that not one single member of the family benefited from old Sir Angus’s will. I may say we were all shocked, and Foyster—he was the butler, who left last week—felt he couldn’t stay on in the circumstances.” “As Sir Angus—the late Sir Angus—left him a very generous bequest I don’t suppose he thought it necessary to continue working as a butler,” Tina observed very quietly, and the housekeeper’s flush spread wildly.

  “He left me quite a nice little bit,” she admitted, “but I didn’t think it would be a good thing for all the staff to walk out on you, Miss Andrews. Letty and me are willing to go on working here if you want us.”

  “Letty is the cook, I believe?”

  “Yes; and there’s Jane, who has been parlourmaid here for years. She’s willing to stay on, too.”

  “That’s very kind of her.” Tina moved to the fire and attempted to warm her hands. Although the house was bright and welcoming she felt that no real welcome had been intended for her. She even felt a little cold right at the heart of her. “What happened to the girl who brought me the sandwiches when I was here before?”

  Mrs. Appleby tried to remember.

  “Oh, you mean Gillian, a temporary who left after the funeral. She lives in the village, I believe. I could get her back if you think we need her.”

  “I’d like to have her back,” Tina said, and knelt down in front of the flames so that she could fed the warmth of them on her face.

  Mrs. Appleby adjusted the cuffs of the dark cardigan she wore over her neat, dark dress.

  “Very good, miss—ma’am!” She seemed to draw herself up to her full height. “I’d like to say here and now that both Cook and I will do our best for you so long as we’re here, and although it’s true we were upset at the way things were left we’ve had time to get over it. As Cook says, old Angus wasn’t anybody’s fool . . . And I’d like to congratulate you, miss —ma’am!”

  Tina rose and smiled at her. The smile did more than she realised, more even than she intended.

  “Thank you very much, Mrs. Appleby,” she said impulsively. “And I’d like to say that if you and Cook stay on here I don’t think either of you will ever regret it . . . And now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to see my room. And after that I’d like some lunch. I’ve got to interview Sir Angus after lunch.”

  Mrs. Appleby led the way up the stairs.

  “He always was a little bit odd, Sir Angus,” she confessed. “That is to say, he was unusual. . . Never did anything he didn’t want to do, if you follow me. My late lamented employer used to get very annoyed with him at times, just as he used to get annoyed with all the members of the family. They didn’t please him, somehow,” she sighed.
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  CHAPTER TEN SIR Angus evidently persuaded the cook to give him a satisfying lunch in the kitchen, for when he presented himself in the library about half an hour after the effects of it had had time to wear off he was looking remarkably complacent, as if the fatted calf had been slaughtered and served up for him.

  Tina, who had been served with a lonely lunch at one end of the vast dining-table in the dining-room, was looking as if she had scarcely enjoyed hers, and was facing up to the problems of the future with something. in the nature of a stiff upper lip and no real confidence.

  Angus represented one of the future problems. For one thing, she had no idea where he was going to sleep.

  “Oh, that’s all settled,” he assured her complacently. “I’ve moved into the flat above the garage —the one I told you about. It doesn’t remind me strongly of a Park Lane flat, but it will do. Cook

  will look after me and cosset me as she probably would if I was a genuine chauffeur, and Mrs. Appleby has promised to see to my mending and my laundry. Between the two of them I shan’t lack for a single thing.”

  “But the situation is still ridiculous,” she declared, with a shrill emphasis that told him her nerves were too slightly, on edge. “I’ve more or less explained matters to Mrs. Appleby, but everyone else is likely to think it extremely odd.”

  “Don’t you believe it.” He was quite casual, helping himself to a book from one of the’ bookshelves. “I’ll borrow this, if you don’t mind. My reading matter is a little scarce at the moment.”

  “You know very well you can have any book you like.”

  He bowed to her, half mockingly.

  “Can I also help myself to the cigars, and so forth, in the diningroom? There are several boxes of them secreted away in one of the cupboards. It would be a pity if they were allowed to get overlooked.”

  “Of course.” But her voice grated a little. “Have anything you like.”

  “Including a nightcap, and a bottle of wine occasionally?” Suddenly his blue glance lashed her. “Don’t worry, Miss Andrews, I’m not a petty pilferer, and everything in this house is yours. I shall look upon it as sacrosanct . . . and even the mice will be safe from me! You’ll have to provide your own mousetraps!” Why she had annoyed him she couldn’t think, but he left the room without asking her permission, and she didn’t see him again that day, although she heard his voice several times, and the sound of his brief, attractive laugh, which floated out from the kitchen quarters.

  The fact that he was something like a thorn in her side prevented her deriving any real pleasure from this first visit to Giffard’s Prior—as its mistress, that is; and although she was still slightly bewildered by the thought of all her new possessions she couldn’t really believe that everything she now saw, and touched, and merely admired in the great house was hers. The bedroom that Mrs. Appleby had selected for her would normally have delighted her, but as things were she felt as if she were an unauthorised guest when she first took possession of it.

  It had a pale cream-coloured carpet and flowery curtains, and although the bed was old-fashioned the dressing-table was an imposing affair with an array of silver-topped toilet bottles making it seem even more impressive. Because of the weather a huge fire glowed in the grate, and she spent the rest of the day sitting beside it and reading a book that someone had left on the bedside table.

  The next day she made a careful inspection of the house, and decided that it was quite unsuited to a young woman living alone. Although old Angus had spent little time there he had insisted that the place was properly maintained, and there were stacks of sheets and towels in the vast linen-cupboard that was more like a room devoted to the purpose of cherishing hand-embroidered linen and faintly yellowing but beautifully made lace. Tina had never seen so many tea-towels in her life outside a shop, and that went for yellow dusters, too. There appeared to be an unlimited supply of them.

  The various storerooms attached to the domestic quarters proved that the house was well fitted to withstand a siege, and when she made her first visit to the cellars she was slightly alarmed by the display of bottles. Old Angus had lived much in France and Italy, and he knew wines. He knew how to preserve them, too, and every bottle was carefully labelled and had its place in a suitable rack. Some were covered in cobwebs, while others appeared to have arrived there recently. Only a butler, Tina realised, would know how to deal with that generous supply of liquid refreshment, and she, at the moment, had no butler. And apart from the odd glass of sherry she was in no sense of the word a drinker.

  She began to feel slightly appalled.

  Mrs. Appleby conducted hereon her tour of inspection, and she showed her everything there was to be seen. Keys rattled in locks that had grown rusty with disuse, creaking doors and well-oiled doors swung open and confronted her with fresh wonders ... and more problems.

  After the dining-room, the drawing-room, the library, a small room that was known as the snuggery, and a much larger and comfortably shabby room that housed a billiard-table and had a kind of armoury at one end, Mrs. Appleby suggested a visit to the outbuildings, and despite the slush outside and a piercing wind that cut like a knife they crossed the kitchen courtyard and began another inspection.

  There were boiler houses and fuel houses, an electricity plant that generated power for the house housed in what had once been a groom’s room, and an old harness-room given over to the storage of logs. There were several loose-boxes, but no occupants, and two enormous garages, above which was the flat at present occupied by the late Sir Angus’s nephew— also an Angus.

  As Tina looked up at the windows, and saw that they were attractively curtained, she wondered whether that curious mixture, who was her declared enemy and her chauffeur, had made himself

  comfortable amidst the amenities that had been provided for someone who was definitely outside his class altogether.

  Mrs. Appleby noticed her upward glance, and asked whether she would like to inspect the chauffeur’s quarters, but Tina said ‘No’ hastily. With a pinched feeling about her nose, and the certainty that it was slightly blue, from cold, cold feet and cold fingers inside her gloves, she had no desire to be brought face to face with Angus Giffard.

  Mrs. Appleby sounded almost understanding as she said sympathetically:

  “I expect you’re feeling like a good hot drink, and I’m sure Cook will make you a nice pot of tea if we go back to the house. Or perhaps you’d prefer coffee?”

  “I don’t mind,” Tina answered, with a flatness that caused the older woman to glance at her.

  “I hope you haven’t taken cold, Miss Andrews,” she said. “You look a bit pinched.” And then she added unexpectedly: “You’re going to find it lonely here all by yourself, aren’t you, miss? What you need is a companion.”

  The idea appealed to Tina. She was growing a little tired of her own society.

  “Perhaps I do,” she admitted.

  “You’ll have to set about getting someone suitable.” But when they reached the house all Tina could think about was the pot of strong coffee Mrs. Appleby had promised to send to the library, and even after the coffee she shivered so much that she was glad to retire to her room once lunch was over. The next day she was confined to her bed with a chill, and when the doctor came he said that she would have to stay there for several days. Apart from Mrs. Appleby and the doctor she saw no one during those days, although she was given to understand that her chauffeur had made enquiries about her, and was holding himself in readiness in case she should need anything fetched from a distance.

  Tina saw, in her imagination, the hollow mockery in his eyes when he made the enquiries. As matters stood at the moment, if anything happened to her he would almost certainly benefit, for with no close relatives of her own to whom her worldly goods could be transmitted the Giffard family would lose no time in getting the will put right. Of that she felt fairly well assured.

  But, after a week in her room, she was considerably amazed to receive a present of
a large carton of snowdrops the first probably to show their heads in that part of the world. Mrs. Appleby put them into water for her and explained that there were masses of them in sheltered corners in the grounds, and Sir Angus had been seen picking them an hour or so before. But to Tina they didn’t look like wild snowdrops, the kind to be found in little, lonely hollows in leafless woods. They looked like snowdrops that had been forced under glass, and the carton that contained them had undoubtedly, at some time or other, come from a local florist.

  But why should Sir Angus Giffard buy her snowdrops?

  There was no reason that she could think of, and she accepted it that he had picked them in the grounds... probably from want of anything better to do.

  The first day she was downstairs she sent for him, and he came with a smiling air that made her feel secretly uneasy. For when Sir Angus smiled she usually needed all her wits about her to cope with him.

  But today he was uninhibitedly friendly. After enquiring after her health, commenting that she looked pale, and himself adding a log to the already bright fire that blazed on the hearth, he nodded towards the snowdrops that were making a gloomy corner of the room look fresh and springlike.

  “I see they’ve survived,” he remarked. “Hope you liked them?”

  She gazed at him curiously.

  “Why did you buy me flowers, Sir Angus?”

  “Tut, tut,” he reproved her. “We mustn’t have this formality. Sir Angus, when everyone nowadays calls me Angus! Including even Cook, who doesn’t think I look the part! And why shouldn’t I buy you flowers, when you pay me a salary? On top of all the money of my own that I possess!”

  She sighed. Suddenly she wished that he would stop making fun of her—that she could talk to him, as one human being to another.

  “You did buy them, didn’t you?” she insisted.

  “I bought them.”

  “Why?”

  He leaned against the mantelpiece, and his blue eyes flickered at her oddly.