Mrs. Hingston turned swiftly, a little colour heightening her cheeks. ‘Breakfast will be in an hour,’ she said abruptly, before departing.
Later as she carefully dressed in a simple tweed frock Ginny shivered a little. Her room was cold and in spite of the fires that burned at Falcon’s Keep nothing really kept out the draughts. She combed her straight hair back into a smooth simple style and glanced at herself in a long mirror. She looked depressingly sensible, she told herself. At least Mr. Kendrick wouldn’t be alarmed at the appearance of a Jezebel in his library after breakfast, she thought, smiling ruefully as she made her way downstairs.
The breakfast-room, she found, looked out on to a shrub-enclosed lawn with a border that obviously would be a blaze of colour in summer. The day had brightened somewhat and weak sunlight sparkled on the silver dishes arranged on the sideboard. Luke was the only occupant of the room and he glanced up almost abstractedly as she entered. Laying down a letter beside his plate, he said, ‘Rikki’s not down yet and my grandfather has already breakfasted, so I regret to say you’ll have me only for company. ’
As Ginny took her seat she was wondering whether to treat this remark as banter or to accept it as one of his usual semi-derisive speeches.
‘And how are you getting on with the estimable Mrs. Hingston?’ he asked.
‘Not too well,’ Ginny admitted. ‘I’m afraid she simply doesn’t want me to help in any way.’
‘Help?’ he asked. A frown wrinkled his forehead. ‘I don’t understand. ’
‘Well, I mean—’ Ginny gestured awkwardly, ‘I mean around the house.’
‘Why, are you particularly domesticated?’ he asked sarcastically.
‘I’m used to domestic work,’ Ginny said simply.
‘Indeed?’ He raised his eyebrows in astonishment. ‘This is quite a revelation. It makes me realize how very little I actually do know about you. ’
‘Perhaps that’s because you aren’t really interested,’
Ginny answered quietly.
Again he looked at her quizzically. ‘My, but you are a pert little piece, aren’t you?’ he said.
‘And you are downright rude,’ Ginny replied with dignity.
Quite suddenly he flung his head back and laughed uproariously, and Ginny gazed at him in openmouthed astonishment. He was so completely transformed, she thought, young and gay and not at all like the stern hawk-faced creature he had been until that moment.
‘All right,’ he said at last, ‘you win. I shan’t ever again
probe the secrets of your past life.’
‘But I don’t want to win,’ Ginny said simply.
The mocking light returned to his eye. ‘That’s strange, coming from a female.’
‘Is it?’ said Ginny. ‘You see, I’d much rather someone was interested in me, interested enough to wonder what I did or what I thought, or what I wanted out of life.’
‘I see,’ he said slowly and consideringly. ‘Obviously you’re a much more complex person, Virginia Lovelace, than I took you for. ’
‘Not really complex,’ Ginny said, sipping her tea thoughtfully, ‘just very ordinary. Most girls, I think, like to feel they belong and have a definite place in life.’
‘Don’t tell me,’ he said, ‘that you want to belong to the Kendricks! I can’t imagine a more unattractive family than we are. We have very little of the milk of human kindness - in the males of the family at least. I believe,’ he added, ‘that my mother was a very different person, gentle and rather dreamy, but then she died when I was young so I never had the softening influence of a woman which, on the whole, was perhaps not such a bad thing considering I’ve had, as it were, to carry the Kendrick family on my shoulders.’ His voice was bitter, and Ginny, curious as she felt, forbore to question him further, knowing that she would be repelled.
For a moment he stared broodingly through the window, then, as though recollecting her presence, said abruptly, ‘So Mrs. Hingston won’t let you share the little domestic chores, is that it?’
‘No, I expect she thinks I’d be interfering and upset her routine.’
‘There’s more to it than that, you know,’ he told her.
Ginny looked at him, puzzled.
‘You see, Mrs. Hingston came here as a young girl and took over immediately after my mother’s death. She’s an incredibly possessive woman, so much so that no staff will stay very long under the roof with us. The only people she tolerates are the women from the village. My grandfather is used to her, however. To him she is a connection with the past and in spite of the fact that things are run in a very haphazard way he’s loath to dismiss her.’ Again his gaze became abstracted. ‘However, when I become master of Falcon’s Keep there’ll be a great many changes.’
His face was grim, and Ginny realized the ruthlessness that had carved the stern lines about his mouth. This was a man, she realized, who would have no patience with those who did not come up to his high standards.
She laughed suddenly. ‘It’s lucky you weren’t in charge at Clarkson’s or I shouldn’t have stood a chance! I’m no good at organizing things and I’m afraid my housekeeping is very slapdash, but then Mrs. Clarkson didn’t mind,’ she added a little wistfully as she remembered those happy days at Clarkson’s and Mrs. Clarkson’s good-natured acceptance of her incompetence.
‘And who is the estimable Mrs. Clarkson?’ he asked.
Again she detected the mocking note in his voice, but now, anxious to speak of the warm familiar things, she flung pride overboard and said eagerly, ‘Mrs. Clarkson’s Private Hotel! I worked there, you know.’
He laid down his knife and fork and gazed at her incredulously.
Ginny nodded. ‘You see, I’m not a terribly enterprising sort of person and when there was no money left for me to go on with my training as a physiotherapist I just stayed on at Mrs. Clarkson’s. I did rather enjoy it - but then it was rather a deadend, I expect.’
‘And in Falcon’s Keep you see greater possibilities, is that it?’ he asked dryly.
Silenced by the bluntness of his remark, she wished she had not let her tongue run away with her and put herself in the position of again being the contemptible victim of Luke Kendrick.
‘Morning, everybody.’ Rikki bustled in, rubbing his hands in exaggerated anticipation of breakfast. ‘I trust we’re all in the best of health. You at least, Ginny, are looking blooming. The country air must be agreeing with you. ’
Luke, as though used to these facetious demonstrations, merely picked up his letter and resumed his perusal of it.
‘I’m simply ravenous this morning,’ Rikki went on cheerfully, ‘but then I’m a growing boy and need plenty of nourishment. ’
‘That’s just what you forget,’ Luke said dryly, glancing over his letter, ‘that you’re no longer a boy.’
‘Can I help it if hanging round the old homestead bores me stiff?’ said Rikki.
‘So you’re going to go off today again?’ Luke said sharply. There was a significance about the question and Rikki glanced up, his good-humoured face clouding with anger.
‘Not very far,’ he said. ‘Just as far as Netley.’
This, however, appeared to be the last straw as far as Luke was concerned. He rose to his feet suddenly. ‘So you’re still pursuing that course, are you,’ he said, ‘in spite of how you know our grandfather objects. ’
‘Grandfather can object as much as he likes,’ Rikki replied coldly. ‘Actually he hasn’t a leg to stand on, whatever you may think. ’
But Luke had already abruptly turned and was striding from the room.
Rikki shrugged and applied himself to his plate. ‘You mustn’t take any notice of Luke,’ he said. ‘He’s one of these frightfully serious people who take life much too earnestly. ’
But Ginny could see the drawn look about his mouth, as though Luke’s remarks had cut more deeply than he pretended.
Mrs. Hingston entered the room and stood at the door like a sort of dark nemesis in her black serge.
‘Mr. Kendrick is waiting for you in the library if you’re ready, Miss Lovelace,’ she announced.
Hastily Ginny got to her feet.
Rikki chuckled. ‘You sound, Mrs. Hingston, as if you were announcing that she’s next for the guillotine,’ he said.
Mrs. Hingston sniffed. ‘Very amusing, I’m sure, Mr. Rikki,’ she said grimly. ‘When you’re finished will you ring so that we can clear away.’ And having had the last word, she led Ginny towards the library. Flinging open the door, she motioned Ginny to enter, then closed it with an air of finality, and Ginny was left standing blinking in the shaft of light from one of the windows.
It was a high narrow room with rows of sombre volumes bound in shades of mellow gold, brown and red gilt. A short row of iron steps led up to a narrow ornamental iron gallery that ran around three sides of the room and by which the upper shelves of the library were reached. It was a lovely room, Ginny decided, full of mellow shadows and the smell of old leather, but her heart thumped alarmingly as she realized from the small movement from the end of the room that she was being observed by an old man sitting in a wide leather winged chair by a crackling log fire. A tartan rug was wrapped about his legs and at his elbow was a tray with the remains of a simple meal.
‘Well, why don’t you come forward, girl?’ His voice was gruff but strangely strong and youthful, and Ginny advanced towards him slowly, feeling extremely awkward and ill at ease as she realized the sharp bird eyes were watching her with beady concentration.
When she came close and stood in front of him he said sharply, ‘So you’re Ginny Lovelace! Well, it’s easy to see you’re like your mother’s people. There’s a portrait of one of your ancestors in the gallery. I’ll show it to you some time. You’re remarkably like her.’ For a long moment he contemplated her in silence and then said abruptly, ‘Draw up a chair and sit here beside me and tell me all about yourself. I find it more convenient to have my meals by myself. Mrs. Hingston prepares my special diet, and I trust my age will excuse me from any seeming rudeness.’
Rather awkwardly Ginny pulled a heavy leather chair forward, but found it rather difficult to begin under the old man’s piercing glance, that was so reminiscent of his son, Luke. Apart from that, life at Clarkson’s had been so uneventful that she couldn’t imagine it interesting him in the smallest, yet as he was obviously waiting for her to begin, she haltingly told him of her parents’ death and of her life until the time she had answered the solicitor’s advertisement.
He listened to her without comment and then said, rather abruptly, ‘ So life has not been kind to you, Ginny Lovelace! In that case your stay here will be of more service to you than I had expected. You can take the opportunity to become a lily of the field. ’
Ginny looked uncomfortable and he gave a dry laugh as he noticed her embarrassment. ‘I expect Luke has made no secret of the fact that he disapproves, but then perhaps we don’t pull well together because we’re so like each other in some ways.’ He sat broodingly for a few moments as though his mind was lost in thought and then said, ‘I expect my grandson Rikki was his usual fascinating self, but don’t take that young man too seriously. His charm is only skin deep, although this doesn’t seem to have any noticeable effect on the impact he makes on some susceptible females.’
‘But then I’m not very susceptible,’ Ginny told him.
He glanced at her keenly, his thin hooked nose knife-like in his long patrician face. ‘No, I expect you’re not. You’re a sensible-looking young woman. ’
Ginny smiled wryly. It was only too obvious that when he said she was sensible he was implying that she just wasn’t the type to appeal to a sophisticated young man like Rikki.
‘This house has been too long without a woman’s influence,’ he said abruptly. ‘Things have been left too much in my grandsons’ hands and there was method in my madness when I began my search for relations. Actually I’m not only going to have one, but two young women here soon. Perhaps they will have a softening influence on those grandsons of
mine and make them more civilized in their behaviour. ’
‘Luke could certainly do with some civilizing,’ she said swiftly, and then regretted the words as she saw the old man eye her keenly with a certain amount of amusement in his bright eyes.
‘ So Luke has made an impression on you, has he?’
‘Not a very pleasant one, I’m afraid,’ Ginny said spiritedly. ‘No, I don’t expect he does, but then he makes no effort to please or ingratiate himself with people. That’s one of the Kendricks’ main failings, I think, our lack of social sense.’
‘I do think Luke carries it to extraordinary lengths,’ Ginny said firmly.
‘Do you, indeed?’ He regarded her with interest, and immediately Ginny regretted having spoken.
But the old man glanced past her as though he was already dismissing her words from his mind. ‘It’s a beautiful day,’ he said. ‘Don’t stay in here with an old man. Try and enjoy your stay. I want you to feel that this is your home. Luke’s away a great deal. He’s on all sorts of boards in the City and is undoubtedly a great business man - a much better one than I ever was, so you can always keep out of his way if you find his company unendurable.’
But there was an undercurrent in his voice that made Ginny somehow feel uncomfortable. It was as though he suspected her of having protested too much when she expressed her dislike of Luke.
‘I see Rikki out there on the terrace,’ he said. ‘Run off, my dear. You’ll find him more amusing company than I am.’ He so obviously expected her to go through the french windows and join Rikki that she found herself perforce obeying, but as she did so she remembered his reputation for having sudden enthusiasms and as suddenly losing them, and wondered how long it would be before she fell from favour in the old man’s eyes.
‘Well, I see you survived the inquisition safely,’ commented Rikki. He was seated on the parapet of the terrace
smoking as she came out.
‘Actually your grandfather’s rather an old dear,’ she said.
‘Well, he’s not an old dear to everyone, I can assure you of that. You must have just got the right side of him. ’
‘I think he approved of the fact that I’m plain and that there’s nothing femme fatale about me.’ She said it simply and with an air of acceptance that made him look at her with faint surprise.
‘Well, no one can accuse you of vanity, Ginny Lovelace,’ he grinned.
‘That’s because I’ve nothing to be vain about,’ she said cheerfully.
‘Do you know, you’re rather a frightening person,’ he said thoughtfully.
She looked at him in surprise. ‘In what way?’
‘You’re so devastatingly honest. You make a devious person like myself feel quite anxious. There are quite a lot of things I wouldn’t care to get to my grandfather’s ears - or Luke’s for that matter. And speak of the devil, there goes Luke now.’
Her eyes followed his gaze and she saw a large dark car curve from behind a group of giant shrubs to join the main avenue. There was a glimpse of Luke’s clear hard profile and then it gathered speed and was lost to sight behind the old Keep.
‘And am I glad to see the last of him,’ Rikki said, straightening with an unconscious gesture of relief. ‘Now I’ll be able to ask you to come into Netley with me.’
‘Netley?’ she asked.
‘Netley,’ he explained as he caught her by the arm and hurried her down the terrace steps, ‘is one of ye quainte olde Englishe market towns, and if you’re a good girl and promise to be discreet you shall have your elevenses at the Copper Kettle and I’ll introduce you to a very special friend of mine.’
Why should she have to promise to be discreet about this drive to Netley? she was wondering as she found herself swept into the old-fashioned courtyard with its cobbles where the Kendrick cars were kept. As they took their places in Rikki’s car he said, ‘What Luke doesn’t know won’t do him any harm, and I shouldn’t like you to have to tell him naugh
ty fibs and have it on your little conscience.’
It was clear he was referring to the conversation with Luke at breakfast that morning when his brother had reacted so strongly to the news that he was going into Netley, and in spite of the fact that she hastily assured herself that she had a perfect right to go where she pleased Ginny too felt relieved that Luke had driven off to business. She did not relish the thought of having to lie to him, for it was obvious that Rikki was bent on some illicit adventure, and she felt certain that should Luke question her those hawk-like eyes of his would see through any subterfuge of hers.
CHAPTER THREE
As they eased their way along the narrow old-world streets of Netley and drew up near a small cafe that bore the sign of a small copper kettle rather verdigrised by the weather, Ginny could see that Rikki’s eyes were bright with excitement and anticipation and she was soon to know the reason.
The cafe was small with little round tables covered with checkered cloths and was closely packed with chattering shoppers.
A handsome, rather full-blown woman was talking to one of the waitresses. As they entered she turned, her face lighting up as she saw Rikki. She had an air of easy almost insolent self-confidence as she approached, her full figure encased in a gaily coloured dress that was just a little too closely fitting.
‘This is Ginny Lovelace,’ Rikki said easily, ‘Ginny, meet Muriel Johnson, proprietress of the Copper Kettle, meeting-place for the elite of Netley. ’
‘Funny boy,’ Muriel said with a throaty laugh. Her rather
bold black eyes scanned Ginny, and Ginny was aware that not a single detail of her clothes and appearance had escaped. It was evident that Rikki and Muriel were more than casual acquaintances. Obviously, too, she was older than he was, though there was no mistaking her proprietorial attitude towards him.
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