Master of Melincourt

by Susan Barrie

  His agent—a charming, youngish man whom Edwina had met on two occasions so far—was quite a close friend, so the present quarrel was not serious. But because he had been thwarted, and certain views of his had been set aside, the master of Melincourt had his black brows closely knit together when he came into the dining-room, and there was a steely, impatient glint in his extremely attractive dark blue eyes.

  He was in no mood to have a small, precocious niece address him half-way through the meal as ‘Jervis,’ instead of ‘Uncle Jervis’; and when she followed this up by upsetting her glass of lemonade and emptying a plateful of rice pudding into her lap it was plainly more than he was able to endure with patience.

  He rose in his seat at the head of the table, and while Edwina coped with her own table napkin and the greasy mess of rice pudding that filled Tina’s lap, he raised his voice to the child for the first time in Edwina’s experience ... and not merely did he raise it to her, he shouted at her.

  “You awkward, ill-mannered, impossible child! Don’t you ever sit still? Can’t you ever behave like any other normal child? Why do I have to put up with you and have my luncheon table wrecked and my dining-room floor made a quagmire of revolting foodstuffs just because you’ve never learned that children of your age are an infliction, and not a pleasure, and should be seen and not heard?”

  Startled, as she had probably never been startled in the whole of her life, Tina stared at him, her mouth dropping open, and Edwina, on her knees beside her, also stared.

  “I’m quite sure it was an accident, Mr. Errol...” she tried to defend her charge, but he would not have it.

  “An accident? First impertinence, and then a whole glass of lemonade sent cascading across the tablecloth, and then that beastly pudding! If I had my meals alone, as a bachelor is entitled to do, I wouldn’t have to endure the sight of rice puddings being brought to table! I tell you, Tina, you’ll have to mend your ways. You’re beginning to behave as if natural good manners are not a part of your makeup, and I’m not at all sure that I oughtn’t to pack you off to school.”

  “Not—boarding-school?”

  Tina, who had had this bogy raised once before, put the query in a husky voice, while her face turned quite white. “You said you would never, never send me to boarding-school!”

  “Well, I probably will, now that I’ve made the discovery that you’re getting out of hand.”

  “I’m not getting out of hand.” She was so shaken by his defection that it caused her mouth to quiver. “And I’ll run away if you send me to school!”

  “In that case I’ll send you to the kind of school that you’ll not find it easy to run away from.”

  “I’ll still run away.” Her whole face was working, moisture beginning to spill over from her eyes. “It’s not fair, when I haven’t really done anything. I think you’re being b-beastly to me!”

  She looked as if she was about to flee the room, but her uncle ordered her to sit down again at the table and behave like a civilised human being. In arctic tones he informed her that he disliked scenes.

  “Quite apart from anything else, it might be a very good thing to send you away to school,” he remarked, as he pared himself a peach. “You’re arriving at a somewhat difficult age, and it’s quite possible I’m not the right person to have charge of you. Not even with the assistance of Miss Sands here,” directing at her a look that said plainly that he judged her contribution to his niece’s future development as scarcely likely to be worth mentioning.

  Tina turned on Edwina and reproached her with unreasonable venom.

  “There you are, you see!” she exclaimed. “It’s you who’ve caused all the trouble. If Uncle Jervis thought you were any good he’d keep you and you could look after me for years and years, but as you’re no good he’s going to send you away and me to a boarding-school! It’s all your fault, and I hate you, I hate you!”

  Completely ignoring Jervis Errol’s request that she resume her seat, she raced from the room, and it was Edwina who apologised for her conduct to her employer.

  “She doesn’t really mean it, you know.” But the undisguised detestation in her pupil’s fury-choked voice had brought banners of pink to her cheeks. “She is, as I think you pointed out to me the other day, highly strung ... and I’m afraid you’ll have to be patient with her.”

  “Even as you are attempting to be?” with great dryness.

  She flushed still more.

  “I am trying, but I must admit Tina doesn’t make it very easy.”

  He abandoned his peach as if he no longer had any capacity to enjoy it, wiped his fingers fastidiously on his table napkin, and with lowering brows rose from the table.

  . “When that child has ceased behaving like a young tigress you can give her a sharp spank from me,” he said. “And after that you can come and see me in the library.”

  She enquired carefully:

  “Before or after dinner?”

  “Before dinner. I shall expect you about seven o’clock, and there are one or two things I have to say to you.”

  “I—I see.”

  If she felt apprehensive it was not betrayed by her expression, but as she made her way upstairs to the schoolroom her footsteps dragged, as if she was mentally digesting something unpleasant and perturbing, and when she finally reached the schoolroom she wondered whether it wouldn’t be sensible if she just walked in and explained to Tina in a few curt words that she would be leaving almost immediately. She felt so strongly tempted to do so that when she saw Tina sitting sulking in a chair she only just prevented herself from making the crisp utterance.

  And why she prevented herself she was not quite sure ... unless it was her disinclination to leave all this purely creature comfort behind, and get back once more to harsh realities.

  A bed-sitter and cooking over a gas-ring, hoarding shillings for the gas. It was not a prospect that charmed her, and after two weeks of living surrounded by luxury it appalled her.

  Tina’s rage had plainly cooled a little, but she was not in a mood to make overtures, and it was not in her nature to apologise.

  “I hope Uncle Jervis said something nasty to you,” she said spitefully. “He looked as if he might.” Edwina replied without heat.

  “As a matter of fact, your uncle wishes to see me later on in the library. It could be that he means to give me the sack.”

  Instantly Tina’s whole face brightened.

  “In that case, he’s not as angry with me as he seemed,” she speculated. “He’s angry with you.”

  Edwina made a faint shrugging movement with her shoulders. She felt fatalistic and resigned all at once. She also felt that nothing mattered very much ... and that she would be glad when her evening’s ordeal was over.

  Jervis Errol had already changed for dinner when she presented herself at the library door. Although he was dining alone he was wearing a well-cut dinner-jacket, and as always his linen was immaculate. He did not hear Edwina’s first diffident tap at the door, and she had to repeat it. He called out to her to enter.

  “Oh!” he said, when she stood in front of him. “It’s you!”

  He did not immediately rise and offer her a chair, but belatedly he did remember his manners.

  “Sit down.” He indicated a chair on the other side of the fireplace. It was deep and comfortable, and Edwina felt she could relax in it completely if only the opportunity was hers. But the opportunity most definitely was not hers ... not with Jervis Errol’s distinctly cool blue eyes watching her, and a look of dubious good-humour on his shapely mouth.

  He tried, quite obviously, to be affable and urbane.

  “You mustn’t take it to heart if Tina’s often rude to you. She wants me to send you packing ... and at the moment I don’t find it convenient to send you packing.” He reached for an envelope that lay on the desk near to him. “This contains your first month’s full salary,” he explained, “in addition to a small amount over to recompense you for having to deal with a difficult char
ge.” As she looked quite startled he smiled slightly. “Oh, I know you probably don’t feel you’ve earned it, but despite what I said at lunchtime to-day I do think you’ve had rather a thin time here, and I think you have tried to get to grips with my niece’s obstinacy. It may comfort you to know that you’re not the first one who has tried and failed ... not by a long shot. Since I inherited the somewhat thankless task of looking after Tina no fewer than a couple of qualified governesses, a nursery-governess and a nannie-companion have come and gone their way, one housekeeper left me because she couldn’t stomach my niece, and an indignant parlourmaid handed in her notice because Tina tripped her up in the hall and then emptied the contents of the sugar-basin over her while the unfortunate young woman was still sitting in the middle of the floor.”

  “Oh, dear,” Edwina said.

  He smiled in a hard, taut fashion.

  “It was very awkward at the time, because I was expecting guests, and trained parlourmaids are not easy to come by nowadays.”

  Edwina, who lived in a world where people did without trained parlourmaids, attempted to look sympathetic.

  “I’m sure it was very awkward,” she said.

  He regarded her somewhat quizzically.

  “The same can be said about young women like yourself,” he told her. “Nowadays, with so many opportunities open to them, they prefer their independence and straight teaching in a school, or somewhere like that. What made you decide on a position like this?”

  It was the very first time he had displayed the smallest amount of interest in her personally, and she was taken somewhat aback. She answered with the truthfulness that was part of her upbringing and also her nature:

  “I suppose because, as you are already aware, I’m not really qualified to teach in a school. I had a good education and I did consider at one time becoming a teacher, but it never got beyond that. I thought, however, that I could cope quite adequately with someone as young as Tina, and I also wanted to live in. So I was very happy when you decided to employ me.”

  “Very happy?”

  The quizzical look remained in his eyes, and it made her feel slightly embarrassed ... and also abashed.

  “Yes, because I had to have a job and I don’t like living in London, and when I heard that this house was deep in the country I kept my fingers crossed for a week until I had your decision. The young woman at the agency was fairly certain I would be suitable, but apparently you had doubts.”

  “I thought you were a trifle young...”

  “But only yesterday,” she reminded him, “there was some question of my being too old.” He looked amused. “Tina, at any rate, seems to think I’m not young enough to play with her ... and you yourself asked me whether I was capable of coming to terms with a child of her age.”

  “And are you yourself quite certain that you are?”

  “If you have a sufficient amount of confidence in me I’ll—at least try.”

  “Splendid!” To her further surprise he appeared almost relieved. “I don’t mind admitting to you, after to-day’s exhibition at lunch-time, that I had serious doubts about your even considering staying on here. Tina behaved abominably, and I realise that I’m largely to blame. My policy of sparing the rod, and even the occasional hard word, doesn’t appear to be yielding dividends. I don’t like to see the child upset, but I’m afraid I’ll have to take a different line with her in future. So long as you consent to stay here I’ll postpone sending her to school ... but of course she’ll have to go to school eventually. It’s important, however, that when she does do so she should be a little more disciplined than she is at present, otherwise she’ll be expelled before the first term is up.”

  Edwina looked suddenly thoughtful.

  “You haven’t thought of sending her to a day school ... a local school?”

  “There isn’t one nearer than five miles away, and that isn’t one I would choose for her.”

  “But for a year or so ... It might help to break her in.”

  “Meaning you’re no longer very keen to stay on here?” more sharply. “You’ve decided that Tina is rather in the nature of your Waterloo, despite the various advantages that you spoke of just now ... the country, and so forth?”

  Instantly Edwina shook her head, and looked quite perturbed because he had so easily misunderstood her.

  “Oh, no, no, I’m perfectly willing to stay on for as long as you need me—and as long as you think Tina needs me, and will put up with me!—but it did occur to me that a certain amount of disciplined schooling at this age might be good for her. However, as you’re not very keen on the local school, and you naturally wouldn’t want to keep me on and send Tina to school as well—I realise that it wasn’t a very practical suggestion. If you were married, of course, it would be different.”

  “But I’m not married,” he said, and sat staring at her somewhat strangely.

  “No, I—it was a silly thing to say, wasn’t it?”

  “It was, unless you suspect me of having a wife hidden away somewhere.”

  She flushed brilliantly.

  “Of course I don’t do anything of the kind. I was merely remembering that ... well, Tina seemed to think you might be contemplating marriage before very long.”

  He smiled as if he was suddenly very much amused.

  “Marsha Fleming? Wait until you see Marsha! Tina may be inclined to worship at her shrine, but I doubt very much whether Marsha would make the kind of ‘mother’ Tina is so anxious to possess. At the moment she gives the child expensive presents, and I believe she really does go out of her way to be pleasant to the child, but I happen to be well aware that Miss Fleming considers boarding-schools the only answer where difficult eight-year-olds are concerned. However, since both you and Tina seem anxious to marry me off to her as soon as possible, I might oblige.” He showed her his hard and beautifully even white teeth as he smiled. “You never know! Even I might find her completely irresistible in the end!”

  Edwina lowered her eyes and felt acutely embarrassed. She realised that it might have been wiser if she had left Marsha Fleming’s name out of it.

  “I’m sorry if I appeared to be interfering in your affairs, Mr. Errol,” she said.

  He dismissed the idea with an amused wave of his hand.

  “Forget it. If people interfere in my affairs I know, at least, that something about me concerns them ... and in this particular instance I accept it that your concern is all for Tina, my small but wayward niece. You are not so badly repelled by her behaviour—and that childish ‘I hate you, I hate you!’ of hers—that you feel impelled to hand me your notice. You will see what you can do with her for another month or so, at least?”

  “If you wish it,” she answered with a return of her primness.

  He sighed unexpectedly.

  “I’m not quite sure what I wish, but I’m going to be away for a week, and possibly a fortnight, and I’d like to think while I’m away that you consider yourself in charge here ... where Tina is concerned, at any rate. You won’t, while I’m away, hand her over to the housekeeper and telephone me, when you reach London, demanding compensation for having been left to cope with her?”

  Edwina was quite shocked by the suggestion.

  “Of course not,” she replied.

  He shrugged his shoulders slightly.

  “Well, the parlourmaid claimed damages for a ruined dress when she sat down unexpectedly in the hall and the contents of the tea-tray more or less filled her lap, and one of the other governesses—the nursery-governess—said her nerves were so badly shaken after a few weeks of my niece that she would have to postpone looking for another job until her equilibrium had steadied itself. And that meant a consoling cheque to see her through the unemployed period. At the moment you are not fully aware of Tina’s potentialities, but you could be in the same sort of situation by the time I return from London. You don’t think you’re taking on too much?”

  “Of course not.”

  Edwina looked aston
ished that he should ask. And the one thing she was certain about was that, however badly Tina behaved in his absence, she would not try to blackmail him on his return.

  “You’re absolutely confident that you can survive until I get back, and without my support behind you?”

  “Absolutely confident.”

  A tiny, faintly surprised smile turned the corners of Edwina’s shapely mouth upwards in a most attractive manner while she wondered that he should demand such an assurance.

  “Very well.” He helped himself to a cigarette from the cedarwood box on his desk, fit it, frowned over it for a moment, and then stood up and paced about the room. “So long as you’re really confident.”

  “Of course I am.”

  Out of the tail of her eye she had been following his somewhat restless movements—with his long limbs and lithe build there was something pantherish in the way he walked about in a confined space, and with his sleek dark head bent his attitude was one of concentration and brooding. Suddenly he looked full at her. She had just caught sight of a photograph on another desk over by the window, and although she was sure it had not been there when he interviewed her immediately after her arrival at Melincourt she wanted most desperately to have a good look at it.

  It was the photograph—obviously taken by what is known as a society photographer—of a young woman with a lot of light blonde hair, and from the little that Edwina could see of her at that somewhat awkward angle a pair of arresting, and vaguely insolent eyes. Eyes that were full of meaning as they looked forth from the silver frame that surrounded them.

  “Well, I hope you know what you’re talking about.” His somewhat sober expression vanished, and he showed her once again those excellent, well-cared-for teeth of his. “And I hope you know how to defend yourself!”

  He dismissed her shortly after that, and she returned upstairs to the wing she shared with Tina, her charge, and found the latter in a somewhat brighter humour, but a little too addicted to smiling mysteriously behind her hands—particularly when they had their supper together—to fill a governess’s heart with pure, unalloyed hope for the peacefulness and harmoniousness of the future.