by Susan Barrie
“It’s early yet! I was going to ask you whether you’d seen the rose-garden by moonlight, Miss Sands. If you haven’t, I was going to suggest that I show it to you,” and there was a spark of clear, cold defiance in his eyes as he met his brother’s look.
Jervis crushed the idea almost mercilessly.
“Miss Sands has a job to do upstairs,” he said. “She is not here to provide distractions for visitors to the house.”
When they reached the schoolroom Tina exclaimed a little solemnly:
“Uncle Jervis was cross to-night, wasn’t he? Do you think he was really cross with us, or do you think he was cross about something else?”
Which proved to Edwina that she was shrewd enough in her way. And it was a question she found impossible to answer, for she was by no means certain herself what had caused the master of the house’s peevish mood. For a secretly engaged man he had been very peevish.
In the morning the housemaid who looked after their rooms brought her a note from him, which ran:
Come down to the library as soon as you’ve finished your breakfast. Don’t bring Tina. Set her a task that will keep her occupied. J. E.
Setting Tina a task that would keep her occupied while no one else was in the room to supervise her was not the simplest thing in the world, particularly when Tina herself was curious because she had seen the note handed over. But she stood in sufficient awe of her uncle to understand perfectly that if he did not wish to see her, too, in the library it actually meant that he did not wish to see her. Edwina managed to make it clear to her that the best thing she could do was apply herself diligently to one of her exercise books, and she went off hurriedly at last to ascertain what it was that was required of her ... or to receive some indication that she was guilty of a minor—she hoped it couldn’t possibly be major—transgression.
It was a beautiful morning, and out of doors the gardens were a blaze of colour under a hot June sky, and she wished very much that instead of making her way to the library she was merely sauntering out for a breath of morning air after her well-served breakfast of grapefruit, toast and marmalade. But since she might be on the mat in a matter of minutes now she slightly squared her shoulders and set her jaw and hoped her eyes looked straightforward and innocent as she knocked on the solid oak library door.
She was wearing a well-washed linen dress of palest yellow, and she hoped her employer wouldn’t consider her appearance too casual. If she had had a lengthier warning and more time she would have changed into one of her semi-uniform type dresses in restrained navy-blue, with touches of white at the neck and cuffs ... but she simply hadn’t had time. The note had said:
“as soon as you’ve finished your breakfast...”
She felt her heart hammering as she tapped on the library door. Errol’s voice from within called out to her to “Come in.” Greatly to her relief—but considerably to her surprise—he was smiling at her from behind his roll-topped desk when she entered.
He stood up at once and came round the desk to greet her.
“Good morning, Miss Sands ... Edwina! You really do look like the spirit of the morning in that dress!” He crinkled his eyes at her. “Haven’t I said something like that to you before?”
She shook her head.
“Then I must have let the opportunity slip past me. Or maybe you haven’t worn yellow before. You really ought to wear it all the time, it becomes you so admirably. But that’s because of your hair and your eyes, of course.”
She flushed in a wildly becoming way.
“Th-thank you, Mr. Errol,” she stammered. “I was afraid you would think I ought to be wearing something rather different, something to indicate that I’m a governess.”
He looked completely astounded.
“Good heavens, no! Why should you? You’re an employee here, not a slave ... and I also hope you’re becoming a fast, firm friend of Tina’s. It has pleased me very much to observe, since I returned from London and she went out of her way to make your life a misery, that there appears to be a bond developing between you. She’s more eager to stay with you than she is to go off with anyone else ... even me,” grinning with assumed ruefulness. “And that in itself pleases me enormously! I’ve always thought that Tina needed to be closely attached to a member of her own sex ... and you, apparently, are that member!”
The wild rose colour remained high on Edwina’s cheekbones, but although she acknowledged the compliment she couldn’t help feeling that something was wrong somewhere ... or, at any rate, it was not quite right. If Tina needed a woman in her life to whom she could become closely attached surely it ought to be her future stepmother ... and as, not so long ago, it had been the future stepmother, and was now apparently the governess, why was Mr. Errol so delighted and able to be so enthusiastic when it meant that his prospective bride was being unfairly treated and, at the very least, he should object?
She felt certain that Miss Fleming herself would object very strongly... and not without reason.
She murmured something that sounded like, “You’re very kind, Mr. Errol, but it’s simply because I’m with her so much that Tina has decided it’s in her own best interests to be on good terms with me,” and then was further surprised because he smiled broadly and declared with unmistakable conviction:
“Nonsense! You undervalue yourself, Edwina ... or else you’re simply deceiving yourself. But as Tina is really a very normal little girl, with entirely normal reactions, it’s not in the least strange that she’s taken to you in a big way at last. It’s perfectly understandable!”
He went back to his desk, opened a drawer and removed a bunch of keys, and then nodded in the direction of the door.
“Come along,” he said. “I’ve something to show you.”
“To show me?”
“Yes. But I’m now allowing you three guesses beforehand, because I don’t think you’d ever guess.”
“Is it something to do with Tina?”
“It concerns Tina, and it also concerns you.” Feeling completely mystified, she followed him out of the library, and along the thickly carpeted corridor which led to the library, and thence to a side entrance.
As they stepped out into the sunshine the sheer beauty of Melincourt and its setting caught at Edwina ... the shaven lawns, the piled-up woods beyond the lawns, the brilliant flower borders, the lake. And the house itself, with its timeworn terrace steps, and its mellowed greyness, was most pleasing as she turned to look back at it.
As they stood together on the terrace steps—Errol in a Cambridge blue silk shirt that was open at the neck, and with his dark hair gleaming like a blackbird’s plumage in the sunlight—Edwina realised for the first time that he was very much taller than she was, and the top of her warm brown head only reached to the breast pocket of his shirt. She found herself glancing instinctively at that breast-pocket, and then upwards at the strong dark line of his jaw and his sun-tanned, smoothly shaven face. There were one or two silvery hairs in the night darkness at his temples, and they lent him a kind of distinction ... and his well-cut features were also distinctively cut, and his eyes—his eyes as they looked down at her were almost disturbingly blue.
She found herself thinking of a bed of delphiniums, and then of blue seas under an unclouded sky. And after an exchange of glances there was slight interference with her breathing.
“Well?” he said, smiling at her. “Aren’t you curious?”
She pretended that she was very curious, and said so ... but actually she was conscious of dismay striking at the very roots of her being. She was dismayed because in a short while she would have left here, and he would be married to Marsha. It would be Marsha who viewed the estate with him from the elevation of the terrace steps, and because a wife has rights and does not need to pretend she would do it with her hand companionably linked in her husband’s arm, and on a brilliant morning such as this the two of them would be able to claim that they hadn’t a care in the world.
They would be two peop
le in love, married, and on top of the world!
And the thing that worried Edwina more than anything else was the overpowering urge she suddenly experienced not to link her hand in her companion’s arm, but to touch it—just for a moment.
In order not to do so she clasped her hands behind her back, and he looked down at her again and smiled.
“What an absurdly small creature you are,” he observed. “How tall are you? Five feet?”
“Five feet two inches,” she answered breathlessly.
“Just the height to reach to a tall man’s heart,” he replied lightheartedly, and apparently inconsequentially. He closed a warm brown hand round her bare forearm. “Mind you don’t slip. Some of these stones are a little bit loose ... I’ll have to have them seen to.”
It really was an extraordinarily brilliant morning, and there appeared to be no one about save their two selves. Later Marsha would ensconce herself on the terrace in a comfortable long wicker chair, and Candy Shaw would establish herself beside her, with Jeremy Errol somewhere in attendance. But for the moment they were upstairs in their rooms—Edwina reflected that Miss Fleming was probably having breakfast in bed—and there wasn’t even a gardener hoeing the borders to witness the master of Melincourt and his niece’s governess making their way through the rose-garden, through the high-walled flower-garden and kitchen-garden, to the stables that were quite a way from the house, and at that hour of the morning represented a hive of industry because Bennett, the groom, and his assistant were busily feeding and watering the horses, and cleaning out their stalls.
Bennett looked up approvingly as his employer drew near, with the young woman who had surprised him by staying on after a recent most unpleasant ordeal, and touched his cap politely to them both.
“Good morning, sir,” he said. “If you’re thinking of taking Marquis out this morning I wouldn’t recommend it. That fetlock of his is still giving a bit of trouble. Another twenty-four hours and it should be safe to risk it.”
Errol replied that he had no intention of taking Marquis out that morning, but he was on his way to the room above the stables to show something that it contained to Miss Sands. Bennett looked thoughtful for a moment, and then nodded his head, grinning a little.
“Ah, yes,” he said. “Doing very nicely they are. But don’t let the young lady get too near. Bimbo might object.”
“I’ll take every care of the young lady, Bennett,” Jervis replied, and also smiled slightly. He inserted his key in the lock of the door that opened on to a narrow steep staircase leading up to the unoccupied flat above the stables, and after apologising mounted the stairs ahead of Edwina and opened the door of the living-room. He looked round it cautiously before permitting Edwina to enter, and then signalled that it was perfectly all right.
“Bimbo isn’t here,” he said. “But Strawberry is ... and there is the remains of her litter.”
Edwina heard the one word, ‘litter,’ and then moved forward impetuously to inspect the contents of the basket. Strawberry had been missing from the house for a week, and she had been very much concerned about her disappearance. No one seemed to know what had become of her, and while suspecting that she had been in an interesting condition for several weeks she had been unable to confirm her diagnosis because of a certain shyness which she felt when it came to discussing the matter with anyone who might prove more knowledgeable.
But now, it transpired, Strawberry had been in good hands after all, and her accouchement had been made as comfortable as possible by Bennett and his underling, who had sat up all night to assist in her delivery. Jervis explained that originally there had been three pups, but two had died. Now there was only one, a small black scrap so unlike Strawberry herself that it was quite astonishing she had produced it. Until, as Jervis did with that same small, amused smile of his, the likeness to Bimbo was pointed out, and the complete family relationship was somewhat surprisingly established.
Nevertheless, as she knelt beside the basket Edwina impulsively offered the obvious comment:
“But Strawberry is a corgi, and Bimbo...!”
“Exactly.” Jervis perched on the arm of a tumble-down couch and watched her in amusement. “But love is no respecter of pedigrees, and judging by results Strawberry didn’t think much of them, either. She has had litters before that have somewhat surprised us, but this is the most surprising. Don’t you think she looks as if she’s terribly proud of her offspring just the same?”
“I do.” Edwina was dying to handle the puppy, but she wondered whether Strawberry would object. In addition to the maternal pride in her eyes there was a certain amount of apprehension, particularly as Edwina was not as well known to her as Jervis. “Do you think she’d mind if I picked it up—?”
“Not seriously, and Strawberry’s a gentle soul. But perhaps I’d better perform the operation for you.”
He handed the puppy over to Edwina, and she sat on the couch which had once formed part of the stable flat’s furnishings and delightedly stroked it and allowed it to nuzzle close in to her neck. She had never actually owned a puppy of her own, and the sensation that communicated itself to the heart of her being as a result of holding this one was pure pleasure. She wanted to go on holding it, and feeling the warm weight of it against her chest, and although it was the most extraordinary-looking animal she had ever seen it made not the smallest amount of difference to the intense admiration she felt for it.
“I honestly believe it will look like Strawberry one day,” she said. “At the moment it’s difficult to be one hundred per cent certain, but certainly it’s not really a bit like Bimbo—”
“Apart from its colour.”
“Yes, it’s as black as Bimbo—”
“And as ungainly.”
Instantly Edwina defended the puppy’s peculiar outline.
“Oh, no, it’s just that it’s rather large ... and Bimbo’s rather on the large side, isn’t he?” Her intrigued eyes peeped up at him for a moment through a soft cascade of warm brown hair that had fallen forward across her forehead. She thrust it back with a slender hand. “I’m afraid I’m still rather afraid of Bimbo. You see,” she admitted shyly, “I’m not really used to dogs.”
“Or horses.”
“Certainly not horses.”
He came and sat beside her on the settee, playing with one of the puppy’s ears.
“I’ve told you I can cure you of that,” he said quietly. “In fact, I guarantee to teach you to ride in a very short space of time. Are you willing to let me prove that I’m not making an idle boast?”
He saw a look dart into her eyes which told him she was remembering the night she had been locked up in the stables. It was a slightly hunted look. With surprising sympathy he took one of her hands and held it.
“Yes, even though you had that bad experience, and are understandably more loath than ever to find yourself on the back of a horse, I can still teach you,” he urged. “I want to teach you, Edwina. It would be good for you to ride.”
“But why?” she faltered. “If it’s a question of teaching someone to ride in order that they can accompany Tina on her rides...”
“It’s not,” he assured her, with peculiar emphasis. “It’s simply that I feel—loving the country as you obviously do—that you’re missing something.”
His dark blue, straight-gazing eyes were looking hard at her, and she found herself forced to look away. Her glance fastened on the rest of the contents of the low-ceilinged living-room, and she heard herself say rather foolishly that the flat above the stables could be very cosy if only someone with an eye to decoration took it over. She herself, for example, would have a fitted carpet instead of linoleum and some flowery chintz curtains at the window...
“Yes, I daresay you would,” Jervis agreed with her a little drily. “But we are not discussing or even entering into the possibilities of this flat as living quarters. The last time it was occupied was several years ago, and you wouldn’t get Bennett taking up his residence here f
or any consideration. He much prefers one of the lodges. However, that is all beside the point. Will you allow me to give you riding lessons?”
Her nervous glance met his again, and then shied away.
“If you absolutely insist, of course. But I’d prefer it if you didn’t insist.”
“I’m going to insist.”
She shook her head at him.
“I simply can’t think why.” Then she looked down quickly at the puppy, that was slumbering contentedly in her arms, while Strawberry continued to raise no objection, and buried her face against it.
“Why didn’t you let Tina see the puppy first?” she asked. “After all, Strawberry is really her dog.”
“And the puppy will be hers also before long ... or yours!”
Delightedly she enquired:
“Do you mean that I can really have it?”
“If you want it.”
“Of course I want it.” The lovely colour had completely flooded her face again, and he seemed fascinated by the tendency of her rich cloud of hair to veil her eyes, with their eager warm lights. “I can’t think of anything I’d like more than to have a dog of my own ... But of course,” she added swiftly, “I do realise that it would really be Tina’s. After all, she lives here, and I—I don’t.”
“You can live here for as long as you wish to live here,” he told her somewhat surprisingly.
She had a mental picture of the engagement ring Marsha Fleming had shown her only the day before, and she wondered whether his, as yet, unacknowledged fiancée would entirely approve this offer.
“I ... it’s very good of you to say that, Mr. Errol,” she said.
“But you’re not at all sure that you wish to commit yourself as to how long you’d like to remain here, is that it, Miss Sands?” he enquired.
