The Spotted Plume

by Yvonne Whittal

  Jennifer tried to shut Hunter Maynard out of her thoughts, but she found it virtually impossible. He was not a man one could forget, not even after the briefest meeting, and the impact he had made on her that day had been something quite shattering. Within the space of a few hours she had discovered certain elements in her character which were quite shocking. Her calm confidence had very nearly disintegrated in the fiery furnace of an anger she had never dreamed herself capable of experiencing, and it was an anger which had driven her to the verge of a violence which she had imagined totally alien to her nature.

  'Oh, damn the man!' she muttered eventually when she climbed into bed and switched off the light.

  Her first night at Vogelsvlei was a restless one, and she could not blame it entirely on the strangeness of her surroundings, and neither could she blame Alice Maynard, who had called her only once during the night. It was Hunter's intensely blue and ferocious eyes which haunted her persistently through the night until she had grave doubts about her decision to accept this post in the Maynard home. It was too late now to turn back, and going forward was the only way out of this situation which she had so innocently landed herself in.

  Jennifer awoke to a curious booming sound echoing across the silent veld the following morning, and it was only after questioning Mrs Maynard that she discovered it was the sound made by the male ostrich when courting his female, or when challenging an interfering male in the adjoining camp. This information made Jennifer intensely curious to know more about these strange birds, but it would have to wait until she had a free moment to explore the farm, she decided regretfully.

  The breakfast-room was spacious and sunny, and Jennifer could not help but admire the beautifully preserved yellowwood table with the stinkwood base. She ran the tips of her slender fingers lightly and appreciatively over the polished surface, but when she happened to look up she found Hunter observing her intently from beneath frowning dark brows.

  'You have some magnificent pieces of furniture in your home,' she commented with selfconscious sincerity as she lowered her trembling hand on to her lap beneath the table. Why she should feel guilty at being caught admiring one of the Maynard family's possessions, she had no idea, and Hunter's reply did not exactly make her feel any better.

  'They are all selective and expensive items gathered over the years,' he said with a suggestion of derisive mockery in his voice.

  'My late husband's father had several pieces imported from Europe during those years when the market price for ostrich feathers rocketed so high,' Alice Maynard explained, her warm, unpretentious manner making Jennifer feel slightly more at ease. 'This table, however, was bought almost forty years ago when my husband and I went down to Knysna on our honeymoon.'

  'One would never think this table is as old as that,' Jennifer remarked in surprise.

  'That's because my mother looks after each item of furniture as if it were her most treasured possession,' Hunter explained, and again there was that hint of mockery in his voice.

  'I happen to love wood, and I mean any kind of wood,' Alice Maynard stated almost defensively.

  'I know, Mother.' One large hand reached out across the table to clasp Alice's in a surprisingly gentle manner. 'It's a pity not everyone shares your passion for the items nature has provided us with.'

  He smiled at his mother, and it was a smile that did something extraordinary to Jennifer's insides. The cold, glittering hardness in his eyes was replaced by a tender warmth, and the harshly chiselled mouth assumed a more humane appearance. The transformation was brief but incredible, and Jennifer hated to think what would happen to her one day should Hunter Maynard deign to smile at her in that way.

  She brushed aside this disturbing thought with some urgency, and concentrated instead on her breakfast of ostrich egg which had been scrambled and richly spiced, but she could not deny that she was becoming increasingly conscious of the man seated at the head of the table. He looked tough and incredibly masculine in khaki pants and short-sleeved bush jacket, and beneath her lowered lashes she observed the fine dark hair on his muscled forearms, which were as deeply tanned as his rugged features. She was convinced that he was as strong as an ox, judging by the width of his shoulders and the size of his hands, and she dreaded to think of what might happen if he were ever driven to violence. She shuddered inwardly at this frightening image flashing across her mind, and poured their coffee at Alice Maynard's request. Hunter declined, however, and left the breakfast-room to go out and inspect the new fencing he was having erected somewhere on the farm.

  From her wheelchair, Alice Maynard issued instructions to the servants and checked the supplies, but she was not content for long with being confined to the house, and Jennifer watched over her carefully as she wheeled herself out on to the verandah to survey the garden and the fields beyond it. It was a warm morning, and Jennifer could not object to Mrs Maynard's desire to spend it out on the spacious verandah with its trellised railings and carved wooden pillars which had been painted a cool white. Bright yellow daffodils and crimson roses provided a vivid splash of colour at the bottom end of the sunlit garden, and Jennifer breathed deeply on the fresh country air. The peaceful silence was disturbed only by the birdsong in the trees, and the occasional booming which emerged from a male ostrich to reverberate across the veld, and, as Jennifer lowered herself into a cane chair, she could not help but envy Alice Maynard for being able to call this peaceful haven her home.

  Hunter arrived just as tea was brought out on to the verandah, and the cane chair creaked protestingly beneath his weight when he seated himself a little distance from Jennifer. She poured their tea, and listened absently to the conversation he was having with his mother, but their voices ceased abruptly some minutes later when a red sports car zoomed up the drive and came to a gravel-crunching halt close to the verandah.

  A young girl, with long black hair and a trim, curvaceous figure leapt from the car and tripped buoyantly up the steps towards them. She was young, probably twenty, Jennifer decided as her admiring glance lingered on the liquid-brown eyes, and the sensuously curved crimson mouth which had parted in a flashing smile which was directed solely at Hunter, who sat observing her with a faintly humorous smile curving his mouth.

  'I'm just in time for tea, it seems,' her lilting voice exclaimed as she pulled up a chair and seated herself beside Hunter, and only then did her glance shift towards Alice Maynard. 'It's so nice to see you home again, Mrs Maynard,' she remarked sweetly, but Jennifer sensed a hint of insincerity in her voice, and wondered why.

  'Thank you, Carla,' Alice Maynard replied and, gesturing towards the silent girl in the white, clinical overall who was seated close beside her, she said: 'May I introduce Sister Jennifer Casey? Jennifer, this is Carla von Brandis. Her father farms not far from here.'

  The two girls acknowledged each other politely, but Jennifer had a peculiar feeling that she was being critically examined for some reason she had yet to discover.

  'Forgive me if I'm wrong,' Carla said, accepting a cup of tea from Jennifer, and directing her liquid gaze at Hunter, 'but I was under the impression that you were acquiring the services of an older nurse.'

  His mouth twisted cynically, and that hard blue gaze sliced through Jennifer as he said: 'I was under that same impression, but my dear aunt in Cape Town obviously decided differently.'

  'And I'm very glad she did,' Alice Maynard interjected sharply.

  During the brief silence which followed Alice's statement Jennifer sensed a certain animosity between her patient and this young girl with the flowing dark hair and the flashing eyes beneath sweeping dark brows. It puzzled her, but she did not dwell on it when Carla turned to her with an engaging smile on her lips.

  'Forgive me, Sister Casey, I didn't intend my remark to sound rude.'

  'I was not offended, Miss von Brandis,' Jennifer replied with her usual calm, but she could not resist darting a glance in Hunter's direction as she added: 'I'm well aware of the fact that I'm not at all w
hat Mr Maynard had hoped I'd be.'

  Carla was quick to notice the hostile glance Hunter shot in Jennifer's direction, and she grasped the situation with remarkable swiftness.

  'Darling, have you been boorish to Sister Casey?' she demanded of Hunter in that lilting, humorous voice which she seemed to reserve for him alone.

  'Drink your tea,' he answered abruptly, rising to his feet to tower over them all. 'I have something to show you.'

  Carla pouted prettily. 'You're a bully, Hunter, and I don't know why I put up with you.'

  'Are you coming or aren't you?' he demanded curtly, turning towards the steps leading off the verandah.

  'I'm coming,' Carla replied, hastily swallowing down the remainder of her tea and getting to her feet. 'See you later,' she flung the words over her shoulder and, with her hands clinging to Hunter's arm, they disappeared round the side of the house.

  'She's beautiful,' Jennifer could not help remarking towards Mrs Maynard.

  'And spoilt,' Alice Maynard added tersely. 'I've known her since she was a child of six, and I can't say that I've ever really taken a fancy to her.'

  'Your son seems to be fond of her,' Jennifer said, recalling the look in his eyes when Carla had arrived.

  'She's the only girl he's been able to tolerate since—'

  Alice stopped abruptly, shaking her grey head and gesturing distastefully. 'Pour me another cup of tea, dear, and let's talk about pleasanter things.'

  Jennifer did as she was told, but she was left to wonder what, exactly, Alice Maynard had been about to say. Carla von Brandis was the only girl Hunter had been able to tolerate since—since what? Various possibilities came to mind, but Jennifer decided finally that it would be safer not to speculate about something which was absolutely no concern of hers.

  Carla returned to the house with Hunter and stayed to lunch, but she left shortly after Jennifer had taken Mrs Maynard to her room and, affected by the country air, Jennifer went up to her own room to rest for a while.

  Later that afternoon two more visitors arrived at Vogelsvlei, and Jennifer was introduced to Kate Maynard and her son Stanley. Kate was a thin, gaunt-looking woman, but she had a friendly face and a ready smile. Her son Stanley was tall, lean, and dark, with hungry-looking grey eyes, and they seemed to seek out Jennifer at every turn. She was, at first, not sure whether to feel flattered or embarrassed, but she finally settled for ignoring him as much as possible.

  Agnes served tea and cream scones on the wide, cool verandah, and, when Alice and Kate became involved in a family discussion, Jennifer found that she could no longer ignore Stanley.

  'Tell me, Jennifer,' he began with an easy familiarity as he pulled his chair closer to hers, 'have you ever been on an ostrich farm before?'

  'No, never.'

  His hungry glance swept over her once more. 'I don't suppose you've had time as yet to take a look around?'

  'No, I haven't, I'm afraid,' she replied, shaking her head.

  'You should ask Hunter to show you around,' he suggested with a hint of sarcasm in his voice which startled her. 'There isn't a thing about ostrich farming he couldn't tell you.'

  'I wouldn't dream of encroaching on Mr Maynard's time in that way, and besides…' She glanced quickly at the man in question, but his attention was fortunately elsewhere, and she added in a lowered voice, 'I'm kept much too busy.'

  'Surely you have a little time to yourself during the day?' Stanley demanded, the indignant expression on his face bringing a smile to her lips.

  'You forget, perhaps, Mr Maynard, that I only arrived here yesterday.'

  'Yes, of course,' he acknowledged, 'and I'd be honoured if you would call me Stanley. You can reserve the "Mr Maynard" for Hunter, if you wish.'

  She looked up suddenly to find Hunter's hostile blue gaze resting on her and, for some inexplicable reason, she smiled at the man beside her with considerably more warmth than she had originally intended. 'Thank you… Stanley.'

  Encouraged, Stanley said: 'I hope you'll accept my invitation to come out to Featherstone with me some day soon?'

  Jennifer hesitated, but only briefly. 'I'd like that very much.'

  Stanley Maynard was really quite harmless, she decided afterwards, but throughout the remainder of their conversation she was given the distinct impression that there was a great deal of animosity between the two cousins, and she could not quite make up her mind who or what was to blame for it. It could, of course, be jealousy, but she did not like to dwell on the thought.

  At dinner that evening Jennifer discovered that Nellie had prepared marinated ostrich steak with mushroom sauce and fresh young vegetables.

  'It's Nellie's speciality,' Alice Maynard explained, cutting into her steak with an enthusiasm Jennifer could not quite match at that moment.

  She eyed the steak on her plate rather dubiously, but when she glimpsed the mocking expression in Hunter's eyes as he observed her she thrust aside her doubts and tasted it.

  The steak was tender, succulent, and slightly sweet, and when she looked up eventually to find two pairs of eyes observing her, she smiled selfconsciously and murmured appreciatively, 'It's delicious.'

  A smile of satisfaction lit up Alice Maynard's face, but Hunter did not quite lose his mocking expression as Jennifer went on to enjoy her dinner.

  Later that evening, when Jennifer left Mrs Maynard's room to go up to her own, she encountered Hunter in the hall, but instead of allowing her to go on up the stairs, he barred her way.

  'You found my cousin entertaining?' he asked cynically.

  'He was friendly and polite,' she replied awkwardly, and she could have added, 'Which is more than I can say for you,' but she decided against it.

  'Stanley is friendly and polite to anything that happens to wear a skirt,' Hunter remarked derisively. 'I should warn you, though, he's unreliable, and not much of a financial catch.'

  Jennifer stiffened at once, and a coldness seeped into her voice. 'Thanks for the warning, but it's quite unnecessary.'

  'Do you think so?' he mocked her.

  'I don't merely think so, I know it.'

  'You're hoping to land a bigger fish, then?'

  His cynicism and his mockery once more stirred up the flame of her anger, but she suppressed it with the greatest difficulty to ask, 'What makes you so sure, Mr Maynard, that I'm out to get myself a man?'

  'Catching some poor sap, and dangling him on a line is woman's whole existence,' he told her derisively.

  'You have a poor opinion of women in general, Mr Maynard,' she informed him, bristling with fury, 'or is that solely your opinion of me?'

  'Women are all the same,' he replied harshly, his disparaging glance raking over her until her body grew taut with dislike. 'They think that once they have their claws hooked into a man they can do with him as they please.'

  'Has Miss von Brandis led you to the stage where she can do with you as she pleases?'

  There was an explosive silence that left her wondering if she had not gone too far, then he said coldly, 'Kindly leave Carla out of this discussion, Sister Casey.'

  Subdued, but not defeated, Jennifer said: 'Am I to understand that your distorted opinion of women doesn't include Miss von Brandis?'

  'Carla is a very special girl,' he replied, his eyes hooded.

  'So it seems.'

  A cynical smile played about that harsh mouth of his. 'Do I detect a note of sarcasm in your voice, Sister Casey?'

  'It was not my intention to be sarcastic, Mr Maynard,' she assured him coldly. 'Now, if you'll excuse me, I'd like to go up to my room.'

  It looked for a moment as if he were going to ignore her request, then he stood aside, and she mounted the stairs as quickly as she could, but she could feel his eyes boring into her back until she was out of his sight.

  He was an impossible man, she decided when she reached the seclusion of her room. She had sworn to stay out of his way as much as possible, but she realised now that it was virtually impossible to avoid someone while living und
er the same roof with them, and heaven only knew how she was going to tolerate Hunter Maynard during the weeks to follow.

  'For goodness' sake, child!' Alice Maynard exclaimed one morning when Jennifer had settled her comfortably on the verandah. 'I shall be perfectly all right here with my crocheting, and there must be something you'd rather do than to sit here with me.'

  Jennifer looked a little dubious at first, but then she smiled and nodded. 'I always enjoy keeping you company, but perhaps I'll go for a short stroll.'

  'That's a good idea,' Alice agreed goodnaturedly. 'It will be quite some time before Agnes brings our tea.'

  After making sure that her patient had everything she required, Jennifer took a walk down to the camps nearest to the house, and it was there that she met Danny. He was inspecting the bales of dry lucerne which had been dropped off in the camps, and when he saw Jennifer approaching he respectfully raised his wide-brimmed felt hat.

  'Dag, nonnie,' he smiled, and Jennifer's own lips curved into a smile as she walked up to him.

  'Good morning, Danny,' she returned his greeting.

  There was a barrier of awkwardness between them as she allowed her glance to stray out across the camps, taking in the quaint inverted V's of the thatched nesting shelters which had been erected for the ostriches, but her curiosity finally broke through Danny's barrier of restraint, and she found him an informative and amusing companion. His English was punctuated with Afrikaans words, and so it came as no surprise to her that he should refer to the male ostrich as a mannetjie, and the female as a wyfie.

  'Why are there only two ostriches in this camp, Danny?' she asked curiously, her eyes lingering on the large birds grazing near the fence.

  'They want to breed, nonnie, and then the mannetjie is very kwaai,' he explained. 'With that sharp nail on his big toe he can kill another mannetjie, or he could be killed himself.'