Ward of Lucifer

by Mary Burchell

  "Forgive my hollow laughter," said Paul Cantlin's voice, with a good deal of genuine amusement in it. "But the spectacle of Justin Yorke as a misunderstood saint is one which fills me with mingled amusement and horror."

  "If you keep on teasing me like this, I shall ring off,"

  Norma warned him. At which he laughed contritely and said: "No, don't do that. And I won't tease you any more.

  I'm glad if you find the guardian bearable, after all, and long may he continue so. Only, Norma" suddenly his tone became quite serious" don't take everything he does and says at its face value. I don't want to make any sort of trouble in your happy home, but well, just remember that, will you?"

  "All right. Of course I'll remember it," she promised a little crossly. "And, anyway, it was very kind of you

  to ring up," she added more softly, remembering how glad she had been when he made his friendly offer.

  "That's all right. I was really a bit anxious about you. Oh, and, by the way, Xenia has promised to call during the next day or two and to say we want you here for the afternoon some time soon. After that, I hope your guardian will consider I know you well enough to run you around in the car a bit."

  "I'm sure he will," declared Norma cheerfully. "That will be lovely. And thank you so much."

  Then they said good-bye to each other, and Norma hung up the receiver. Only then did she remember just how her guardian had looked when she had gone out of the dining-room to take her call, and she was aware of deliberately bracing herself before she went to join him in the drawing-room.

  Lights had been lit, and the great red damask curtains drawn across the windows. He was leaning back in a chair reading, and coffee had been set out near him on a low coffee table, but none had been poured out.

  As she came across the room to him, he looked up and said quite pleasantly: "Would you like to pour our coffee, Norma?" And then, as she proceeded to do so, he added, equally pleasantly: "Who was your caller?"

  "Paul Cantlin."

  "Oh? What did he want?"

  "Oh, just to know that I was all right and" "But I thought he brought you here personally?" "Yes at least, he brought me as far as the gates." "I see. He thought some unfortunate adventure might have befallen you in the drive?"

  "Oh, no. He"

  "No milk in my coffee, please, Norma. Yes go on." "Well, he knew that I was coming here for the first time and that -II felt a little nervous and anxious, and he promised to ring up this evening."

  "Feeling that, as an old friend of half an hour's standing, he would give you a reassuring impression?" suggested her guardian, as he accepted his coffee from her not entirely steady hand.

  For a moment, Norma felt unreasonably guilty. Then she remembered that Paul's impulse and her own had been completely natural. And, raising her eyes, she met her guardian's gaze with curiously innocent directness.

  "Do you mind him ringing me up?"

  Justin Yorbe stirred his coffee, and considered that with cool impartiality.

  "Well, my dear, I don't wish to play the heavy. guardian towards you, but I prefer not to have you forming casual friendships on quite such an informal basis. Paul Cantlin is an idle and meretricious young man. I don't wish him to suppose that he has the entree to Bishop stone, simply because he obliged you

  by giving you a lift in that ridiculous little converted hip-bath which he calls a car. However, I don't want to make any real point of it. He should be as easy to drop as to pick up."

  "But II don't specially want to drop him. I rather liked him, "Norma explained earnestly.

  "Did you?" Her guardian smiled faintly and simply left the subject.

  For a bewildered moment or two, Norma considered the possibility of returning to the subject of her friendship with Paul. But her guardian was already coolly talking to her of something eke, explaining one or two interesting points about the district, and mentioning certain places she would probably like to see while she was on holiday.

  To have returned deliberately to the question of whether or not she might continue friendly with Paul would have been to underline the point with quite unnecessary emphasis. By pleasantly ignoring her protest at the idea of "dropping" him, her guardian had deprived her of the chance of pushing matters to a more favourable conclusion, and, at the same time, left his own expressed wishes as the last word on the subject.

  Glancing at him surreptitiously, as he continued to talk to her in his cool, rather beautifully pitched voice, Norma understood for the first time why he made his neighbours uneasy and resentful.

  Then she recalled with satisfaction Paul's promise that his mother would call. Probably she's much more suitable person than Norma herself would know best how to handle the situation. And, on that consoling thought, Norma allowed the subject to rest.

  Remarking that she was probably tired after her long journey, her guardian sent her off to bed comparatively early. There was no question of kissing her good night, and no repetition of any expressed hope that she would feel at home at Bishop stone, or anything of the kind. But, at the same time, Norma was certain that it was genuine concern on her behalf and not a desire to be rid of her presence which prompted him to send her away early.

  There was nothing warm-hearted or affectionate about Justin Yorke, and yet she felt, in some subtle and entirely satisfying way, that he intended to make her his concern. And to be the personal concern of so fascinating a personality was going to be an exciting experience, Norma thought.

  She had come to Bishop stone with a good many fears and misgivings, but, on her first night under her new guardian's roof, she slept the undisturbed sleep of a happy and tranquil ward.

  When she came down to breakfast next morning, she was a little disappointed and dashed to find that her guardian had already breakfasted and gone out.

  "Am I very late?" she asked the servant who brought her coffee.

  "Oh, no, miss." The servant smiled at her rather indulgently, because when Norma opened her dark eyes distressfully, it was natural to want to reassure her. "Nine o'clock is the usual time for breakfast here. But Mr. Yorke was riding out to see about some business at one of his farms, and went away early."

  "Will he be back to lunch?" Norma was not aware that her tone innocently betrayed her eagerness to see her guardian again, but the servant glanced at her with a shade of curious surprise before he said: "I expect so, miss."

  Then he went away, and Norma was left to enjoy her breakfast, and to reflect how pleasant her holiday at Bishop stone was to be, After breakfast, Mrs. Parry came to ask whether she would like to see over the house. The way she put forward the suggestion at first made it sound like a solemn duty, but, at the eagerness with which Norma jumped up and cried: "Oh, Mrs. Parry, how lovely!" she unbent a little, and even looked at Norma with a shade of the same sort of indulgence that had been shown by the servant at breakfast.

  "Have you been here a long time, Mrs. Parry?"

  Norma asked with undisguised interest.

  "Oh, yes, Miss Norma. I came here when I was a girl, before Mr. Yorke's mother came here. That was in the time of Miss Janet's mother, of course."

  "Goodness, Mrs. Parry! How interesting for you!" Mrs. Parry appeared faintly surprised at this view of her duties.

  "It's always interesting to live your life in a fine house, among cultured people," she said primly.

  "Y -yes. I really meant how interesting to know about the different sides of the family. Did you know my Aunt Janet well?"

  "Yes, Miss Norma, of course. At least, that's to say as well as anyone ever knew Miss Janet."

  "She wasn't very easy to know well, was she?"

  "No."

  "I suppose she was a lot older than Mr. Yorke?" "Why, of course. Miss Norma. She was nearly grown up when her mother died. And quite grown up when her father married again. That was largely the trouble, I expect," the housekeeper added, half to herself.

  "You mean she didn't get on with the new wife?"

  "She didn't really get o
n well with her own mother either," Mrs. Parry said thoughtfully. "But then it's difficult to be the daughter of a beautiful and extravagant woman, if you have Miss Janet's temperament, I daresay. And then when her father went and married just such another the second time well, it was hard on Miss Janet. Now you'd better come and see the house, Miss Norma."

  "Oh, but, Mrs. Parry, how interesting! Do go on a bit about the family history first. It's like a book," cried Norma, fascinated by the spectacle of her Aunt Janet being gradually presented as a human being and a girl, at that.

  Mrs. Parry smiled, perhaps faintly flattered by the unusual experience of having someone hang on her every word.

  "If you come with me into the south drawing-room, Miss Norma, I'll show you the portraits, and then you'll understand better," she said.

  And Norma very willingly accompanied her to the long, elegant drawing-room at the back of the house, which, from its blank sheeted appearance, was obviously not often used.

  "It used to be used a lot in the days of Mr. Yorke's father, when there was a great deal of entertaining," Mrs. Parry explained. "But of course it's much too big for everyday use. That's Miss Janet's mother." And she pointed to a three-quarter length portrait hanging over the fireplace.

  "That is?" Norma gazed incredulously at the lovely, gay, frivolous looking creature who had somehow managed to produce Aunt Janet. "But there isn't the least likeness!"

  "There was a slight likeness when Miss Janet was younger, but she was more like her father really. That's her father in the portrait opposite. He was Mr. Justin's father too, of course."

  Norma transferred her attention to the portrait of a commanding, good-looking, grey-haired man, who stared down at her a trifle superciliously. But he had not the remote, fine-drawn look of her guardian, and, on impulse, she said to Mrs. Parry: "I should think he enjoyed having two good-looking, gay wives."

  "I wouldn't put it that way. Miss Norma," exclaimed Mrs. Parry who, indeed, would most certainly not.

  "It sounds as though he had them at the same time."

  Norma laughed.

  "I didn't mean that. I only meant that Aunt Janet couldn't have expected him to marry any other sort of woman. He would have liked them gay and extravagant. I should think he could make the money run, himself."

  "Yes. They got through a lot between them," Mrs.

  Parry admitted, a little grimly. "That's the other Mrs. Yorke, by the window. Just a head of her in pastels, but it was very like her."

  "She has a look of Mr. Yorke," Norma said, earnestly studying the thin, beautiful face with the brilliant blue eyes. "My Mr. Yorke, I mean," she added as an afterthought.

  "She was not much like him in temperament," the housekeeper said thoughtfully. "Frivolous and engaging and a little spiteful, in the way spoilt kittens are spiteful. She had nothing of his" Mrs. Parry paused, searching for the right word. Then it seemed to dawn on her that she was being a trifle indiscreet about a living employer, as well as the dead ones. So she made her face rather blank and said: "She was not such a determined person as Mr. Yorke."

  "Wasn't she" Norma paused, as though inviting Mrs. Parry to go on. But no further disclosures were forthcoming, so Norma prompted her with" And the second Mrs. Yorke and Aunt Janet didn't get on well together?"

  "No, Miss Norma. You see, your Aunt Janet wasn't an extravagant person at all, and she'd seen quite enough of the dangers of reckless extravagance in her own mother's life-time. Mr. Yorke didn't refuse his wife anything. Nor the second one either. There was quite a lot of trouble for a while. Then Miss Janet seemed to grow sick of it all, and she just married quite unexpectedly and went away. He wasn't anyone special. Quite a nice man, but not at all rich."

  "No, I know," Norma said cheerfully. "He was my mother's elder brother. He hadn't a great deal of money. No one ever had in my family." And she laughed light-heartedly.

  Mrs. Parry glanced at her curiously, but her grim face relaxed a little once more when Norma laughed.

  "Sometimes I think perhaps people are happier if they don't have too much money," she said slowly. "Provided they don't have too little either, of course. There was a great deal of money in this family at one time."

  "Yes. They owned Munley Towers, didn't they?" "Who told you that?" asked Mrs. Parry sharply. "Why, Mr. Yorke did. Last night."

  "Did he?" Mrs. Parry seemed unnecessarily astonished. "He doesn't often talk about it."

  "Does he feel very badly about not owning it now?" inquired Norma, rather diffidently, as she remembered her guardian's cold expression when she had inquired innocently about the ownership of Munley Towers.

  "I've no idea. Miss Norma," Mrs. Parry said, in that carefully expressionless way again.

  "When did it pass out of the hands of this family? In Mr. Yorbe's lifetime?"

  "Oh, dear me, no! That was a long time ago, Miss Norma. Near the beginning of the last century, when the Industrial Revolution came, you know. The Inworths were quite a jumped-up, new-rich family then," explained Mrs. Parry, with an indescribable air of condescension towards a family who only dated back a mere hundred and twenty years. "The Yorkes were what you might call decayed gentry by then, though very good stock, of course. The Inworths bought out nearly everyone in the neighbourhood and we, "Mrs. Parry had now become personally identified with the family she had served all her life, "we had to move into Bishopstone."

  "And we, I mean they have been there ever since?"

  "Yes. For a while, it was a sort of point of honour with each generation of the family to try to buy back Munley Towers. But, though the family fortunes revived very considerably, they never did well enough for that. Mr. Justin's grandfather came near it, and I daresay if his son hadn't married the two extravagant wives, something might have been done in the next generation. But there's not much chance of its happening now."

  "Well, I don't think people mind much about that sort of thing now, do you?" Norma said comfortably.

  "I'm sure I don't know. Miss Norma. It's always difficult to say what other people will mind about," observed Mrs. Parry with shrewd profundity. "Now you'd better come and see the rest of the house."

  So Norma very willingly allowed Mrs. Parry to conduct her from room to room of Bishopstone and to discourse on the history and charm of the place. But nothing further which the housekeeper told her equalled in interest the history of the three portraits in the south drawing-room.

  Afterwards Norma was left free to explore the grounds on her own, while Mrs. Parry went to attend to her own duties. And she discovered that there was, as she had hoped, an enchanting terrace running along the back of the house, from which there was an engaging prospect of lawns and flower gardens.

  Anyone could well be satisfied with Bishopstone for a home, thought Norma, even if they coveted the greater splendour of Munley Towers. And the family feud, or rivalry, could hardly be more- than an academic one now, she decided, even if Mrs. Parry did look rather portentous when she spoke of it.

  The delights of exploration so completely absorbed Norma that when she finally glanced at her watch, she found to her dismay that it was almost lunchtime, and that, unless she hurried, she would be late.

  With the inner conviction that her guardian was not the kind of man to like being kept waiting, Norma dashed through the orchard and the flower garden, cut across the lawn hoping it was not a major error to walk on the velvety grass and rather breathlessly entered the house by a side door into the hall.

  As Norma erupted rather violently into the peaceful atmosphere of the hall, her guardian came to the drawing-room door, and stood in the doorway, smiling faintly, though with rather raised eyebrows.

  "Oh, hallo. Am I late? Did I keep you waiting?"

  Norma asked anxiously.

  "No. Not at all," he said and held out his hand to her.

  It was so obviously a friendly summons to his side that Norma came to him with something of an eager rush.

  "I missed you at breakfast," she said, rather artlessly. And beca
use he looked so very much as she ! thought a guardian should and not at all as Aunt Janet used to look she impulsively held up her face to be kissed.

  For a moment, an extremely astonished almost I startled expression came into his eyes. Then his ? faintly sarcastic air of amusement returned and, bending his head, he kissed her coolly.

  t "Did you? That was very charming of you," he told Her. "Come and meet one of my neighbours."

  I And, with his arm still around her, he drew her into the drawing-room, where a tall, dark, rather heavily built man was' standing on the hearth-rug, drinking sherry and looking a good deal interested by what he must obviously have overheard.

  Like his host, he was wearing riding clothes and, in a heavy, rather florid way, he was good looking.

  "This is Sir Richard Inworth, Norma," Justin Yorke explained pleasantly. "Inworth, this is my rather exuberant young ward."

  CHAPTER THREE

  IN spite of her recent conclusion that there could be little really bad feeling between the present representatives of the two families, Norma was slightly surprised that the first person to whom her guardian introduced her should be the owner of Munley Towers.

  But then, possibly they had met while out riding, and it had been fairly natural to bring a neighbour back to lunch and anyway, here he was, holding her hand in a very firm grip and looking at her with a frank appraisal which faintly disconcerted her.

  "Surely you're not going to send this girl back to school, are you, Yorke?" was his first comment.

  "No. I'm not going to send her. She can go if she wishes, or leave school at Christmas, if she prefers," Justin Yorke said calmly.

  "Let her have her own head, eh? Well, she looks as though she knows what she wants," remarked the visitor approvingly.

  And Norma smiled rather shyly and said: "It all depends on the results of my exam."

  "Norma is educationally conscientious, at the moment," her guardian explained with a smile.

  "Oh, take her to London and give her some fun, and she won't think so much about education," declared Sir Richard, who seemed to think this would be an advantage.