Rachel Hargreaves was not down to dinner, she noted, as, fixing her with one of his direct looks, 'Perhaps you'd like to sit there, Fabienne,' he invited.
While he greeted the children and passed a few comments with them she took the chair he indicated, which turned out to be directly opposite his, she observed, when he too sat down.
In straight line of his vision, she refused to feel intimidated by his disconcerting gaze, but hardly knew where to begin when, with charm, he enquired politely, 'And how did your day go?'
Hardly with silver bells and cockleshells, and 'non-productive' sprang to mind, but there were children present. So, 'Fine,' she smiled, but, lest he should get complacent about that, 'Though if I could have a word with you later?' She knew, or felt she knew, that he was the type of man who was of the 'if you've anything to say, then say it' school. But, for all she did not take to the sudden hard glint that came to his cool grey eyes, he was plainly aware that she did not want to discuss anything in front of the children, for
he gave an almost imperceptible nod, and concentrated his attention on his nephew and niece.
It was going on for nine o'clock that night before she went to have that 'word'
with him. By then she had supervised the children's baths, calmly sorted out any problems they had, tucked them up in bed with a kiss, and had generally cleared up everywhere.
She found Vere Tolladine in the drawing-room. He was nursing a Scotch.
'Drink?' he enquired, his tone affable, those 'miss nothing' eyes full on her.
She shook her head; she had more important matters on her mind. 'No, thanks,' she replied stiffly.
She saw one eyebrow ascend at her tone, though he did not refer to it but stated coolly, 'Then you'd better sit down and tell me what's stewing inside you. Or-' his eyes narrowed '-is it not going to take that long?'
Fabienne went and took a seat on one of the two comfortable couches in the room. With all she'd got queuing up to be asked, she might be here all night. He shrugged-clearly he got the message. 'Fire away,' he invited.
She wished he would sit down. He was making her feel-exposed, somehow.
Rot! stated that determined streak, and she fired away-from both hips.
'You deceived me!' she stated hotly-oh, grief, she sounded like some Victorian maiden.
If he thought so too, however, she was grateful that he did not say as much, but fired bluntly back, 'How?'
'At interview-when I came to see you in London-you deceived me into thinking-'
'And what about the deception you played on me?' He chopped her off before she could get up a full head of steam.
'What deception?' she demanded. Really, he was the end!
'The deception that you needed a job in the first place!'
Trust him to turn the attack on her! 'You checked me out!' she exclaimed as the penny dropped.
'Did you think I'd let anyone loose with a couple of vulnerable children without first-?'
'Talking of vulnerable children-' she attempted to get in. 'I know that your father owns a thriving and well-thought-of engineering company, and that you did not merely work in a "dress" shop, but that your family owned one of the best women's outfitters in Lintham.' He chopped her off, paused, and then, his direct look piercing hers, clearly remembering the way she had told him at that interview that she could get a reference if she needed one, 'Did you intend to write your own reference?' he asked. He'd got her there.
'It would have been a good one,' she replied, and just had to grin. She saw his lips twitch as if her pert reply had tickled his sense of humour. But his eyes were on her impish mouth and suddenly he was looking serious again. And that was when Fabienne woke up-grief, where was her head?
There were serious things to be discussed here! 'So, you having accepted me for the job, and having just completed my first day in the job, I have to tell you that-'
'You want to leave?' he barked aggressively.
Heaven help us, where was the man who had almost smiled a moment ago? 'Are you asking me to leave?' she returned spiritedly. She'd heard of a Mexican stand-off, and wondered if this was it. For, as he stared hostilely at her, so she stared hostilely at him.
'I'd prefer not to go through that interview rigmarole again,' he drawled, after some moments. Fabienne wasn't fooled. Since it was only last Wednesday that the interviews had taken place, he would still have names and addresses of the other interviewees on file, and could quite easily contact his second choice. However, since it seemed he was not asking her to leave, she felt it better that she get down to the root of why she had asked to see him.
She flicked a glance over to the fireplace where he stood, and waited only while he placed his glass down upon the mantel to launch in with, 'As you know, when I applied for this job I'd no idea of what a nanny-cum-mother's help did. I suppose I imagined I'd be doing something like sewing buttons on the children's clothes, helping with the laundry, some bits of housework but, apart from chauffeuring the twins to and from school, checking out their wardrobes and supervising bath-time, I've done nothing today!'
'You're complaining because you haven't enough to do?' he enquired sardonically.
She hated him-and the gloves came off. 'I'm complaining because you should have told me that the woman I'm here to assist is as near to a nervous breakdown as dammit, and-'
'When did you qualify as a psychiatrist?'
God-what was it about this man that made her alternately want to laugh or thump him? 'I don't need to be a psychiatrist to see that Mrs Hargreaves is deeply depressed.'
'You've obviously met her?'
'This morning-briefly,' Fabienne acknowledged.
'It worries you that she's-a bit down?'
A bit down! 'Of course it does!' she replied heatedly. Grief, what did he think she was that she could see the way his sister-in-law was and not feel for her? 'But-you don't want to leave?'
'I'm worried for her-not for me!' she erupted, realising that they had been at cross purposes. But, before he could get all shirty at her tone, Fabienne rushed on. 'I said my meeting with Mrs Hargreaves was brief-'
She halted. 'Why is your sister-in-law Mrs Hargreaves and not Mrs Tolladine?' she questioned.
To her relief, he left his place over by the mantel and took his ease on the couch opposite. 'You haven't asked around?' She gave him a speaking look which she hoped conveyed that she had more about her than that, and did not deign to answer. 'My God, there's enough side on you-' he began shortly, but checked and, it seemed, decided in view of her show of loyalty-that she hadn't asked the staff what she wanted to know-to give her a few answers. 'Rachel,' he stated quietly, 'was married to my stepbrother.'
'So she's your stepsister-in-law.' Fabienne quickly filed that away. 'She's divorced from your stepbrother?' she queried as that 'was' sank in.
'Forgive me for asking, but I'm not asking out of idle curiosity.' She went on, 'Unthinkingly-and without knowing how-I said something this morning that inadvertently caused her pain.'
'You did?' he questioned seriously, the whole of him alert-sharp. Fabienne nodded. 'We were walking in the garden-just chatting-then she took off, clearly upset, and I haven't seen her since. She didn't come down to dinner, and... '
'Mrs Hobbs took a tray to her room,' Vere stated, as if he knew it for fact, and Fabienne silently thanked him for telling her that. Maybe he had accepted that she was worried for his stepsister-in-law and not for herself.
'Can you remember what you were talking about-at the time that Rachel took off?'
'It was nothing of any consequence,' she admitted, and owned, 'I could see that Mrs Hargreaves was feeling low so, more to try and cheer her up than anything, I rattled inconsequentially on and mentioned some man I'd met at the school gates who, within three minutes of meeting, had asked me for a date, and-'
'The devil he did!' her employer exploded.
'It happens.' She shrugged, and felt the most peculiar tingly feeling take her when Vere Tolladine studied
her dainty features, her olive-tinted complexion and her shining, long black hair for some long seconds. She didn't know quite how she felt when, 'With you,' he commented, his eyes still on her, 'I rather expect it does.' But that was definitely a compliment, wasn't it? Although with him, she guessed, one could never be sure.
'Anyhow,' she resumed, 'I was still trying to cheer Mrs Hargreaves when I said something about it being fast-all that happening in the space of three minutes-and something about some men not being able to resist trying to make a conquest, when she just left me, and went hurrying back to the house. It's plain that I said something that upset her,' Fabienne went on, 'which is why I've been afraid to seek her out for the rest of the day in case I inadvertently again said something that desperately hit a nerve.'
'So you decided to see me at the first opportunity so that I might tell you areas of conversation which it might, perhaps, be better to avoid?'
'I need to know a lot more than I do,' Fabienne stated. 'Though if Mrs Hargreaves is divorced from her husband, then-' She hesitated. Stepbrothers or no, they could quite well be as close as blood brothers and it just didn't seem fair to state what her intelligence had brought her-that Vere Tolladine's stepbrother must be a man with an eye for the ladies.
'In point of fact,' Vere took up, 'Nick and Rachel were not divorced.'
'Oh!' she exclaimed. 'Were?' she queried, picking up his use of the past tense again.
For long seconds he eyed her steadily then, his expression stem, he filled in that blank for her by revealing, 'My stepbrother was killed in a car crash last November.'
'Oh, no!' she whispered, her soft heart going out to Nick Hargreaves' widow, the twins and his stepbrother. 'Oh, I'm sorry,' she murmured sympathetically. No wonder Rachel was depressed! She had more to be depressed about than Fabienne had realised!
Just then, though, she became aware of Vere looking at the compassion in her eyes, and her sensitivities were pulled all ways when he quietly further informed her, 'Perhaps, to prevent any more upsets, I should explain that my stepbrother was not alone in the car at the time of the crash.' Fabienne flicked her glance momentarily away from his. She was not stupid, but was again afraid of hurting his feelings. 'A woman?' she queried, glancing to him again. He nodded, leaving it to her to work it out. 'He was having an affair?' she guessed again, and again he nodded. 'One-of many?' she questioned slowly.
'He liked,' Vere stated emotionlessly, 'to make conquests.'
Oh, God! And she'd rushed in with both feet. His poor wife! 'Is there anything else I should know?' she asked huskily.
'I think that about covers it.'
Fabienne stood up, and so did he. She wanted to say something, anything, but she felt choked-and what was there that she could say? 'Then I'll-say goodnight,' she murmured.
She went swiftly from the room, conscious that her emotions were showing, conscious of his eyes on her as she went. She climbed the stairs and went to bed. She had more than enough to think about.
CHAPTER THREE
BY WEDNESDAY Fabienne had been in Rachel Hargreaves' company sufficient for them to be on first name terms, but Rachel was otherwise very withdrawn and quiet. For Fabienne on the plus side, although he wasn't any more talkative than he had been, John seemed to be following his sister's lead and appeared to be on the way to trusting her. His large blue eyes had followed her round the room last night when, as he lay tucked up in his bed, she'd pottered about his room tidying up. 'Fabienne,' he'd called. 'Yes, love,' she'd answered.
He had swallowed painfully. 'Will you still be here in the morning?' he'd asked, in that husky little voice of his, and her heart cried for him. Poor little scrap, he wasn't certain of anything anymore-one moment his father whom he'd loved had been there, and the next-not.
'You bet I'll be here,' she had smiled, and didn't think it would hurt a jot if she went and gave him an extra cuddle.
On the minus side, she found Vere Tolladine very confusing. She remembered how on Monday night she had thought he had dropped a compliment her way, but how last night, over dinner, he had barely seemed to glance her way. True, Rachel had been at dinner and he had given a lot of attention over to her and-Fabienne stopped mid-thought. Ye gods! The thought rushed in from nowhere. Was she jealous?
Of course I'm not. She tossed that absurd notion out from where it came and, at dinner that night, was happy to assure herself that she did not have a jealous bone in her body and that since Rachel was so quiet, and was having such a tough time of it, it was no wonder that Vere should take time to try to draw her out.
It went without saying that he was fully aware that one Fabienne Preston needed no drawing out, and was fully able to take care of herself, thank you very much. With such thoughts in her head there was only one answer she could make when, as dinner ended and they began to leave the dining-room- Rachel a little ahead with the children-Vere looked down at her and questioned urbanely, 'Any more problems?'
Was he being solicitous or sarcastic? She did not give him the benefit of the doubt. 'Not one,' she replied loftily, flicked him a glance, saw the way he frowned down on her, and went speedily forward to catch up with the children. She was aware of Vere's eyes boring into her back, though, and didn't know who was comforting whom when she felt John timidly slide his little hand into hers. Hand in hand they went up the stairs together. To
Fabienne's surprise and pleasure, Rachel was up early the next morning.
Between them they got the children ready for school, and all four of them went down to breakfast together. '
If Vere was surprised to see Rachel downstairs at that hour, too-for it was the first time that week that it had happened-he gave no sign but asked, as they got the twins' breakfast requirements under way, what plans they had for the day.
Rachel looked blank, plainly not having thought beyond the effort of getting up that morning. 'I wouldn't mind taking a look round Haychester, actually,'
Fabienne remarked off the top of her head and, turning to Rachel, 'Do you think we could go? We could be back ages before school comes out.'
'Ooh, if you're going to Haychester, can I have some of those pink socks I told you about?' Kitty got in quickly.
'What have you done?' Rachel turned to Fabienne and seemed to be on the point of smiling as she remarked, 'My daughter has the most appalling taste-she'll be wearing fluorescent pink socks to go to bed in if we don't watch her.'
'Perhaps bed is the best place to wear them,' Fabienne laughed-and turned her head in time to see that Vere Tolladine had his eyes fixed on no one but her.
It disturbed her. And annoyed her. And she was still both disturbed and annoyed that, when she had better things to think about, he was still in her head as, after dropping the children off at school, she and Rachel drove into Haychester.
They took a look around the shops but, save for picking up a pair of-it had to be admitted-hideous and fiercely pink socks for Kitty and a small modelling kit for John, they made no other purchases. Rachel had declined the suggestion that they have coffee in town, and was a silent passenger as Fabienne drove back to Sutton Ash.
Though as they turned into the gates of Brackendale and started up the drive it was Rachel, on observing that a car had just pulled up by the front door, who remarked, 'It looks as though we have a visitor!' Fabienne recognised the car before its tall, fair-haired occupant got out. A smile was already on her face as, hearing the car engine, the man turned and, recognising her car, came towards them.
'Alex!' Fabienne squealed as she left her car and was enfolded in her brother's bear hug.
'Konnichiwa!' he grinned, having been in Japan on business for the past month and plainly having picked up an odd word or two. 'Show-off!' she laughed, and asked excitedly, 'When did you get back?' She did not get an immediate answer for just then Alex saw what she had forgotten-that she was not alone. 'Oh, Rachel, come and say hello to my big brother,' Fabienne included her quiet companion straight away. 'Alex has been out of the country for some weeks an
d...'
But Alex was already shaking hands with Rachel, and Rachel was inviting him indoors. And to Fabienne's surprise was remarking, 'You won't want to dash off if it's some time since you've seen your sister. Can you stay to lunch?'
'Afraid not,' he declined. 'I've one or two people to see this afternoon, but since I was this way...'
Alex worked in the capacity of sales director but every so often he liked to get out and chat personally to some of their valued customers. Fabienne couldn't help but feel a glow that he had lost none of his brotherly caring. He was still keeping an eye out for her and, quite plainly, he wanted to see for himself that she fared well in her new job-albeit temporary.
'Would you like coffee?' Rachel asked as they entered the drawing-room, and Fabienne, who was amazed and delighted that Rachel had been able to hide her depression as her excellent manners came to the fore, felt that the other woman was planning to do a disappearing act any minute now.
So, 'Of course you would,' she chipped in. 'I'll go and see Mrs Hobbs.
Coffee for three won't take a minute.'
With Mrs Hobbs up to her elbows in flour, Fabienne made the coffee herself, plus one for the housekeeper, and hurried back to the drawing-room to note, with relief, that Rachel was still there.
Alex did not stay long, but Fabienne felt a terrific sense of achievement that Rachel remained with them right up until the moment that Alex stood up to go. Fabienne went out on to the drive with him and, as expected, heard him ask, 'What in creation made you take this kind of a job?'
'Confucius he say, a change... '
'...is as good as a rest,' Alex finished for her, and asked seriously, 'You're all right here, Fenne?'
'Who wouldn't be?' she laughed, but could see he wanted a serious answer. 'Yes, I'm fine. Rachel's quiet, but very nice. She-um-lost her husband last year, and... '
Bachelor's Family Page 4
