A handful of stars

by Lucy Gillen

  CHAPTER THREE

  IT came as something of a surprise, albeit a pleasant one, to discover how swiftly the various authorities acted in response to Scott Lingrove's request for action in restoring the services to Blanestock. By the end of the week they already had the water and electricity working again, and Charlotte was so encouraged by their promptness that she had left the hotel after having spent only five nights there, and moved out to Blanestock, despite the doubts of both the Chartreses and Scott Lingrove. Electric fires had aired one of the beds sufficiently for her to sleep in it without risk of pneumonia, and she was less troubled about being cut off from transport when the telephone engineers came and. reconnected the telephone service. Altogether she was quite enjoying herself, even if her mode of living could perhaps be considered a little primitive at the moment. Her first night at Blanestock, sleeping in a proper bed, she did not even notice the sounds that had disturbed her before, and slept well, waking again to find the sun streaming into her room. She bathed and took her time. over breakfast, then decided to 44 ring for a taxi to take her in to Chedwell to do some shopping. She was putting away her breakfast things when someone rapped on. the back door. For some inexplicable reason she was quite sure it would be Scott Lingrove and she instinctively put a hand to her hair before she called out to him to come in. Her suspicion was confirmed when he stepped through the doorway and smiled at her. 'Good morning,' he said. 'I see you're independent now, able to cook yourself breakfast.' 'Yes, thank you.' She remembered in time that he had been responsible for the electricity being on. 'They were very quick.' He cocked a brow at her and smiled. 'I thought they might be,' he said. 'How are you getting on?' 'Fine,' she told him, wondering why he had come and wishing she did not feel quite so uneasy whenever she was alone with him. 'No problems?' No.' 'How are you managing about cooking?' He smiled then and dismissed his -own question with a shrug of his shoulders. 'Of course, you can manage, can't you?' 'Can't you?' she retorted swiftly, and he laughed. 'Not a chance,' he said. 'I'm as helpless as a baby without somebody to cook for me.' He perched him self on the edge of the kitchen table and she realised suddenly how remiss as a hostess she was being. "Oh, please sit down,' she told him. 'We can go " 45 through into the sitting-room if you like, although it isn't very spick and span yet, I'm afraid.' -'I'm quite happy here,' he replied, swinging one foot back and forth, and studying her in that way that she found so disconcerting. "You're a great improvement on the-last owner,' he said then. 'Although old Ezra wasn't a bad old fellow when you' knew him. I must admit I didn't expect anyone quite like you I was thinking more along the lines of a middle-aged spinster with tweeds and a tight mouth.' 'Really?' Charlotte decided to ignore the very obvious appreciation of her looks and concentrate on finding out as much as she could about her great-uncle. This man professed to have known him quite well and it seemed so important to her somehow to learn as much as she could about the old man who had, however unconsciously, made her an heiress. She had considered asking the Chartreses about him, what he had been like as a person, but somehow their position as lawyers deterred her. Lawyers always seemed such distant people. Not that she felt at ease with this man, but at least he would not be tied by professional etiquette to telling her only polite generalities about a client. Did you know my great-uncle very well?' she asked, and he nodded. . 'As well as anyone did, I suppose, especially in the last five years. He saw almost no one after he lost Mary.' Mary?' 46 I He nodded, looking up with a wry grin for her obvious curiosity. 'You wouldn't know anything about that, of course, would you?' 'I know absolutely nothing about him,' she admitted, 'and I wish I did. I'm curious about him, I Bonfess.' i 'So I gather.' His smile did nothing to further peace between them and she wished he need not always make her feel so angry and resentful. 'I suppose you think I'm just a nosey-parker, trying to find out all I can about him,' she said defensively. 'But I would like to have known him when he was alive. As it was I didn't even really know he existed until I saw that advert in the newspaper, and that was purely by chance.' Purely by chance?' he. echoed, and laughed shortly, so that Charlotte flushed. 'You probably think all sorts of uncomplimentary things about me, Mr. Lingrove,' she said, still defensive. 'But I am his only surviving relative and if I'd known of his existence before I'd have been happy to have visited him. Perhaps made him a little less lonely.' -'He was lonely,' Scott Lingrove said quietly. 'He was a very lonely man, especially when ' Large hands dismissed a moment of pity almost impatiently, but Charlotte was unwilling to let it rest there. 'You imply that there was a special reason for his being so lonely,' she said. 'And you men47 tioned someone called Mary.' He said nothing, and she almost resigned herself to the fact that he would enlighten her no further. 'Please tell me about him,' she begged, unconsciously appealing. 'He was all the family 7 had left too, and I'd like to know something about him.' For a moment the hazel eyes studied her with disconcerting steadiness, then he smiled and their comers crinkled into a myriad of fine lines. 'It's the old story,' he said. 'A woman.' Oh!' That much was unexpected and she looked at him uncertainly, wondering if was something best left unsaid. 'I didn't realise there was anything like that.' " There wasn't anything like that, as you call it,' he told her with a smile twitching the corners of his mouth. 'He was an old man and it was only six years ago, but I imagine it comes harder at that age.' Charlotte stared at him, uncertain just how much of it was truth and how much speculation. 'You mean that he wanted to marry her?' He shrugged. 'I gathered that was the idea,' he told her. 'Oh oh, what a shame. Was she nice, this Mary?' He nodded, smiling. 'Very nice,' he said. 'Mary Bishop she was then.' Charlotte was silent for a-moment, genuinely sorry for the lonely old man. 'Poor man,' she said 48 softly. *To love someone and they marry someone else.' 'It was only to be expected,' he said quietly. 'After all, she was forty years his junior.' 'Oh' Charlotte's eyes widened with surprise. Oh, I see.' It was easy enough to see, she thought, a lonely old bachelor suddenly finding himself wildly infatuated with a woman young enough to be his granddaughter, and being rejected for someone else. No wonder he had become what Mr. Philip Char-' tres referred to as 'a difficult man' in his last years. Scott Lingrove's eyes regarded her speculatively, as if he followed her train of thought all too easily. 'I suppose the Chartreses told you the old man was crazy in his last years?' he suggested, and her expression was confirmation enough. 'Well__' he shrugged, 'he wasn't, not by a long way. He was lonely and miserable and he always hoped that one day ' He shrugged again and left the rest unsaid. 'It's it's so sad,' Charlotte said, feeling quite misty-eyed. 'And such a waste of a life.' 'It's always a waste of a life to moon too long over a woman, whoever she is,' Scott Lingrove declared brusquely. 'But there you are, he didn't marry Mary, so you get the estate. It's an ill wind.' And that. Charlotte felt, was an adage she could not very well disagree with. It was quite a pleasant surprise the following day 49 when Noel Chartres telephoned and asked her to have lunch with him, and Charlotte accepted without hesitation. -He would fetch her, he said, and they could have lunch and talk about Blanestock at the same time. He was not happy, he said, about her staying there on her own, and Charlotte was quite touched by his concern, although she assured him that she was perfectly all right until she could get someone to come in either full or part-time. He was really very nice, she decided, and also a very attractive man, and she was glad he had been impressed enough with her to ask her to lunch. At least, she thought, between them her new acquaintances were -making sure she did not go hungry. 'It's fortunate you found Scott Lingrove,' he said as they sat over lunch, his blue eyes looking earnest. If you hadn't noted the name of the house and gone to find him, it could have been very uncomfortable for you. I didn't realise you, intended staying the night at Blanestock or I'd have tried to discourage you, so would Father.' Charlotte smiled. 'It wouldn't have done any good, I'm afraid,' she told him. 'I'd made up my mind to stay, and I really wasn't too uncomfortable, even though I did sleep on the floor.' Did Lingrove know you were staying there?' he asked. Yes,
and as you would have done, he tried to discourage me. I was very pleasantly surprised to find he was prepared to give me breakfast and the use of 50 his bathroom, though.' 'Oh yes, he'd do that,' Noel said, a little sourly, she guessed. 'He'd also arranged for the services to be reconnected too, which was useful, although I am used to doing things for myself.' He smiled, though much less sarcastically than Scott Lingrove had done in the same circumstances. 'You're very independent,' he said. 'But now that you don't have to do things for yourself, you must learn to let others do the worrying for you.' Charlotte laughed, wondering if he had himself in mind in particular. 'I'm not sure I'll be able to, Mr. Chartres,' she told him. 'It's not an easy habit to break, being independent,' 'Well, please believe me, we'll be only too glad to take care of everything for you,' he assured her. 'And, for myself, I'll be glad to help in any way I can, even if it isn't strictly on a professional basis.' Charlotte did nothing about the brief, reticent brushing of his fingers against her hand as it lay on the table, but she smiled. 'Thank you,' she said softly. 'I'll remember that.' He said nothing for a while, then he looked up at her suddenly, eyeing her curiously for a moment before he spoke. 'How did you get on with Scott Lingrove?' he asked. Uncertain just what kind of an answer' she was expected to give, Charlotte hesitated. 'I got-on quite well with him,' she admitted at last. 'He's ratter a forceful character, but he seems quite 51 thoughtful, and I appreciated his help.' He looked down at his plate for a moment or two, as if he sought inspiration for what he had to say next. ' I don't quite know how to put this,' he said then, still not looking at her. 'But the truth is, Miss Brown, I'm afraid I was rather indiscreet the other day Saturday, when you arrived. I mean,' he added hastily, 'I shouldn't have mentioned anything about Mr. Lingrove wanting to buy Blanestock from you. I'm afraid I rather jumped the gun by telling you about it before you were made a proper formal offer, and if my father knew I'd said anything Charlotte smiled understanding, wondering how on earth she was going to explain that she had mentioned it to Scott Lingrove too, and wishing she had not. 'I promise I won't say a word to your father,' she promised. He looked so unbelievably grateful that she hated to have to confess the rest and tell him that she had mentioned it to the man most concerned. 'I'm very much obliged to you. Miss Brown,' he said. 'I can't for the life of me think what made me say anything about it without first consulting my father. However ' He shrugged and smiled. 'There's no harm done.' Charlotte pulled a wry face, and shook her head. 'I'm afraid it might not be as simple as that,' she told him. 'You see, I spoke to Mr. Lingrove about it on the Sunday.' 'Oh, lord ' His look of dismay might have struck her as comical at any other time, now she was only 52 sorry she had been unable to resist raising the subject with Scott Lingrove. 'I really am very sorry,' she said. 'But you see I didn't realise that I wasn't supposed to know about it.' No, no, of course you didn't,' he hastened to reassure her. 'It was entirely my fault, Miss Brown, please don't apologise for anything.' 'Will your father be very angry about it?' she asked, and he shrugged. 'I suppose it all depends on whether Scott Lingrove sees fit to say anything about it,' he told her, already almost resigned, she thought. 'If he complains about you being forewarned, as it were, then it might be awkward for me.' 'Yes, of course, he would want to spring it on me, I suppose, wouldn't h ?' she guessed. 'Then if I was feeling disillusioned enough I'd probably have sold it and been only too glad to let him have it.' 'Something like that. It's difficult, you see, because he's a client as well. Not one of ours, actually, but of Basil dee's, the senior partner.' 'Oh dear!' He looked suitably gloomy, and Charlotte wondered what on earth she could do to help. 'The Everslades are valued clients,.' he told her, 'and the old man would never forgive me if, through me, they lost the Everslade business.' 'The Everslades?' Charlotte frowned curiously. 'But I thought mean surely the Everslade family wouldn't take away their business because of some 53 minor complaint of their their manager, would they? I understood from Mr. Lingrove that he only managed Wainscote for Lord Everslade.' 'So he does,' Noel agreed. 'The Everslades are abroad for a couple of years, and Scott Lingrove's keeping an eye on Wainscote while they're away, but it's all in the family. Simon Everslade and Scott Lingrove are cousins.' 'They're cousins?' 'That's right. Their mothers are sisters and the two of them have always been as thick as thieves.' He hastily glanced at her face to see if he had been too frank, but was evidently reassured, by her expression. 'I mean, they've always been very close. The two boys, of course, are much too young to take on the duties of heir, so rather than bring in an outsider, they left Scott Ungrove in charge.' 'Oh, I see.' It seemed. Charlotte thought ruefully, that there was a great deal she had to learn about her new neighbour. She had had no idea that she was moving into quite such a high stratum of society when she took up her new residence, and the thought of it momentarily dismayed her. v 'Anyway, don't let it bother you,' Noel told her, after a moment or two. 'He probably won't say anything about it, and it's unlikely they would take their business elsewhere because Clees have handled the Everslade and Bishop family affairs for donkey's years.' Something, somewhere, struck a chord in Char54 lotte's memory, and she looked at him curiously for a. moment before realising what it was. 'Bishop?' she said. 'You said the Bishop family?' 'That's right,' Noel agreed, apparently unaware of any reason for comment. 'Lady Everslade was Miss Mary Bishop before her marriage.' After a whole week at Blanestock, Charlotte was still discovering things about the old house. It had numerous cupboards and alcoves and, behind a locked door, she had found some dark and worn wooden steps leading down to a cellar, although she had not ventured further than the door to investigate it too thoroughly. She could make herself much more comfortable now that everything was working again, and she already felt quite at home there. The house was much too big for her to live there alone, of course, and especially without help, and she had no illusions about how bleak and lonely it would seem in the winter months. Trying to find the services of a full-time housekeeper, however, was not only difficult but well-nigh impossible. She had managed to obtain the services of a daily woman, but even she could not start for another week yet, and Charlotte was impatient to see some improvement before then. Noel Chartres seemed to think that she should have stayed in the hotel until the place was made ready for her, but she would not hear of it. Blanestock was hers and she wanted to live there, no ' 55 matter if it was less than perfect at the moment. Never a girl to sit around and wait for things to happen, she was prepared to start on the cleaning up process herself, although the thought of tackling the whole house was rather too daunting. Setting to one morning, she spent some time cleaning out a large cupboard, and the success of that so inspired her that she decided to extend her ministrations to one of the bedrooms. Whether her aristocratic neighbours would approve of the new mistress of Blanestock scrubbing her own floors or not, she was uncaring. She had looked out an old frock and covered it with a large print apron, then tied back her hair with a scarf tied peasant fashion. She was bound to get filthy, tor the place was inches thick in dust. There were any number of brooms and brushes and mops in a cupboard-in the kitchen, and she armed herself ready for work. Carrying a big bucket full of water and disinfectant for laying the dust, she went upstairs somewhat precariously, depositing the bucket at the top of the stairs, on the landing. Then, working on an Eeny, Meeny, Miny, Mo system, she selected a bedroom for attention. It was a warm sunny day and she flung wide all the windows before starting, wondering as she stood there for a minute taking in the view of the wide, sweeping countryside, whether she would not have been as well going for a walk instead. Dismissing such temptations, she shrugged and turned back into the room. The first thing to be 56 done was to take off those shrouding sheets from the' furniture. Seeing it draped like that always made her feel horribly creepy, and she thought of l ,cott.Lingrove's remarks about spooks. The bedroom was at the back of the house, so that she had only brief second thoughts about gathering up the dust-laden rugs from the board floor land hurling them out of the window to be brushed "later. T
hen she picked up a broom and a big feather duster and faced her task with a gleam in her eye. She had registered the expected thud below when the rugs landed, but that was not all she heard. There was also a loud and indignant yell at almost the same moment and she put her hands to her mouth when she realised what had happened. There was no possible doubt in her mind what she had done and she closed her eyes in silent prayer that it was not too important a caller that she had submerged under a pile of very dusty rugs. It was a moment or two before she could bring herself to look out of the window and then she saw only the rugs themselves lying on the stone-paved terrace that spanned the back of the house. She thought she caught a glimpse, however, of a pair of heels just disappearing in through the kitchen door, and groaned inwardly. Whoever it was must surely be furiously angry at receiving such cavalier treatment, and she stood there for a moment with her heart beating an anxious tattoo at her ribs, wondering what on earth she could say to excuse herself. 57 It was only a few seconds later that she heard the sound of a heavy tread on the stairs and stared at the closed door in dismay. Whoever it was obviously bent on making an issue of it, and there was no doubt it was a man from the heaviness of the tread. He must be really angry too, she thought wildly, to have come straight in to the house like that in search of his attacker. Before she could summon enough courage to cross the room and open the door to identify her visitor, however, another and much more ominous sound shattered the quietness of the house, and once more a hand flew to her mouth. Oh no!' There was no disguising the obvious. Her caller had not only been smothered with dusty rugs, he had now fallen foul of the bucket she had left at the top of the stairs, and the rattle and clatter of the metal bucket against the balustrade was followed by a masculine voice passing an opinion in no uncertain language. Opening the door. Charlotte almost fell over Scott Lingrove bent double as he tried to brush some of the water from the bottoms of his trouser legs. Finding him so close at hand and doubled up like that, she let out a squeak of surprise and dropped the broom and the feather duster she carried. The broom, fortunately, fell with a clatter against the wall,'but the duster found its mark on the back of the.caller's neck before floating .to the floor. 58 'Damn you!' Scott Lingrove complained loudly. 'Not content with half drowning me, you have to 'smother me with your blasted mop as well!' !" 'I'm sorry.' It appalled her to realise it, but her first instinct was to laugh, and she hastily smothered it for fear he was really as angry as he looked. 'So you should be ' he retorted. '' Not prepared to take the entire blame for his falling over the bucket. Charlotte frowned. 'Well, you Should have seen the bucket standing there,' she told him unsympathetically. 'It's big enough.' 'You don't have to tell me that!' He shook each leg in turn, spattering the wallpaper with little showers of water. 'But in case you hadn't realised it, I was already half blinded with dust from a load of mgs or something. And that blessed mop's moulting look at my head ' It was true. Charlotte realised, the feather duster 'was old and it was very definitely moulting. She stood there for a moment, looking at the spectacle he made, and most of it her doing, she was bound to 'admit, if only to herself. His once white shirt showed more than a trace of dust from the rugs evidently they had landed right on top of him, and the bottoms of his trousers were goaking wet almost to the knees. To crown it all there were several brown and white feathers from the mop adhering to the thick fair hair, where it purled just above his ears. " Try as she would to control it, she could do nothing more about the laughter that bubbled up inside I 59 her. It showed first in her eyes and made them sparkle darkly, then it touched the corners of her mouth as she .made one last desperate attempt to stifle it, and finally burst out in a peal of merriment " that echoed round the sun-streaked walls of the long landing. For a moment she thought he was actually going a , to hit out at her, for there was an unmistakable -gleam of anger in the hazel eyes that boded ill for her sense of humour. 'Why, you little ' He actually had a hand raised, she would have sworn it, ' but' then, suddenly, he shook his head and his own wide mouth twitched with laughter. 'All right,' he told her quietly. 'Have your fun. Miss Brown, but , don't think you'll get away with these sort of tactics.' 'Tactics?' Charlotte queried, her voice still un- steady with laughter. 'What tactics?' . He pulled the last feather from .his hair, and looked at her steadily. 'It used to be a drawbridge and boiling oil to keep out the invader,' he told her. f 'Now it seems it's a pile of rugs on the head, buckets . of water and a feather mop thrown in for good ' measure. You intend making a firm stand for your castle, don't you?' } Serious now. Charlotte stared at him. 'You surely don't think I did all that on purpose, do you?' : she asked, i 'Didn't you?' The hazel eyes held hers steadily, and she felt a strange, erratic fluttering in her pulse as she hastily looked away again. 'I thought it was ' I your way of repelling boarders.' 60 but that's that's utterly ridiculous,' she protested, retrieving her duster and shaking loose , Other shower of brown speckled feathers. 'I didn't even know you were down there when I threw the gigs out, and I certainly didn't expect you to come galloping up the stairs and fall over the bucket. That was entirely your own doing.' 'I came upstairs to protest about having a pile of pithy rugs thrown at me from a great height,' he Snfor-med her, obviously bent on arguing. 'And if ever there was a well laid booby trap, that bucket was it. It was perfectly placed for anyone coming up the stairs to fall over.' 'But I told you, I didn't expect anyone to come upstairs,' Charlotte insisted, and stifled another giggle when he shook a wet leg. 'But I'm sorry about you getting wet for all that.' * 'Sorry?' He raised a doubtful brow. 'Forgive me I doubt that, won't you?' I. -'You can please yourself whether you believe it or not,' she retorted. 'I you will come barging into (people's houses, uninvited, you have to take your chance on the sort of reception you get.' 'I see.' He spoke quietly, so quietly that it made Charlotte suddenly wary of him, and she watched shim uneasily from beneath lowered lids. 'I'm sorry about the rugs and the bucket,' she told him hastily. 'But there was nothing intentional bout any of it, honestly.' 'Not even the way you laughed?', he asked, his own eyes showing signs of amusement again, much to I 61 her relief. 'Oh, that!' A small, soft giggle escaped her. 'I'm sorry if it offended you, but you did look funny with wet feet and feathers in your hair.' 'Oh, I'm quite sure I did,' he said softly. 'And you've got a wicked little sense of humour, Charlie Brown.' Charlotte looked at him indignantly. Not only was he being much too familiar on such short acquaintance, but she had never allowed anyone at all to abbreviate her rather quaint old-fashioned name. 'I beg your pardon,' she said coolly, and looked at him meaningly. The meaning was lost, however, because he refused to interpret her words in the way she intended. 'Oh, think no more of it,' he told her airily. 'I was referring to your distortion of my name,' Charlotte told him, firmly refusing to let the matter drop. His eyes crinkled into a smile and he surveyed her steadily for a moment, daring her to argue. 'Oh, but surely you've been called Charlie Brown before,' he said. 'It's just too much to resist.' 'No doubt,' Charlotte said. 'But I don't allow anyone to call me anything else but Charlotte or Miss Brown,' she added meaningly, and he grinned. 'Sorry,' he said blandly, 'but I shall always think of you as Charlie Brown. have done ever since I first heard your name from Philip Chartres, and old habits die hard.' 'Well, this one had better die right now,' Char62 lotte declared firmly. For several breathless seconds she held his gaze steadily, then very unwillingly she lowered her eyes, biting her lip on the sensation that had made her do it. It was virtually impossible to outface him, and she had never before been made so uneasy by any man. t 'Charlotte?' he asked softly, and she nodded, almost without realising it. 'I'm I'm sorry about you getting wet, and and about the rugs,' she said, talking about anything to ?break that long, discomfiting silence. 'Why did you come over? Was it anything special?' ' He smiled wryly. 'By a strange coincidence,' he said, 'I came to ask you if you still want a housekeeper.' . Charlotte looked up swiftly, nodding her head in case there was any chance of his misinterpreting her answer. 'Oh yes, I do!' she told him. 'Don't tell me you've actuall
y managed to hear of one.' 'I've more or less engaged her for you,' he said, and smiled over her swift and instinctive- frown. ?0h, I know you like being independent about things, but Mrs. Borden came to my notice and one has to be quick to take advantage of opportunities like that these days, so I took the liberty of asking her to come and see you tomorrow.' 'Tomorrow?' There should have been some reason, she thought, why tomorrow should have meant something to her, but she was so anxious to be fixed up with a housekeeper that she did not dwell too 63 long on possible snags. There could not be anything very important that could not be put off. 'It's convenient?' he asked, noting her brief frown. 'Oh yes, of course.' She smiled, prepared to forgive a lot, if he had really found her a full-time housekeeper. 'I can't really believe it,' she told him. 'I was given to understand that there was no such thing to be had in the whole of England. I'm very, very grateful to you, Mr. Lingrove.' 'My pleasure,' he said, and smiled, one brow cocked in query. 'But I'd be even more pleased if you'd return the compliment and call me Scott after all, we're old friends, aren't we?' Charlotte blinked, her heart racing wildly for some inexplicable reason. 'After one week?' she asked, and he shook his head. 'It's nearly ten months since I first heard about you,' he told her. 'I feel as if I know you by now.' It was indeed a long time. since she had first learned that Scott Lingrove was the executor of her great-uncle's estate, and she supposed that his name had become familiar even though its owner had been known to her for only a few days. 'I suppose it could seem as if we'd known one another for a long time,' she allowed. 'Long enough to call me Scott?' She nodded. 'And in view of the way I've treated you this morning and the fact that you've found me a housekeeper, will you let me make you coffee as a sort of peace-offering and thank-you combined?' 64 H He looked down at his wet clothes and the dust on his shoulders, and smiled. 'I don't usually Heiress like this in the company of a. beautiful woman,' pie said, 'but since most of it is your doing, you'll Knave to take me as I come.' He bowed from the waist, one arm extended as she walked past him to the l-stairs. 'After you, fair Charlotte.'