Caroline hesitated, unable to understand the sudden reluctance she felt. It would be wonderful to see Dick again, yet she felt her emotions curiously mixed. Did she really want Dick to come here to Longmere? she wondered. Until that moment she would have said there was nothing she would have liked better, but now at the prospect of meeting him again she found that her feelings were curiously ambivalent. Somehow Dick already seemed to belong to the past. What would it be like to be confronted with him again here at Longmere? She wondered if her emotions showed in her face as she found that Randall was waiting for her reply. “I’m— I’m sure he’d agree to it,” she stammered at last. “That is, of course, if he’s not engaged on something else.”
“Well, would you drop him a line and find out if he’s free to come?”
Caroline nodded, but again with a feeling of reluctance.
“Well, that’s settled,” he said decisively, and got to his feet. “And now we come to the next thing I want to talk about. ” His tall, broad figure seemed to loom over her, again reminding her of a bird of prey, and Caroline felt a faint apprehension as she gazed up at him.
“Don’t look at me like that, Caroline,” he commanded, a faint trace of irascibility in his voice, “I shan’t eat you, you know. Why do you continually treat me as though I were some sort of despot, always to be held in terror and awe?”
Because you are one, Caroline thought to herself, a little mutinously.
But it was obvious that her employer was uninterested in her reactions. He was gazing around with narrowed eyes. “This room is not at all suitable for you. I must get Mrs. Creed to move you into some place a little more congenial.”
“Oh, but I like it here,” Caroline said firmly.
Hands in pockets, he regarded her irritably. “Do you? Those ghastly bilious roses on the wallpaper and the brass bed are like a Victorian nightmare.”
“But that’s what I like about it,” Caroline retorted. “It’s quaint, and the roses aren’t really bilious: it’s only because the wallpaper’s a little faded in places.” “You mean you actually like knocking your head off that sloping
roof?”
Caroline giggled. “Oh, but I don’t. Anyway, it wouldn’t do.” “What wouldn’t do?”
“It wouldn’t do if I got better quarters.”
“And why not? Really, Caroline, you are the most exasperating girl!”
“Well—” She hesitated. It was impossible to tell him that the
garrulous Betty was already showing signs of resenting her promotion, and of Mrs. Creed’s only too obvious air of respect since it had been discovered that she was Grace’s cousin. To move to a better room would only confirm the girl in her enmity. Mrs. Creed, too, might not be so enamoured of the idea. The suspicion that she was ‘getting above herself’ might make things extremely uncomfortable for her, if there was any change made in her quarters.
“Well, these are staff rooms,” she said defensively.
“But you’re not exactly staff, are you?” he rejoined. “Let’s say you’re my personal assistant. Anyway, I’ve made up my mind. You’ll move if I say so,” he informed her shortly. All the imperiousness, which was so habitual with him, had returned. “In this house what I say is done.”
“But I don’t want to move,” wailed Caroline.
“Your wishes don’t concern me particularly,” he told her bluntly. “It’s what I say counts—just remember that.”
And on this uncompromising note he strode from the room, closing the door none too gently behind him.
When Caroline went down to breakfast on the following morning she was met with silence. Mrs. Creed, Fred and Betty continued their breakfasts without a word and Caroline was puzzled at first, wondering what she had done to deserve such an icy reception. She glanced at the clock. No, she wasn’t late. She tried to think of any duties she might have neglected, but was at a loss to understand why they were treating her in this way.
“Your egg will be ready in a moment—that is if you don’t mind pouring tea for yourself,” Mrs. Creed said very stiffly.
“No, no, of course not,” Caroline said hastily.
She sipped her tea and nibbled toast until Mrs. Creed placed her breakfast plate before her, remarking, “The egg is slightly hard, but I hope you won’t mind.”
Caroline glanced at her in surprise. This very austere manner was new to Mrs. Creed and she wondered uncomfortably what it portended. It was Betty who finally divulged the cause of the staff’s attitude.
Mrs. Creed had gone hurrying off in answer to the summons of the bell in the breakfast room and Betty took the opportunity of her absence to say resentfully, “So you’re to be moved down to the brocade room. It seems the servants’ quarters are no longer good enough for you. Some people don’t half know how to land on their feet—or perhaps it’s because they know how to play up to a man.”
“Now that’s enough out of you, Betty,” Fred said heavily. “You should be here long enough to know that what the master wants is what’s done in this house. At the same time,” here his eyes swivelled towards Caroline, and he regarded her with a hostile, suspicious glance of his small eyes, “one can’t help wondering just why Caroline should get such special treatment. However, it’s not for the likes of us to worry our heads about such things. We know our places and keep to them—not like some young persons who don’t mind pushing themselves forward.”
Just then Mrs. Creed returned. “When you’ve finished dusting the silver drawing-room, I’ll show you to your new quarters,” she said, her lips pursed in a resentful line. “Your room is in a wing of the house which I’m sure you haven’t seen yet.”
Caroline was glad to arise from the table and hurry off to her duties. But for once the dusting and polishing of the beautiful antique pieces in the big drawing-room held no interest for her. The gleaming patina of the old walnut and rosewood furniture, the handling of the silver jewelled and enamelled bijouterie on the occasional tables gave her no pleasure because her mind was filled with this new turn in her fortunes.
The antagonistic attitude of the staff was only too easy to understand now that she knew that she was to be given one of the guest-rooms. She had feared this would happen when she had told Randall that she didn’t want to move: but of course he hadn’t listened! He never did, she thought resentfully, as automatically she ran the duster over the ball-and-claw foot of an ivory inlaid cabinet. He was a law unto himself. Other people’s wishes meant nothing to him.
So absorbed was she in her angry and resentful thoughts that she was surprised to see Mrs. Creed appear on the scene. “If you’ll come along with me,” she said coldly, “I’ll show you your new room.”
What first made Caroline realize the big change this move was going to make in her status was the fact that Mrs. Creed led her up the main staircase and somehow, although it was not stated, Caroline knew that in future she would be using these stairs instead of the narrow linoleum-covered flight of stairs which was considered appropriate for the staff.
The housekeeper walked along a broad corridor in a part of the house that Caroline had never seen before and threw open a door revealing a room decorated in shades of deep rose pink brocade with long drapes of greenish gold in a similar material at the long windows. A beautiful, almost a regal room, was the thought that crossed Caroline’s mind.
“Oh, I didn’t expect anything like this,” was her impulsive exclamation.
“Is that so?” the housekeeper asked idly. “Then Mr. Randall didn’t tell you that his room is two doors away. In fact there’s only a dressing-room between the two rooms. The doors are always kept locked—and it’s up to you to see that they remain locked,” she added with emphasis. “It’s only to be expected that it would go to any young girl’s head when a man like Mr. Craig takes notice of her. And after all, Mr. Craig’s only human. He’s no different from any other man. If he sees a girl is willing, naturally he’s going to take advantage of the fact. I’m only saying these things for your
own good,” she ended righteously.
Caroline felt her cheeks flush resentfully. “But there’s no need for you to worry, Mrs. Creed,” she said angrily. “You may be sure that I know how to behave myself.”
“Well, all I know is that you’re half staff, half guest, and I really don’t know what to make of you,” Mrs. Creed cried in exasperation. “I’m placed in a very awkward position.”
Caroline glanced at Mrs. Creed’s puzzled, confused expression and her anger melted. What the housekeeper was saying was true: she was placed in a very awkward position because of Caroline’s ambiguous position in the household—a position that she herself had never desired. She had never asked to be more than a simple member of the staff.
“This is making thinks very difficult for me with Betty,” Mrs. Creed went on. “She sees you getting special privileges and she thinks she ought to be treated the same. She’s getting up on her high horse and won’t take a telling-off any longer. Any time I rebuke her I get you flung in my face.”
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Creed,” Caroline said miserably. “I told Mr. Craig I didn’t want to move, but he wouldn’t listen, and—”
“But why should he do this? Did he give any reason?” the housekeeper broke in.
Again Caroline felt embarrassed as she met the glance of sly knowledge.
“No—except that of course he didn’t like my room. He said it was dingy—” Caroline paused, aware of the inadequacy of the explanation.
“But to move you to the brocade room—that’s quite a change,” the housekeeper persisted.
What had Randall said about this change? Caroline tried to remember.
“Oh, he said something about my being his personal assistant and that from now on I must have a proper room and—”
“His personal assistant? Well. I never did!” exclaimed the housekeeper. “Assistant with what, I wonder,” she added dryly.
Again Caroline tried to remember. “It was something to do with the Christmas party,” she said at last. “I think he wants me to help with the children. He says I’m good with Robin and—”
“That explains it, perhaps,” Mrs. Creed said without particular conviction. “Yes, he did say you understood Robin, and really I’ve never seen the boy as good with anyone as he is with you. You’re so much younger than his nursery governesses, you see, so I suppose you still remember something of what it’s like to be a child. He seems to need someone Who can keep up with his activities—and that’s where the others failed. Yes, perhaps that’s it.”
But again there was the hint of suspicion in her reply and Caroline was aware that she was now the object of new and
covert interest to the housekeeper.
“Mr. Craig holds a children’s party every year, doesn’t he?” Caroline put in quickly, anxious to avert that penetrating and wary regard.
For the moment Mrs. Creed was diverted. “Yes, the master gives the green dining-room for the children’s party every Christmas. It’s a custom that’s been going on for generations at Longmere. All the presents are at his expense. Then on the following evening there’s usually a big dinner for his friends. Many of them come from a distance and some stay on afterwards. As a matter of fact, this was the room Mrs. Brant had last year. There was a big dinner party and several of the guests stayed overnight.”
As she spoke she transfixed Caroline with a very significant look, and it struck Caroline that the housekeeper expected her to realize the importance of this room because it had been Grace’s.
There was an awkward pause after this and Mrs. Creed said briskly, “Well, I’d better be off. I expect you’ll want to bring down your bits and pieces and get settled in.”
So Caroline for the last time climbed the stairs to that small attic room in which she had slept since her arrival. She drew out from under her narrow brass bed the battered fibre case and packed her possessions in it. She tied her books in their strap and last of all she took Smudge from his place over the knob at the head of her bed and with the little toy hooked over her arm made her way to her magnificent new room. Here she placed her few meagre possessions in one of the big bureau drawers. How shabby they seemed now that they had been moved from the chipped white-painted chest of drawers in her old bedroom! She arranged her books along the back of the dressing-table, but they too looked shabby and at last she placed them in one of the drawers. Poor Smudge appeared quite out of things in this magnificent background. It would have been unthinkable to hang him around one of the slender bedposts, so he had to be hidden in the wardrobe, hung up on one of the padded coat-hangers.
When she had finished Caroline surveyed her surroundings critically, thinking that her possessions had made no particular impression on the room. How different it would have been when Grace stayed here, she thought wistfully. Then Grace’s magnificent, lace-frothed negligees would be strewn around the room, her velvet high-heeled mules with the tufts of gay feathers on the toes, her toilet articles perfumed with scents especially blended to suit her personality, her silver-backed hairbrushes and combs. One or two of the expensive articles Grace would have brought with her for her stay overnight would, no doubt, have been more costly than all of her, Caroline’s, possessions put together.
Her eye was caught by the door of the dressing-room. She wandered towards it. It should have been locked; so Mrs. Creed had informed her; but this, she found, was not so. As she touched it, it swung open and she found herself gazing into a small room lined with cupboards. In a corner she saw Randall Craig’s riding-boots, carelessly flung aside as he had come in from riding in the morning. She wandered across and fingered a rack of ties hanging on the door of one of the cupboards which stood open. She picked one up and slowly rubbed it against her cheek, thinking that the little room seemed to breathe his presence, so vividly did his personality seem to hang around this place.
“Don’t let me disturb you,” he said sardonically, behind her.
She gave a little gasp of dismay and whirled around, the tie still in her hand. Had he seen the small gesture of tenderness? she wondered, her face flaming with embarrassment. She tried covertly to tuck her hand behind her back, but immediately her wrist was clutched in a grip of iron and the tie removed from between her fingers. “So you’ve been exploring Bluebeard’s domain! May I ask, by the way, what conclusions you have drawn?”
“I don’t know what you mean,” Caroline stammered unconvincingly.
“Don’t you? It’s possible to tell a great deal about a person’s character by studying their possessions. Why don’t you come into my bedroom and have a look around? It should be even more revealing and serve your purpose better. ”
As Caroline drew back in alarm, he gave a short, rasping laugh. “You must be even more of an innocent than you appear if it hasn’t dawned on you what conclusions will be drawn when the gossips get to work and it’s common knowledge that you’re no longer sleeping in the servants’ quarters.”
“Then why did you insist on it?” Her eyes met his defiantly. “You must have known how uncomfortable it would make things for me with the rest of the staff, especially Betty. She already resents me, and this will make things even more difficult. ”
“I must admit Betty’s feelings on the matter don’t influence me in the slightest,” he said dryly. “As the master of Longmere I’ll make any decisions I think proper without consulting my neighbours or begging for the approval of my staff. On the other hand, if you don’t like your new quarters—” he hesitated.
But honesty forced her to the reluctant admission, “I love it: it’s beautifully furnished and perfect in every way.”
“What’s your objection, then?” he asked coolly.
She stood silent for a moment, knotting her fingers together in agitation. It was impossible to mention Mrs. Creed’s insinuation concerning his motives.
But already, with his almost uncanny perception, he had guessed! His lips quirked into a smile, although his eyes were steely. “So Mrs. Creed has been filling your receptiv
e ear with dire warnings! No doubt she pointed out to you the proximity of my room and all it might portend?”
Caroline nodded speechlessly.
“I see.”
But she noted that he gave her no reassurance on this subject but stood regarding her thoughtfully for a long moment until she stirred uncomfortably.
Then he said abruptly, “By the way, have you written to the debonair Dick Travers yet, concerning by suggestion for the children’s Christmas entertainment?”
“No, not yet,” she admitted reluctantly. Once again he was the imperious employer. Why had she not yet written to Dick? she asked herself. There was an ambiguity about her feelings that she found confusing. Why this reluctance to get in touch with Dick again? Was it simply that he belonged to a part of her life that she wished to put behind her, or was it rather that she feared she would look on Dick with new eyes: more critical; more mature?
However, before she could summon up an excuse, he said briskly, “Write to him immediately and if he’s unable to come we’ll have to make alternative arrangements. There’s not such an awful lot of time left now. Any day Fred will be getting in the Christmas tree and then there’ll be the job of decorating it. It’s something that neither he nor Mrs. Creed particularly enjoy, so I was wondering if you’d take this chore in hand?”
She nodded, feeling her spirits rise in almost childish pleasure anticipating the task.
“And perhaps, later on, you’ll come with me and help select the presents in Carlisle?”
But, a little to her annoyance, she realized that she had really no choice in the matter: it was rather a command than a request.
“Yes, of course,” she said swiftly.
“All right then, that’s settled?” And with a curt nod he turned and entered his bedroom, shutting the door firmly behind him.
As she returned to her room Caroline felt a little upsurge of excitement. Somehow she hadn’t realized how near Christmas was, a time of the year she had always loved, and now, when she came to think of it, there was an unusual bustle about the house. She had been put to extra jobs, polishing and buffering the silver, and Mrs. Creed had a preoccupied air as she sent Betty scuttling about her business. Only Fred Creed, ambling between the house and gardens, preserved his usual taciturnity.
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