by Anne Mather
‘I’m sorry,’ she said now, aware of the numbing effect his fingers were having on her arm. ‘Naturally, I thought——’
‘You’re not paid to think, Miss Seton,’ he essayed, the tawny eyes glittering between their dark fringe of lashes. ‘My God, you do persist in stirring up the hornets’ nest, don’t you? Why, I wonder? Is that how you get your kicks? By destroying what little self-respect I have left?’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ she got out unsteadily. ‘There’s no point in discussing the matter any longer, Mr Sheldon. You’ve made your position perfectly clear. And now, if you’ll let me go, I’ll tell Anya your answer.’
‘And damn me in the process,’ he suggested roughly, looking down at his fingers, dark against the cream wool of her sweater. ‘What do you really want from me, I wonder? Blood?’
Almost imperceptibly, the atmosphere in the barn had altered as he spoke, and Joanna was immediately aware of it. It was as if their closeness—his touching her—had wrought some chemical change, and she could tell by the narrowing of his eyes that he was recognising the intimacy. His thumb—at least, she thought it was his thumb—probed the vulnerability of veins protected within the joint of her arm; but even as Joanna strove to remain unmoved by its sensuous exploration, Anya’s clear voice rang behind them.
‘Miss Seton, Miss Seton! You’ve got a visitor. It’s Mr Trevor.’
Nothing could have been designed to promote a more violent withdrawal. Almost before Anya had finished speaking, Jake’s hand had dropped from her arm, and she stood there rubbing the bruised flesh with a sense almost of bereavement. It was as well the barn was shadowy, and Anya’s eyes were dazzled from the sunlight outside, or she might have wondered why her father and her governess were standing so close together, and what they had been saying to bring that bloom of colour to Joanna’s cheeks.
As it was, she hovered in the open doorway, more intent on feeding the fires of resentment her father would display at the other man’s unwelcome arrival, enjoying what she thought was Joanna’s embarrassment at Paul’s tenacity.
‘Did you invite him here?’ Jake demanded now, addressing his question to Joanna as he strode towards the door, and she shook her head indignantly.
‘No. But there’s no reason why he shouldn’t come, is there?’ She summoned all her small store of composure. ‘I—er—I’m glad he has. It means I can apologise.’
Jake halted, brows descending. ‘Apologise?’ he echoed coldly. ‘Forgive me, but I don’t understand. Exactly what have you to apologise for?’
‘For wasting his time. I—well, I’ve never contacted him to let him know that—that you managed to find a housekeeper.’
Jake’s mouth compressed. ‘You can forget it. I myself apprised his father of that fact the day after Mrs Parrish’s arrival.’
Joanna gasped. ‘And you didn’t think to tell me?’
He shrugged. ‘I didn’t consider it concerned you.’
Joanna knew she ought to keep silent, particularly with Anya’s sharp eyes alert for every word, but she couldn’t. ‘What you mean is, you wanted to deter Paul from coming to Ravengarth! You knew about our bargain, and you hoped he’d take the hint. Well, apparently he hasn’t, and I for one am delighted!’ And with that, she brushed past both of them, out of the barn and across the yard to where Paul was waiting, leaning against the bonnet of the Land Rover.
‘So there you are!’ he exclaimed, with evident relief. ‘I was beginning to wonder if Sheldon’s daughter was just having me on. She said you were in the barn, but I had my suspicions. Don’t tell me he’s got you doing farm chores now there’s someone to look after the house.’
‘No.’ Joanna forced a smile, but it wasn’t easy, particularly as she was aware of Jake and his daughter rapidly approaching behind her. ‘I—er—Anya and I—we wanted to go into Penrith shopping, and I went to ask if I could borrow the Range Rover. But I can’t.’
Paul’s face beamed. ‘Well now, isn’t that a coincidence? It just so happens I’m going into Penrith this morning. How would you and—and Anya like to ride in with me?’
Joanna opened her mouth to reply, and then closed it again as Jake came abreast of them. His expression told her he had heard Paul’s suggestion, and his response was not unexpected.
‘That won’t be necessary, Trevor,’ he remarked, after offering a perfunctory greeting. ‘Naturally, if Miss Seton wishes to accompany you, I have no objections, but Anya will stay at home.’
‘Oh, Daddy!’ Anya’s cry was anguished. ‘But I want to go! Miss Seton said she’d take me. Why can’t I go with Mr Trevor too?’
‘Yes, why can’t she?’ exclaimed Joanna, doing the unforgivable thing and taking the child’s part against her father. ‘It doesn’t matter to you how we get to Penrith, does it? So long as you’re not involved.’
Jake’s eyes smouldered. ‘Mr Trevor can’t be expected to welcome the company of an eleven-year-old, Miss Seton,’ he retorted, the coldness of his voice belying the amber fire. ‘As I say, your time is your own.’
‘There’s really no reason why she shouldn’t come with us, Sheldon,’ Paul put in smoothly, and Anya turned an appealing face in her father’s direction.
‘Please, Daddy,’ she begged, tugging at his sleeve, and his expression softened in response to her pleading.
‘Very well,’ he said at last, though the look he turned on Joanna was not encouraging. ‘If Miss Seton insists on making the trip today, instead of later in the week, then I suppose you can go with her.’
‘Thank you, Daddy!’
Anya hugged her arm against her cheek, delighted to have won her own way for once, but Joanna knew it was a hollow victory. Jake had deliberately made her the protagonist, and the responsibility for the outing was on her head.
‘We’ll get our coats,’ she said tightly, refusing to give in to his moral blackmail, and with merely a bow of his head in Paul’s direction, Jake strode away.
Despite her fears to the contrary, both Joanna and Anya enjoyed the outing. Paul was a talkative companion, and although he got impatient when Anya interrupted their conversation, he endeavoured not to ignore her completely. Anya, Joanna guessed, was simply enjoying the unaccustomed change of surroundings, and with a promise of some new exercise books for her writing, she was more willing to behave herself. The possibility of getting some new clothes was less appealing, but Joanna hoped that once she saw herself in feminine clothes she would begin to show an interest.
They left Paul in the market place, with a promise to meet him in two hours for lunch. He had invited them to join him in the Buttery of the local hotel, and even Anya seemed excited at the prospect. Joanna guessed it was years since the girl had taken a meal in a restaurant, and she half wished Jake had accompanied them.
It didn’t take long to locate a shop that specialised in children’s clothes, and Joanna was delighted to find it stocked up-to-date as well as traditional items. It was fascinating, looking at the racks of skirt and trouser suits, smocks and pinafores, shirts and waistcoats. There were dresses with matching waistcoats, leather jackets, with fun-fur collars, long-skirted party wear, and jeans for every occasion. Even Anya’s reluctant interest was aroused, and pretty soon she was trying on garments with increasing enthusiasm, delighted to discover her skimpy shape was complemented by the most fashionable clothes.
‘Mummy used to say I was too thin,’ she volunteered, as she stood before the long mirror in a becoming skirt suit of fringed suede, with a contrasting scarlet shirt and bootlace tie. ‘She said girls should be round and chubby, not bony freaks like me.’
Joanna was appalled that the child should have such memories of her mother, but she turned her remarks aside, saying instead: ‘These days it’s fashionable to be slim. But it really doesn’t matter what you are, so long as you’re happy. And everyone can look smart. So long as they choose the right clothes.’
Anya nodded. ‘I like this suit. It’s pretty. Do you think Daddy will lik
e it, too?’
‘I’m sure he will,’ Joanna assured her, more firmly than she felt. ‘We’ll have that—and the other trouser suit, the green wool one. And those two dresses you tried on before.’
Anya’s eyes widened. ‘Gosh! Won’t Daddy mind?’
Joanna sighed. ‘If he does, he can take the cost for these things out of my wages,’ she replied. ‘Now, we need some underwear and some boots.’
Anya hesitated, looking at her doubtfully. ‘Why should you do this for me?’ she asked curiously. ‘I mean, you’re not my aunt or anything. You’re not even related to me.’
Joanna bent her head, making a display of looking for her wallet. ‘Let’s say I’m willing to speculate on the future,’ she said, not quite knowing what she meant by that, but Anya still lingered.
‘You mean—my future?’ she asked, frowning, and Joanna was forced to meet her gaze.
‘What else?’ she retorted, controlling her colour with difficulty. ‘Now hurry and get changed. We still have quite a lot to do.’
By the time they met Paul in the Buttery of the Golden Lion they were loaded down with parcels and carrier bags. As well as the items Joanna had purchased at the first shop, there was underwear and nightwear, shirts and sweaters, socks and shoes, and a pair of knee-length leather boots, with a heel that delighted Anya. She was so excited, she spent the first ten minutes telling Paul about the things they had bought, and Joanna reflected, with a certain amount of satisfaction, how much more natural it was for her to chatter on in this way, instead of displaying the sullen insolence she had first encountered. Was it only attention Anya had been lacking? Someone to listen to her and understand her problems? Or was it that since Mrs Harris had departed the atmosphere at Ravengarth had changed, and she had no longer any need to be on the defensive?
When the meal was eventually served and Anya was tucking in to scampi and chips, Paul took time out to ask Joanna how she had been. ‘We’ve been rather concerned about you,’ he said, and she hoped Anya wasn’t paying him any attention. ‘You haven’t taken any more walks to the village.’ It was difficult to be frank with the child looking on, but Joanna tried anyway. ‘There’s been no need,’ she explained, glancing at Anya’s bent head. ‘To go to the village, I mean. Mrs Parrish has her own car. But we have taken walks by the stream, and once we walked as far as Heronsfoot.’
Paul frowned. ‘Mrs Parrish,’ he mused. ‘That’s the new housekeeper, I presume. Is she satisfactory?’
‘Very satisfactory,’ Joanna nodded. ‘She’s very nice, actually. She’s a widow—from a village near here. She has a grown-up family of her own.’
‘She makes super pies,’ Anya put in at this point, dispelling any suspicion that she had not been listening to their conversation. ‘Does your housekeeper make pies, Mr Trevor? If not, you ought to try Mrs Parrish’s.’
Paul smiled. ‘I don’t have a housekeeper, Anya,’ he explained. ‘I live with my parents, and my mother does all the cooking in our house. You’ll have to get Miss Seton to bring you over to sample her cakes one afternoon.’ He cast a challenging look in Joanna’s direction. ‘I’m sure she’ll confirm that they’re super, too.’
Anya had been listening with evident interest, and now she said: ‘You have a farm, don’t you? It’s bigger than Ravengarth. Do you have horses?’
Joanna’s spirits took a distinctive downward trend as Paul assured the girl that indeed they had. And what was more, his father had offered her the chance to ride one of them if she chose to do so.
‘Didn’t Miss Seton tell you?’ he asked, feigning innocence, and it was left to Joanna to soothe Anya’s indignant feelings.
‘Your father wasn’t enthusiastic,’ she replied carefully. ‘I suppose he was thinking of your welfare. Horses can be dangerous animals—believe me, I know.’
She remembered her father’s death with sudden depression. Her life had seemed so simple up to that point. Her mother’s, too. Now she was the only breadwinner, and Mrs Seton had become little more than a helpless invalid. She had depended on her husband so much, they both had, and it was hard for Joanna to reconcile the love she had had for Martin Seton all his life with the feelings of helplessness she had experienced upon discovering his reckless disregard for his family’s future. He had gambled, and he had lost, and Joanna was only now beginning to forgive him for leaving them to make the best of their lives. It wasn’t so bad for her; she was young and resilient. But her mother had never expected to have to beg help from friends and relatives, and only Aunt Lydia’s intervention had saved the situation.
‘I know how to ride,’ Anya was saying proudly. ‘I used to have a pony of my own which Daddy kept stabled near town. I used to ride every weekend.’ She spoke wistfully now, and then seemed to realise she was dropping her guard. ‘Anyway, I’d like to borrow your horse, Mr Trevor. And I’m sure I can persuade Daddy to let me.’
Joanna wished she was as sure, but she refrained from arguing. She had enough on her mind with the more immediate problems of Anya’s new wardrobe, and she wished she had been a little more circumspect in the extent of her purchases.
It was almost four o’clock when Paul dropped them at the gates of Ravengarth. He refused Joanna’s offer of a cup of tea, much to her relief, and instead suggested he might call again towards the end of the week.
‘I could drive you and Anya over to the farm, instead of leaving you to tramp through the woods,’ he said, as an afterthought. ‘You might even stay for lunch if you’re not busy.’
‘Oh, really—I’ll let you know,’ insisted Joanna firmly. ‘That is—Mr Sheldon may not—be enthusiastic.’
‘Don’t you want to go, Miss Seton?’ asked Anya pointedly, and with a slight deepening of colour in her cheeks, Joanna demurred.
‘I’ll let you know,’ she said again, and with a polite wave of her hand urged Anya across the yard and into the house.
Mrs Parrish was in the kitchen, making herself and Matt a pot of tea. She and the old gardener-cum-handyman got along very well in the main, although he was apt to grumble about the amount of logs she had him saw sometimes, and her insistence that he always removed his boots before stepping across her neatly polished floor.
‘Well now, what have you got there?’ she asked with a twinkle, as Anya carried her parcels into the room and allowed them to tumble all over the table. ‘Seems like you’ve bought up half of Penrith, by the looks of things. I hope your father isn’t going to be bankrupt after this extravagance.’
Anya giggled, but Joanna found her own sense of humour somewhat lacking. Mrs Parrish had a habit of saying what she had only been thinking, and in this instance it was too close for comfort.
‘Miss Seton paid for everything,’ declared Anya, with the inconsequence of youth. ‘She said if Daddy didn’t want to pay, it didn’t matter.’
Mrs Parrish raised her eyebrows at this, and even Matt looked a trifle doubtful, and Joanna hastened to correct the child’s statement. ‘I said—if Mr Sheldon objected, he could take the cost out of my wages,’ she explained uncomfortably. Then, needing reassurance, she added: ‘But you don’t think he will, do you? I mean, Anya needed these things.’
They were all still looking at one another, each of them searching for the right response, when Joanna heard footsteps approaching down the hall. It had to be Jake. Either he had been in the house all the time, or he had just come in, she wasn’t sure which, but at least she was not to be kept in suspense over her reckless buying spree.
The door opened and he came into the room, his dark visage casting an immediate shadow on the proceedings—or so it seemed to Joanna’s anxious mind. His eyes moved swiftly round the room, identifying the four people present, and then turned to Joanna in fleeting interrogation.
‘Daddy!’ Anya’s excited cry broke the silence, and she danced towards him, wrapping her arms around his hips and pressing her small body against him. ‘Daddy, we’ve had a marvellous time! We had lunch with Mr Trevor at a hotel, and we’ve done heaps of
shopping. You’re not cross, are you? You don’t mind that Miss Seton spent all your money?’
Jake looked down at his daughter with wry cynicism. ‘It seems to me it would be all the same if I did,’ he remarked dryly, and Joanna tensed at the implied criticism. Then he lifted his head and fixed her with a piercing stare. ‘I trust you had a pleasant day, Miss Seton. At least you appear to have succeeded in teaching Anya to appreciate her femininity at last.’
It was a half-hearted compliment at best, but Joanna refused to be intimidated. ‘Anya’s an easy child to buy for,’ she said. ‘All the current styles are suited to her size and shape.’
‘Miss Seton says I’m not bony, just slim,’ averred Anya eagerly. ‘Do you think I’m pretty, Daddy? The lady in the shop said I was.’
‘And so you are,’ exclaimed Mrs Parrish, relieving the situation. ‘It’ll be a change to see you in something other than those old jeans. You’ll look like a proper little girl.’
Jake released himself from his daughter’s clinging arms and went to examine the articles spread across the table for himself. ‘Miss Seton has certainly been generous,’ he remarked, his expression sardonic. ‘I just wonder when you’re going to wear all these things, Anya. Unlike Miss Seton, the chances of you moving in social circles are decidedly doubtful.’
Joanna’s lips tightened, and she wished she had the right to tell him to shut up. It was as if he was determined to belittle her efforts, but in so doing he was destroying his daughter’s enthusiasm.
‘Anya—Anya might like to spend a weekend with my mother and me,’ she flung at him recklessly, ignoring the practicalities of such an invitation. ‘When I have a weekend off, she—she could come home with me. It’s only a small flat, but she could share my room——’
‘I think that is most unlikely,’ Jake overrode her harshly, and she knew she had succeeded in dispelling his patronising manner. But in its place was something far more destructive. ‘I don’t propose to allow Anya to become a curiosity, a figure of fun, for your friends to treat with condescension!’
