by Mira Stables
Clemency assured her hostess that the household seemed to be running on oiled wheels, as was only to be expected with maids so well trained. “Besides,” she added, “they are all perfectly devoted to you, and you may be sure they will all surpass themselves in their wish to help you get better.” And seeing Lady Eleanor soothed and gratified by this remark, asked if she would not now like to rest a little.
“I am not at all tired,” said Lady Eleanor firmly, as of long habit. “But if you could spare the time I would like it very much, my dear, if you would brush my hair for me. I would not ask it of you, but Mattie is not used to dressing hair, and though she braided it as best she could it feels just as though it is dragging my scalp off. And with this —” she indicated her bandaged hand — “I am so clumsy.”
Mattie was the second housemaid, and more accustomed to brushing carpets than hair. Clemency helped the invalid remove her becoming cap and loosed the tight braids.
Out of a peaceful silence Lady Eleanor said sleepily. “You have a wondrous gentle touch. I could almost believe you were my daughter.” And then, rousing a little, “It is at times such as this that one wishes for a daughter, to pet and cosset one as no paid servant could do. Though to be sure I was very thankful to have born my dear Sir John a son when Giles came.”
Clemency smiled at her through the tall pier glass into which she was pensively gazing. “Well I certainly would not have wished you to have so uncomfortable an experience,” she said, “but since it has happened it does at least give us the satisfaction of repaying a little of your kindness. If you remember, you would not have us near you when you were so poorly last year for fear that we would take the influenza too.”
“At least there is no such danger with this complaint,” said Lady Eleanor cheerfully, “and I shall be very well pleased to have you visit me whenever you can spare the time. But I won’t have you walking all that way. Ask Giles to lend you Jenny and the gig. You will be quite safe. Dear Jenny is so gentle. I often drive her myself.”
Clemency accepted the suggestion willingly and said that in that case she would drive over again in the evening and see her friend comfortably settled for the night. Lady Eleanor was rather doubtful about that. To be sure the hunter’s moon was at the full and it was near as bright as day, but there had been nasty stories recently of highwaymen operating in the neighbourhood. Clemency only laughed at her. Even if the tales were true, such gentry would pay no attention to a female driving a gig. Lady Eleanor allowed inclination to overcome her natural caution and permitted herself to be overborne.
The entrance of Faith, carrying a tray and full of eager talk about the new foal and the choice of a name for the little creature swept away any lingering doubts as to the wisdom of the plan, and at the end of some twenty minutes devoted to refreshment and feminine chit-chat the sisters bade her good-bye and left her to rest, Clemency repeating from the threshold her promise to come again that evening.
As their voices faded — for they were arguing again, this time as to which of them should drive the placid Jenny — Lady Eleanor closed her eyes and relaxed against the pillows. She was not asleep — her mind was extremely active. Could her misfortune be turned to good account in furthering Piers’s plans for helping the Longdens? But try as she would she could not work out any acceptable scheme. Clemency would be bitterly hurt if she were offered paid work where she had given loving kindness. And sick room tasks were menial, even if one dignified the post by calling it that of companion to an invalid. Besides she knew perfectly well that she would be up and active as soon as she could hobble about, not being of the temperament to prolong the role of fragile convalescent, even to oblige nephew Piers. She gave up teasing her brain and went to sleep.
When her menfolk strolled in at dusk to see how she did, they found her much brighter for the refreshing nap that she had enjoyed and ready to take an interest in life once more. Giles had brought a tight little posy of late blooming roses to cheer her sickroom, a graceful attention that caused her to decide that falling in love was a very developing thing for a young man, making him more sensitive to the needs and tastes of all womankind. She directed him carefully as to the bestowal of the roses, accepted with thanks the letters that her nephew had brought up from the receiving office, and proceeded to give them an animated account of her day. Presently Giles went off to change his dress for dinner. Piers, who had already exchanged breeches and driving jacket for the more formal pantaloons and cutaway coat suitable to attendance on an invalid lady, strolled across to the hearth and began methodically building up the fire while his aunt expounded to him her ponderings on the possibility of employing Clemency.
He heard her out thoughtfully, but shook his head. “I’m afraid you’re right,” he said regretfully. “It would be quite ideal — but it just wouldn’t work. As for you playing malade imaginaire — well that wouldn’t work either. You’d never stick it. And that girl’s as sharp as she can hold together. She’d spot the fake in a trice. A pity — but no. Never fret, we’ll think of something yet. By the way, I’m off to London tomorrow, on business for Mr. Longden, and expect to be gone the best part of a week. I have managed to defer some of my own engagements until I return, but it is going to be difficult to fit in all the visits I had planned. I may have to invite some of my clients to wait upon me, to save time. Would you have any objection to such a scheme?”
“Good gracious, no! How can you be so absurd! Anything that will ease your work can only be most acceptable to me.”
He smiled down at her. “No objection that I smell of the shop? I do, you know, Aunt Nell. There is a wide gulf between the naval officer and a colonial sheep farmer and wool merchant. I might imperil your social standing.”
“You do well to tease me so when I can neither come at you easily nor box your ears as you deserve,” said his aunt indignantly. “Are you the less a gentleman for your dealings with the Longdens — with Giles? And what makes your generosity possible but the wool trade? You should be ashamed to despise the good fruits of your labours.”
He stooped and hugged her hard and rather painfully, forgetting her bruises, and dropped a light kiss on her cheek. “My own sweet Aunt Nell. You’re a darling — did you know? When I find a girl just like you, I’ll have her over my saddle bow and be off to the far Antipodes before she can draw breath to say no. But alas! They do not breed them in your style today. They’re all shrugs and sighs and artifice, and ‘La! A farmer. How curious!’ So you need not anticipate my immediate elopement. Don’t look so distressed, love! I fare very well as a bachelor. Here — read your letters. I’ll trim the lamp for you.”
His aunt, aware that the brief moment of intimacy was over, feigned deep interest in her correspondence, a feigning that turned to reality as she picked up a letter addressed in a familiar hand and exclaimed joyously, “Chloe! And I have so wondered about them. They were up in Scotland, you know, with Huntley’s parents, when Priscilla took the measles — and she turned sixteen! Of course the boys got them too, and even little Caroline. I do hope —” Further comment faded as she unfolded the crackling sheet. Piers smiled quietly into the fireglow. A letter from her sister would do more to raise Aunt Eleanor’s spirits than any medicine.
Not so. There came a tragic wail from the bed. “Piers! Now we really are in the suds! They are coming here — all of them — and Nurse and Chloe’s maid, and hope to be with us by the twenty-first. Why! That’s less than a week away. What in the world shall I do? Who is to see to all the preparations? They hope to stay for a month at least, which is delightful of course, and as Chloe says no doubt it will set the boys up nicely. Gavin still has a nasty cough and I’m sure nothing could be more beneficial than our fresh country air. But I wasn’t expecting them till next month. Oh! Piers!”
At that point she ran out of breath and thrust her hands up through her hair, setting her cap wildly askew and pressing her fingers to her temples as though to summon inspiration by sheer will power. And as seemed only proper
in response to such desperate appeal, it came. She bounced erect, gave a wince of pain as her bruised ribs resented such energetic action, and beamed upon her nephew as together they exclaimed, “Clemency Longden.”
“Now that is a truly excellent notion,” said Piers. “She must perceive that the help is really needed and that you would certainly have to hire a temporary housekeeper under the circumstances. Naturally you would rather have a girl who knows your ways.”
“But she will still wish to do it out of friendship,” said his aunt gloomily.
“Yes, if you approach her directly,” agreed Piers. “But we shall stage a little play for her benefit. When she comes to see you tonight, you and Giles shall be discussing the wording of an advertisement for this paragon who is so urgently needed. She will certainly volunteer her services, and then you must be very firm and say that nothing would suit you better but that it must be a business arrangement. And don’t forget that a temporary post is always more highly paid than a permanent one.”
Lady Eleanor lay back on her pillows and laughed. “You’re an unprincipled wretch,” she told him. “That poor child. It is a great shame to deceive her so, but I do believe it will take the trick.”
Giles was called into consultation, the situation explained to him, and his part in the projected comedy limned in. At first impatient at the necessity for such artifice he was gradually cajoled into amusement and eventually to downright enthusiasm, though he still insisted that his cousin would play the part with more verve. Piers, knowing full well that, in such a context, his every utterance would be deeply suspect, pointed out that it was more natural for a son to help his mother in such domestic difficulties rather than a mere nephew, and Giles allowed himself to be convinced, even adding one or two touches of his own to the play, which, he declared, added credibility.
So it was that Clemency walked in upon a carefully rehearsed and well set scene. Giles, pocket book and pencil in hand, had fixed his mother with an attentive gaze and was saying, “Surely, Mama, five guineas is rather high?”
“Not at all, my dear. I happen to know that when Chloe was so ill after Caroline was born, they engaged a housekeeper at exactly that figure. One always has to pay higher for temporary help, and we need someone quite exceptional, someone who is sensible and capable but will not object to the incursion of a lively family.”
At this point she chose to notice Clemency’s arrival and held out both hands in anguished appeal. “Clemency! My love we are in such a fix! Chloe and the children are arriving in less than a week. Seven of them — and me —” she allowed histrionic fervour to overcome grammatical accuracy — “in this state! I was quite at my wits’ end, I vow, until Giles insisted that we should advertise for a temporary housekeeper. And how we are to find anyone suitable in so short a time I simply cannot imagine.”
It was really too easy, thought Giles guiltily. Clemency might have been as carefuly rehearsed in her part as they were themselves. Her offer of help came quite as spontaneously as Piers had anticipated, and the little scene played itself to a satisfactory conclusion with a still reluctant Clemency finally agreeing to accept a salary for her services and Giles thankfully tearing up some remarkably unconvincing notes.
Chapter Eight
CLEMENCY took up quarters at the Manor, since there was no time now to be wasted on driving to and fro, but Jenny and the gig were left at the disposal of her sisters and Faith came over nearly every day to see if she could make herself useful. Lady Eleanor had insisted that one of her own young maids should be lent to Betsy to help her with the rough work and so free the old woman for the tasks that had been Clemency’s. Betsy, much gratified at having even one under servant, decided that times were on the mend at last. Privately, Lady Eleanor told Clemency that she was glad to get this particular girl away from the Manor for a while.
“She is Grant’s daughter, you know, from the West Lodge, and a sensible willing girl. But it seems that she was much attached to that ne’er-do-well cousin of hers, Will Overing, and the news that he has run off from the White Swan where Grant had found him a place in the stables has upset her. I suspect that the other girls tease her about her runaway gypsy sweetheart, and make no doubt that she too will be glad of the change. Betsy’s tongue may be sharp and she will make Elspeth work hard, but under the crust she is a motherly soul and will be kind to the girl.”
By the end of her own first day at work, Clemency had discovered that her job was no sinecure; that she really was earning some, at least, of the enormous salary on which Lady Eleanor had insisted. But the work was seasoned with laughter and good humour, so that she greeted each new day with cheerful anticipation. Occasionally she assured herself that she was thankful that there was no dark-haired blue-eyed sea rover to disturb her peace with quizzically lifted brows or teasing grin, especially when, inevitably, she made the mistakes of inexperience.
The Gordons duly arrived and were installed in the rooms that she had so carefully prepared, and everything went smoothly. Her first experiment in ordering for a large household met with approval from Lady Eleanor, being nicely balanced between considerations of quality and economy, and the arrangements made for the nursery party were acceptable to Nurse MacNab — a triumph of the first order. Lady Eleanor was still confined to her own room, and as she and her sister were wholly absorbed in each other’s society the young housekeeper found herself more fully in charge than she had anticipated, but since her first timid essays in menu planning were well received she took courage and began to enjoy her new responsibilities.
Faith was delighted with the Gordons. Though she loved her sisters dearly, twins were apt to live in their own self-contained little world, and at times she had felt a touch of loneliness. Now she was presented with a ready made family. Priscilla, only a year her junior, shared her tastes and views to a nicety, with just enough difference to add a spice to argument. Alastair and Gavin provided a liberal education to the girl who had never known the endearing and mischievous nature of small brothers, and baby Caroline was graciously pleased to accept another admirer into her circle of worshippers. Faith still slept at home, but it was about the only part of the twenty-four hours that she did spend there.
Nor was Prudence unduly bereft by the absence of her sisters, since by some odd twist of circumstance Giles Kennedy chanced to have business in the vicinity of Ash Croft with quite surprising frequency, and it would have been unneighbourly in him to have passed without calling to tell Miss Pru how her sister was sustaining the rigours of a working life.
For the past year, as he had watched her struggling bravely with tasks far too heavy for a girl, Giles had fallen ever more deeply in love with his former playmate, longing to shield her from every hardship and knowing that her pride would not permit him to do so. His position was difficult, for how could he, with so little to offer, propose marriage to a girl who would some day be a considerable heiress? Now, thanks to his cousin’s offer, he was beginning to dream of an early marriage. His mother, too, was fast coming round to acceptance of Piers’s suggestion; was, indeed, beginning to regard it as a most convenient disposition of all their lives. Her son should marry his Prudence, and she herself would retire to the Dower House. The Beaches would make her very comfortable and when Piers chose to come home she could play hostess for him, or if he preferred bachelor freedom she could visit Chloe or stay with her son and daughter-in-law. Perhaps by then there might even be grandchildren.
She would be sorry to part with dearest Clemency, for never before had she so enjoyed a visit from her sister, distracted as she had always been by domestic cares. But Clemency was so sweetly pretty — and an heiress, too, some far distant day — that undoubtedly she would marry well. She deserved it, thought Lady Eleanor with warm gratitude, and hoped she might marry a baronet at least.
So Piers came home to a very contented household. During his stay in Town he had arranged for a representative of Messrs. Rundell Bridge and Rundell to call upon Mr. Longden and value the
jewels. He trusted that this very sensible precaution would offset the highly unusual loan terms that were to be put before that gentleman. He had been less successful in arranging his own return passage to Port Jackson, and had wasted much energy in fulminating bitterly against the stupidity of ship owners who could not foresee the splendid future that lay ahead for his adopted country. He had even contemplated investing some of his surplus wealth in the newly emergent steamship companies that would some day solve the problem of swift transport across the world. But perhaps he had better see how much his lately adopted family was like to cost him before extending his dealings too far.
That brought him back to thoughts of little Miss Longden. He wondered how she was faring in her new life. She would deal bravely, he was sure. But that life was still set in the familiar English pattern. Would her endearing quality survive transplantation, or would she sicken and droop as had the young wife of one of his friends, so that Kit had resigned a valuable holding and returned to an ill-paid job in England. It was too much to ask of any girl, he decided yet again, however much the thought of a slim little body, warm lips and candid brown eyes quickened one’s pulses.
The Manor House was alive with fun and laughter when he strolled in. Great plans were afoot for a riotous Hallowe’en party, with ducking for apples and roasting of nuts and all the rites and mysteries proper to that festival, and Clemency, at the heart of it all, was too occupied with the lively brood of youngsters to pay him any attention beyond enquiring in very sedate fashion whether he would be resuming his former practice of dining with his aunt so that she might give the necessary orders. With a strong notion that the less he saw of Miss Longden the better it would be for his peace of mind, he said that in view of the irregularity of his comings and goings in the immediate future it would be better if he dined at home, but was coaxed by Faith and Priscilla into promising to do his best to attend their Hallowe’en party.
