An Introduction to the Pink Collection (6 page)

She had come to the drawing room where the lamp showed her a large sofa that might do for a bed, just for tonight. Some moonlight came through the large windows and she decided to return the lamp to the kitchen.

Turning, she headed for the door and immediately collided with a chair that she hadn't seen in her path. It went over onto the wooden floor with a mighty clang that seemed to echo through the house.

She stood listening while the echoes died away. Then there was silence.

She made her way back to the kitchen where Clara was inspecting the floor.

“You'd better come with me,” she said. “After tonight I don't want to let you out of my sight. Parish property indeed.”

She turned out the lamp, scooped Clara up and returned along the passage to the drawing room. She had left the door open, so that although the passage was dark she could see her destination by the glow of moonlight.

But as she took the final step through the doorway a mountain seemed to descend on her. Clara escaped and flew upwards, squawking horribly.

After the first moment's blind panic Rena fought back fiercely, kicking out with her feet and thrashing her arms. She even managed to launch some sort of blow, if the grunt from her assailant was anything to go by.

Then they were on the floor together, rolling over and over in the darkness, each trying to get a firm grip on the other, gasping, thumping, flailing, until at last her head banged against the floor and she let out a yell.

“What the devil – ?” said a voice that she recognised.

The fight had taken them into a patch of moonlight near the window. Rena found she was lying on her back with a hard, masculine body on top of her, and the Earl's face staring down at her with shock.

“M-Miss Colwell?”

At that moment Clara landed on his head.

“Miss Colwell?” he said again, aghast. “It's you.”

“Certainly it's me. Kindly rise, sir.”

“Of course, of course.” He hastily sprang to his feet and reached down to help her up.

“Do you normally attack people who enter your home?” she demanded. She was breathless from the fight, and from strange sensations that were coursing around her body.

“Only the ones who come by night and don't ring the doorbell,” he said promptly. “To be honest, I thought you were the ghost.”

“Really!”

“Truly, I did. I heard a noise from down here and came to investigate. Then I heard ghostly footsteps coming along the passage, and then some creature came through the door, holding something under her arm. So naturally I thought you were carrying your head.”

“I beg your pardon!”

“You were carrying something under your arm, so I thought it was your head. Headless Lady, you know.”

“It was not my head,” Rena said with awful dignity. “It was a chicken.”

“A chicken? Yes – well, I quite see that that explains everything.”

Her lips twitched. “You are absurd,” she said.

“I beg your pardon, madam! You glide about the house at midnight, carrying a chicken under your arm, and I am absurd?”

“I can explain the chicken.”

“Please don't,” he begged, beginning to laugh. “I think I'd prefer it to remain a mystery.”

“Whatever Your Lordship pleases,” she said, beginning to dust herself down.

“Don't you think, after this, that you might bring yourself to call me John?”

“Yes, I do. And I'm Rena. And the chicken is Clara. She lays excellent eggs, as you will find.”

“I'm moved by this concern for my appetite, but I assure you tomorrow would have been soon enough.”

“Yes, but I – oh heavens!” she said, as the evening's events came back to her.

“My dear girl, whatever has happened? I can't see your face properly, but I can tell you're very depressed. No, don't answer now. Let us go into the kitchen and have some tea, and you can tell me all about it.”

His kindly concern was balm to her soul. In the kitchen she relit the lamp and he made her sit down on the old oak settle by the stove while he boiled the kettle. She told him the whole story of her arrival at the vicarage, her discovery of the family, and her battle with them.

“I behaved terribly,” she said, shocked at herself.

“It sounds to me as though you behaved very sensibly,” he said, handing her a cup of tea, and sitting down beside her. “They may not be a den of thieves exactly, but they're certainly a nest of bullies. And the only thing to do with bullies is stand up to them.”

“Well, that's what I think too,” she said, delighted to find a kindred spirit. “And yet – oh, goodness, if you could have heard the things I said to them.”

“I wish I had. I'm sure it would have been very entertaining.”

“Oh no, I'm sure that's wrong,” she said, conscience stricken. “How can a fight be entertaining?”

“Very easily if you have righteousness on your side. Nothing like a good fight. Engage the enemy and turn your ten-pounders on him.”

“Ten-pounders?”

“Guns.”

“They said – ” her voice began to shake from another reason, “they said they'd tell the constable that Clara was parish property, and I said – ” mirth was overcoming her, “I said – ”

“Don't stop there,” he begged. “I can't stand it.”

“I said he would take my side because – he'd met this chicken before.”

His crack of laughter hit the ceiling. Rena gave up the struggle not to yield to her amusement, and the two of them sat there, holding onto each other and rocking back and forth.

“That's not a ten-pounder, that's a twelve-pounder,” he gasped at last. “It must have blown them out of the water. I shall always regret that I wasn't there.

“I ought to have been, of course. I should have walked back to the vicarage with you, and then I would have been there to help. When I think of you struggling back here – and what do you mean by creeping in by stealth?”

“I thought you would still be at the tavern, and the house would be empty.”

“No, I didn't stay long. I began to feel rather uncomfortable.”

“You mean you felt unwelcome?”

“On the contrary, they welcomed me with open arms. They've decided that my arrival means the good times have come again, that I'll be wanting to restore the house and the gardens and that will provide work for them. I now know the names of every artisan and gardener in the district.

“How could I tell them that I have no money to fulfil their dreams? And
my
dream too if the truth be told.”

“Is it really your dream too?” she asked excitedly.

“Yes. In the short time I've been here I've fallen in love with this place. I'd like to do all the things they want, and live in a house that's as lovely as it ought to be. But not only for my sake. For theirs too.”

He gave an awkward laugh. “I've really been thinking only of myself since I inherited the Earldom. I never thought of how it might affect other people, or how they might hope it would affect them. But tonight I was confronted by the reality of other people's lives, and it made me stop and think.”

He looked at her ruefully. “Thinking isn't something I've done a lot of in my life. I've done my duty as a sailor, but for the rest I've been heedless, and content to be so. But now – ” he sighed. “Their need is so desperate and frightening. It made me feel I should do something about it. And yet – what can I do? Except pray that we find more coins, and they turn out to be worth a lot.”

“Yes,” she said. “We'll pray.”

“So, I escaped, because I wouldn't give them false promises. I came home and started writing letters, until I heard this crash from downstairs.”

“That was the chair.”

“And why were you going to sleep on the sofa? Do we lack spare bedrooms?”

“I thought I'd find one tomorrow, in the light.”

“You can't stay down here tonight.”

“Yes I can. And I'm going to.”

“Rena, be sensible.”

“I am being sensible. Besides, I want to stay with Clara, and I can't very easily take her upstairs.”

“Talking of Clara, she's busily pecking my boots. No doubt she thinks she still has to defend you. Will you kindly call your chicken off?”

She laughed and did so, then drained her tea.

“Now, sir – ”

“John.”

“Now, John, please will you be sensible and go to bed?”

He gave her a naval salute. “Ay, ay, ma'am. I'll see you at seven bells.”

As she snuggled down on the sofa later Rena remembered how, in her childhood, she'd longed for other siblings, especially a brother. And that was what John was, of course, the brother she had never had; someone she could talk to and laugh with, because they saw the world in the same way; someone who would care for her and let her care for him.

She fell asleep feeling happier than she had for months.

*

She was up at ‘seven bells' next morning, and immediately went out to buy fresh milk from Ned. She found Jack, the postman, in the shop, and told him about the new arrivals at the vicarage.

“I don't live there any more. I'm housekeeper at The Grange.”

“Got a letter for you here,” he said, looking in his bag. “And one for The Grange.”

She took them both and set off for The Grange. It was a lovely morning, fresh and spring like, and there was a skip in her step.

She found John in the kitchen, triumphant because Clara had laid two eggs.

“One each,” he said.

“Two for His Lordship,” she replied firmly.

“Fiddlesticks.”

“Here's a letter for you.” She handed it to him and went in to the dining room to give him privacy while he read it. As she had half expected it was a letter from the bishop, informing her that the Reverend Steven Daykers would soon be arriving to take up his position as vicar at Fardale, and he trusted that she would etc. etc.

“Oh Lord!”

She looked around to see that John had followed her into the dining room, a letter in his hand and a look of dismay on his face.

“What's the matter?”

“We have visitors coming this afternoon. I hope they will only stay for tea, but they might want to spend the night here.”

Rena gave a cry.

“That's impossible. You can't let them come!” she exclaimed. “The bedrooms are terrible! Your room is the best of the bunch, but even that needs a wash and a great deal doing to it.”

“I shut my eyes when I am undressing, and look out of the window when I am dressing,” the Earl said drolly.

“Very ingenious, but we couldn't count on your visitors to do the same. You really must not let them stay.”

There was silence for a moment, and she wondered if she'd offended him.

Then he said slowly, “I think I should be honest and tell you that the man who is coming here is exceedingly rich. I met him when I was in India and when he heard – I suppose from the newspapers – that I had come into the Earldom, he looked me up and told me that he was very anxious to see my ancestral home.”

“To see your – ancestral – home?” she echoed in a stunned voice.

In silence they both looked around them. They looked up at the grimy ceilings, around at the peeling walls, and down at the shabby furniture.

“He's going to get a shock, isn't he?” she said at last.

“A considerable shock,” John said grimly. “I only wish I thought it would scare him off.”

“Why do you want to scare him off?”

“Because I have a horrid feeling I know what he wants of me. We met when I was a penniless sailor and he asked me to a dance he was giving for his daughter, to make up the numbers, I believe. Well, I'm still penniless, but now I have a title.”

“You mean – ?”

“What this man really wants – and I am quite certain it is what he will say when he gets here, is for me to marry his daughter!”

Rena gave a little gasp. “Why should you do that,” she asked, “unless you have fallen in love with her?”

He was silent for a moment, and she felt a strange chill come over her heart.

“No, I'm not in love with her,” he said. “But if her father's money can restore The Grange and make the people here prosperous again, it couldn't possibly be my duty, could it? No!”

He checked himself, turned sharply and strode back into the kitchen. Rena stayed where she was for a moment. She was glad that he hadn't waited for her reply to that question, because she was not sure that she would have known how to answer.

After a minute she followed him into the kitchen, and began making his breakfast.

“Why was I even thinking like that?” he asked. “Of course I shan't marry where I do not love. If I marry, it will be to a woman I love, who will make me happy, even if we are not particularly rich.”

“I think you're right,” she said, concentrating on what she was doing, and not looking at him.

“But you don't think I'll keep to my resolution?” he asked, shooting her a look.

“I think it could be hard for you if he says he'll restore The Grange. Suppose he gives you enough money to repair it and bring the estate to life again. You could spend your life, in future, as a country gentleman, with of course, horses and dogs to verify it.”

There was silence for a moment. Then the Earl walked to the window in the kitchen and stood looking out. Rena thought he was looking at the part of the kitchen garden which was desperately untidy.

There were a few cabbages and onions, but for each one of them, there were at least a dozen weeds.

“I suppose,” she mused, “if she loved you, you would perhaps, in time, come to love her.”

She wanted to add ‘and her money', but thought that sounded rude.

John turned from the window and said in a very positive tone, which seemed somehow to echo round the kitchen: