Master of Melincourt (3 page)

“I shall keep them all,” Tina insisted sleepily, “and they’ll
all
stay up here
!”

Edwina carried off the cat to her own sitting-room, and somewhat wearily because her days with Tina had so far proved extraordinarily exhausting—perhaps because she had had a serious illness not many weeks before and she wasn’t entirely fit yet—she sat in one of her comfortable chairs near the window and nursed the cat, and wished the echo of that small, spiteful voice that kept ringing in her ears could either be smothered, or she could forget that she only had one dress to wear when her employer insisted that she and his niece should dine with him, and it was the unfortunate black lace that had been so adversely criticised.

For of course she
knew
that it was out of date, and it didn’t really suit her because she was too pale at the moment to wear black at all, and although as Tina had been kind enough to point out it fitted her very well it was not the kind of dress any young woman who took even the most modest amount of pride in her own appearance would wish to appear in night after night.

And in view of the fact that her position at Melincourt was so insecure, and she might be presented with one month’s wages and her ticket back to London at almost any moment, she didn’t really feel justified in buying herself another.

Of course, she thought, as she sat there hugging the cat, and unconsciously appreciating the warm feel of the expectant animal’s fur, and its constant purring sounded pleasantly and rather homely in her ears, she
could
buy another. She could be rash and take the risk that very soon she would be once more out of a job, and get time off to go to the local market town and have a look at the shops.

But to what end? And with what purpose in mind?

In order that she should be spared further unflattering comments when she donned the black lace dress, or because she hated to think that Jervis Errol might seriously think she picked her clothes up at jumble sales and she wanted to correct the impression?

But whatever she bought as a replacement for the black dress he would probably think it so very ordinary that he would dismiss it as a joke
... and if she and her clothes were a joke it didn’t really matter.

For to Jervis Errol, after all, she was of no more importance than the parlourmaid, and he almost certainly valued his cook more than he valued her.

She went across to her mirror before she got into bed, and she looked at herself long and critically in the flattering, soft light of the silk-shaded bulb that hung above it. With a background of flowery chintz and soft, pale carpet, high, old-fashioned bed already turned down for the night, her nightdress draped across the top of the sheet and fat pillows encased in hem-stitched pillow-cases, she should have provided an interesting focal point in the oval mirror. But in her own eyes the focal point was marred by too long hair and a lack of distinction in the features.

They were just—features. Anyone might have possessed them and felt mildly gratified because they were not terribly irregular, and at least they were not marred by any blotches or collections of freckles or unsightly skin eruptions. Her skin, indeed, was her most prized possession. She never needed to do much about it, and even under trying climatic conditions it remained matt and smooth, somewhat suggestive of pale Devonshire cream with an occasional overlay of wild-rose pink. When she was embarrassed the wild
-
rose pink spread in all directions and deepened perceptibly, but even at its worst it was not a painful blush.

She could, in short, blush attractively, just as she could cry attractively. Her big brown eyes always appeared to glimmer through sparkling mist after an emotional upset, and they never became red-rimmed. She supposed she should consider herself highly fortunate because this important blessing was hers
... but to counteract it there were other disadvantages that worried her when she paused to dwell on them.

The shape of her nose, for instance, was very far from being classical, and her cheekbones were rather high. But she had a prettily rounded chin and a shapely throat and an attractive mouth. As she gazed at herself, and the soft light fell across her, she
recognised
for the first time that her eyelashes were quite luxuriant, and although fair at the tips they were very dark where they became attached to her white lids.

But the overall effect did nothing to please her, and she wondered why she felt depressed by her own defects as she crept into bed at last and sat hugging her knees for some time. Never before had she felt quite so depressed because she was not a great beauty, and never before had the fact that her wardrobe was so limited really worried her.

So Marsha Fleming was a beauty
...
and her clothes were gorgeous. Well, what did it matter? What was it to do with her, anyway, who would probably never meet her?

But the next morning, when she returned from her ride with her Uncle Jervis, Tina burst into Edwina’s room triumphantly and announced that it was now reasonably certain that Miss Fleming—and her mother—would be arriving to stay with them very soon.

“Uncle Jervis is going to London in a few days’ time, and he’s going to see them and ask them to come and stay,” Tina said as she picked up Edwina’s hairbrushes and her silver-backed comb and examined them critically. “These are pretty. You do have a few pretty things,” she commented. She reached for a flagon of perfume that was a present from Edwina’s last employer when she returned from a visit to Paris, and although Edwina cautioned her to be careful how she handled it she removed the stopper and sniffed at the open neck of the bottle appreciatively. Then she sprinkled some of the perfume over herself and the carpet—quite a lot of it was wasted on the carpet
—
and when the governess advanced to remove it from her hands flung it down carelessly so that it was smashed by contact with the glass tray on the dressing-table, and that was the last of Edwina’s carefully hoarded French perfume.

“Oh, really, that was very careless of you,” Edwina exclaimed, biting her lip ... and then Tina, who hated to be accused of doing something that she knew she had done, tore away out of the room and slammed the door behind her.

When Edwina joined her in the breakfast-room ten minutes or so later she was already eating her breakfast, and brandishing her knife and fork in a way that she knew to be unladylike she spoke scoffingly, and with her mouth full, to the older girl.

“You and your silly old bottle of scent! It was probably horrid cheap stuff, anyway, and not at all like the bottles of scent my Uncle Jervis brought home for Miss Fleming and her mother.
They
were great big cut-glass bottles and
frightfully expensive
... I know because my Uncle Jervis never buys anything that isn’t expensive. He just wouldn’t
!”

Edwina decided to say nothing, and helped herself to kidneys from the dish in front of her.

CHAPTER III

THIS unfortunate brush at the commencement of the day set the tone for the remainder of the day, and Tina was more than usually difficult to handle during the hours before lunch.

She refused to concentrate on lessons, and declined to sit still for longer than a few minutes at a time. The schoolroom—which had been the schoolroom at Melincourt for many years—was a very pleasant and comfortably furnished room, but Tina complained that the chairs were hard, her books were dull, and in any case Miss Sands was no good at all as a teacher, because she didn’t make the lessons interesting enough. She didn’t read aloud to her, as a former governess had done, and she didn’t go down to join the cook in the kitchen for her elevenses—as yet another former governess had done—in order that she could have her fortune read in the tea-leaves, and therefore lessons were not half the fun they had once been, and Tina wished more than ever that her uncle would try to find someone else to supervise her daily life.

At lunch time she behaved badly in the
dining room
—and one of the snags attached to her present situation, looked at from Edwina’s own point of view, was the fact that almost all meals had to be taken in the presence of her employer, and unless he stated that he wished them to have their meals upstairs there was no escape from having to cope with Tina right
under the eyes of her doting but occasionally critical uncle. Dinner was the one meal from which they were excused, but by that time Tina was in bed in any case, and Edwina would have simply hated to dine downstairs alone with her employer.

On this particular day Jervis Errol did not appear to be in a particularly good humour, and Edwina gathered that he had been having an argument with his agent which had ruffled him because it transpired he had not emerged the complete victor from the argument. It was scarcely to be wondered at that Tina liked her own way, for Jervis Errol most certainly enjoyed having his. When nothing occurred to upset him, and life flowed along more or less tranquilly, he could be exceedingly amiable, and he had a sense of humour which made him a pleasant companion ... if one was fortunate enough to enjoy the same status as his own, and therefore was looked upon as an equal and a friend.

His agent—a charming, youngish man whom Edwina had met on two occasions so far—was quite a close friend, so the present quarrel was not serious. But because he had been thwarted, and certain views of his had been set aside, the master of Melincourt had his black brows closely knit together when he came into the dining-room, and there was a steely, impatient glint in his extremely attractive dark blue eyes.

He was in no mood to have a small, precocious niece address him half-way through the meal as ‘Jervis,’ instead of ‘Uncle Jervis’; and when she followed this up by upsetting her glass of lemonade and emptying a plateful of rice pudding into her lap it was plainly more than he was able to endure with patience.

He rose in his seat at the head of the table, and while Edwina coped with her own table napkin and the greasy mess of rice pudding that filled Tina’s lap, he raised his voice to the child for the first time in Edwina’s experience
... and not merely did he raise it to her, he shouted at her.

“You awkward, ill-mannered, impossible child! Don’t you ever sit still? Can’t you ever behave like any other normal child? Why do I have to put up with you and have my luncheon table wrecked and my dining-room floor made a quagmire of revolting foodstuffs just because you’ve never learned that children of your age are an infliction, and not a pleasure, and should be seen and not heard?”

Startled, as she had probably never been startled in the whole of her life, Tina stared at him, her mouth dropping open, and Edwina, on her knees beside her, also stared.

“I’m quite sure it was an accident, Mr. Errol..
.”
she tried to defend her charge, but he would not have it.

“An accident? First impertinence, and then a whole glass of lemonade sent cascading across the tablecloth, and then that beastly pudding! If I had my meals alone, as a bachelor is entitled to do, I wouldn’t have to endure the sight of rice puddings being brought to table! I tell you, Tina, you’ll have to mend your ways. You’re beginning to behave as if natural good manners are not a part of your makeup, and I’m not at all sure that I oughtn’t to pack you off to school.”

“Not—boarding-school
?
”

Tina, who had had this bogy raised once before, put the query in a husky voice, while her face turned quite white. “You said you would never, never send me to boarding-school!”

“Well, I probably will, now that I’ve made the discovery that you’re getting out of hand.”

“I’m not getting out of hand.” She was so shaken by his defection that it caused her mouth to quiver. “And I’ll run away if you send me to school!”

“In that case I’ll send you to the kind of school that you’ll not find it easy to run away from.”

“I’ll still run away.” Her whole face was working, moisture beginning to spill over from her eyes. “It’s not fair, when I haven’t really done anything. I think you’re being b-beastly to me!”

She looked as if she was about to flee the room, but her uncle ordered her to sit down again at the table and behave like a civilised human being. In arctic tones he informed her that he disliked scenes.

“Quite apart from anything else, it might be a very good thing to send you away to school,” he remarked, as he pared himself a peach. “You’re arriving at a somewhat difficult age, and it’s quite possible I’m not the right person to have charge of you. Not even with the assistance of Miss Sands here,” directing at her a look that said plainly that he judged her contribution to his niece’s future development as scarcely likely to be worth mentioning.

Tina turned on Edwina and reproached her with unreasonable venom.

“There you are, you see!” she exclaimed. “It’s you who’ve caused all the trouble. If Uncle Jervis thought you were any good he’d keep you and you could look after me for years and years, but as you’re no good he’s going to send you away and me to a boarding-school! It’s all your fault, and I hate you, I hate you
!”

Completely ignoring Jervis Errol’s request that she resume her seat, she raced from the room, and it was Edwina who apologised for her conduct to her employer.

“She doesn’t really mean it, you know.” But the undisguised detestation in her pupil’s fury-choked voice had brought banners of pink to her cheeks. “She is, as I think you pointed out to me the other day, highly strung
... and I’m afraid you’ll have to be patient with her.”

“Even as you are attempting to be?” with great dryness.

She flushed still more.

“I am trying, but I must admit Tina doesn’t make it very easy.”

He abandoned his peach as if he no longer had any capacity to enjoy it, wiped his fingers fastidiously on his table napkin, and with lowering brows rose from the table.

. “When that child has ceased behaving like a young tigress you can give her a sharp spank from me,” he said. “And after that you can come and see me in the library.”

She enquired carefully:

“Before or after dinner?”

“Before dinner. I shall expect you about seven o’clock, and there are one or two things I have to say to you.”

“I—I see.”

If she felt apprehensive it was not betrayed by her expression, but as she made her way upstairs to the schoolroom her footsteps dragged, as if she was mentally digesting something unpleasant and perturbing, and when she finally reached the schoolroom she wondered whether it wouldn’t be sensible if she just walked in and explained to Tina in a few curt words that she would be leaving almost immediately. She felt so strongly tempted to do so that when she saw Tina sitting sulking in a chair she only just prevented herself from making the crisp utterance.

And why she prevented herself she was not quite sure ... unless it was her disinclination to leave all this purely creature comfort behind, and get back once more to harsh realities.

A bed-sitter and cooking over a gas-ring, hoarding shillings for the gas. It was not a prospect that charmed her, and after two weeks of living surrounded by luxury it appalled her.

Tina’s rage had plainly cooled a little, but she was not in a mood to make overtures, and it was not in her nature to apologise.

“I hope Uncle Jervis said something nasty to you,” she said spitefully. “He looked as if he might.” Edwina replied without heat.

“As a matter of fact, your uncle wishes to see me later on in the library. It could be that he means to give me the sack.”

Instantly Tina’s whole face brightened.

“In that case, he’s not as angry with me as he seemed,” she speculated. “He’s angry with
you
.”

Edwina made a faint shrugging movement with her shoulders. She felt fatalistic and resigned all at once. She also felt that nothing mattered very much ... and that she would be glad when her evening’s ordeal was over.

Jervis Errol had already changed for dinner when she presented herself at the library door. Although he was dining alone he was wearing a well-cut dinner
-
jacket, and as always his linen was immaculate. He did not hear Edwina’s first diffident tap at the door, and she had to repeat it. He called out to her to enter.

“Oh!” he said, when she stood in front of him. “It’s you!”

He did not immediately rise and offer her a chair, but belatedly he did remember his manners.

“Sit down.” He indicated a chair on the other side of the fireplace. It was deep and comfortable, and Edwina felt she could relax in it completely if only the opportunity was hers. But the opportunity most definitely was not hers ... not with Jervis Errol’s distinctly cool blue eyes watching her, and a look of dubious good-humour on his shapely mouth.

He tried, quite obviously, to be affable and urbane.

“You mustn’t take it to heart if Tina’s often rude to you. She wants me to send you packing
...
and at the moment I don’t find it convenient to send you packing.” He reached for an envelope that lay on the desk near to him. “This contains your first month’s full salary,” he explained, “in addition to a small amount over to recompense you for having to deal with a difficult charge.” As she looked quite startled he smiled slightly. “Oh, I know you probably don’t feel you’ve earned it, but despite what I said at lunchtime to-day I do think you’ve had rather a thin time here, and I think you have tried to get to grips with my niece’s obstinacy. It may comfort you to know that you’re not the first one who has tried and failed ... not by a long shot. Since I inherited the somewhat thankless task of looking after Tina no fewer than a
c
ouple of qualified governesses, a nursery-gove
rn
ess and a nannie-companion have come and gone th
eir
way, one housekeeper left me because she couldn’t stomach my niece, and an indignant parlourmaid handed in her notice because Tina tripped her up in the hall and then emptied the contents of the sugar
-
basin over her while the unfortunate young woman was still sitting in the middle of the floor.”

“Oh, dear,” Edwina said.

He smiled in a hard, taut fashion.

“It was very awkward at the time, because I was expecting guests, and trained parlourmaids are not easy to come by nowadays.”

Edwina, who lived in a world where people did without trained parlourmaids, attempted to look sympathetic.

“I’m sure it was very awkward,” she said.

He regarded her somewhat quizzically.

“The same can be said about young women like yourself,” he told her. “Nowadays, with so many opportunities open to them, they prefer their independence and straight teaching in a school, or somewhere like that. What made you decide on a position like this?”

It was the very first time he had displayed the smallest amount of interest in her personally, and she was taken somewhat aback. She answered with the truthfulness that was part of her upbringing and also her nature:

“I suppose because, as you are already aware, I’m not really qualified to teach in a school. I had a good education and I did consider at one time becoming a teacher, but it never got beyond that. I thought, however, that I could cope quite adequately with someone as young as Tina, and I also wanted to live in. So I was very happy when you decided to employ me.”

“Very happy?”

The quizzical look remained in his eyes, and it made her feel slightly embarrassed
... and also abashed.

“Yes, because I had to have a job and I don’t like living in London, and when I heard that this house was deep in the country I kept my fingers crossed for a week until I had your decision. The young woman at the agency was fairly certain I would be suitable, but apparently you had doubts.”

“I thought you were a trifle young...”

“But only yesterday,” she reminded him, “there was some question of my being too old.” He looked amused. “Tina, at any rate, seems to think I’m not young enough to play with her ... and you yourself asked me whether I was capable of coming to terms with a child of her age.”

“And are you yourself quite certain that you are
?
”

“If you have a sufficient amount of confidence in me I’ll—at least try.”

“Splendid!” To her further surprise he appeared almost relieved. “I don’t mind admitting to you, after to-day’s exhibition at lunch-time, that I had serious doubts about your even considering staying on here. Tina behaved abominably, and I realise that I’m largely to blame. My policy of sparing the rod, and even the occasional hard word, doesn’t appear to be yielding dividends. I don’t like to see the child upset,
but I’m afraid I’ll have to take a different line with
her in future. So long as you consent to stay here I’ll postpone sending her to school
... but of course she’ll have to go to school eventually. It’s important, however, that when she does do so she should be a little more disciplined than she is at present, otherwise she’ll be expelled before the first term is up.”

Edwina looked suddenly thoughtful.

“You haven’t thought of sending her to a day school
... a local school
?
”