Mistress of the House (2 page)

CHAPTER TWO

Next morning, Laurie was awakened early by the sounds of farm activity. While she was still struggling from sleep, she could not identify the peculiar sounds that came from beneath her window, but afterwards she discovered that somebody was calling to the cows, who were, apparently, on their way to the sheds for the morning milking.

When she went down to breakfast, she was wearing a business-like grey suit with a heavy silk blouse under it. Her brown hair shone. She looked clean and fresh and well groomed, as indeed, she always did. She came into the kitchen to find Mrs. Lorney bending over the stove, and an aroma of bacon that made her mouth water.

“Good morning,” she said.

“Good morning. It’s all ready for you. Sit down at the table, and I’ll dish it up.”

Laurie saw that two places were laid, and hoped that she hadn’t kept Mrs. Lorney waiting.

“Oh, no. You won’t keep anybody waiting. Breakfast is a spreading meal in this house. I had mine long ago.”

“Would it be more convenient if I had mine earlier?”

“No, it doesn’t matter a bit I had mine with Roger and Jess. Roger’s gone off with the tractor, harrowing; and Jess is out doing the poultry. But I always have to cook about this time for Max. He goes out to the milking before breakfast. The lorry gets here pretty early, and he’d rather eat when the milking’s finished.”

Laurie began on her breakfast, while Mrs. Lorney went in and out of the room on her housecleaning errands. After a few minutes, in came Max, smiled cheerily at her and went into the scullery to wash his hands. As soon as he set foot in the house his mother was bending over the stove again with fresh bacon and eggs, and in a few minutes he sat opposite Laurie, his plate before him, unfurling his napkin.

“You make me feel terribly lazy,” she said. “You’ve done a lot of work already.”

He smiled.

“I expect we disturbed you pretty early this morning.”

“If that was you singing to the cows under my window, yes, you did.”

“That was Reg. My cowman.”

“You’ll soon get used to it,” said Mrs. Lorney, coming to the table to see they had everything they needed.

“I’m sure I shall.”

Max Lorney looked at her, while she and his mother exchanged a few politenesses, and very much liked what he saw. There was very little grooming about the farm people—too much hard and dirty work for that. His mother was always neat and trim, but usually wrapped in a clean overall. Jess wore breeches and jerseys, and her boots were often muddy and her hair often untidy. That was how it had to be on a farm. Himself and Roger were of like case. So that to sit opposite this slender, bright haired girl, with her fresh look and her natural smile, her beautiful hands and immaculate clothes, was very pleasant.

“I hope I shall find my way safely to White Lodge,” she was saying to his mother. “I’m a hopeless duffer in the country.”

“Max will show you, I daresay. You can’t really lose yourself.”

“You’re not used to the country?” asked Max.

“No. Not really. I’ve always lived in Town, and usually gone to the seaside for holidays.”

“It may be rather dull for you here, then. This is real country; isolated. You could stay almost anywhere, even in the country, and not be as isolated as this.”

“I don’t think I shall find it dull. I’ve never lived on a farm before, but I’ve always wanted to. To tell you the truth (I daresay you’ll laugh at this) I’m a bit scared of country things.”

Max laughed, with his head well up. She smiled, too. “Frightened of the cows?” he asked.

“Yes. Never sure if they are trustworthy. And not only cows. I always expect geese and turkeys to go for me. I’m frightened of the dark...”

“No,” protested Max.

“Yes, but I know I should be ashamed to say so.”

“But what are you frightened of?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Nameless things lurking behind all the hedges.”

“But how silly. What could be lurking? An old tramp?”

“Perhaps. Or a cow or a horse.”

They laughed together again. When Laurie was ready to go to her day’s work, he said he would show her the way to the copse, and she couldn’t go wrong from there. They went out of the house and stood together in the lane.

“Let me see,” said Max, “if you’re afraid of Jess’s poor harmless hens, you’d better cross the pasture. There are a few cows there, but I assure you they are perfectly harmless. Or you could go round the edge of the wheatfield. It’s dry at the moment, but will be muddy for you in wet weather.”

“I’d much rather have the wheatfield,” said Laurie.

The wheatfield, its wheat short and thick and green, was followed by a field of oats, also short and thick and green, so that Laurie did not notice any difference between them. And at the gate of the oats field, Max stopped.

“Now you can’t get lost,” he said. “Just go round this field to the gate, cross it (it won’t open because I’ve locked it), and you’ll find yourself on the footpath through the copse. Keep to it until you come to the Humphries’s fields, and you’ll see White Lodge up on the hill in front of you.”

“Thank you very much. I’m sorry to waste your time.”

“You haven’t wasted it,” said Max, smiling on her.

She gave him an answering smile and set off round the oats field. He watched her for a moment, and then turned back, limping over the rough ground.

Laurie went on through the copse and over more fields and came to White Lodge. Mr. Humphries came to meet her in the garden, and took her into his study. “I doubt if we shall do much actual work on the book yet,” he told her. “There’s a great deal of preparatory stuff to go through, and a mass of papers for you to sort out.” Laurie and he settled down to the preliminaries, in a warm and attractive study; and the morning whisked past as if by magic. At lunch time, a trim maid appeared, set a snowy cloth on a small table by the fire, and on this, a most appetising meal for Laurie; and Laurie, who knew Miss Scott-Scott and could sympathize with the Humphries, did not at all resent being left alone.

After a walk round a very large garden, in which there was little to see as yet, except the trees, she settled down again for an afternoon’s work, which ended promptly at half-past four. This was the Humphries’s tea time, and Mrs. Humphries appeared at the door of the study (her conscience having pricked her all day for giving Laurie her lunch alone), to ask Laurie to join them. But Laurie knew very well how Mrs. Humphries was feeling, and she had no intention of establishing a precedent that Mrs. Humphries would feel obliged to adhere to, so she explained that Mrs. Lorney expected her to tea at the farm, and set off down the hilly fields for the copse and the farm.

There was a sleepy quiet over everything. She opened the back door and went in. The big table was laid for tea and Mrs. Lorney stood at the table by the window, ironing.

“Is it all right for me to come in this way?” asked Laurie.

“Certainly. Come in which way you like. You found your way, then?”

“Yes. I thoroughly enjoyed my walk.”

“You’ll be wanting your tea, then. Shall we wait for the others, or have it now?”

“Let’s wait,” said Laurie, “I’m in no hurry.”

Laurie sat and watched the ironing, and wondered at the energy that could embark on such a huge pile after a morning of cleaning, cooking, and performing innumerable household tasks.

“Here come Roger and Jess. I’d better leave the rest of this for now,” said Mrs. Lorney.

“Shall I carry on for you?” asked Laurie. “I’m not a good ironer by any means, but I daresay I could do the simpler things.”

“Goodness me, no. Only I hate to waste a good hot iron.”

Laurie picked up the iron-holder and fetched the heavy iron from the stove. Mrs. Lorney watched her with amusement. Laurie took the next article from the pile. It was a nightdress, a simple, rather old-fashioned white nightdress, which she imagined belonged to Mrs. Lorney. She began, in businesslike fashion to iron it, and Mrs. Lorney left her to it and made the tea. Roger and Jessica came in, stared at Laurie, and went into the scullery. Roger came out first, smoothing back his hair with newly scrubbed hands.

“Is Mother bullying you already?” he asked, standing at the side of the table and watching her.

Laurie smiled, but did not answer. She was busy with the somewhat amateurish strip of embroidery round the neck of the nightdress, so that she did not realize that Jessica was in the room staring at her, or that the stare rapidly changed to a frown. She only knew that suddenly and unexpectedly the iron was taken from her by a hand much larger and rougher than her own, and an angry voice said: “I can iron my own nightdresses, thank you. There’s no need for you to do them.”

She looked up into Jess’s angry face. She was astonished at the dislike she saw there.

“I was only using up the hot iron for your mother,” she said.

“Jess,” said Mrs. Lorney sharply.

Jessica took the place Laurie had had at the table, and finished the garment herself. She folded it and put it on the clothes-maiden with the other things, and then, without a word, left the rest and sat down at the table.

Laurie, imagining that Jess objected to her trespassing on Jess’s preserves, and not wanting to start off wrongly with any of the family, said frankly: “Well, I’m awfully sorry if I’ve annoyed you. I assure you it was unintentional.”

There was Jess’s opportunity to put things right, with some sort of acknowledgement, but she still said nothing, but sat with her eyes lowered to her plate and a sulky expression on her face. There was an awkward silence round the table, while the other three sought for something to say, and finally Roger began to talk of farming matters. A few minutes later Max came in and joined them.

“You found the Humphries all right?” he asked Laurie as he sat down next to Jessica.

“Yes, thank you.”

“It’s pretty down there in the copse, don’t you think?”

“Lovely. I saw quite a lot of primroses out already.”

“You’ll find a whole carpet of them soon.”

“Jess, while I remember, Mrs. Huntingdon wants two dozen eggs and two boiling fowls at the week-end. All right?”

Jess turned to Max a face which smiled and eyes that sparkled. She began to talk exclusively to him. Laurie could hardly believe that this was the angry girl of a few minutes earlier. It was obvious that she was very fond of both her brothers, but particularly of Max. When they went out after tea together, she rose to go up to her own room, but Mrs. Lorney stopped her.

“I do hope,” she said earnestly, “that you won’t take too much notice of Jess and her rudeness. I can’t think what’s come over the girl. She’s not usually like this. She’ll settle down again in a day or two.”

“She doesn’t like my being here,” said Laurie.

“It isn’t you, it’s just a silly prejudice against having anybody in the house.”

“She thinks,” said Roger with a friendly smile, “that it lowers our status to have a paying guest; which is nonsense. She’ll get over it.”

“Still, it’s a pity that I should upset anybody in the house. Perhaps I shall be able to get something in the village. It was very good of you to take me in at all.”

“If you like it here, you stay. Jess is usually a sensible girl. She’ll settle down, you’ll see.”

Laurie was doubtful, but willing to wait and see, since she liked life on the farm so far, and did not want to exchange it for a small country cottage. When Mrs. Lorney began to gather up the tea-things, Laurie stayed and helped, saying that she hoped this wasn’t one of Jess’s jobs. “No,” smiled Mrs. Lorney. “She won’t be back until Max gets back—I think you’re quite safe.” They washed up together in the scullery, Laurie wrapped in one of Mrs. Lorney’s aprons.

“Jess is very attached to Max, isn’t she?”

“Yes. Too much so. Always has been, right from a baby. Nobody would do but Max. She was like a little slave for him, always willing to run errands and do odd jobs for him. Of course, she should have other interests now. I think if Max hadn’t had his accident, she might have turned to other people, but as it is, she’s worse than ever about him.”

Laurie wanted to hear what had happened to Max, but she was too shy to ask, and Mrs. Lorney did not volunteer any further information. They finished the washing up, and Laurie decided to take a little walk before supper. She went up to her room, put a tweed coat over her suit, and set out along the farm lane.

The lane climbed sharply for a short distance and Laurie climbed with it. When she was at the top she stopped for breath and turned to look back. She exclaimed aloud in pleasure at the view that spread before her. The lane wound away from her among fields which sloped in all directions, clumps of oak and ash, still bare of leaves, and solitary elms scattered in the hedgerows, would be splashes of rich green in a few weeks. Settled down comfortably in the middle of the billowing countryside was the farm, the red brick of its barns and oast-houses, the yellowing tiles of the roofs, mellow with age, merging harmoniously with the green of the fields. The house was set at an angle to the neat lines of farm buildings, facing south; a simple, dignified house suited to its purpose. Laurie thought it a wonderful picture. It was familiar enough to her in oils and water colours, or wood and lino cuts, but spread out like this before her, it had a freshness for her and a charm, that was never to leave it.

She began to walk back, to reach the house before dark. The quiet was intense. She almost felt that she should walk quietly herself, and smiled at this impulse. She went on until she came to a man leaning on a gate and smoking his pipe.