Bond of Fate (3 page)

Perhaps the child was ailing, and needed constant vigilance? But as soon as the thought was there she had to throw it out again. She would surely not be allowed to dawdle around a lake by herself without causing some anxiety to the household?

Melanie gave it up. She would have to wait and see, and there was no sense in worrying over something until you knew where you were. She was meeting her fences before she came to them, she told herself sternly.

Her tea-tray then arrived, brought in by a young housemaid in a coffee-coloured dress that was obviously a uniform of sorts, although the material, of a nylon lightness, took away any pretensions of regalia.

Melanie, who had never been waited on during her whole life except for her occasional visits to a restaurant, felt slightly embarrassed by this attention, and thanked the girl profusely; she was rewarded with a large welcoming grin from the girl, who then said that her name was Amy and that she would be looking after her.

This simple statement hardly helped to alleviate Melanie's embarrassment. She was just as much an employee of the family as the maid, but as she felt that time would soon make this clear, she contented herself with 'That's nice,' an inane remark, but one which apparently gratified Amy.

On the tray was a plate of thinly cut salmon and cucumber sandwiches which a by now ravenous Melanie, who remembered that she had not had any lunch, soon demolished ; fully replete, she sat back to enjoy her second cup of tea.

After a quick shower she changed into her russet-coloured suit, and, feeling more able to cope with whatever fate offered her, sat down to do her hair, debating whether to leave it loose. However, because of its wilful habit of looking like a bird's nest even though she had brushed it, she pulled it back off her face again and into its familiar bunched arrangement,

muttering, 'That's better,' as she surveyed the result in the mirror.

Once she was ready, she anxiously watched the clock. Her settling-in period seemed to have flown; she was due to go down to meet her charge, and she did not feel at all up to the occasion. There were collywobbles in her stomach, and she wasn't at all sure that she wouldn't lose herself in that big house before she eventually discovered where the dining-room was; in her mind's eye she went over the direction they had taken when she had been shown to her room.

In the event she need not have worried. There was a discreet tap on her door as she was preparing to leave, and on answering it Melanie found Amy smiling at her. 'Mrs Soames thought you might want some help in finding your way around,' she said. 'Mr Cridell and Miss Celia are in the lounge,' she added, as she led Melanie back down the corridor and towards the main staircase, chatting brightly about how she never thought she would find her way around when she first came there, but it was easy when you had your bearings.

Melanie really didn't hear much of this. All she knew was that she was dreading meeting the child, who was, she was now convinced, a real little horror who got through the appointed guardians like a scythe cutting grass. Feeling like an offering about to be placed on the sacrificial altar, she reluctantly followed Amy's confident stride towards their destination.

ON entering the lounge, it seemed to Melanie that she was confronted not by one stranger, but by two, until she realised that the man standing beside the slim fair-haired girl with unusual black eyebrows and black eyes who was now frankly surveying her was, in fact, Julian Cridell. The fact that he had changed from his sombre city suit into a grey turtle-necked sweater with light grey trousers had so altered his appearance that Melanie hadn't recognised him.

`Celia, this is Miss Greensmith. I think you'll get along together. Miss Greensmith doesn't stand on ceremony either,' he remarked drily, as his daughter held out her hand to Melanie.

`How do you do?' said Celia politely, but there was an imp of mischief lurking in her dark eyes that belied her demure greeting.

Melanie took due note of this, but her mind was occupied by Mr Cridell's remarks about her not standing on ceremony, and she felt a slight flush stain her cheeks as she suddenly got his meaning, particularly when she recalled the ultra-smart appearance of the other applicants for the job. Had she been chosen because she hadn't bothered to dress up for the interview? she wondered, for that was what it must have looked like. He did not, of course, know that she had only seen the advertisement less than thirty minutes before she had applied for the job !

`Dad says you're a teacher,' Celia said. 'I could do with some coaching, you know.'

`Celia's set on entering the medical profession,' Julian Cridell remarked, with a fond look at his daughter.

Dinner was then announced, cutting short the rest of this discussion, but Melanie was relieved that the first hurdle had been so easily met. Whatever Celia Cridell was, she certainly was not a pert miss out to make trouble for her companion.

During dinner, while thoroughly enjoying the good food in front of her in spite of her late tea, Melanie had ample opportunity to study her charge. The first acknowledged fact was that she was a lovely child, and would soon grow into a beautiful woman. Her dark winged brows, and wide dark eyes fringed by long black eyelashes, that were nature's gift and owed nothing to artifice, contrasted vividly with her blonde hair, and would, no doubt, cause a flutter of interest from men whatever profession she took on.

Melanie also noticed the close bond between father and daughter, and wondered when Celia had lost her mother. It was a bad time to be without a mother, Melanie thought : a girl needed a mother's guidance in her early teens.

She was particularly grateful for the way that both father and daughter didn't attempt to ply her with questions but included her in the conversation on topics that were not personal but general.

Tomorrow, Celia told her, she would take her down to the lake. Then she turned to her father. 'I'm sure I saw that pike, Dad.'

Mr Cridell lifted an eyebrow at this. 'Pikes usually keep to lurking under a bank,' he said.

`That's just where I saw it!' cried Celia. 'Old John swears it's along where those rushes are.'

`Yes, and if old John hasn't been able to land him, I

don't think you've much chance,' her father commented with a smile. 'He's the finest fisherman for miles, If anyone's going to get him, it will be him, and I don't think he'll take too kindly if you beat him to it.'

Celia grinned back at her father. 'No, I don't suppose he will, but wouldn't it be fabulous if I did? Are you going to town tomorrow?' she asked, suddenly changing the subject.

`Afraid so,' Julian Cridell replied as he finished the gorgeous sorbet sweet. 'I ought to be through by three though.'

`Oh, good,' said Celia. 'Only Jim Enson's got a pony he thinks might be my size.'

`Well, in that case I'll make a point of getting back early,' her father commented. 'Where is it?'

`At the farm,' Celia told him. 'He's only just got it.' She turned to Melanie. 'Do you ride, Miss Greensmith?' she asked.

Melanie shook her head. 'I'm afraid not,' she said, `and to tell the truth, I've never wanted to, even if I could have afforded it.'

`You don't know what you're missing,' said the girl. `I've been really miserable since I lost my old Poll. I had her for years, didn't I, Dad?'

Her father nodded. 'Since you were two, if I recall,' he answered.

For a moment, it occurred to Melanie that if Celia was that fond of riding, her father ought to have got someone who could have accompanied her, but as if Mr Cridell sensed her thoughts, he said abruptly, `Celia only rides around the paddock, and has the occasional trot out with the Pony Club perhaps once a week. You can no doubt use that time for a break yourself,' he added kindly.

Celia hastily endorsed this. 'Good gracious, yes! I

wouldn't expect you to trot behind me, you know.'

The thought that this picture conjured up struck all three of them as comical, and somehow from that moment, Melanie felt part of the family. Early in their acquaintance as it was, she knew that everything was going to be all right, and that her previous fears had been groundless.

It also occurred to her that where Julian Cridell's daughter's happiness was concerned, no holds were barred. Anything, it seemed, was hers, just for the asking, and again she wondered how long ago Celia had lost her mother, for, to Melanie's way of thinking, she was a most sensible girl for her age, and somewhat frighteningly grown up for a thirteen-year-old. She could now understand why her father had sought an older person as a companion for his daughter.

By the time a week had passed, Melanie had settled down with an ease she wouldn't have thought possible considering the luxury of her surroundings.

Everything, from her point of view, was wonderful. The salary was more than she would have earned if she had carried out her chosen profession, but in a way she was teaching, by helping Celia in her studies. The girl's wish to become a doctor was no idle whim on her part. Her mind was made up to a degree that proved this beyond all doubt to Melanie.

As far as Melanie could ascertain, there had been no previous companion, and this puzzled her a little, particularly as no mention had been made of Celia's mother. That suggested that whatever had happened had happened a long time ago. She also sensed a reserve in Celia on the subject, which, considering her natural openness about everything else, was strange, but this convinced Melanie that Celia had no past recollections to recall.

At this time, Celia was on her summer vacation from school, a high-class establishment only a mile away from Oaklands where she was a day pupil—as most of the other girls were boarders this put her apart from the rest of her class.

However, as Melanie came to know her better she realised that this wasn't the only gap between Celia and her class. It was on a much wider spectrum than that. At thirteen she had the outlook of a girl at least five years older, and there were times when even Melanie felt that she was the pupil, and not her charge!

A fortnight after Melanie's arrival something occurred that revived her earlier reservations about everything being too good to be true. Somewhere there had to be a snag, she used to tell herself in her early days at Oaklands, and in an interview with Mr Cridell she discovered precisely what that snag was.

When Julian Cridell invited her into his study for what he called a 'Little talk on how she was settling down', Melanie had no warning of what was to come, and there was no suggestion of anything out of the ordinary in his opening, 'Well, you appear to have found your feet,' remark as soon as they were alone.

Melanie was only too happy to confirm this statement, adding honestly that she considered that she had been extremely fortunate in obtaining such a position with as pleasant a charge as Celia.

Julian Cridell listened politely, but his eyes were enigmatic as he heard Melanie's earnest answer to his question. Then walking over to his desk, he sat down and indicated that she take the chair in front of the desk. Melanie, a little surprised by the formality, wondered if her trial period was over and he was going to dismiss her—for what, she had no idea, for to all

intents and purposes things had worked out very well. He could, of course, have had a change of mind about employing a companion for his daughter, and her spirits dropped at the thought. It meant starting the dreary business of finding another job.

`I realise that what I'm about to ask you will come as a shock to you,' Julian Cridell said in his well-modulated voice, his grey eyes meeting Melanie's startled pansy-blue as she glanced up at him, certain now that he was going to give her notice. 'I need a wife, Miss Greensmith,' he said calmly, and there was a hint of amusement in his normally austere look as he surveyed Melanie's reaction to this statement.

Never one to hide her thoughts, she blinked at him, wondering if she had misheard, then, as a possible solution came to her, she said dully, 'Oh, I see. You mean that once you're married you won't need a companion for Celia.'

`There wouldn't be any need, would there?' he replied in his precise voice. 'Not when you get on so well together.'

Melanie felt that somewhere she had missed out. Perhaps she ought to go out and come back in again, and they could start over again. 'You mean, I'm to stay on after your marriage?' she said, trying not to sound a simpleton.

A wry twist of his mouth acknowledged her bemusement as he said, 'I don't seem to be doing this at all well; we seem to be at cross purposes. I am asking you to become my wife,' and at Melanie's amazed stare at this cool but utterly devastating request, he went on, 'I am aware that you must be of the opinion that I have taken leave of my senses, and I can't blame you for that, but I can put your mind at rest on one point. The marriage will be in name only.

A business contract, if you like, for an unspecified period. It could be for two years, even one, if things work out. Either way, you'll have no cause to regret accepting my offer. On the annulment you will receive a handsome settlement that will ensure a future free from monetary worries. What do you say?' he asked abruptly.

Melanie was bereft of speech, but it did cross her mind that Julian Cridell had a nasty habit of taking the wind out of her sails. This was the second time in their relatively short acquaintance that he had completely floored her.