Dorothy Eden (5 page)

‘Pampering him!’ she muttered. ‘Making him cry at his own shadow. Never knew such a nervous child.’ She looked up and suddenly saw Sarah. ‘Who are you?’

Sarah bowed.

‘I’m waiting to see Lady Mallow.’

The old lady’s prominent pale-blue eyes flicked knowledgeably over Sarah’s sober and genteel appearance.

‘If you’re wanting something, I warn you my daughter-in-law has a sharp tongue in the mornings. And she’s been besieged by all sorts of people since the case. You know of the case, of course?’

‘Yes, my lady.’

Lady Malvina nodded contentedly. She was obviously a garrulous lonely old woman, ready to talk to anyone who would listen.

‘It’s brought me great happiness. My son and my grandson home again. But they’re spoiling the child. Not my son, but my daughter-in-law, Amalie.’ She looked at Sarah in a friendly way. The rice powder showed white in the creases of her plump crumpled cheeks. ‘Would you like a word of advice, my dear?’

‘Thank you, my lady.’

‘Flatter her if you want something. That’s the only way.’

The butler had returned silently, and stood before them, his controlled face showing no sign of having overheard anything. ‘Her ladyship will see you in the morning-room. Come this way, if you please.’

Lady Malvina gave a flippant wave of a fat beringed hand. Sarah resisted an impulse to wave back. She sensed in Lady Malvina an ally, if an irresponsible and unpredictable one. But she would have to check these unruly noisy games that terrified the little boy. Tactfully, that would be her first task.

If she were employed…‘Flatter her,’ the old lady had said. Already prejudiced against the unknown Amalie, this thought filled Sarah with repugnance. The confidence with which she had arrived was rapidly ebbing, and by the time the butler had flung open a door and ushered Sarah in, she was almost tongue-tied.

The woman sitting on the couch beside the fire rose to her feet.

She was, Sarah saw at once, very elegant. Her gown was obviously new and too rich for morning wear, her hair, done in an elaborate arrangement of curls, was uncovered. Although her dress was the height of fashion with the crinoline skirt exaggeratedly wide, she made no concession to the custom of wearing lace caps indoors. Her hair was no doubt her chief pride, for her face and figure were a little too thin, and her skin quite sallow. Her eyes were bright and restless, her nose too sharp.

Sarah decided at once that she would not be an easy person to handle. She was already extremely conscious of her position as Lady Mallow.

In response to Sarah’s greeting she said frigidly,

‘Yes, Miss Mildmay? You wished to see me? What society is it you represent?’

‘None at all, Lady Mallow. I’m sorry if I gave you that impression.’

‘Oh, it’s only because I’ve been so bothered by representatives for various charities. As soon as one’s name becomes prominent, one seems to represent easy game for all these people. Not that I don’t approve of honest and properly sponsored charities,’ she added righteously. ‘Then what is your business, Miss Mildmay?’

‘I’m seeking a position,’ Sarah said, trying to sound meek, and to keep the eagerness out of her voice.

‘Here? In my house?’

Sarah opened her reticule to take out the newspaper cutting.

‘It says here that you will be requiring a governess for your son. I took the liberty of calling in person because I’d so much like the position. I have excellent references—’

The woman cut her short with an angry gesture.

‘Really, Miss Mildmay, this is the greatest impertinence. In the first place, why didn’t you come to the servants’ entrance?’

Sarah flushed.

‘In England, Lady Mallow, a governess is considered one of the family.’

Now she had said the wrong thing, she realised. Her quick indignation and lack of meekness were going to be her downfall. (But why should she have to go to the servants’ entrance of her own house? Even for Ambrose she would not do this.)

‘I don’t require to be told what is the custom in England,’ Lady Mallow said icily. ‘Certainly not by any strange person.’

‘I didn’t mean to do that, Lady Mallow.’

But the hasty meekness and the downcast eyes were too late.

‘Whatever your newspaper correspondent tells you, Miss Mildmay, I am not looking for a governess for my son. He’s too young. But even if I were, I assure you that someone who had gained entry by false pretences would have no hope of getting the position.’

‘Won’t you look at my references, Lady Mallow?’

‘Importuning me will get you nowhere.’ She was pressing the bell. When the tall butler appeared she said, ‘Tomkins, show this—lady out.’ The deliberate impertinence of her voice made Sarah furious.

Quite apart from having to go home and tell Ambrose she had failed, she would not tolerate being spoken to like that by an upstart from the West Indies who was only learning to be a lady. And making a very bad showing at it, too. She was so conscious of her lack of knowledge that she would grow angry at an imaginary slight, such as an applicant for a position not coming to the servants’ entrance. Poor thing, one should be sorry for her.

But Sarah, watching her draw the black Spanish lace shawl over her narrow shoulders as if she were cold, and lifting her thin nose in the air, could feel only fury, and a wild disappointment. She was almost in tears.

Ambrose, she thought as she followed the stately form of Tomkins down the stairs, could still make the voyage to the West Indies and conduct his private investigation. But was she to wait helplessly until he came back, contributing nothing? Oh, it was too infuriating.

As they came into the downstairs hall, however, there was a commotion. The front door had burst open, and the elderly nursemaid with the child had come in. The little boy was not in tears, but his wan white face showed that these were not far off. Indeed, as Lady Malvina, who must have lingered downstairs, pounced forward with loud cries of surprise and greeting, positive panic showed in his face.

‘What is it, Annie? What is it? Why are you back so soon? My little love, couldn’t you bear to be away from your Grandmamma?’

‘It’s not that, my lady. It’s too much champagne last night,’ Annie said bluntly, her voice full of bold disapproval.

‘But that didn’t hurt him!’

‘He’s feeling poorly, my lady. Sick and poorly. I’m taking him right up to bed.’

‘Tch! Tch! Tch!’ Lady Malvina exclaimed loudly. ‘Come to Grandmamma, then!’

But as she stretched out her arms to engulf the small boy he seemed to panic completely, and making an unexpected dart sideways flung himself against Sarah, clinging to her skirts.

Whether he had intended to do so or not she couldn’t tell. But as his large dark eyes were lifted to hers she saw them full of entreaty. She could not help herself. She lifted him into her arms and immediately he clung to her as to a refuge.

‘Titus!’ exclaimed Annie in a scandalised voice. ‘You can’t behave like that to a strange lady. Now come to me and we’ll go upstairs.’

The child clung harder, resisting her attempt to take him. Lady Malvina came bustling up to wave her fan wildly in his face.

‘Titus, you naughty little love, come to Grandmamma.’

Titus buried his face tightly against Sarah’s neck, and muttered desperately, ‘I won’t!’

‘I think,’ Sarah tried to speak tactfully, ‘you frighten him a little.’

‘Frighten him! Frighten my own grandson! When I love him with every fragment of my being. What arrant wicked nonsense! Tomkins, who is this young woman?’

Before Tomkins could reply a door at the end of the hall opened, and the tall dark man whom Sarah had last seen in the witness box in court came striding out.

‘What’s going on here? What’s the reason for all this noise? Annie, if you can’t manage the child we’ll have to find someone who can.’

‘Annie has the impertinence to say that too much champagne has made the boy ill,’ Lady Malvina said indignantly. ‘As if the little he had could have hurt a fly.’

Sarah, feeling the little body clinging to her as if instinct had driven him, interjected clearly and calmly,

‘If you have been giving a child of five champagne, I agree entirely with Annie. No wonder he’s ill.’

‘And what the devil do you think you’re doing?’

‘I’m comforting your son who seems to need it.’

‘Well, I’ll be damned! Who are you?’

Sarah did not flinch from his regard. Now at last she was close to this man and could see the face that hitherto had been at the other side of a badly-lit courtroom. In selfishness and conceit it was all she had decided, and more. The haughty black brows, the moody eyes, the thin cheeks scored with lines, showed signs of intolerance and an exceptionally strong will.

But, holding his gaze, something stirred in Sarah, something jubilant and excited. For she recognised an adversary worthy of her. Here was a battle worth fighting. She could despise Amalie with her petulant temper and her fear of not having correct deference paid to her. But this man she could both admire and hate.

She said calmly, ‘My name is Sarah Mildmay. I’ve just been asking your wife, Lord Mallow, if I could be given the position of governess to your son. Unfortunately, she said you didn’t intend engaging anyone at present. If I may express my own opinion, your son is at an age where he requires more instruction and guidance than a nursemaid, no matter how capable’—she flashed a placating; glance at the indignant Annie—‘can give.’

Blane Mallow (as she must call him until she proved once and for all that that was not his name) stepped back a pace to regard her. His eyes were narrowed, their expression unreadable.

‘And why, may I ask, have you my son in your arms? Are you attempting to gain his affections?’

‘No, he ran to me.’

‘Yes, he did that,’ Lady Malvina admitted fairly. ‘For some reason he flew to this young woman.’

‘I’ve told you to behave more quietly with him, Mamma. He’s not a strong child. What do you think?’

Sarah realised that the abrupt question had been directed to her. She felt the little boy’s arms tighten round her neck. His heart was beating against her breast like a bird’s.

Unconsciously her voice softened.

‘Yes, he is too nervous. He needs gentleness. And time to become accustomed to such different surroundings, of course.’

‘Ha! You’ve been reading the case.’

‘Who hasn’t?’ said Sarah calmly. ‘Indeed that’s what brought me here. I’ve followed it with such interest. And when the newspaper reported that you would require a governess, I took the liberty of calling.’

‘But my wife would have none of you?’

Lord Mallow’s mouth seemed to be twitching slightly. Sarah couldn’t decide whether it was in amusement or anger.

‘I was perhaps too impetuous?’

‘You have recommendations?’

‘Oh, yes indeed. From Lady Adelaide Fitzsimmons, to begin with, and—’

Her guess that this forthright man would not want to bother with written references, but would make his own decisions as to character, was right. Those brilliant black eyes, without gentleness, but also without hostility, examined her frankly.

‘Mamma, Titus seems to like this young woman.’

‘Heaven knows why!’

‘A child has an instinct to feel protected. Perhaps that quality in Miss Mildmay—’

Before the slightly ironic voice had finished there was a cry from the stairs.

‘Blane, what are you all doing down there? Is there something wrong with Titus?’

Blane looked up the curving staircase. He stepped back to give a slight bow.

‘Titus, my love, is suffering from too much
joie de vivre
last night. But he seems to have shown some acumen in choosing for himself a governess.’

Amalie came running down the stairs. Sarah could hear her high indignant voice.

‘Blane, not that young woman who forced her way in! But I’ve already dismissed her.’

Blane went forward to meet his wife at the foot of the stairs. He took her hand.

‘I think, my love, that perhaps you made a premature decision. Miss Mildmay seems to be an excellent person, and since the newspapers tell us Titus requires a governess, a governess we must have. Public opinion is of a good deal of importance in England.’

‘Blane! How ridiculous! You never cared a fig for public opinion.’

‘Perhaps not. But for the sake of our son—and of you, my love—In any case, as you see, Titus has made his own decision.’

‘You can’t tell me you are going to engage a servant’—again the insolent deliberation of Amalie’s words made Sarah hot with fury—‘on the passing fancy of a child.’

‘It’s the child who will have to see the most of her,’ her husband retorted. ‘However, we’ll perform the usual conventions. Perhaps, Miss Mildmay, you’d be good enough to step into the library and have a talk with me. Titus, go to your nurse.’

The little boy wept softly into Sarah’s neck.

‘Titus!’

The stern voice was one he recognised and interpreted correctly. It would tolerate no disobedience.

A small shiver went over his light thin body. Sadly he detached himself from Sarah and held out his arms to Annie. She snatched him into hers and hastened upstairs, muttering inaudibly.

Blane bowed slightly.

‘This way, Miss Mildmay.’

In the book-lined room where a fire burnt cosily, repeating its glow in the highly polished furniture and shiny leather-bound books, Blane waved her to a chair.

‘The boy’s spoilt,’ he said abruptly.

‘He seems a nervous child.’

‘Nervous? Is that what you’d call it? Perhaps. I know nothing about children.’

Sarah bit her tongue, refraining from pointing out that he had had five years in which to learn. But perhaps he had been away at sea too much. Or was not interested in children. Or secretly regretted that his son was not stronger and more manly.

‘A tropical climate is not good for a young child,’ Sarah said primly. ‘Titus will grow much stronger in England.’

‘And grow to love the Atlantic winds rather than the Caribbean?’

The man’s eyes were ironic. It was almost as if the prospect of turning his son into a hardy English child amused him. Perhaps memories of his own childhood had not been entirely pleasant. Since he had run away at sixteen—No, it was not this man who had run away. This man had had a secret childhood somewhere else, but one that had driven him, also, to become an adventurer. Sarah must keep reminding herself he was not Blane Mallow, otherwise of what help was she going to be to Ambrose?