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Authors: Sara Seale

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BOOK: Green Girl
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She might yet have preserved her adult superiority had Nonie not cast a disparaging eye upon Uriah and remarked:

That really
is
a most hideous animal. Where on earth did you find him, Father?

It was too much. Before Duff could answer, Harriet had risen in wrath from the table and advanced upon the child, her cheeks scarlet.


You,

she said, reverting to orphanage idiom,

are the most ill-mannered little twerp it

s been my lot to meet! The dog happens to be mine, and if you don

t like his looks, take a gander at your own ugly mug!

Nonie

s mouth fell open with sheer surprise, then she retaliated with a healthy reversion to childhood:


You

re no beauty yourself, and you

re not proper grownup either, even if you
have
married Father, so there!

she shouted, and stuck out her tongue. This time Harriet had no hesitation in sticking out hers, accompanied by a hideous grimace, and Nonie ran out of the room with her hands over her ears, her father

s burst of laughter completing her discomfiture.


I

m
not
sorry,

Harriet told him with the mutinous defiance of a child refusing to apologies, but Duff only laughed louder with the helpless mirth of an overgrown schoolboy.


Don

t apologise, my dear,

he said when at last he could speak.

I wouldn

t have missed that for worlds! It

s the first time I

ve seen poor Nonie behave like a normal, rather rude little girl. You, too—I wonder how often you

ve been tempted to put your tongue out at
me
and call me names?

But Harriet

s unaccustomed spurt of temper was alread
y
dying, and she was reproached with the knowledge that on the very first day of testing, she had been found wanting.


I wouldn

t dare—I mean, I wouldn

t dream,

she replied, eyeing him warily, and his amusement turned abruptly to a sober mood of thoughtfulness.


Dare, I think, was the operative word, for your dreams have never been rationed, have they, Harriet?

he said.

Well, that delightful prep-school exhibition has probably broken the ice, but I don

t want two difficult daughters on my hands, so grow up a little, will you?

 

CHAPTER SEVEN

IT was a relief to Harriet when bedtime came, for she had been obsessed with her own shortcomings as the afternoon wore into evening.

Nonie, bearing out her desire for solitude for the first day of the holidays, disappeared on ploys of her own, and Duff and his dogs were presumably about the policies after rabbits, his usual occupation if there was no estate work to be attended to. He had not come in, however, by the time it was too dark to shoot, and Harriet, left alone with her thoughts, had ample leisure to repent, and regret her undignified behaviour.

Nonie did not come down for tea, and Harriet supposed she was showing her displeasure by sulking, so she had hers alone, and was thankful. Her conscience pricked her, however, for she felt her duty certainly lay in making sure that the child was being properly cared for and the bedtime hour, whenever it might be, observed, but she could not bring herself to invade the nursery inviting further snubs, so went instead to the kitchen to enquire.


I wanted to ask what the holiday routine for Miss Nonie is,

she said.

Should I be seeing to her supper or her bath, or something?


Och, you don

t need to trouble yourself, ma

am. Molly takes a tray up at half-past six, an

she gets herself to bed an

won

t thank anyone for bedtime stories and the loike,

But even Harriet

s imagination boggled at the prospect of regaling such a precocious child with bedtime stories and she smiled.


Well, so long as this is the usual practice, I won

t go up
tonight. I

m afraid Miss Nonie hasn

t taken very kindly to
me.”


Sure, you don

t need to take heed of that wan

s airs and grace—all play-actin

an

she thinkin

to take a leaf from her da

s book, for himself can get on his high horse when he chooses, beggin

your pardon, ma

am.

Harriet smiled again, warming to Agnes, sitting in a basket chair by the roaring fire. She was quite accustomed now to the curious knack the Irish had of being familiar with their betters without ever forgetting their place, and she had personal acquaintance with Duff

s high horse.


Yes, he can,

she agreed.

I suppose in a way, the little girl

s very like him.

“‘
Tis her aim to be that, poor toad, for the quare reverence she bears him,

Agnes replied with such matter-of-fact unexpectedness that Harriet

s mouth flew open in an

0

of surprise.


But I thought—

she began, remembering Duff

s weary contention that the child had no fondness for him.


Then you thought like everyone else,

Agnes finished.

The child dotes on her pappy, an

so I

m tellin

you.


Well, I hope you

re right, Agnes,

Harriet replied without much confidence, and old Jimsy, who had been polishing silver in a dark
corner
of the kitchen without paying the smallest attention to the conversation, remarked suddenly and with apparent irrelevance:


Wouldn

t it be time you was thinkin

of changing that quare article you have for a dog, young miss?

Jimsy, for some reason best known to himself, had never taken to addressing her as

ma

am

in private.


Change Uriah! But I

ve only just got him!

protested Harriet.


I was thinkin

the craythur was a kind of a make-do, meanin

no offence, for

tis onnatural to nurse a poor dumb animal to still the cravin

s of—


Och, hould your whisht, you old divil!

Agnes admonished him quite sharply, and Harriet, the colour high in her
cheeks, got herself out of the kitchen with what dignity she could muster, wondering whether Jimsy

s extraordinary speculations meant what she thought they did.

But by the time she had got herself to bed at the end of that upsetting day, she no longer cared what any of them thought, experiencing again that desire for comfort and assurance which had beset her in her early days at the orphanage, and she buried her face in the pillow and wept with abandon.

Much later, or perhaps it was really only a few minutes, she became aware of Duff standing beside the bed, holding a candle.


For heaven

s sake, child, what

s the matter?

he said, and for a moment her tears stopped in the sheer surprise of seeing him there.


I—I

m sorry, did I disturb you?

she said, trying to hold her breath on the next sob.


No, I wasn

t in bed, but I was thoroughly alarmed by these violent sounds of distress next door. What is it?

and he put the candlestick on the bedside table and sat down on the bed.


Nonie

s upset you, I suppose,

he said, and she began to cry again.


She hates me! I should never have come here!

she sobbed, abandoning all pretence of reason, and Duff took her into his arms, holding her and soothing her in such a faithful imitation of those nebulous characters she used to invent for herself in adolescence that for a brief moment she thought she must be dreaming.

When she was quieter, he laid her gently back against the pillows and stroked the tangled fringe back from her hot forehead.


Listen, you silly child, that rather tiresome daughter of mine

s taken quite a shine to you in her own queer way—says you

re a lot better than she expected and is inclined to suppose that I must have somehow tricked you into marriage! She doesn

t, you see, consider you are much older than herself, and thinks I

ve taken an unfair advantage, and she

s possibly right at that, so cheer up!


Doesn

t she know she was the main reason for you getting married?


Oh, my dear girl, have a little common sense!

he exclaimed.

One doesn

t discuss one

s reasons for remarriage with an eight-year-old child, neither was she my sole reason, though it was the easiest one to give you at the time.


I

d forgotten. Samantha was the other, wasn

t she?

she said unguardedly, and knew it for an ill-considered remark as she saw him stiffen.


Samantha?

he repeated on a cool note of enquiry, and she looked away, not wanting to meet the withdrawal in his eyes, but she could not escape his elongated shadow thrown on the wall, still and a little grotesque, reminding her he was waiting for an answer.


Shouldn

t I have mentioned her?

she said at last, trying to retreat and at the same time give him an opening to admit her as an equal if he would, but it only had the effect of shutting her firmly outside.


I see no reason why you shouldn

t, providing you keep that imagination of yours in check,

he replied.

Has she been encouraging your passion for romantic drama with brightly-coloured tales of the past?


She only satisfied my natural curiosity—things you wouldn

t tell me yourself,

she answered vaguely.


Such as?


Just gossip, mostly, I expect. I wasn

t prying again, Duff, but it

s natural to want to know something about the man you

ve married, surely?


Such as?

he said again, and she experienced a strong and most unbecoming desire to retaliate with the schoolgirl rudeness Nonie had roused in her.


Such as your taste in toothpaste, whether you shave once a day or twice, and like your eggs soft or hard boiled, how your nose got broken—if it did—if you wear the same underclothes winter and summer, and if you have headaches, or toothaches or colds on the chest. I—I don

t even know how old you are!

He rubbed his fingers through his hair, disordering it still further and surveyed her with a rather helpless expression.


Dear me!

he said.

What a curious list to seem so important.


It

s the little things that
are
important to a wife, but as we—we don

t share the—the—ordinary intimacies, I can

t
find out for myself, can I?

she said, and he smiled a shade sardonically.


And were those the items upon which Samantha enlightened you?

he asked, and she looked uneasy.


Of course not—if I

d asked her those sort of questions she would have thought our marriage odder than it is, wouldn

t she?

she said, and his eyes were suddenly gentle.


I

m glad to hear discretion can put a brake on your curiosity,

he said.

Well, for your information, I

m not fussy as to my brand of toothpaste, neither to the timing of my eggs which can be variable, according to Agnes

mood. I should shave twice a day to avoid the five o

clock shadow, but frequently don

t, and I

m thirty-seven years old. Satisfied?


Thirty-seven?

she repeated, smiling up at him with the alert interest of someone storing up precious information.


More than twice your age. Does that shock you?


No,

she said,

but it explains things a little.

It explained, she hoped, that insistence on treating her like a child which she was beginning to find so defeating to a desire for growth and expansion.

Couldn

t you—couldn

t you forget the difference in age sometimes?

His glance was tender and, at the same time, a little wry.


You make it difficult very often with your polite acceptance of what I choose to give and those woolly daydreams of yours. I

m giving you time to grow.


And then—when you think I

ve grown?


There

s no telling, is there? We

ll just have to wait and see. In the meantime, don

t run to Samantha for more serious information. I

ve no doubt she

s already taken advantage of your gullibility and trotted out old rumours and unpaid scores. Understand?

She took a deep breath and shut her eyes.


What I understand perfectly well is that you and she once had an affair, which doesn

t surprise me at all, or shock me—or upset me. Did you think it would?

she said very quickly before her courage failed her.


If by that you mean why didn

t I tell you myself, I didn

t think such ancient history concerned you,

he said.

However, I

d guessed Samantha was hardly likely to keep such a satisfying titbit to herself. Was she trying to make mischief?


Oh, no, I don

t think so—just putting me in the picture, she said.


I

m sure she did, but Samantha

s picture only has room for one, so don

t be too flattered. Well, I can

t muzzle the indiscreet lady even if I wished to, so remember the next time you have one of those cosy get-togethers that your charming gullibility is an open target for anyone with an axe to grind. In other words, don

t believe all you hear. Now it

s time you stopped talking nonsense and went to sleep.


Will you leave the door open?

she asked.


Yes, of course, if that will reassure you,

he said, and she curled up contentedly, aware that sleep, held off so long, was suddenly swooping down upon her with a blissful fuzzing of the edges of conscious thought.


It

s the first time the door has stood open between us,

she murmured drowsily.

Will you kiss me goodnight, Duff?

He bent over the bed and she was only dimly aware, as her heavy eyelids closed, that she had slipped her arms round his neck as naturally as though it was a long-accustomed habit.

When she awoke the next morning the intervening door was closed and Molly was standing by the bed with a breakfast tray just as she had that first morning at the Castle.


I never have breakfast in bed,

Harriet said, trying to struggle into a sitting position under the weight of the tray and at the same time prevent Uriah from turning his attentions to her eggs and bacon.

What

s the time?


Gone ten, but himself toult Agnes to lave you be for it was sleep you needed. Was you took in the night, ma

am?

Molly

s eyes held a lively curiosity, and Harriet realised that since it was her daily duty to do the bedrooms, it was only too probable that by now the girl had a pretty shrewd idea of the relations existing between husband and wife.


I couldn

t sleep that

s all,

Harriet replied rather shortly.

Has Miss Nonie had her breakfast and been given something to do?

She spoke so like the nursery governess of popular conception that Molly giggled.


That wan finds her own pleasures. You don

t need to trouble yourself with her, ma

am.


Don

t you like her, Molly?


Ah, sure, she gives no trouble, so why should I care one way or the other?

the girl replied carelessly.


We must think of something to please her—something special. Oh, of course, there

ll be Christmas these holidays; all children can enjoy that,

Harriet said, the delight of her own not very distant childhood still fresh in her mind, but Molly observed with rather a depressing truth:


Sure, an

what

s Christmas without the childer? One little girl sittin

down to turkey an

plum puddin

as solemn as you plaze, an

no rough games to shake it all down afterwards an

no tree to share with other little friends.


But of course we shall have a tree! And all the children from the farms and the tenancies can come up for tea and Nonie will be hostess and hand out presents, which I

m sure she would enjoy and—and—

Harriet

s excited words tailed off as she saw the lack of response in Molly

s face, and she finished uncertainly:

Don

t you think that

s a good idea, Molly?


Ah, sure, there

s nothin

wrong with the idea, but you

ll not get the old biddy downstairs washin

up for a crowd oi childer bringin

in dirt an

turning the place upside down,

Molly said, presumably referring to Agnes with her usual disrespect.

There was no need, Harriet found, to approach the mildly astonished Duff in a spirit of battle.


My dear child! I thought we

d been through all this before. Fill the place with holly and tinsel and balloons and all the messy clutter you can lay hands on if it will make you happy—it won

t make any difference to me,

he said.

She had found him strolling along the shore of the lough before luncheon.


And the tree and the party?

she asked anxiously.


Party? oh, yes, we used to keep up that practice here, I believe, in the days when servants were two a penny,

he said idly,

but the custom died when the Castle children grew up and there were none left at Clooney.


Well, now there

s Nonie, and I don

t mind betting that however much she scorns her own age-group, she

d get a kick out of being lady of the manor and handing out presents!

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