Master of Melincourt (11 page)

As they stood together on the terrace steps—Errol in a Cambridge blue silk shirt that was open at the neck, and with his dark hair gleaming like a blackbird’s plumage in the sunlight—Edwina realised for the first time that he was very much taller than she was, and the top of her warm brown head only reached to the breast pocket of his shirt. She found herself glancing instinctively at that breast-pocket, and then upwards at the strong dark line of his jaw and his sun-tanned, smoothly shaven face. There were one or two silvery hairs in the night darkness at his temples, and they lent him a kind of distinction ... and his well-cut features were also distinctively cut, and his eyes—his eyes as they looked down at her were almost disturbingly blue.

She found herself thinking of a bed of delphiniums, and then of blue seas under an unclouded sky. And after an exchange of glances there was slight interference with her breathing.

“Well?” he said, smiling at her. “Aren’t you curious
?
”

She pretended that she was very curious, and said so ... but actually she was conscious of dismay striking at the very roots of her being. She was dismayed because in a short while she would have left here, and he would be married to Marsha. It would be Marsha who viewed the estate with him from the elevation of the terrace steps, and because a wife has rights and does not need to pretend she would do it with her hand companionably linked in her husband’s arm, and on a brilliant morning such as this the two of them would be able to claim that they hadn’t a care in the world.

They would be two people in love, married, and on top of the world!

And the thing that worried Edwina more than anything else was the overpowering urge she suddenly experienced not to link her hand in her companion’s arm, but to touch it—just for a moment.

In order not to do so she clasped her hands behind her back, and he looked down at her again and smiled.

“What an absurdly small creature you are,” he observed. “How tall are you? Five feet?”

“Five feet two inches,” she answered breathlessly.

“Just the height to reach to a tall man’s heart,” he replied lightheartedly, and apparen
tl
y inconsequentially. He closed a warm brown hand round her bare forearm. “Mind you don’t slip. Some of these stones are a little bit loose
... I’ll have to have them seen to.”

It really was an extraordinarily brilliant morning, and there appeared to be no one about save their two selves. Later Marsha would ensconce herself on the terrace in a comfortable long wicker chair, and Candy Shaw would establish herself beside her, with Jeremy Errol somewhere in attendance. But for the moment they were upstairs in their rooms—Edwina reflected that Miss Fleming was probably having breakfast in bed—and there wasn’t even a gardener hoeing the borders to witness the master of Melincourt and his niece’s governess making their way through the rose-garden, through the high-walled flower-garden and kitchen-garden, to the stables that were quite a way from the house, and at that hour of the morning represented a hive of industry because Bennett, the groom, and his assistant were busily feeding and watering the horses, and cleaning out their stalls.

Bennett looked up approvingly as his employer drew near, with the young woman who had surprised him by staying on after a recent most unpleasant ordeal, and touched his cap politely to them both.

“Good morning, sir,” he said. “If you’re thinking of taking Marquis out this morning I wouldn’t recommend it. That fetlock of his is still giving a bit of trouble. Another twenty-four hours and it should be safe to risk it.”

Errol replied that he had no intention of taking Marquis out that morning, but he was on his way to the room above the stables to show something that it contained to Miss Sands. Bennett looked thoughtful for a moment, and then nodded his head, grinning a little.

“Ah, yes,” he said. “Doing very nicely they are. But don’t let the young lady get too near. Bimbo might object.”

“I’ll take every care of the young lady, Bennett,” Jervis replied, and also smiled slightly. He inserted his key in the lock of the door that opened on to a narrow steep staircase leading up to the unoccupied flat above the stables, and after apologising mounted the stairs ahead of Edwina and opened the door of the living-room. He looked round it cautiously before permitting Edwina to enter, and then signalled that it was perfectly all right.

“Bimbo isn’t here,” he said. “But Strawberry is
... and there is the remains of her litter.”

Edwina heard the one word, ‘litter,’ and then moved forward impetuously to inspect the contents of the basket. Strawberry had been missing from the house for a week, and she had been very much concerned about her disappearance. No one seemed to know what had become of her, and while suspecting that she had been in an interesting condition for several weeks she had been unable to confirm her diagnosis because of a certain shyness which she felt when it came to discussing the matter with anyone who might prove more knowledgeable.

But now, it transpired, Strawberry had been in good hands after all, and her accouchement had been made as comfortable as possible by Bennett and his underling, who had sat up all night to assist in her delivery. Jervis explained that originally there had been three pups, but two had died. Now there was only one, a small black scrap so unlike Strawberry herself that it was quite astonishing she had produced it. Until, as Jervis did with that same small, amused smile of his, the likeness to Bimbo was pointed out, and the complete family relationship was somewhat surprisingly established.

Nevertheless, as she knelt beside the basket Edwina impulsively offered the obvious comment:

“But Strawberry is a corgi, and Bimbo...
!
”

“Exactly.” Jervis perched on the arm of a tumble
-
down couch and watched her in amusement. “But love is no respecter of pedigrees, and judging by results Strawberry didn’t think much of them, either. She has had litters before that have somewhat surprised us, but this is the most surprising. Don’t you think she looks as if she’s terribly proud of her offspring just the same
?
”

“I do.” Edwina was dying to handle the puppy, but she wondered whether Strawberry would object. In addition to the maternal pride in her eyes there was a certain amount of apprehension, particularly as Edwina was not as well known to her as Jervis. “Do you think she’d mind if I picked it up—?”

“Not seriously, and Strawberry’s a gentle soul. But perhaps I’d better perform the operation for you.”

He handed the puppy over to Edwina, and she sat on the couch which had once formed part of the stable flat’s furnishings and delightedly stroked it and allowed it to nuzzle close in to her neck. She had never actually owned a puppy of her own, and the sensation that communicated itself to the heart of her being as a result of holding this one was pure pleasure. She wanted to go on holding it, and feeling the warm weight of it against her chest, and although it was the most extraordinary-looking animal she had ever seen it made not the smallest amount of difference to the intense admiration she felt for it.

“I honestly believe it will look like Strawberry one day,” she said. “At the moment it’s difficult to be one hundred per cent certain, but certainly it’s not really a bit like Bimbo—”

“Apart from its colour.”

“Yes, it’s as black as Bimbo—”

“And as ungainly.”

Instantly Edwina defended the puppy’s peculiar outline.

“Oh, no, it’s just that it’s rather large
... and Bimbo’s rather on the large side, isn’t he?” Her intrigued eyes peeped up at him for a moment through a soft cascade of warm brown hair that had fallen forward across her forehead. She thrust it back with a slender hand. “I’m afraid I’m still rather afraid of Bimbo. You see,” she admitted shyly, “I’m not really used to dogs.”

“Or horses.”

“Certainly not horses.”

He came and sat beside her on the settee, playing with one of the puppy’s ears.

“I’ve told you I can cure you of that,” he said quietly. “In fact, I guarantee to teach you to ride in a very short space of time. Are you willing to let me prove that I’m not making an idle boast?”

He saw a look dart into her eyes which told him she was remembering the night she had been locked up in the stables. It was a slightly hunted look. With surprising sympathy he took one of her hands and held it.

“Yes, even though you had that bad experience, and are understandably more loath than ever to find yourself on the back of a horse, I can still teach you,” he urged. “I want to teach you, Edwina. It would be good for you to ride.”

“But why?” she faltered. “If it’s a question of teaching someone to ride in order that they can accompany Tina on her rides
...
”

“It’s not,” he assured her, with peculiar emphasis. “It’s simply that I feel—loving the country as you obviously do—that you’re missing something.”

His dark blue, straight-gazing eyes were looking hard at her, and she found herself forced to look away. Her glance fastened on the rest of the contents of the low-ceilinged living-room, and she heard herself say rather foolishly that the flat above the stables could be very cosy if only someone with an eye to decoration took it over. She herself, for example, would have a fitted carpet instead of linoleum and some flowery chintz curtains at the window
...

“Yes, I daresay you would,” Jervis agreed with her a little drily. “But we are not discussing or even entering into the possibilities of this flat as living quarters. The last time it was occupied was several years ago, and you wouldn’t get Bennett taking up his residence here for any consideration. He much prefers one of the lodges. However, that is all beside the point. Will you allow me to give you riding lessons?”

Her nervous glance met his again, and then shied away.

“If you absolutely insist, of course. But I’d prefer it if you didn’t insist.”

“I’m going to insist.”

She shook her head at him.

“I simply can’t think why.” Then she looked down quickly at the puppy, that was slumbering contentedly in her arms, while Strawberry continued to raise no objection, and buried her face against it.

“Why didn’t you let Tina see the puppy first?” she asked. “After all, Strawberry is really her dog.”

“And the puppy will be hers also before long
... or yours!”

Delightedly she enquired:

“Do you mean that I can really have it
?
”

“If you want it.”

“Of course I want it.” The lovely colour had completely flooded her face again, and he seemed fascinated by the tendency of her rich cloud of hair to veil her eyes, with their eager warm lights. “I can’t think of anything I’d like more than to have a dog of my own ... But of course,” she added swiftly, “I do realise that it would really be Tina’s. After all, she lives here, and I—I don’t.”

“You can live here for as long as you wish to live here,” he told her somewhat surprisingly.

She had a mental picture of the engagement ring Marsha Fleming had shown her only the day before, and she wondered whether his, as yet, unacknowledged
fiancée
would entirely approve this offer.

“I
... it’s very good of you to say that, Mr. Errol,” she said.

“But you’re not at all sure that you wish to commit yourself as to how long you’d like to remain here, is that it, Miss Sands?” he enquired.

She was astonished by the slight harshness of his tone, and her astonishment looked out of her eyes.

“For my part, I shall simply hate it when the day comes when I have to leave here,” she stated impetuously. “But it would be foolish of me to pretend that that day won’t ever arrive.”

“Why would it be foolish?” watching her as if he was determined to wrest the truth out of her.

“Well...” She felt curiously helpless, not certain whether she ought to reveal that she had seen Miss Fleming’s engagement ring, and not wanting the slight inquisition to be continued, when, after all, it wasn’t a very fair inquisition. She handed back the puppy to him. “I think you ought to restore this to Strawberry.”

“You can bring Tina over to-morrow and hear her go into rhapsodies.” He knelt once more by the basket and lowered the puppy gently on to the soft blanket that filled it. “But at the same time you can remember that I’ve given it to you. There will be no dispute about its ownership in future.”

“Th-thank you, Mr. Errol,” she stammered, and wondered what her landlady would say when she returned—as she inevitably
must
return—to London and her one-roomed flat and asked permission to keep her new pet there.

She doubted very much whether the permission would ever be granted.

Jervis Errol rose from his kneeling position and indicated by his attitude that the interlude was over. As they descended the stairs he said that there was something else he wanted to show her, and she must not be at all nervous.

His words caused Edwina immediately to suspect what was going to happen next, and she wasn’t at all surprised when he stopped beside the half-door on the other side of which the handsome grey, Marquis, was making restless, champing noises and viewing the world beyond the stable door with a distinctly jaundiced expression in its equine eyes, and invited her to get really acquainted with his distinguished-looking mount.

“The first thing you have to realise about horses is that they know when you’re nervous of them, and that’s when they’re inclined to play you up,” he said. “Now, I’m not for one moment suggesting that one day you’ll sit astride a horse like Marquis—he’d look upon you as an irritating feather if you ever landed in his saddle, and get rid of you before you’d time to grasp the reins—but in order to overcome your timidity I do suggest that you say how do you do to him.”

He asked Bennett to hand him a lump of sugar, and passed it on to Edwina.

“Let it lie on the palm of your hand and hold it out to him,” he said. “Don’t flinch—don’t look as if you’re about to run away, and in any case you’re half scared out of your wits. Just say something soothingly in that pretty voice of yours, and I give you my word Marquis will behave like the gentleman he is. And no gentleman ever willingly hurt a lady.”

Edwina realised that this was one time in her life when she had to obey the instruction that had been given to her. If she displayed cowardice those dark blue eyes that were watching her—to say nothing of Bennett, who was also watching her with interest
—
would almost certainly cloud over with contempt, and whatever happened to her in the future she couldn’t bear that.

Especially after the chat they had had that morning, and the present he had made her of Strawberry’s pup.

At the risk of losing life and limb she took a few steps forward and approached the side of the stall. She thought that Marquis, from his superior height, looked down at her with surprised contempt, and then he was nosing the sugar. She was surprised, when she heard him disposing of it with gigantic crunching noises, that her hand was still intact, and she herself seemed to be more or less in one piece.

She breathed a shuddering sigh of relief, and her employer laughed at her.

He first patted her shoulder, and then slipped an arm behind both her shoulders as if he might hug them openly, only second thoughts caused
him
to refrain. Instead he smiled and spoke approvingly.