Paying Guests (17 page)

‘And think how pleased Duff will be when he returns from Leicestershire to find so old a friend ensconced in his home,’ Mrs Grayling twittered on. ‘Oh, it will be so delightful for him! And for us – as I am sure will your song, Mr Hancock,’ she added hastily as Mr Hancock turned and looked at her a touch irritably as he struck a note on the piano.

They all settled down to listen to the comic song, which was a tolerably respectable although noisy one about a young man who was too bashful to speak his heart to his young lady and so constantly used words that could be misunderstood, and as the sound rose and with it the appreciative laughter of the listeners, Tilly was again thrown into confusion.

Duff. Never mind what her other guests said, never mind that they all took it for granted that from now on Sophie Oliver was to
be one of their number; if she chose to tell Sophie it was out of the question then indeed she would, she told herself. But Duff –

She tried to dismiss her freshly aroused doubts, but it was not easy. Miss Knapp, sitting there beside her and watching the group at the piano with small evidence of approval had made her even more unsure, and yet –

I must start at the beginning, she thought then and did so, very deliberately. Why is Sophie Oliver here? Because I sent Jem to look for her. Why did I send Jem to look for her? Because I was worried about Duff. What is it that worried you about Duff? Why, that he was making unsuitable friends and becoming involved in – well, let that be. You wanted to feel sure that he met suitable girls and recalled his close attachment to this particular girl, when he was a child. And of course, Duff himself had in a sense chosen Sophie by saying that that wretched Lord Patrick reminded him of her. That was why Tilly had thought of her at all. And why she had set Jem on to finding her.

Oh dear, she thought, looking across at the piano where both young men, while singing heartily, were directing all their attention towards Sophie, have I made matters worse rather than better? Will Duff, once he sees her again, recall her with affection or will he remember only being angry when she went away? And if he is interested in her, will there be jealousy and unhappiness in the house because of Mr Hancock and Mr Cumming? If Duff competes with them for Sophie’s attentions –

And apart from all that, she thought as her ideas went sliding away from her like inexperienced skaters on a winter pond, what is Sophie herself like now? Miss Knapp sees her as a minx, and yet perhaps that is unfair. Everyone else here finds her delightful. Just see how they are all happy and amused in her company; and not just the young men who might be expected to behave so. Mr and Mrs Grayling, and the Lampeters and McCools, and even Mr Gee, seem to enjoy her company. The evenings are always congenial but I can’t remember it ever being quite so enjoyable for them all as it is tonight. And if a new vivacious girl amongst them has this effect, how can that be anything but good?

‘It is clear that she will be moving in very soon,’ Miss Knapp said in her ear and Tilly came back out of her reverie with a start and glanced at her. Miss Knapp was looking at Sophie who was now sitting beside the two American girls and giggling with them. ‘Everyone has taken her to their heart, have they not? Perhaps we are being less than fair, Mrs Quentin. It was her mother I found to be, shall we say, not precisely the sort of person I would regard as a friend. It was most wrong of me to tar her daughter with the same brush, however. You say they no longer live together. Then, I suppose that could be a recommendation for Sophie, if we are honest. If she has found a way to live respectably alone without her mother at her age, that has to be to her credit. The girl deserves a secure and respectable home in which to live, if that is the case. It seems to me, on mature reflection, that it is no less than your Christian duty, Mrs Quentin, to agree to her joining us. I would have no objection, certainly, now I have had time to think.’

Miss Knapp, who had as the first ever guest a certain standing in the house in her own and everyone else’s eyes, including Tilly’s, spoke so firmly that Tilly wavered even more. Miss Knapp, she recalled, together with Miss Fleetwood, had been set against there ever being male guests in Quentin’s but had given in to the suggestion from Tilly when Mr Gee had first requested a room, albeit with great concern. They had agreed only because Tilly had assured them he would be quiet and well mannered, and had been most generous in their admission that their fears of the house being ruined by masculinity had been unfounded. So now, if Miss Knapp wanted Tilly to accept Sophie and gave such good reasons for doing so, shouldn’t Tilly be equally magnanimous? And hadn’t she too been wondering whether she had unfairly tarred Sophie with her mother’s brush?

‘Oh dear,’ she said aloud. ‘It is difficult sometimes to know just what is right.’

‘Then I think in that case you should give way to others’ counsel,’ advised Miss Knapp. ‘I shall speak to Miss Fleetwood and see what she says and let you know.’ She got to her feet magisterially and shook out her skirts.

‘And to Miss Barnetsen?’ Tilly asked and Miss Knapp frowned.

‘Not at all. She came here after we did and has no voice in the matter,’ she said stiffly and went across the room to speak in a low voice to Miss Fleetwood, who had been sitting observing Sophie with as much absorption as everyone else.

Tilly watched them as they whispered together, as much in a state of confusion as ever. It seemed absurd that someone as sensible as she thought herself to be, who ran this large and very busy household with very little trouble, should be confused by so simple a matter as whether or not to accept a particular guest for a room she had to spare, but there it was. Her own emotions were entangled in this decision through Duff and her memories of Dorcas and that made it hard for her to think sensibly.

Now she would, she told herself, be sensible and listen to her oldest guests, who would be as concerned as she was to maintain the happiness and health of the house, for their interests were her interests. And vice versa. I shall do just as they say, she promised herself again, as Miss Knapp straightened her back and returned to the chair at Tilly’s side.

‘And that is how it happened,’ Tilly said to Eliza, as they stood at the front door watching Rosie and Lucy bring in the many boxes and bags that comprised Sophie Oliver’s luggage. ‘I was, I cannot deny, in a great lather about it. You were not here or I would have spoken to you too, although of course, the decision has to be mine.’

‘Of course, Mum,’ Eliza said woodenly and stood there with her reddened hands carefully crossed on her blue gaberdine gown. Above her neat white collar her face had the round redness of a new apple, but there was none of the usual good humour in her expression. She looked, indeed, almost as though she were scowling.

‘Really, Eliza, I did not decide in haste!’ she said, now irritated. ‘I was, I don’t deny, in some confusion about whether or not she should come to us, but as Miss Knapp pointed out, we must not regard her except as herself! To feel she is but an extension of her mother, and bears her faults in herself, is hardly just!’

‘Miss Knapp said that?’ Eliza said and swivelled her eyes sideways to look at her.

‘Indeed she did,’ Tilly said firmly.

‘Hmm,’ said Eliza, who held Miss Knapp’s opinion in high regard. ‘I s’pose she should know, Mum.’

‘Indeed she should, for she taught Sophie just as she taught Duff! And Duff of course will be delighted, won’t he.’ She tried to make the last a statement rather than a question and seemed to succeed, for Eliza nodded.

‘Well, there’s no question of that, Mum,’ she conceded. ‘When Mr Duff gets back, he’ll be well pleased, I’m sure. I dare say I’m not being fair at that. It’s just that I remember so well, Mum, the way that Mrs Leander treated me and the way that Dorcas put airs on and –’

‘The sins of the parent – and grandparent – are not necessarily those of the child,’ Tilly said, and again was very firm. ‘We must be
fair
, Eliza.’

‘We don’t have much choice now, Mum,’ Eliza said with a flash of humour as Rosie toiled up the steps with the final box and at last the cab went bowling away, leaving Sophie to pick her delicate way up the steps, her skirts held high out of the dust to display a very pretty pair of kid boots encasing the most elegant of ankles. ‘Seein’ as she’s here. I’ll be off to my kitchen, Mum, if you’ll excuse me.’ She turned to go. ‘Though I have to say there’s somethin’ botherin’ me still about this whole business, only I can’t put my finger on it, like. But I dare say I’m just being foolish.’ And away she went in a rustle of crisp gaberdine as Sophie arrived in the hall, smiling up at Tilly as she stepped over the threshold.

‘Well, this is nice, dear Aunt Tilly,’ she said. ‘I feel so happy to be returning home! I have the first of my payments ready so we shall settle that before we do anything else –’

‘Oh, no!’ Tilly was mortified. ‘I present the bills at the end of each month.’

‘But I insist,’ Sophie said. ‘It would not be right not to pay in advance. I feel that most strongly. It is asking too much of you, even though you knew me in childhood, to take me on trust. So, if
you please, we will settle this now. I will have to take my bags out at once and move on if you refuse me!’ And she smiled at Tilly.

‘Oh, for heaven’s sake!’ Tilly said and turned away. ‘Such a fuss! Of course you may pay in advance if you choose – some people do on occasion, of course, if they are to stay only a short time, so it is not all that – anyway, come along to my room where I deal with such matters.’

It was not until she had put away her books, locked in her box the sovereigns that Sophie put into her hand and given her a receipt, and sent Lucy to take her to her room and assist her in settling in, that Tilly realized what she had done. She had been given the opportunity to turn Sophie away at the very last minute. If she had refused to take her payment in advance Sophie had said that she would take her boxes and leave, at once. And Tilly had taken her money.

Clearly, she thought, this was inevitable. I don’t know why I made such a fuss. Sophie is home, as she says, and here to stay, and why should she not be? She can do no harm to anyone.

‘I BELIEVE ALL is going well,’ Tilly said carefully. ‘It would indeed appear that I worried needlessly, so forgive me for seeming to have been ungrateful to you, Jem. I was nasty –’

‘Well, I did warn you that there might be trouble,’ Jem said. ‘So I was quite prepared for your doubts. And you were not nasty. I have never known you to be so, and don’t think you could be. Ever.’

She did not look at him, not wanting to encourage him to make any more declarations of approval of her; they all too easily turned into declarations of affection and she suffered enough guilt over Jem as it was. Instead she concentrated on the sewing she had in her lap, keeping her head down.

‘She is most charming about the house, I must say. At breakfast she keeps everyone cheerful and starts the day off for everyone most agreeably. There are some new people here, since the McCools and the Lampeters went – they are from France, and they have a young daughter of about Sophie’s age. She is, I am afraid, sadly plain, but she seems to be on excellent terms with Sophie and they go about together and shop and so forth and chatter away in French. Sophie seems very glad to have the opportunity to improve her grasp of the language.’

‘And is that all she does?’ Jem said, leaning back in his chair. He had been sitting forwards, a little eagerly but at Tilly’s rejection of his warm words had accepted his
congé
, just as he usually did. ‘Has she no other occupation?’

‘Oh, she rides in the morning with Silas,’ Tilly said, her head still down over her needle.

‘Silas?’ Jem’s voice sharpened a little.

Tilly felt herself redden. ‘Mr Geddes.’

‘You have become good friends, then.’ Jem’s voice sounded as usual, but Tilly was not deceived. He was hurt that she should be on first name terms with a man other than himself, and now she lifted her chin and looked at him.

‘It was impossible not to,’ she said. ‘He has been – well, he was very kind to Duff, you know. Took him riding when he was so miserable the day after – when he drank too much, you remember, and generally helped him greatly. I tried to insist we remain a little aloof, but when a person is your son’s friend, you know, it is difficult to be formal.’

She knew she was being mendacious, but it had been worth it, for now Jem relaxed again, content with her explanation.

‘Ah, I see,’ he said. ‘Of course, if he has become Duff’s friend then there is every reason that – tell me, when will Duff return? It will be most interesting to hear of his experiences in Leicestershire.’ He looked around the drawing room where they were sitting so comfortably on this warm afternoon, and shook his head in a sort of awe. ‘Who would have thought that I, the son of a shopkeeper, would be so comfortable to visit in such a room as this? It is beyond possibility that I will ever spend time in a duke’s house, but to be so warmly acquainted with people who do, and to be able to hear about it from their own lips is most –’