The Quiet Heart (12 page)

“Austria?” Alison was herself aware that her speech was laboured. “But wouldn’t that involve a lot of expense?”

Leydon banged the table with his fist, and the tartlets wobbled on their wire cooling tray.

“Once and for all,” he exclaimed, “get it into your head that expense is the one thing that is not going to be spared in the fight to free Jessamy of her limp! I have made up my mind, whether you agree or not, that she
is
going to Austria, and she
is
going to be treated—”

“I have nothing against her receiving treatment.” Alison’s voice was a mere frozen thread of sound. “You must be perfectly well aware that I am very devoted to Jessamy, and I would do anything—give anything!—to know that she was as other girls of her age are, and that there was not even the smallest cloud upon her future. But neither I nor her father would wish an—an outsider to interest himself in her, and least of all would we wish that outsider to incur expense—”

“If by outsider you mean me, then I’m determined to incur any expense that is necessary.”

“Why?” She stared at him.

“Because Jessamy is important to me ... possibly even more important than she is to you!”

“I—I don’t believe it! That isn’t possible!”

He smiled at her with dry coolness.

“No? But you are merely her stepmother, aren’t you? And I—”

He abandoned the subject and walked to the door.

“We’ll talk about it later ... after Christmas. And that is only weeks away. In the meantime,” regarding her with a smile in his light grey eyes that actually provoked her, “I’ll leave you to your woman’s work ... the task of preparing my evening meal! Which I’m sure must give you the very maximum amount of satisfaction!” About to leave the kitchen he wheeled about for the third time and walked up to her. Before she realised what he intended to do he had caught hold of one of her hands and carried it up to the light as if he wished to inspect it.

“I thought so,” he said. “You used nail varnish for a matter of days after you paid that unexpected visit to a beauty parlour in Murchester, and then you left off using it.” His eyes scrutinised her face. “Just as you left off using make-up—or anything that is in the least noticeable—and the odd spot of perfume. Since your hair has been cut you can’t do much to alter that, but I’ve the feeling you’d love to have that tight little bun back in the nape of your neck, and I’m sure you don’t feel really respectable without it. Rosalind Prim isn’t in the least prim at heart, but you are ... prim and constantly on your dignity!”

She snatched away her hand, and held it behind her back.

‘‘You’re forgetting, aren’t you, Mr. Leydon,” she emphasised, “that I’m the cook here?”

“Nonsense!” To her astonishment he sounded quite angry. “At the moment you’re acting as my housekeeper here, but I’m perfectly willing to provide you with someone to do the cooking if necessary. I thought, however, that you liked cooking.”

“
I don’t
!” as if it was the one thing she loathed above everything else, which was very far from true.

His eyes became inscrutable. He stared down at her without any expression whatsoever on his face and appeared to be calmly and dispassionately seeking to make up his mind about her. “Then what do you like?”

“I—I’m not at all sure.” Then she said something that she afterwards regretted saying very much indeed, but at the moment that she made the utterance she was unable to stop herself. It simply burst from her. “You never made any comment after I went to the beauty parlour! I was quite sure you hadn’t even noticed that I’d had my hair cut, let alone bought myself a few new things!”

A slow smile dawned in his eyes. All at once their strange light grey quality had a warmth and a depth that was really surprising, and but for the fact that she was suddenly covered in embarrassment, she might have noticed that the amusement which also lit his features was quite genuine, and some other emotion she might have found it difficult to analyse was mixed up with it.

“Dear me,” he said, “I seem to have blundered. You can take it from me that I did notice! Oh, yes, I noticed immediately you got back from Murchester, but Prim was here, and it didn’t seem the right occasion to comment on your sudden emancipation. Besides, I couldn’t quite make out why you’d gone to so much trouble ... all at once! And deprived yourself of that tight little bun which I’m sure you loved. Shall I tell you something?”

“If you feel you’d like to do so,” looking anywhere but up into his eyes.

“That night you returned ... But never mind. The night you fell asleep in the library while I sat opposite you in a chair some unwary movement on your part caused your hair to tumble down about your shoulders, and if anyone had told me you were a cook while I sat looking at you then...”

“Please,” she begged, in a muffled voice, “I hate to be reminded of that night when you caught pneumonia.”

“Do you?” the smile vanished from his face. “Strange, because I rather like to dwell upon it.”

CHAPTER IX

WHEN Christmas came the weather had taken an unseasonably mild turn, and on Christmas morning the sun shone so brilliantly that it was more like the first day of spring than the commencement of the festive season.

Bereft of snow and ice, the Hall, nevertheless, was the perfect setting for Yuletide parties and lighthearted gatherings. Alison had spent five Christmases at Leydon, and on each of those five Christmases she had made herself responsible for decorating the house ... even the unoccupied rooms. With the co-operation of the head gardener she had transformed them with boughs of laurel and giant-sized logs that blazed on the open hearths, and her own apartments had always been gay with tinsel and bright with holly berries.

This particular Christmas was rather like being confronted with a major problem, for she had no idea how much Christmas really meant to a man like the present baronet. If she started decorating he might order her to take the stuff down because according to his modern outlook it was too much like keeping alive pagan customs. On the other hand, he obviously considered that Christmas was a time for latitude where the pleasures of the table were concerned, for he had already provided for the extra demands on that side of the establishment. Whole hams had arrived and Fortnum & Mason jars of tongue. An extra store-cupboard had been opened up for the storage (fairly temporary, since Christmas was not very far off) of boxes of
marrons glacés,
preserved ginger, crystallised figs and other fruits, pate and even caviare. Alison had been encouraged to triplicate her usual order for turkey, and she was expecting an outsize bird to be delivered at her side entrance a day or so before Christmas.

She only hoped her oven would be large enough to cope with it, and that she wouldn’t have to carry it down to the main kitchen and get the big Aga going in order to provide them with the main course of Christmas Day.

She decided to approach Leydon about decorations and trimmings before rallying her helpers and bringing in the step-ladders. Somewhat to her surprise he gave her
carte blanche
to do as she pleased, and she received the impression that although he was not particularly anxious to see the place transformed he was by no means averse to a large bunch of mistletoe being attached to the giant swinging lantern in the great hall, or a giant Christmas-tree being introduced into the hall itself.

He even said he would see the head gardener himself and make sure that the Christmas-tree really was one of the finest the estate could provide. And he drove himself into Murchester to buy coloured electric light bulbs and other things for the tree.

According to usual custom the presents were to be placed beneath the tree, and handed out on Christmas afternoon.

The three girls grew very excited as Christmas drew near. Marianne had repaired the damage to her relationship with her veterinary surgeon, and he was invited to dine with them on Christmas Day. Lorne had invited a girl friend to stay with them over the holiday, and Jessamy seemed remarkably content to be without special friends and drifted about the Hall as if she was secretly inspired and rendered transparently content by some inner force or knowledge that she had, and which was in no wise affected by the fact that she still limped badly.

Leydon had told her that she was to go to Austria in the new year, and it could have been the thought of imminent travel that excited her to such an extent that her eyes appeared actually to shine, and her whole expression was extraordinarily radiant.

On Christmas Eve Charles Leydon and his secretary dined alone in his sitting-room, but it was understood that on the following day even breakfast would be served in the big main dining-room. In order that they shouldn’t all freeze enormous fires were maintained in the room for several days beforehand, and the new heating equipment was brought into action to help raise the temperature in remote corners of the room.

Alison went to bed quite early on Christmas Eve. She and Mrs. Davenport had spent the better part of the evening stuffing the turkey and making mince pies and sausage rolls, and even Marianne had lent a hand with the latter. She had quite a light hand with pastry when she condescended to prove it, and she went off to bed at last quite happily and singing softly to herself. Marianne was too much of a modern to sing carols, but Lorne was not. Alison overheard her rendering of
Silent Night
as she passed along the corridor outside her room, and she stood still beside one of the narrow windows to survey the silent park and the stars, and wonder what it was about Christmas that seemed to act like a charm on her spirit, even when her feet and back ached, and she was very, very tired.

She leaned her forehead against the ice-cool glass for a moment, and during that moment she felt extraordinarily at peace. Her problems faded, and for an all too brief while nothing that was essentially earthly mattered very much, and the emptiness of her future did not actively appal her. She was still leaning against the window when Charles Leydon came along the corridor and also paused outside Lorne’s door.

Alison, who had withdrawn hurriedly behind the protection of the long velvet curtain, saw him smile a little ... and then he went on to Jessamy’s door.

Outside Jessamy’s door he stood and appeared to be lost in sudden, intense thought. Jessamy was moving about on the other side of the door—Alison knew she was tying up her presents and doing them into attractive gaily tied packages to be placed beneath the Christmas tree in the morning—and quite clearly through the stout oak door came the awkward echo of her limp, and the slight uneven tapping noise that her footsteps made on her light, flowered carpet.

Alison, making every endeavour to remain concealed, noticed that Leydon frowned, and in the dimness of the corridor his dark, shapely head was bent and his lips appeared compressed.

To Alison his whole expression suggested that he was very much concerned about something, and she did not need to ask herself what it was that he was concerned about. It was Jessamy and her limp ... only Jessamy had the power to make him look quite like that, as if his whole inner being was in a state of silent revolt, and he was overtaken by a feeling like helplessness because despite his own personal success and his wealth there was little he could do himself to help her.

His money might achieve something in the end, but for the time being he had to endure this shattering sensation of frustration, and Jessamy had to remain handicapped although for the moment perfectly content on the other side of her carefully locked door.

The cold air from the window was chilling the soft fair hairs on Alison’s slender neck by the time Leydon moved on, and she was able to escape to her own room. It took her some little time in front of her electric fire before she was warm again, and even then she was not entirely warm. At the very heart of her she felt bleak and cold, and curiously disenchanted.

She had little time to feel disenchanted the following morning, while she was cooking the breakfast, and as Leydon insisted that they all had it together in the vast mausoleum of a dining-room she even felt ridiculous as she accepted his invitation to take the seat at the bottom of the table facing him.

Nevertheless, it was a brilliant morning, and outside on the lawns the sun sparkled on the short wintry turf. The dining-room itself was not really a mausoleum this morning, for all the pictures were decked with holly, and the table looked quite gay, bedecked with pretty china.

The girls wore new warm dresses, and she herself wore a soft lambs-wool sweater and a slim skirt. She had had her hair shampooed and set two days before, and it framed her face in pale silken curls as she sat at the table. She wore a neat row of pearls and a wristlet-watch that had been a present from her late husband on one of her birthdays, and although slight and in some ways insignificant she seemed to fit into the chair she occupied.

There was nothing about her to suggest that she was going to dart back upstairs to her kitchen in the south tower the very instant breakfast was over, and don a clean concealing overall and plunge her hands into the flour-bin.

Miss Prim was in very festive mood, and looking forward to the short walk to the church, where Marianne was to sing with the choir. Nevertheless, she offered to help Alison with the preparation of lunch, and did not seem at all convinced when Alison thanked her and said there was nothing at all she could do. Alison, it is true, had arranged everything so that she could accompany the others to church, and in the end she was the only one apart from Charles Leydon who drove to church, he having no great liking for walking and insisting—somewhat aggressively, Alison thought—that considering all the demands she was making of herself in one way and another she had no right to submit herself to the ordeal of walking.

Even Jessamy was permitted to trudge over the sunlit ground, and that was one thing
Alison
would have insisted on having altered if Leydon’s car hadn’t shot away with her, and as they sped down the drive and along the winding road to the village he glanced at her almost triumphantly, and addressed her on a note of barely concealed mockery.

“For once you’re ahead of the others, and it will do them good to walk, anyway. Prim’s figure demands a little hard exercise occasionally, and I’m sure Marianne likes dawdling behind with her boy-friend. As for Jessamy, she insisted on walking, so you needn’t feel in the least bit guilty about her.”

“But she is the one who shouldn’t walk.”

“I thought you considered it a bad thing that she should have a car of her own.”

“I do. But only because I—we—”

“Can’t afford it?” He smiled peculiarly at the road ahead. “Forget what you can and cannot afford on Christmas Day. Christmas is a great leveller, you know ... or should be. We none of us own more than the next man while the spirit of Christmas exerts its influence. When it’s all over we can resume our old ways and take up the old threads and foster the old hates and wallow in the old misconceptions, but not while the church bells are pealing as they are now, and the presents are still unwrapped. Relax, Alison, while you have the chance, and if you don’t mind my saying so you look very fetching in that outfit.”

She was wearing a slim blue coat with touches of dark fur about it, and a little sapphire-blue velvet hat, and it was perfectly true that she did look very fetching indeed. She glanced at him for a moment to make sure he wasn’t making fun of her, was surprised by the unusual seriousness of his eyes, and then found it necessary to look away quickly just as he remembered that he was driving a car and the place for his eyes was on the road ahead.

“Happy Christmas, Alison,” he said softly, as they reached the lych-gate. “A very, very happy Christmas!”

She followed him silently into the Leydon pew in the centuries-old church, and was surprised because he had a most pleasing light baritone voice, and he seemed to know the words of all the familiar hymns—which perhaps shouldn’t have been so surprising—without looking them up on the hymn sheet, and after sitting in the pew for ten minutes or so he seemed to grow very still and withdrawn, as if overcome by a great deal of thought.

His eyes were on the Norman arches and the Norman beams alternately, and it could have been that he was merely studying them and appraising them from an architect’s point of view. Or it could have been that he wasn’t even seeing the arches or the beams at all.

Lunch, when they returned to Leydon, was a great success, and although they had to do their own waiting at table the meal was still a success.

For dinner, Mrs. Davenport was arriving to be of as much assistance as she could, and Margaret, too, had seemed quite willing to sacrifice her own Christmas at home in order that the meal should be properly served.

After lunch they all gathered round the tree in the firelit hall, and Leydon undertook the task of handing out the presents. Marianne said jokingly that he should have worn a red robe and made himself up to look like Father Christmas, but by this time he wasn’t in quite such a responsive mood, and he didn’t answer.

He was intent on watching the girls’ expressions as they received their presents. Alison received several small parcels from her stepdaughters, and they in turn received several from her. Mrs. Davenport and Margaret were handed parcels from the tree, and in addition to one of the finest handbags she had seen in her life Mrs. Davenport discovered a bank note in hers. She looked gratefully at Charles Leydon, and somewhat cynically he waited for the joy to overspread Margaret’s face when she discovered a somewhat similar handbag and a rather smaller bank note in her package from the head of the house.

He was not disappointed. Margaret flashed him a radiant smile. She and Mrs. Davenport departed hugging boxes of chocolates, scent, stockings and Leydon’s presents up in their arms, and made themselves a cup of tea in the kitchen while Leydon handed out the remainder of the gifts from the tree. These were largely composed of his own personal gifts to each of the three girls, and to Alison.

In the case of the latter, after much rather embarrassed lifting of several layers of tissue paper out of a rather large box she was able to remove from the box a dressing-gown ... beautifully warm and essentially practical, but by no means the most glamorous dressing-gown she had seen in her life, although undoubtedly a very expensive one.

Somewhat taken aback, she stared first at Leydon, and then at the girls. Both Lorne and Jessamy were trying to look as if they thought she was extraordinarily fortunate, but Marianne was unable to conceal her surprise. With uplifted eyebrows she shrugged her shoulders, and then laughed.

“Well, the next time you have to take on a spot of nursing, and you’re needed in the night, you’re all set for it,” she said. “No risk of taking cold!”