A Well Kept Secret (11 page)

Even as he spoke, he wondered if he had finally gone too far in his efforts to break the ice. There was still no spark of friendliness or anything else in her expression; she might just as well have been an automaton for the amount of human feeling she displayed. He suddenly wondered why he was bothering.

“If you wish,” she said at last, but there was no change of expression.

“Well, at least that is something,” he sighed. “Now, before we go any further, is there anything at all about your terms of employment, accommodation, wages or anything else that you are not happy with?”

For about the first time in their brief acquaintance she actually looked directly at him and held his gaze. There was still no hint of unbending, but he had the feeling that she was weighing him up as a person. “I have no complaints about anything,” she said shortly.

“Then what the hell
is
eating away at you?” he asked bluntly, his patience with her obstinacy finally wearing to the point where he was prepared to give up and simply get rid of her. “If I have inadvertently done something to offend you, you could at least have the courtesy to advise me what it is!”

For a moment he thought that she would refuse to reply. She sat there watching him. There was still no expression visible on her features, not even a tightening of the eyes or jaw line that would betray a justifiable sense of resentment at his words, yet in a way he could sense a form of turmoil going on within her mind.

“You must forgive me if I seem a little defensive, Mr Isherwood,” she said at last. “I am not deliberately seeking to be offensive; it is in my nature.”

“Martin
, please
!” he interrupted.

“Very well, if you insist; Martin.” She paused as if the mere act of using his Christian name stuck in her throat.

“It was never my intention to be rude,” she repeated. “I apologise if I have caused offence.”

“I didn’t think for a moment that you were, so there is no need for an apology. On the other hand, I’m not stupid; I can tell that something is gnawing away at you, and it would help if I knew what.”

There was another brief period in which she just sat and stared at him. There was no change of expression, yet he could still sense a state of inner turmoil.

“Very well,” she announced as if finally coming to a decision about something. “If you must know, you are a man!” She almost snapped the words out as if defying him to contradict her.

It was Martin’s turn to pause as he took stock of her words. Her eyes still held his, yet it was impossible to read what was going on her mind. “All right,” he agreed, “so I’m a man. I’m afraid that is something entirely beyond my control; I was born as a male, and as yet I have seen no reason to change gender. As far as I am aware, Dr Marston was also a man, so I still do not understand what is wrong between us.”

“Dr Marston was not like other men. He was completely different, he was understanding, helpful, and undemanding. He exuded a warmth of spirit I have never encountered anywhere else in this rotten world.” She stopped abruptly, as if suddenly deciding that she had already said too much.

“I see; so from this I infer that he was the exception to the general rule regarding the male sex?”

“If you choose to put it that way.”

“And yet you agreed to stay on and work for me?”

“I have my reasons.”

“I’m sure you do!”
 
He was tempted to add that a comfortable home and an income figured amongst them, but he bit that back.

“I am sorry; it takes me a long time to learn to trust anyone,” she added by way of limited explanation. “I have only been acquainted with you for a short time; how can I possibly know you as a person?”

It suddenly crossed his mind that her attitude implied at least one, or possible several highly unpleasant experiences at the hands of a man. In theory, such an experience might possibly have generated the attitude she exhibited.

“You are a married woman.” he observed.

“What of it?”

“What I meant was; you are not widowed or anything like that?”

“I am a married woman.”

“May I ask where your husband is?”

He saw her eyes flare momentarily, and he thought she was about to get up and walk out on him.

“I have no idea,” she answered tightly.

“I see.”

He knew that he had reached the point beyond which it was unwise to push her.

“Look,” he said in as friendly a tone as he could manage. “I have no wish to pry into the details of your domestic life; it’s none of my business. The fact that you are here and your husband isn’t is of no concern of mine. I want to assure you that if some aspects of your personal life have been less acceptable than you would wish, you certainly have no need to explain them to me. As far as I am concerned, everybody is entitled to privacy.

Perhaps I should explain that I run quite a large business concern, and consequently I need to care for the welfare of my staff. It is my experience that happy staff are in general more productive, so I am used to resolving domestic and personal issues. Now, whether you choose to believe me or otherwise, I can assure you that I hope you will come to regard me as more than just your employer. I would like you to accept that I am someone you can turn to if ever the need arises, just as all my other employees can. I do not pry, I do not preach, and rarely do I criticise. Perhaps you have problems that you feel nobody could ever understand; maybe you even consider them to be unique, for your manner certainly hints at the possibility. I imagine all of us have things in our past we would like to change; it isn’t always possible to change these things, I merely ask you to bear in mind that sometimes it helps to share one’s troubles.”

“Are you married?” she interrupted suddenly.

He wasn’t anticipating such a direct question, and the sheer unexpectedness of it pierced him like an arrow as an image of Alicia flashed instantly across his mind. For a few seconds he did not trust himself to speak. He rose abruptly from the desk and went across to the window and stared out of it as he fought to bring his feeling of shock under control. Becoming so involved in the enigma posed by the housekeeper he had fleetingly pushed into the background the pain and suffering of his bereavement, and her question, catching him so completely off-guard, had flung open the floodgates of suffering once more. Coming to Springwater House had been a desperate attempt to come to terms with the devastating effects of his loss, and to some extent he had made a start in doing this by distracting himself with other matters. Her words, coming as they did without warning, hit him like a blow between the eyes.

“I was,” he said tautly as he continued to stare unseeingly out of the glass. “I am now a widower.”

There was a lengthy period of silence during which neither of them spoke. He continued to stare out of the window, his mind back in those last dreadful hours when he had to accept that the only woman he had ever loved had been snatched from him. It took all of his determination to hold back the tears that threatened to run unchecked down his face.

“I’m very sorry,” she said at last, breaking into his reverie. Her voice was low, and for the first time there was a sense of feeling in it. “I had no idea; please don’t think-”

“It’s quite all right,” he interrupted brusquely as he turned to face her. “There was no way you could have known. Like I said; all of us may have things in the past we would like to change, but cannot.”

He was aware that she was actually watching him, probably sensing the pain he tried to conceal, and for the first time he saw a break in the hostility that seemed to be such a part of her make-up, for there was an expression of genuine concern showing in her eyes. In an odd sort of way he felt embarrassed that he had betrayed so much of himself, that he had put them both in such a painful situation. Although it had never been his intention, he suddenly felt as if he had been exerting a form of emotional blackmail upon her by betraying his own unhealed pain.

“Like I said,” he repeated, forcing a tight smile on his face, “all of us have things in the past we would like to change; now you know mine.”

“I think,” she said, still watching him, her eyes never leaving his. “That I have been wrong; I am sorry if my question caused you pain, it was never my intention.”

“Of course not,” he agreed. “As I said; there was no way you could have known.”

“I hope you will pardon me for saying; this has allowed me to sense within you much of what made Dr Marston such a special person,” she ventured, and for the first time there was an element of feeling in her voice. “I can only imagine what you have suffered, and I am sorry to have caused you hurt.”

“It is kind of you to say so but please, do not apologise.”

He walked back from the window and settled behind the desk once more, the few seconds this took giving him time to get himself fully under control once more. It had never been his intention to discuss his own personal loss with anyone, and in all conscience he couldn't blame her for probing an open wound she could never have known of.

“I would like you to know,” she said as he settled back and looked at her, “that I accept the point you have been making with regard to an improved working relationship. I promise you that I will try to be less defensive, and I will be pleased to assist in whatever capacity I can.”

“Thank you,” he responded as once again he forced the smile onto his face to hide his true feelings, “Then may I suggest that we make a start at once with a guided tour of the house? I have already had a quick look round of course, but I’m sure you know the place intimately, and I have the feeling that in the process you may be able to help me get to know my uncle much better.”

In truth he wanted to get out of that study, he wanted to be doing something, anything, even walking round the house, rather than allowing her to see the pain that those memories she had accidentally evoked had caused him.

“Certainly,” she agreed, rising from her seat. “Perhaps we should start from the top of the house and work down?”

“Seems reasonable to me,” he agreed, rising to accompany her.

He reached across and opened the door and stood to one side. It was an old fashioned courtesy that he hoped would impress upon her what he hoped would signify a better working relationship between them. She gave a sort of nervous half smile, and preceded him into the hallway.

“May I ask a personal question?” she asked as he closed the door behind him.

“Please do.”

“I know it is none of my business,” she said, and there was a mixture of self-consciousness and determination in her voice as she spoke. “Only it may help me to understand why you are really here; can you tell me what was wrong between you and your uncle? I mean, as far as I know, you have never visited him, corresponded with him, or even exchanged Christmas cards. You affect to know little or nothing about him, and he never once mentioned you to me, except when he made out his will. It has worried me ever since; is there some long forgotten family quarrel, is it something I should be aware of, something well, unpleasant?”

“I would love to be able to answer that for you in detail,” he answered, glad that at long last she was unwinding enough to at least converse with him. “In truth, I probably know less about such matters than you do. All I can tell you is that my mother was his only sibling, and I only remember coming to this house once, and that was when I was a young child. My mother never mentioned any estrangement, indeed, she scarcely ever mentioned her only brother at all, and in consequence I grew up never even thinking about him. I suppose it is possible that something happened between them that I know nothing of, and whatever it may have been, it is much a mystery to me as it is for you. As it happens, it is one reason why I am going through all of his papers; I’m hoping to find some clue that will enable me to answer that very question.”

“Then I hope you will be successful,” she said as they headed for the main staircase. “I would like to help as much as I can only you have to understand that I didn’t know him really well; not in the personal sense. Although I regarded him as being the very best person in the world, for I cannot conceive of a nobler, kindlier or more honest man, he was also an extremely private person. He was devoted to his wife, and he was almost completely destroyed when she died,” she paused as if unsure whether to continue, then added; “I saw that same haunted look in his eyes that I saw in yours when I asked you if you were married; that is when I knew that at heart you are much the same sort of man that he was; in your own way you care as much about people as he did.”