Bird of Prey (7 page)

“There’s no need to put the blame on Caroline. I elicited much of this myself. After all, I did find her at the railway station after being bunged out by you. Naturally I inquired how she came to be in such a situation.”

“Well, don’t let’s argue over that,” Grace said a little pettishly. “What I want to know, Caroline, is whether you’d be interested in coming. After all, you can’t be much use to Mrs. Creed, and this is the sort of work you wanted in the first place. ”

“So you feel Caroline should now come to you—after being sent away on a most insalubrious evening to make the trip back to London—supperless, if what I gathered was correct.”

“Oh no, Cecil gave me something to eat,” Caroline reminded him.

“Yes, that tame musician brother of yours has more humanity

than you have, Grace,” Randall told her.

For a moment Caroline glanced from Randall to Grace undecidedly. It was true, no doubt, that life as a governess to Robin would offer her more leisure and a better way of life and, in spite of her capricious nature, Grace was after all a relation. Apart from that, she still felt vestiges of anger against her employer, for his peremptory, imperious manner. His face was inscrutable now, showing neither acquiescence nor disapprobation, and she felt free to make her own decision.

“Yes, I think I’d like that,” she agreed at last.

“Good.” Grace said eagerly. “Run up and pack like a dear, and I’ll drive you over right away. I’ve a dinner date tonight and it would be terrific if you could take over Robin immediately.”

Again Caroline glanced briefly at her employer, but he seemed to be staring at some far distant object, the steel-grey eyes hooded and impenetrable.

“It won’t take me long, for I haven’t really unpacked properly,” Caroline said. She felt her spirits rise. Perhaps she would succeed where others had failed with this difficult child.

She turned and walked quickly towards the door. But as she put her hand upon the knob she heard Randall’s voice say, low and commanding, “Come back. Caroline.”

She turned, to find him gazing at her fixedly. “You’re not leaving here,” he said coolly.

“What!” Grace sprang to her feet. “What do you mean by that extraordinary remark?”

“I say she’s not leaving here,” he repeated. “She’s mine.”

“She’s yours?” Grace gasped. “What on earth are you talking: about? Do you think you’re some sort of feudal lord, with the power of life or death over your subjects?”

Coolly he placed his hands in his pockets and surveyed her. “No, not exactly, but I did pick her up from the station, after she’d been slung out by you. You show a touching interest in her future, but it was I who took her over when she had no place to go, and I intend to hold on to her.”

“But this is utterly ridiculous! ” Grace’s eyes flashed angrily. “She’s not your slave. You can’t keep her against her will.”

As she spoke, Caroline had slowly returned to the centre of the room and now she gazed in bewilderment as the two sparred over her future.

“Caroline, come here! ” he ordered.

She went towards him, as though mesmerised and found his eyes staring down into hers. He loomed over her—like a bird of prey, she thought, feeling all her resolve melt away under his steely glance which seemed to bore into her very being.

“Tell me,” he said quietly, “do you really want to be the servant of an obstreperous, spoiled child? Do you realize what your life will be like? No one can put up with him. Actually I admire that excellent woman, who departed without as much as a goodbye to anyone, for her courage in boxing his ears. It’s what he’s needed for a long time. I guarantee that if you take him on you won’t last more than a week or so. Then back you’ll be, waiting for the train to London! ”

“How dare you!” Grace gasped, her face flaming angrily. “You’re always down on poor Robin. You’ve always disliked him—and don’t think I don’t know why. You’re jealous. Jealous, because he’s Paul’s child,” she burst out shrilly.

Then, as though realizing she had gone too far, Grace slumped back in her chair.

But Randall appeared oblivious of this outburst. His eyes still bored into Caroline’s, who stared back at him as though hypnotised. There was something about this man which seemed to make her willpower melt away.

“All right,” he said softly. His voice was low as though he were communicating with her alone. “Make your choice. I admit life won’t be heaven for you here and I’ve no intention of changing my ways, but at least it will be better than playing dogsbody to that ill-mannered child.”

A long silence lay between them and almost involuntarily, as though her lips formed the words without her will directing them, Caroline whispered, “Yes, I think I’ll stay.”

Immediately he straightened and resumed his usual inscrutable expression, and Caroline felt a strange sensation of let-down. Now that he had got his way it was as though he had withdrawn his interest from her.

“Well, now that’s settled,” he said almost briskly, “is there anything further you would like to say to Caroline? A cousinly chat, perhaps, Grace? If so, as I said before, I’ll withdraw and leave you in peace.”

“No, I’ve nothing more to say,” Grace said sulkily. “Really, Randall, you are a frightful boor.”

“Yes, aren’t I?” he agreed, “and I’m sure it’s a refreshing change for you to come across a man who doesn’t fall in a heap or run to obey your smallest behest. ”

“Well, I suppose I can count the dinner party off,” Grace said, getting to her feet. “But I have to go up to London tomorrow for a few days and, now that you’ve got your way, couldn’t you have the decency to let Caroline take care of Robin while I’m away? I’ll make arrangements immediately to get another governess,” she added almost pleadingly.

“As victor I can afford to be generous,” Randall said, “but how do you feel about it, Caroline? Are you willing to take on the redoubtable Robin?”

“Oh yes, I think so,” Caroline told him confidently. “In that case it’s fixed. You can drop Robin off here on your way up to London. ”

It was as though, now that he had got his way, he drew a sudden and abrupt line to the subject, and again Caroline felt a faint sense of disappointment.

Grace stood up and pulled on her gloves. “You are a brute, Randall Craig,” she said sulkily.

“Indeed? As to my being a brute, by this time you should know me better than to be surprised at this.” For a moment Grace’s small white teeth showed in a smile. “I expect I rather like you the way you are,” she returned.

“Just as well, for I have no intention of changing my ways,” he assured her.

“Did I say I wanted you to?” She went close to him for a moment, her large jewel-like eyes fixed on him with an

expression that was unmistakable.

As she went towards the door Caroline was aware of their proximity, and somehow the knowledge gave her a sudden painful sense of isolation. To both of them she no longer existed.

“Don’t you know that you suit me just as you are?” Grace was saying, her voice low and husky, as Caroline quietly shut the door behind her.

CHAPTER THREE

TO Caroline’s surprise it was Mrs. Creed herself who woke her on the following morning, bearing a breakfast tray. Caroline blinked sleepily as the housekeeper pulled back the curtains, letting the bright morning sunlight flood through the window of her little room.

But any ideas that might have been aroused in Caroline’s mind by this extraordinarily gracious gesture on the housekeeper’s part were dispelled by Mrs. Creed saying crisply, “I brought you breakfast here to your room today because I thought it would give me an opportunity of discussing your duties quietly without that Betty overhearing and getting notions of herself. She’ll just have to get used to the fact that from now on her life will be very different from yours.”

Caroline sat up and reached for her bed-jacket, feeling somewhat embarrassed as Mrs. Creed placed the laden tray in front of her. This special treatment she was being accorded would be sure to make Betty her enemy, and she had begun to enjoy the companionship of the light-hearted girl, the only other young person on the staff.

But, on the other hand, Mrs. Creed’s point of view was only too easy to understand. With the prospect of Grace coming to Longmere as mistress, should she marry Randall, the housekeeper was wary of making an enemy for herself of the girl who was her cousin. Who knew but that Grace might lend a ready ear to any complaints that Caroline might make! What would become of Mrs. Creed then and her lethargic, easy-going husband should Grace decide to dismiss them? It was impossible, of course, for

Caroline to inform Mrs. Creed that she hadn’t the slightest influence with her cousin and that, as a matter of fact, she had got the distinct impression that Grace disliked her intensely.

The housekeeper stood at the foot of Caroline’s bed, her hands folded severely. “I understand Mrs. Brant is bringing Robin across today, isn’t she? So there’s no sense in your settling down to anything particular before he arrives. Perhaps in the meantime you’d pick a few flowers and place them in vases and bowls here and there—wherever you think they’d look best. I’m sure I haven’t time for such extras, even if I were up to it! But as you’re accustomed to mending china and are artistic, and that sort of thing, I’m sure you’ll make a good job of it,” she concluded hopefully. “Anyway, I know any time I attempt to do it Mrs. Brant always has a complaint, so that I’ve quite given up in despair. Then last time she was here she said the house looked so bleak and bare that, it was plain a bachelor lived here—though, goodness knows, I try to make it as comfortable and homelike as possible,” she ended aggrievedly.

“Oh, but I’m afraid I’ve very little experience in arranging flowers,” Caroline told her.

Muriel Cranwell had never taken any interest in beautifying her home and the nearest approach to flower arrangement Caroline had ever seen her execute had been the thrusting of a couple of bunches of daffodils into a long glass vase. Flower arrangement was the sort of occupation that her aunt had considered a thorough waste of time.

“Well, have a shot at it anyway,” the housekeeper said encouragingly. “I’m sure you’ll do better than I.” And she hurried from the room before Caroline could demur further. It was almost as if she were determined that if Grace had any complaints it would be the results of Caroline’s efforts which would come under her censure.

Left alone, Caroline felt a growing pleasure in the idea, as she munched her hot buttered toast. It would be fun to be able to wander amongst the beautiful blooms she had glimpsed in the glasshouses and to be able to choose at will any blossom that pleased her.

When she had finished breakfast she dressed and carried the tray downstairs in an effort to placate Betty. There was no sign of the girl, however, and when she had laid it on one of the tables in the kitchen Caroline headed for the glasshouses.

But when she attempted to turn the handle of the largest house she found that the door was locked: so were the two smaller houses that were adjacent. She pressed her face against the glass, studying longingly the rich colourful blooms: there were great mop-headed creamy chrysanthemums and flat saucer-shaped ones in shades of maroon and gold, yellow, bronze and a snowy-white. They were so near, and yet so far. Who had the key? she wondered. Probably a gardener! But when she looked around she could see no sign of anyone working in the grounds.

It was just then that Fred approached carrying a basket, a baize apron tied about his portly waist. “And what are you doing here, miss?” He eyed her suspiciously.

“I was wondering who has the keys of the glasshouses,” she told him.

“Oh, you were, were you? And what might you want with the keys?”

“Mrs. Creed asked me to make some flower arrangements for the house,” she informed him.

Fred’s round face had assumed a mulish look. “Them flowers aren’t to be touched. That’s strict orders from the boss. He’s giving a party later on and they’re being kept especially for that occasion.”

“Oh, I see!” Caroline said a little lamely.

“Yes, it would be more than my job is worth to let you in there, I can tell you,” Fred nodded, “for he’s a hard, unfeeling man, with no consideration for anyone, as no doubt you’ll find out for yourself soon enough.”

And with these ominous words, Fred pursued his way to the kitchen gardens.

Feeling rather at a loss, Caroline turned away and wandered into the grounds. Here in a sheltered spot she found great clumps of mauve and purple Michaelmas daisies, giant heads of golden rod, masses of great honeycomb dahlias, shrubs covered with red berries and waxen snowberries. She wandered through the gardens, picking what she pleased, adding sprays of variegated leaves, until her arms were filled with blazing autumnal colour.

When she entered the kitchen Mrs. Creed was busy at the great cooking stoves. She turned as Caroline laid her hoard on one of the tables and gazed at it with misgivings. “Well, you didn’t get those from the glasshouses for sure,” she said emphatically. “Those aren’t what I call proper flowers at all.”

“The glasshouses are locked up and Fred says Mr. Craig’s orders are that the chrysanthemums are to be kept for a party he’s giving.”

“So the glasshouses are locked? Just like Fred not to tell me! Oh well, if the master doesn’t want them touched, that’s that. But I don’t know what you’ll do with this lot. They look more like wild flowers than anything else.”