Green Girl (7 page)

She turned back at once to the portrait, aware that she must have sounded naive, if not even angling for compliments, and studied it attentively to avoid further misconceptions. The face of a rather plain little girl looked down at her with a teasing suggestion of familiarity. Perhaps it was the long dark hair primly confined by an Alice-band which reminded her of pictures of old-fashioned children in the equally old-fashioned annuals to be found on the orphanage shelves, or perhaps it was just that unchildlike expression of indifference in the round dark eyes, which seemed vaguely reminiscent of the acceptance seen in the eyes of some unwanted children. But there was something else, too, a likeness or a reminder of another face.

“
Who
’
s that?
”
she asked, mainly to divert attention from herself and was utterly unprepared for his reply.

“
That? Oh, that
’
s my daughter, Nonie,
”
he said.
“
The other reason I need you here, my dear Miss Jones. Shall we go and find some lunch?
”

Afterwards Harriet wondered whether he had deliberately left that room until the last, banking on her natural curiosity to give
him
the opening he desired; but that, she ultimately decided, was too devious. There had been nothing to prevent him owning to a child at once; in fact it would have been a more logical means of persuasion than the confusing nonsense he had talked.

“
Are you married, then?
”
she remembered asking him with gauche stupidity, and his reply had been deceptively mild:

“
My wife died eight years ago. I was hardly contemplating bigamy,
”
he had said with a little quirk of amusement, and left it at that.

They had gone into luncheon then and sat one at each end of a long table, its polished surface reflecting such a lavish display of glass and silver that the distance between them seemed immense.

“
You
’
re quite right,
”
he remarked suddenly from the far end of the table, after a lengthy silence.
“
It
’
s all rather overdone, but the kitchen is putting on an act for you. Our guests are so few that they have to be impressed.
”

“
Oh!
”
said Harriet rather blankly. She hardly considered she would rank as a guest worth impressing, but at least it seemed clear that the castle staff, such as it was, were still in ignorance of her humble origin.

“
Haven
’
t you told them?
”
she asked innocently.

“
Told them what?
”

“
About the orphanage and—and my silly mistake.
”

“
I
’
m not in the habit of discussing my guests with my servants,
”
he replied with coolness.
“
As to your silly mistake, that can remain a matter between ourselves, since my cousin
’
s not likely to embarrass you with reminders in the circumstances.
”

“
Your cousin,
”
she retorted, stung to equal coolness by his manner,
“
could have saved me embarrassment more easily by having the de
c
ency to stop me coming and making a fool of myself when
he
found he didn
’
t want me.
”

“
Well, to give him his due he did, as I
’
ve discovered too late to make any difference,
”
he told her calmly.
“
He apparently wrote out a telegram and gave
it to one of
the farm hands to send from the village, who, meeting Willie
-
the-post on the way, not unnaturally passed it on to him to save himself the extra miles, and Willie stuffed it in
his
pocket and forgot all about it. That
’
s the Irish brand of wool-gathering for you. Still, my dear Miss Jones, it
’
s an ill wind, isn
’
t it?
”

She refused to rise to that one, however, and sat fidgeting
in
her chair, wishing that the orphanage tendency to bolt down food before all the se
co
nd helpings had gone had not caused her to finish long before her host.

Perhaps he misunderstood her uneasiness, for he remarked suddenly:

“
He wouldn
’
t marry you, you know, if you
’
re still cherishing hopes of a more romantic bridegroom. Rory
’
s nonexistent heiress who was to pull his chestnuts out of the fire has been a family joke for a long time. You
’
d much better make do with me.
”

But Harriet had had enough of Irish humour for one day.
“
If, Mr. Lonnegan,
”
she said firmly,
“
all you want is someone to look after your little girl in the holidays, there
’
s not the slightest need to marry. Why, when I asked you earlier if you could find me work of that kind, didn
’
t you offer me this?
”

“
Because, you stubborn, persistent creature, Ireland is still a country where in isolated districts such as this such an arrangement wouldn
’
t be considered suitable.
”

“
I see. Well, there must be other houses, other families.
”

“
None of any help to you. Castle Slyne the other side of the lough is a guest-house now and the
O
’
Rafferty son and heir a bare two months; the Fitzgeralds and the Lynches have grown-up families, and that leaves the two Miss Ryans with no encumbrances except dogs, Alice Docherty who might need a groom but never a nursemaid and old General Sullivan who
’
s long past either.
”
He had risen from the table as he spoke and was occupying himself collecting all the used plates to put on the floor for the dogs to lick.

“
Saves the washing up,
”
he observed, catching her disapproving eye,
“
we
’
re short-handed in the kitchen. Well, Miss Harriet Jones, what
’
s your alternative, since your handsome legacy is already dissipated and the fare to England can
’
t be obtained on credit even in Ireland?
”

She, too, got to her feet for one last effort at reason.

“
You could, Mr. Lonnegan, if you chose to be generous, lend me the fare back,
”
she said a little stiffly, but immediately felt herself blushing at the enormity of the suggestion. To borrow money from a
perfect strange
r
was bad enough by Matron
’
s standards, but to expect charity when you were already supported by it was like asking for more.

However he interpreted that heightened colour, he was not, evidently, prepared to make things easy for her.

“
But perhaps I don
’
t choose,
”
he retorted coolly.
“
I thought I
’
d already made it clear that Nonie wasn
’
t the sole reason for my proposal, strange as it apparently still seems to you.
”

“
Well, of course it
’
s strange! Whoever heard of such a—such a crazy sort of proposal!
”

“
Well, we
’
ve done enough sparring for the day, and I must remember my duties as host. We will go and sit on the terrace and admire the view, and you shall entertain me with unlikely tales of this orphanage which seems to have ill-prepared you for the hard facts and disappointments of adult life. Come along.
”

The afternoon passed pleasantly, and Harriet found her disconcerting host had, when he chose, as apt a gift for putting you at ease as he had for putting you in your place. He was also a good listener and, never loth to chatter if she was encouraged, she soon forgot she had known him for barely forty-eight hours.

“
Did you know who your parents were?
”
he inquired idly at one point, and looked surprised and puzzled when she replied that she had never asked.

“
It
’
s better not to know than be disappointed, or just make them up for yourself. I might be one of the cases who have no records, you see,
”
she explained simply, and his eyes grew gentle.

“
Yes, I see. And did you make up parents for yourself, Harriet?
”

“
No, not parents. Sometimes I used to invent a benevolent trustee who would adopt me, or perhaps marry me, like in that old book,
Daddy-long-legs
.”

“
Well, here
’
s your chance—grab it with both hands!
”
he said, unable to resist such an opening, but found her eyeing him doubtfully.

“
I don
’
t think benevolent is exactly the right word for you, Mr. Lonnegan, and I don
’
t suppose you
’
d consider adopting me,
”
she said seriously, and he got to his feet.

“
You would suppose right. One daughter
’
s quite enough to be going on with, thank you. You
’
d best be going indoors, it
’
s getting chilly,
”
he said.

Left to her own devices, Harriet felt free to explore at her leisure those rooms they had visited in the morning. Old pieces of china, many of them cracked or broken lay at the backs of display cabinets, faded miniatures, odd scraps of embroidery, ivories and silver trinkets were heaped carelessly together under the glass tops of little spindly tables. She longed to take them out and hold them in her eager hands, but although the cases were unlocked, Ogilvy
’
s rigid ruling never to touch what did not belong to you forbade a closer inspection. She even found herself jumping guiltily when Jimsy caught her lifting the edge of a piece of cloth which hung over an easel to discover what it might hide.

“
I was bringing a lamp to the snug where himself toult me you would be restin
’
,
”
he said with obvious disapproval.
“
Why would you be puttin
’
a strain on your ailin
’
leg pokin
’
about with this trash? These rooms are niver used.
”

“
Is it only trash?
”
she asked, aware that the light falling on all these mute objects revealed dust and the long neglect of years, and wondered whether the old man thought she had been criticising his household duties.

“
Well now ... as to that I can
’
t tell you, for the stuff
’
s laid about here gatherin
’
dust ever since I first come as pantry boy, but in thim days there was servants and to spare for polishin
’
up gew-gaws, and the mistress, as she was then, buyin
’
annything that took her fancy from the tinkers at the door. She had a magpie
’
s taste for gew-gaws, that wan.
”

“
Mr. Lonnegan
’
s wife? Is that her portrait?
”
asked Harriet, wa
rm
ing instantly to a woman who found fascination in a collection of colourful miscellany without regard to its worth.

“
His mammy, not his wife, young miss, an
’
the pixture
’
s not of her,
”
Jimsy replied with a suggestion of reproof.
“
The late young mistress cared nothing for the castle, poor soul, an
’
she with her heart left in Dublin where she should have stayed.
”

Harriet felt a chill of foreboding as she stared at the old servant.