Romance Classics (63 page)

“She’s so used to having her own way that when you try to argue with her, she really stages a scene. So we usually just ride along with whatever she wants to do,” he admitted with an honesty that Beth, to her surprise, found oddly touching. “And we do have a lot of fun in New York. She’s always the ringleader, of course, but we’re used to that, so we don’t even mind any more.”

Beth asked curiously, “Did you ever?”

His color deepened and his eyes did not quite meet her own.

“Well, yes, as a matter of fact, I did, very much! When I was first introduced to her, I felt the one thing she needed more than anything in the world was a good sound larruping! But then I found out that if she gets her own way, she can be the most alluring, the most fascinating girl ever born!”

“She’ll be a handful if she ever marries, unless the man she marries can stand up against her iron whims.” Beth would have checked the words before they were spoken, but they slipped out in spite of her.

Bix grinned ruefully, but there was no mirth in the grin.

“Somehow I don’t believe she
will
marry!” he replied. “And if she does, it will be somebody like Mayson, the blond guy who drove down here with her. They have been running around together for years. Sometimes she is very decent and sweet to him; then she rips into him like a bear with a sore head, and Mayson takes himself off out of her sight. Then when she is in a good humor again, he shows up, and they’re off to the races once more.”

“Sounds like a wonderful basis for a marriage.”

Bix grinned.

“Doesn’t it?” he agreed. “But if she marries anybody, it won’t last six months. That’s for sure.”

Beth eyed him curiously.

“She seems very fond of you,” she pointed out. “Doesn’t that make you a little unhappy to be talking about her so frankly? I’m sure she wouldn’t like knowing you see through her so completely.”

Bix shook his head. “Oh, she’s just using me to worry Mayson, and he and I both know it. So we just play a little game with her and let her think she’s calling the shots.”

He looked down at her, and before she could speak he added, “I suppose I sound like a first-class heel, talking about her like this. But I wanted you to understand that her bad manners are so ingrained that it never occurs to her to be civil unless she has something to gain by it.”

“You don’t have to explain her to me, Bix,” Beth took pity on his embarrassment. “She is your guest, and this is your home, and we’ll do everything we can to see that she enjoys her visit.”

“Thanks,” said Bix gratefully. “I know you will, and I’m really very grateful.”

Beth’s smile was faint. “You needn’t be. It’s our job. I’m just sorry we didn’t know they were coming in time to have had things in order for them.”

She nodded and turned away, hurrying toward the service stairs to check affairs in the kitchen. Bix watched her go and then went on to his own room, scowling a little, trying to deny that he was upset by the unexpected arrival of Marise and the entourage without which she never traveled.

In the kitchen, Beth was relieved to discover that all was going well. Judy came out of the big dining room to announce that she had checked the arrangements for the table and seen to it that Jethro, Mam’ Chloe’s husband, was supervising the two waitresses.

“All’s serene,” she announced to Beth, and added, “That is, until Her Imperial Highness takes a look at the table and decides that it’s all wrong. But then how could backwoods folks like us know what she would consider proper?”

“I’m sure it’s very nice, honey, and Mam’ Chloe’s food will make her purr like a cream-fed kitten.”

“That,” announced Judy grimly, “I’d have to see to believe. But I’m not half as furious with her as I am with Bix. How dare he invite house guests down when the Old Gentleman is so ill? And worst of all, how dare he do it without warning you?”

“It seems,” said Beth softly as she and Judy crossed the corridor to their own quarters, “that the lady has a habit of making sudden decisions and not bothering to account for anything she happens to do. She was supposed to arrive for the week-end.”

“She had no business arriving at all, especially with that crew!”

“Well, darling, we have to remember one very important thing,” Beth reminded her. “Oakhill
is
his home, so Bix has a right to invite anybody he likes to visit.”

Judy’s chin set stubbornly.

“It’s not his home as long as the Old Gentleman lives,” she protested. “And afterwards, Bix will sell the place. You heard him say so.”

Beth nodded soberly.

“And when that time comes, you and I will have a home of our own somewhere. I promise you that,” she said gently.

Judy stared at her, shocked.

“A home? Away from Oakhill?” she protested. “But no place else could ever feel like home to me.”

And all Beth could say as she put an arm about the girl and drew her close was, “Oh, Judy, my dearest!”

“Well, it wouldn’t,” Judy insisted, and her voice was shaken. “I’ve lived here all my life, and I’ve never wanted to live anywhere else. And he hates the place and can’t wait to get his filthy paws on it so he can sell and throw us all out into the snow.”

Beth said wryly, “It almost never snows here at Oakhill.”

“Well, don’t be technical. A driving rainstorm then,” Judy snapped, and caught her breath on a small gulped sob.

Beth sighed and made no attempt to comfort her, since at the moment she could offer no word of comfort.

It was the following morning. After an all but sleepless night, Judy was on her way to the stables for her morning ride with Starlight when she heard voices. A moment later two horses galloped past her, heading for the entrance to the bridle path that cut sharply away from the drive near the house.

Judy stood still, startled as she recognized Starlight and the girl, in a very smart riding gear, who was riding her. Bix, similarly attired in riding clothes, was galloping along beside her on Big Duke, the horse that was the hardest of the six in the stables to handle. But Bix seemed completely at home in the saddle, and so was Marise aboard Starlight.

Judy watched them vanish out of sight, and then she went on to the stable where the head stableboy, Bandy-Legs, was waiting uneasily.

“Wasn’t that Starlight Miss Parker was riding?” Judy asked sternly.

“Yessum, Miss Judy, sho’ was,” Bandy admitted unhappily. “I was getting her saddled for you when Mist’ Bix and the lady come along, and the lady, she say she won’t ride no horse but Starlight. I try to tell Mist’ Bix Starlight was your mount, but she says she gonna ride, and Mist’ Bix he say to let her.”

Judy drew a deep hard breath and jammed her clenched fists into the pockets of her well-worn jodhpurs.

“Is it all right, Miss Judy?” Bandy asked anxiously.

“Of course, Bandy. Mr. Bix is boss, now that the Old Gentleman is ill,” Judy said through her teeth.

“I’ll saddle one of the other horses for you, Miss Judy, if you tell me which one,” Bandy offered anxiously.

“I think I’ll skip riding this morning, Bandy. You and the other boys can tend to the exercising today. There’s lots to do in the house,” said Judy, and turned to go back.

Halfway to the house, she encountered the tall, blond young man who had shared the sports car with Marise the day before and said a pleasant, cool good morning.

The young man’s eyes lighted up as he studied her, and he said happily, “Well, hello, you! So this is my reward for getting up at the crack of dawn. I didn’t meet you last night, because I couldn’t have forgotten.”

“You didn’t meet me because I’m the housekeeper’s daughter,” Judy said a trifle dryly. “Were you planning to ride?”

The man looked startled.

“Who, me? Perish the thought!” He shook his head and glanced at her riding attire. “But I see that you are.”

“I’ve given up the idea,” Judy answered. “Have you had breakfast? It’s a bit early for the staff. Did you get up early or just stay up?”

The man grinned. “Who can sleep with the blasted racket those birds make?” he answered. “I’ve often heard the country was a quiet, peaceful place. But this place certainly isn’t, what with roosters yodeling long before daybreak, waking up the blasted birds, who then start. And besides, Terry snores.”

Judy repeated, “Terry?”

The man grinned. “My roommate,” he explained, “though I’m sure he’d want to break my neck that I had said so.”

“You needn’t have had a roommate if Mother had known in time how many guests were arriving, and I’ll see to it that another room is made ready for you by tonight,” Judy told him. “I’m afraid I can’t do anything about the birds, though. After all, it
is
spring, and they’ve got a lot of work to do, building nests and all that.”

The man looked down at her with a warm, admiring smile.

“You’re cute,” he told her, and added, “also lovely and very sweet. And I don’t even know your name. Mine’s Mayson, by the way. Roger Mayson.”

“I’m Judy Ramsey,” she answered, and put her hand for a moment in the one he extended. “Now if you’ll come to the house, I’ll see about some breakfast. Mam’ Chloe should be up and about by now. But if she isn’t, I can fry bacon and scramble eggs and make toast.”

“I said you were sweet and lovely,” Roger told her happily. “You are also very kind to a starving man.”

He walked beside her to the house. Inside the kitchen, she found Mam’ Chloe and two of the maids scurrying about. Mam’ Chloe was planted in the middle of the vast kitchen, hands on hips, sharp eyes on the maids, and her voice was laying down the law in no uncertain terms.

She paused briefly as she saw Judy, and then her brows drew together in a slight scowl as she saw Roger Mayson behind Judy.

“ ‘Mornin’, sir,” said Mam’ Chloe sullenly. “Breakfast’ll be ready directly.”

“Thanks, Mam’ Chloe,” said Judy politely. “Is Mother down yet?”

Mam’ Chloe eyed her sternly.

“Miz’ Beth don’t get down to breakfast till eight o’clock,” she reminded Judy unnecessarily. “And it ain’t even seven now.”

Judy nodded. “Then Mr. Mayson and I will have breakfast in the housekeeper’s quarters.” Over her shoulder, she asked Roger, “If you don’t mind?”

Roger met Mam’ Chloe’s hostile eyes with an ingratiating smile that seemed to have no effect whatever on her bad temper and said, “This kitchen is so clean and attractive, I wouldn’t mind if we had breakfast right here on this big table.”

“Go ‘long into the dining room. I’ll send you breakfast,” said Mam’ Chloe curtly.

Roger smiled at her, but did not relax. He followed Judy across the hall and into the small breakfast room where she and her mother had taken their meals for years.

“She’s a tartar, isn’t she?” Roger murmured as the door closed behind them, shutting off the sounds from the kitchen.

“Well, she was born here, like her parents before her and their parents, too. They had been slaves, of course. Mam’ Chloe was freed when she was just a child; but her parents refused to leave and just stayed on as salaried staff. It’s that way with practically everybody at Oakhill. We’ve none of us ever lived anywhere else, and I don’t suppose any of us would really like to.”

She broke off, and her mouth tightened. But before he could question her, the door opened and a maid came in with glasses of well-chilled orange juice, a tall pot of coffee, a cream jug and a sugar bowl and two cups that she put down at Judy’s place.

Accepting the coffee that Judy poured for him, Roger asked her curiously, “You’ve always lived here?”

“I was born here,” Judy told him. “So were my mother and her parents. The first Jason Bullard came here when all this was just a wilderness. He brought some of the yeoman farmers who had worked on his place in England, and they all buckled down and carved Oakhill out of the wilderness. Or aren’t you interested in the history of Oakhill?”

She smiled disarmingly at him.

“I’m interested in anything that interests you,” he told her.

“Aren’t you nice?” Judy purred mockingly.

He grinned, unabashed by her sarcasm.

“You’d be surprised how nice I can be, once you get to know me,” he assured her.

Judy’s pretty mouth thinned slightly.

“Somehow I have doubts that will happen in the foreseeable future; that is, unless Miss Parker has decided to spend the rest of her life here. And I have even graver doubts that she has any such intentions.”

“Heaven forbid,” Roger said with more vehemence than was quite polite. “She only came down to collect Bix. As soon as he is free to leave, she’ll be off and away—complete with entourage, of course.”

“Of course.” Judy’s voice was polite, all but expressionless.

Roger eyed her cautiously.

“I’m afraid you don’t think much of Bix and his taste in friends, do you?” he asked quietly, and the words were so unexpected that Judy flushed.

“This is his home, any time he cares to use it,” she began.

“That’s not what I asked you,” he reminded her.

“I don’t know his guests well enough to like or dislike them,” Judy said stiffly.

“But you do think it was very bad taste for him to invite a crowd down while his grandfather was so ill, don’t you?” he persisted.

Judy’s head went up, and her eyes met his.

“Don’t you?” she answered his question with another.

Roger made a slight gesture with his hands palm upward that was the equivalent of a shrug and said evenly, “Marise wanted to come; and whatever Marise wants, she gets.”

“Marise!” Judy repeated. “It’s a funny sort of a name.”

Roger grinned.

“It’s really Mary Louise, but as she was learning to talk, she contracted it to Marise. She was one of those infants who always spoke of herself in the third person. Marise wants; therefore Marise must have,” he explained. He added quietly, “So you really mustn’t blame her for being such a spoiled little brat!”

Judy’s eyes widened. “I wouldn’t think of daring to blame her for anything, but I’m surprised that you call her a spoiled brat! Aren’t you in love with her?”

“Me?” Roger’s shock was apparent in his voice and his manner. “May the saints preserve me from that!” He seemed to find the whole idea very unattractive, and Judy’s bewilderment increased.