The Devil at Archangel (3 page)

her wildest dreams? But in spite of her inner excitement, a small

voice of sanity still prevailed.

'But why me? There must be hundreds of people far better qualified

than I am who would give their eye teeth for a job like that?'

'Not as many as you would think,' Mrs Brandon returned. 'As I have

said, the island is very remote and has few of the glamorous trappings

one associates with such a place. We lead quiet lives in privacy. This

is not the Caribbean of the travel posters, I assure you. I should warn

you too that there are many dangerous reefs around our shores, and

that in stormy weather we are often cut off for weeks on end. We have

learned to be self-sufficient, because we have had to be.'

Christina shook her head. 'I still can't really believe this is happening,'

she said rather quaintly. 'Nor can I understand why you think I would

be suitable. After all, you know hardly anything about me.'

'I know sufficient,' Mrs Brandon said quietly. 'I know from her letters

that Grace was most fond of you.' She leaned forward and placed her

hand over Christina's. 'Would it make any difference if I told you that

it was your godmother's dearest wish that you should com^ to me?'

'No,' Christina said unhappily. 'Or—perhaps not in the way you might

think. You see,
madame
, it is charity after' all, and I don't want that.

I've got to learn to be independent. It's very kind of you, and I'm sure

Aunt Grace had the best of intentions, but I would hate to think I'd

been— well—palmed off on to someone ...'

'What is this "palmed off"?' Mrs Brandon's tone was cold and she sat

back in her chair again, her brows drawn together in a quelling frown.

Her glance chilled Christina.

'You leap to conclusions, my child. If anyone performs a charity, it

will be you. A young fresh face to keep me company—young, willing

feet to carry messages. You imagine you will not earn your salary? I

promise you that you will. There are many lonely spinsters I could

choose if I wished to be charitable. But I am a selfish old woman. I

wish for someone decorative, and above all someone who will not

bore me with a lot of sentimental chatter about past times I have no

wish to remember. The young are so impatient generally. They wish

the bright lights—the beach parties, and that I cannot offer. But you, I

think, have learned the art of patience.'

Christina sat in silence, her thoughts whirling. The temptation to take

Mrs Brandon's words at their face value and accept her offer was

almost overwhelming. Almost. Yet, at the same time, her pride

baulked at the idea of being handed over from one elderly lady to

another. Could this be what Aunt Grace had meant when she had told

her that she would see she was taken care of in the future? It was

galling, to say the least, as if she was being given no credit for having

sufficient intelligence or energy to carve out a life of her own.

She could not deny, however, that if she had merely seen the job

advertised somewhere, she would have applied for it. A vision rose in

her mind of silver sand and palm trees and sofdy curling surf. It was

like having some cherished wish granted by the wave of a wand. Yet

Mrs Brandon with her smooth white hair and air of aloofness was far

from being the conventional picture of a fairy godmother, she thought

wistfully.

'You trouble yourself quite unnecessarily, you know.' Mrs Brandon's

ironic voice cut across her inner musings. 'Would it make it more

acceptable to you if I specified that the position would be on trial at

first—let us say a month on either side. In fact it might be better if you

regarded your visit as a holiday at first. You have been under some

strain lately, and it may be unfair to press you until you are rested and

more relaxed. Well, what do you say?'

Christina hesitated, then gave a deep, sigh. 'What can I say,
madame
?

You are too kind. You make it impossible for me to refuse. I don't

know how to thank you.'

'Have no fear, my child. I will think of a way.' Mrs Brandon grimaced

slightly with pain as she reached for her stick. 'So it is settled, then—a

few weeks in the sunshine, and then we can decide on some

more—permanent arrangement.'

She rose slowly and carefully to her feet, waving away Christina's

proffered assistance.

'Your first lesson,
ma chere.
I do not care to be helped,' she remarked

with a bleak smile. 'I shall return to London now. But before I go, I

shall settle your account here with the good woman downstairs. You

will have the goodness to pack your things this evening and be

prepared to join me in the morning, not later than ten o'clock. Of all

things, I detest unpunctuality,' she added almost as an afterthought.

'But I'm quite able to pay my own bill here. I do have a little money

..".' Christina began. She felt apprehensive, suddenly. Too much was

happening and too fast. Even Aunt Grace had never taken charge with

precisely this
grande dame
air, and it was curiously disturbing, as if

she was now merely a puppet, content to dance while Mrs Brandon

pulled the strings.

'Keep it.' The older woman's tone was negligently dismissive. 'Or

better still, use it to buy some cooler clothes.' She looked with

disfavour at Christina's admittedly rather baggy tweed skirt, and the

pullover she wore with it. 'What you have seems more suitable for the

sub-arctic region rather than the tropics. Choose plenty of

cotton—you will find it cooler than these synthetics—and bring a

swimsuit.'

Christina's bewilderment grew. 'But I thought—you said there would

be no beach parties.'

'Nor will there. Nevertheless the beaches are there to beused, and I

imagine you were taught to swim at school. I hope that you will look

on Archangel as your home, not your prison.' Mrs Brandon's tone was

faintly derisory, and Christina flushed, feeling that she had spoken

foolishly.

As she saw her blush, the older woman's expression softened a little,

and a slight warmth entered her voice.

'Keep your money,' she repeated. 'Allow me to do this for you as a

mark of my affection for your godmother.'

When it was put like that, she could hardly refuse without sounding

totally ungracious, Christina thought.

She accompanied Mrs Brandon downstairs and saw her into the

waiting hired car. She hesitated as it drew away, her hand half

uplifted as if her visitor might look back, but Mrs Brandon did not

turn or make any kind of farewell gesture, and Christina let her own

hand drop after a moment, feeling foolish again.

She went slowly back into the hotel, hardly able to believe the events

that had just transpired. In the space of an hour, her whole life had

been turned upside down, and she felt quite dazed. Mrs Thurston was

hovering beside the reception desk, a series of questions bursting to

find expression. She had been impressed by Mrs Brandon's icy air,

and she was clearly and rather unflatteringly amazed when Christina

explained what had brought her to the village.

'Well, there's a thing,' she muttered at intervals as Christina outlined

her rather sketchy plans for the immediate future. 'Well, I hope you're

doing right, Miss Bennett, and no mistake. After all, you've only got

her word for it that she even knew Miss Grantham. Don't you go

taking too mudli on trust now, even though she does seem to have

plenty of money about her. You be careful. You read such awful

things in the papers nowadays.'

Christina was torn between her own doubts which Mrs Thurston was

voicing up to a point, and the ludicrous picture of the remote Mrs

Brandon as a white slaver which the landlady was obviously

enjoying. The doubts won.

There was a good chance that Mr Frith might still be at the sale. He of

all people should know whether or not Mrs Brandon was genuine.

The sale was clearly over, and cars were pulling away when Christina

trotted breathlessly up. Mr Frith was still there, and she saw with a

sinking heart that he was standing beside the Websters' car saying

goodbye to them. She hesitated, but in that moment he saw her and

beckoned to her, so she had perforce to approach.

'Now then, my dear, where did you vanish to?' He looked her over

smilingly.

Christina paused. She had no real wish to discuss this latest change in

her fortunes in the hearing of the Websters, so she smiled and

murmured something inaudible, hoping they would drive away.

Vivien Webster, however, put her head out of the window and

surveyed Christina superciliously.

'Did you want something?' she inquired.

'Just a word with Mr Frith.' Christina, to her own annoyance, felt

herself flush.

'I see.' Vivien was silent for a moment, then she said quite gently,

'You will remember that his time costs money, won't you? You can't

expect a professional man to continue indefinitely giving you free

consultations.'

Her face flaming now, Christina turned to Mr Frith. 'I'm sorry,' she

stammered. 'It never occurred to me ..

'Or to me.' He squeezed her arm reassuringly. 'What can I do to help,

Christina?'

She shook her head, trying to back away. 'It doesn't matter. I only

wondered ... I mean do you know...?'

'Oh, for heaven's sake,' Vivien Webster interrupted irritably. 'If you

have something to say, say it and get it over with!'

Christina tried to ignore her. 'Did Aunt Grace ever mention a Mrs

Brandon to you?' she asked, but before he could reply, Vivien had

butted in again.

'The Brandons of Archangel?' she demanded in a surprised tone. 'But

of course she's mentioned them. She was at school with the wives—I

forget their names, but they were sisters and they married two

brothers—quite a romantic story. Why do you ask?'

Christina supposed she could refuse to answer, but it did not seem

worth the trouble.

'Because Mrs Brandon is in England and she has offered me a job,'

she said with a certain dignity.

Vivien and her husband exchanged glances. 'Why on earth should she

do that?' the other woman asked coldly, after a pause. 'You're even

less to her than you were to my aunt. Have you been writing begging

letters to Aunt Grace's wealthy friends? I do hope not, Christina. It's

so degrading...'

'I've done nothing of the sort,' Christina said hotly. Tears were not far

away, but she blinked them back furiously, refusing to give way to

that sort of weakness in front of her present audience. 'I never even

knew of her existence until today. Apparently Aunt Grace wrote to

her when she first realised she was ill.'

'Well, it seems most extraordinary that she should just arrive like

that,' Vivien declared. 'Was she at the sale? I'm surprised she didn't

introduce herself.'

'She did,' Christina said quietly. 'To me.'

Vivien gave her a hostile look. 'Well, I still don't see what interest she

has in you. I suppose you spun her some sob story about being

destitute. I hope no one sees fit to remind her that there's such a thing

as Social Security.'

Mr Frith touched Christina's arm and she turned to him gratefully.

'What kind of a job is it that she's offered to you?' he inquired kindly.

'The name is well-known to me, of course. I believe Miss Grantham

has known both the Mrs-Brandons since her girlhood, but I had no

idea she intended to contact them on your behalf. I must say it seems

a godsend under the circumstances.'

'I don't see why,' Vivien interrupted again. 'I can see no need to turn to

strangers. Angela Morton is looking for a reliable mother's help

again—the au pair stormed back to Sweden yesterday—and I've

almost promised her that she could have Christina.'

Christina felt almost sick with anger. She had heard of Vivien's friend

Angela before. She had four young children and did not believe in

discipline of any kind. If Mrs Brandon had indeed been a white slave

trader, she thought furiously, she would still have opted for her rather

than the Morton menage.

She made herself smile, aping Vivien's own superciliousness. 'What a

pity you didn't think to mention it to me,' she said with a fair degree of

carelessness. 'Then, of course, I wouldn't have agreed to go to the

West Indies.'

Vivien gave her a fulminating stare, then sat back in her seat and

wound the window up in bad-tempered jerks.

Beside her, Christina heard Mr Frith give a little sigh as their car drew

away.

She gave him a wan smile. 'I do seem to have committed myself, don't

I?'

'Perhaps that isn't such a bad thing,' he commented drily. 'It isn't easy