The Marriage Wheel (16 page)

“
I do, but that
’
s because I
’
ve never met anyone like Frederica before
...
since her mother never found it necessary to drive anyone.
”
The elderly Rawlinson was so clearly enamoured with the charms of Frederica
’
s mother that he couldn
’
t prevent himself beaming in almost an affectionate way at her youngest daughter.
“
But, by jove, if she had I
’
d have let her!
”
he concluded.

“
You hear that, Frederica?
”
Lestrode demanded with the same cold edge to his voice.
“
If you
’
re thinking of changing your job there
’
s another one waiting for you in London
...
and I should think most young women of your age would prefer London!
”

“
I don
’
t. I prefer the country,
”
Frederica said shortly.

“
Electra was always a country girl,
”
Rawlinson murmured fondly.

“
But I was lucky enough to live in the country and have a wealthy godmother in town who gave me my first London season,
”
Electra, astonishingly elegant and soignee on a striped Regency couch, admitted with a cat-like satisfaction.
“
Unfortunately, my two poor girls never had a London season.
”

“
But it strikes me you won
’
t have much difficulty in marrying them off well,
”
Rawlinson gave it as his opinion, as he followed the movements of Rosaleen about the room as she somewhat restlessly strove to interest herself in various objects of art that were scattered about the room.

“
You really think that, Robert?
”
Electra sounded delighted. Fondly her glance followed that of her old friend.
“
Well, I don
’
t mind admitting that Rosaleen
’
s future is more or less secure
...
”
Was it her own imagination, Frederica wondered, or did her mother really glance meaningly in the direction of Humphrey Lestrode?
“
And as for Rica
...
”
with the same apparent fondness in her eyes she studied her younger daughter,
“
well, she won
’
t always be acting the part of somebody
’
s chauffeuse, of course, and as a matter of fact I think she ought to try to find something more suited to her and her background as quickly as she can. Oh, I know you
’
ve been terribly kind,
”
apologising to her host,
“
but you must admit there are many things Frederica could do that would promote her future more surely than taking over a man
’
s job. I was quite horrified the other day when I saw her all covered in grease.
”

Robert Rawlinson walked up to Frederica and laid a hand on her slim shoulder.

“
Have you ever thought of becoming a secretary?
”
he asked.
“
You
’
d fill the bill handsomely in my office, I
’
m sure. There
’
s a job waiting for you there any time you like to apply.
”

Frederica, who felt the weight of his slightly pudgy hand on her shoulder a little heavy, and disliked people—especially men—who laid their hands on her in any case, made a barely perceptible movement, so that his hand fell away.

“
I don
’
t do either shorthand or typewriting,
”
she told him shortly.
“
At least, not well enough to apply for a job as secretary.
”

Rosaleen, who had grown tired of pretending an interest in various examples of rare pottery, turned almost impulsively to her host and reminded him that he had promised to show her some art treasures that he kept locked up in one of the rooms before dinner, and he was quite obviously glad of the opportunity to escape with her from the room. But before he left it he addressed a curt remark to Frederica.

“
If you don
’
t want to stay down here you can go to bed. I shan
’
t want you tonight, so you
’
re perfectly free to do as you please.
”

“
I should hope so!
”
Rawlinson exclaimed, with an air of outrage, when the door had closed upon his host.

Frederica had no intention of playing the part of gooseberry in the same room with her mother and her old admirer, so despite the outrage on Rawlinson
’
s face she very soon made an excuse to leave the two of them alone, and went back to her own room. It was one of the pleasantest parts of the job she had taken on at Farthing Hall, and Lucille had done a great deal to make it feminine for her since it became clear that she would not be moving in with her mother and sister to the chauffeur
’
s cottage.

Though not one of the finest rooms in the house, it had a charming outlook over the garden, and before she went to bed Frederica drew a chair to the window and sat there watching the moon rise behind a group of tall pines that guarded one
corner
of the grounds. It was a perfect summer night, and if the thought crossed her mind that it would be nice outside on one of the lawns breathing in the freshness of the air and the warm summer scents, while the moonlight cast a track across the ornamental lake that had been badly shut in by astonishingly tall rank growth when the house was first taken over, but was now beginning to form one of the main attractions of the grounds, it was not an unnatural wish, since she was still in her early twenties, and conscious of a strange restlessness.

But there was not much point in roaming about night-enshrouded gardens by herself, and her common sense warned her that it could even prove dangerous since a large area of the grounds was still overgrown, and her fancy would almost certainly have led her to the wilder parts.

Besides, there was the gardener
’
s dog, rather an uncertain-tempered Alsatian, who prowled the grounds at dusk ... and she didn
’
t want to run into him.

So she sat beside the window and watched the blackness of the shadows falling across the grass, and the infinite blackness of the bushes that formed the shrubbery before the moon climbed high enough to banish them altogether. Then the shrubbery was a silver wonderland, and the lawn was a sheet of magical silver. The terrace under her window echoed to the tread of two pairs of footsteps—a girl
’
s and a man
’
s. The girl, as soon as she bent closer to the window to have a good look, she had no difficulty in recognising instantly as her sister, and the man, of course, was Humphrey Lestrode.

The two figures paused a while beneath her window, and it struck her that they were talking very earnestly, while Rosaleen, in a light dress of summer blue, with moonlight in her hair and an entrancingly pure profile as she turned it up to her host, posed herself gracefully against a huge stone lion that decorated the terrace.

The contrast between the solidity of the lion and the fairylike grace of the girl struck the watcher from above with something like a pang, for Rosaleen was exceptionally lovely, and he would be an insensitive man indeed who did not appreciate the rare quality of her loveliness on such a night, and in such a setting as the gardens of a beautiful Elizabethan manor like Farthing Hall.

The two were talking in very low tones, and it seemed to Frederica that Lestrode was holding her sister
’
s hand. And then, when he dropped her hand, she moved closer and lightly patted his arm.

Her slim white fingers were clutching possessively the sleeve of his dinner-jacket, and Frederica pushed the window open wider, with great caution, and put her head out without feeling any pangs of conscience, or any unease because she was an eavesdropper, and attempted to get a clearer view of what was going on below her.

She heard Lestrode speaking softly:

“
A pretty girl like you
...
almost any man would fall in love with you!
”

Rosaleen answered:

“
I don
’
t want
any
man to fall in love with me! You know perfectly well that there is only one man!
”
Frederica
’
s fingers bit into the edge of her window-sill.

“
We
’
ll have to see what we can do,
”
Humphrey Lestrode murmured.
“
Somehow we
’
ve got to convince your mother. I
’
ll have to work on her!
”

“
She
’
ll listen to you,
”
Rosaleen cooed, with a kind of blissful contentment in her dramatically hushed voice.
“
I
know
she will! There isn
’
t really any doubt!
”

She
’
d be mad if she didn
’
t listen to you, Frederica thought, wondering at their astonishing simplicity. Electra woul
d give her soul to have one of h
er daughters married to a man like Humphrey Lestrode, with his highly satisfactory income
...
and of her two daughters she would much prefer that it was Rosaleen who should be permitted to grace such a house as this as its mistress.

But the very thought of Rosaleen taking over as mistress at Farthing Hall—probably at no very distant future date—was like a piece of rough
iron entering Frederica
’
s soul. She admired Farthing Hall, but she was not exactly in love with it as a house—too many people had tried to improve it in the last century, and she much preferred the Dower House as a place in which to live—and she never even thought of herself as anything but an employee at the Hall; but all the same the most vital parts of her anatomy, and the unplumbed depths of her being, writhed in a kind of torture at the thought of having Lestrode for a brother-in-law.

No doubt he would be a very useful brother-in
-
law, but she would hate him taking over the role
...
and she would hate him making the announcement that he was to become a member of her family when her mother had given her formal consent, and everyone would expect her—Frederica—to congratulate the happy pair.

Lucille would look at her, perhaps, understandingly. She might even understand the situation better than Frederica understood it herself—certainly during those moments when she half hung from the window in the moonlight—and the reason why the prospect of a summer wedding in such a delightful setting, with her near relative as the bride, and her mother completely happy, appalled rather than intrigued her.

A wedding!
...
And would they expect her to be a bridesmaid? And would Robert Rawlinson give the bride away, and would her mother dissolve into floods of tears after the service in the local church, and when a slightly theatrical display on her part seemed called for
...
? And when the newly-weds went away on their honeymoon!

From below a voice floated up, deep, comforting, consoling, masculine
...
rather tender in a humorous kind of way.

“
You
’
ll just have to trust me! You
’
re an absurd little thing, you know, Rosaleen. You
’
re not a bit capable, and you
’
re a bit of a monkey in some ways, but I
’
ve no doubt most men would think you
’
re adorable. Contact with you deprives a man of his common sense
...
and I
’
ve always rather prided myself on my extremely sound common sense!
”

“
You
’
re a darling,
”
Rosaleen assured him, going closer and clinging to the lapels of his dinner-jacket.

“
You are, as I have said, a monkey! I ought to turn you down and have nothing more to do with you. But alas, I
’
m like putty in your hands, and your wish is my command! How soon do you think I
’
d better have the highly important word with your mother?
”