Witching Hour (12 page)

have to exploit on the open market. It was little enough to offer,

she thought ruefully, but the comparative security of her life at

Polzion had made any further training seem unnecessary, . and if

she was honest, she had rather enjoyed being her parents' Girl

Friday.

She would drive into Polzion village during the afternoon and buy

some papers and magazines so that she could study the situations

vacant columns, she decided. There was no time to be lost.

She started slightly as there came a quiet knock on the door.

'Who—who is it?' she called, noticing with annoyance the distinct

tremor in her voice.

'It's me, darling.' Mrs Pentreath sounded rather anxious. 'Are you

all right? Lunch will be ready soon.'

'Just a minute.' Morgana uncurled herself from the window seat

and hurried across the room. Her mother had already tried the

door, and was now rattling at it ineffectually, probably under the

illusion that it had stuck in some incomprehensible manner.

'You locked it.' Elizabeth Pentreath looked at her daughter in

consternation as she came into the room.

'Whatever is the matter?'

'Nothing,' Morgana lied, forcing herself to smile reassuringly at

her mother. 'I—I have a slight headache, that's all, and I felt like

some peace and quiet.'

'Oh dear!' Mrs Pentreath gave a little sigh. 'Lyall said he thought

he's upset you, and he has, hasn't he?'

Morgana's lips tightened. 'You could say that,' she acknowledged

quietly.

'Darling,' Mrs Pentreath made a little helpless gesture, 'you mustn't

take his teasing quite so seriously. You're not usually so ready to

rise to people's bait. I don't understand your attitude to Lyall.'

'It isn't really so difficult,' Morgana said grimly. 'I don't like him,

that's all.'

'You've made that more than obvious,' her mother agreed. 'I wish

you'd try to be a little more willing to compromise, darling. It

would make life for all of us so much easier.'

'I doubt that, actually.' Morgana smiled tightly. 'But I'll try and be

civil for my remaining time here.'

'Your remaining time?' Mrs Pentreath stared at her. 'What do you

mean?'

Morgana gave a little shrug. 'Well, now that your future is taken

care of, I can start giving my own some consideration. I need work

too, you know.'

'But you have a job here,' her mother protested. 'Didn't Lyall

explain what it was he wanted?'

'Oh, yes,' Morgana said grimly, 'he explained very fully. Not that it

makes the slightest difference. I have no intention of remaining

here under his regime, as well he knows.'

'He knows nothing of the sort,' Mrs Pentreath said roundly. 'On the

contrary, he expects you to remain here and work with me. It's—

it's what he calls a package.'

Morgana nodded. 'Yes, I'm aware of that, but I'm not buying, as

I've made more than clear.' She realised her mother was staring at

her oddly and asked resignedly, 'What's the matter, Mother?'

'It's just—you don't seem to understand the situation. I thought

Lyall had told you.'

'Told me what?'

'About the package. He wants everything to go on here exactly as

before, with my supervising the housekeeping and you doing the

reception work, and providing secretarial services if required.'

'I think that's carrying his charitable impulses rather too far,'

Morgana said coldly. 'He must have people working for the van

Guisen-Lyall company who are far more highly trained and

efficient than I am.?

'I'm sure the same thing applies in my case,' Mrs Pentreath said

candidly. 'But the fact is, Morgana, he regards us as a team, and he

likes the atmosphere we've achieved in the house. He wants the

same—ambience for the new project.'

'Well, you'll supply it for him, love,' said Morgana. 'You're much

better at soothing people's ruffled feathers and creating a serene

environment than I am.'

'But that's what I'm trying to tell you!' Mrs Pentreath almost

wailed. 'He wants us as a team—both of us, or neither of us. I told

him I didn't think you'd agree, but he was adamant. And he said

that you'd assured him you'd do whatever you had to, because you

wanted me to be happy. He said you'd told him you'd do anything

to help.'

'My God!' Morgana muttered blankly, and fell silent, remembering

her hasty assertion of concern.

Elizabeth Pentreath's mouth trembled. 'It would only be for a year,

darling. He promised that. He's having proper contracts drawn up

for Leonard Trevick to look at.'

'Then I hope he reads the small print.' Morgana's voice shook, and

she turned away.

'Lyall's trying to be kind.' Her mother's voice followed her. 'He's in

a difficult position. He feels very strongly that you should have a

breathing space here to decide what you want to do. He doesn't

think you should do anything hasty so soon after poor Daddy's

death.'

'Oh, that's so good of him,' Morgana said savagely. 'And his

motives are so pure, naturally.'

'Darling!' Mrs Pentreath shook her head bewilderedly. 'I don't feel

I know you when you're like this. Are you implying that Lyall has

some ulterior reason for making this offer?'

For a crazy moment, Morgana wondered what would happen if she

said baldy, 'He wants to seduce me.' But she couldn't say it. For

one thing, it would sound so utterly ridiculous. After all, she was a

girl of her own time, not a hysterical Victorian miss who couldn't

fend for herself.

She said quietly, 'I wouldn't know what his motives are, but I think

it's obvious that he hasn't made this offer out of the goodness of his

heart.'

'He is related to us,' Mrs Pentreath observed fairly.

'Very remotely, and I'm sure that old chestnut about blood being

thicker than water doesn't apply to him.' Morgana's tone was bitter.

'But he has made the gesture,' Mrs Pentreath persisted. 'It's a

wonderful opportunity, for both of us. Surely you can bring

yourself to meet him halfway over it? You know how much it

would mean to me to be able to stay here. And Lyall won't be here

that much, you know. Van Guisen-Lyall is a world-wide

corporation. He'll have far more important things to occupy him

than us. We probably won't see him for weeks on end.'

Morgana sighed. 'There are other jobs,' she said gently. 'But I do

know how much Polzion means to you.'

'It does,' Elizabeth Pentreath said eagerly. 'Won't you try, for my

sake?'

Morgana was silent for a tortured moment, while through her mind

went all the very cogent reasons why she shouldn't spend a minute

longer in Lyall's company than she was forced to. And then she

saw her mother's face, suddenly small and vulnerable, her eyes

mirroring her anxiety and disappointment, as she waited for her

decision.

Impulsively she went to her mother's side and put an arm round

her shoulders.

'I'll try,' she said. 'I can't promise more than that, but I will try.'

'Bless you, darling!' Mrs Pentreath smiled mistily. 'You won't

regret it, I know.'

'Won't I?' Morgana's tone was ironic. 'I think that remains to be

seen.'

'And you'll come down for lunch now? We're having it in the

kitchen so that Lyall can talk to us.'

Morgana felt frankly as if food would choke her, but she knew her

mother would be upset if she refused to go downstairs, so she

acceded reluctantly and followed her out of the room.

Lyall was standing in the hall waiting as they came down the

stairs. Morgana avoided looking at him directly, but she was aware

just the same that he was watching her.

As her mother hurried on ahead, to make sure the preparations for

the meal were complete, Morgana felt his hand on her arm. He

said softly in her ear, 'My game, I think.'

She shrugged, still not meeting his gaze. 'But not the match. And I

warn you, I'll fight you at every step.'

She heard him laugh. He said, 'I wouldn't have it any other way,

little witch. It will make the eventual victory even more satisfying.'

'For one of us,' she said shortly.

His hand shot out, tangling in her hair, bringing her to halt with a

little cry of pain, and forcing her to face him. Mutinously she

stared up at him, loathing his sardonic smile and the frankly sexual

appraisal in his eyes.

'For both of us, Morgan le Fay,' he drawled, and then she was free,

and his long stride was taking him down the passage to the

kitchen, and the delectable aromas which were seeping round the

half-opened door.

Morgana stood quite still, watching him go, wondering if the note

she had heard in his voice had been a warning or a caress—and

why it should matter anyway.

It was one of Elsa's more distinguished meals—the ducklings crisp

and succulent, followed by an apple tart with a great bowl of

clotted cream—but Morgana only went through the motions of

eating and pretended enjoyment.

All her attention was concentrated on Lyall, who sat opposite,

watching him charm her mother into unquestioning submission. It

made her blood boil, and turned the food to ashes in her mouth.

She was conscious too of Elsa giving him approving glances as she

bustled backwards and forwards with the food for the dining room.

He was talking about the improvements he was planning for the

house, and she knew that what he was saying made a great deal of

sense, but that did not lessen her resentment. It infuriated her to

hear him talk of things that had needed doing for years, but for

which the money had never been available. She felt she would

rather live with the damp that discoloured the wallpaper in the

ground-floor rooms and the faulty wiring than submit to what she

could only feel was the rape of her home.

'Some of the bedrooms have large built-in cupboards,' he was

saying to Elizabeth,-who was listening with rapt attention. 'They're

really so much wasted space. It would be far better to convert them

to shower units. Each room should have some form of washing

facility.'

Morgana broke in sarcastically, 'Wouldn't it be easier just to pull

the whole house down and start again?'

He didn't even bother to reply, just looked at her wearily and lifted

his shoulders, in a slight shrug, before continuing his conversation

with her mother.

'I'll get Paul Crosbie down,' he said. 'He's a qualified surveyor as

well as being one of our advisers. He'll be able to say how far any

structural alterations or repairs will have to go. But at the same

time it's essential that the character of the place should be

preserved.'

'I suppose we must be grateful for small mercies,' Morgana

muttered, pushing her uneaten portion of apple tart away from her,

to a disapproving cluck from Elsa.

'And I shall be glad to hear any suggestions for improvements that

you have,' Lyall went on as if she hadn't spoken. He smiled at

Elizabeth. 'I'm sure there are things you'd have liked to have done

over the years.'

'Many things,' she said wistfully. 'This kitchen, for instance . . .'

She paused and Elsa broke in indignantly, 'No one's to lay a hand

on my range, mind! 'Tes a good old stove and years of life left in

it. I know it and it knows me.'

'It's a relationship I heartily approve of,' said Lyall, leaning back in

his chair and contemplating his empty plate with satisfaction.

'Would'ee like another morsel of tart?' Elsa wheedled., but he

shook his head regretfully.

'I have things to do this afternoon.' He shot a swift glance at

Morgana. 'I'd like to see the rest of the house, particularly the

attics.'

'Well, I'm sure Morgana would be only too pleased to show them

to you,' said Mrs Pentreath without the slightest certainty.

'Is this farce really necessary?' Morgana flared. 'The house is

yours. Do you really need a conducted tour?'

'You know its history. I don't,' he gave her a level look. 'Look on it

as part of the duties for which I'm paying your salary. That may

make it rather less distasteful for you.'

'Nothing will do that,' she said coldly, pushing back her chair and

rising. 'Besides, I had other plans for this afternoon.'

'Then they'll have to be postponed or cancelled,' he said. He

grinned sardonically as he saw her brows draw together in a swift