Authors: Barbara Cartland
Violet was willing to accept money and clothes from Lord Mundesley and doubtless from other men, and it would be impossible to explain to her why she could not do the same.
“
I am much poorer than Violet, with no salary coming in every week,” Davita reasoned. “But she, like her mother, is prepared to take anything anyone will give her. I am different.”
She knew that even if she was starving and down to her very last penny, she would not, after what had happened, accept help either from Violet or from Lord Mundesley.
He at any rate would expect a return for his money, and she knew what that was!
‘I hate him!’ she thought again.
She knew that if it had not been for him, the fairy-like illusion that the Gaiety had brought her the first night she had watched the Show would not have been transformed into something ugly and unpleasant.
Davita could not bear to let her thoughts linger on the moment when she had awakened to find herself lying on the bed with the Marquis.
He was so magnificent that it hurt her to think how he had been treated and how bitterly he would resent it.
It would inevitably make him even more cynical and contemptuous than he was already.
“But I will not think about him or the Gaiety or Lord Mundesley any longer!” she told herself.
She tried instead to recall the fairy-stories that had been so much part of her life when she had been in Scotland.
She remembered the tales that her father had related to her of Scottish gallantry, the feuds between the Clans, the superstitions that were so much part of the Highlands.
That was what had been real to her before first Katie and then Violet had come into her life.
She felt now as if they deliberately prevented her from being a happy child and had turned her into a grown-up woman for whom fairy-land could have no reality.
She had a long wait at the Station, and all the time she was trying to think herself back into the happiness and contentment she had known when she walked over the moors, fished in the river, or rode with her father.
Then inevitably when the train carried her nearer and nearer to Oxford she felt apprehensive.
Fortunately, Mrs. Belmont’s telegram had reached its destination promptly, for there was someone to meet her at the Station.
As Davita stood feeling alone on the crowded platform, a footman in a smart livery with a crested top-hat looked at her, decided she was not the person he was meeting, and would have walked on if she had not said nervously:
“E-excuse me ... but are you from ... Sherburn House?”
“That’s right, Ma’am. Can ye be Miss Kilcraig?”
“I am!”
“I’ve been sent to meet ye,” the footman said, “but I were expectin’ someone older.”
Davita thought with a lowering of her spirits that this was what his mistress also would be expecting.
The footman collected her trunks and made the porter carry them outside the Station to where there was waiting a brake drawn by two horses.
It was too large for one person, but Davita thought perceptively that it was the type of vehicle which would be used to convey servants, and as she climbed into it, she was thankful that for the moment she was the only occupant.
They drove out of the town and were soon in narrow, dusty lanes bordered by high hedges, and Davita looked round her with interest because the countryside was so different from Scotland.
There were small villages with usually in the centre a village green, an ancient Inn, and a duck-pond.
They drove for what seemed a long time before finally the horses turned in through some impressive lodge-gates and started down the long drive.
Now at last Davita had a glimpse ahead of the house and realised it was very large and impressive, although she thought it was not very old and the architecture was decidedly Victorian.
She had always been interested in buildings, and her father had taught her a great deal about those in Edinburgh, including the Castle which overshadowed the city and had always seemed to Davita very romantic.
She had also studied books on English Architecture and she thought now that it was disappointing that she had been in London for so short a time that she had not seen any of the sights.
Even to think of what had happened instead made a little shudder run through her, and the large and imposing mansion which seemed to grow bigger and bigger the nearer they drew to it seemed a place of safety and security after her experience of the Gaiety and those who frequented it.
The brake did not drive up to the front door with its long flight of stone steps.
I
nstead, Davita was taken to a side-door which she
told herself with a smile was obviously the right entrance for anyone of so little importance as a paid Companion.
H
ere she was met by a liveried footman.
“
I suppose ye’re th’ lady we’re expecting?” he said.
“
I am,” Davita replied, and waited for the inevitable reaction.
“
Ye look too young to be a Companion, Miss. All th’ others had one foot in the grave!”
H
e obviously intended to be friendly, and Davita laughed.
“
I think it will be a long time before I have that.”
“
Certainly will. This way, Miss. I’ll take ye up to ’er Ladyship.”
H
e led the way as he spoke up what Davita was sure was a secondary staircase.
W
hen they reached the landing they turned into a corridor that was wide and very impressive with high ceilings painted and gilded.
T
he furniture was magnificent and so were the paintings, and Davita hoped that she would have time to see everything in the house before she was dismissed.
‘
I am obviously going to be much too young,’ she thought despairingly, ‘but perhaps I can manage to last a week or so.’
T
he footman ahead of her stopped in front of two massive mahogany doors.
H
e knocked on one of them and it was opened by an elderly woman wearing a black gown but with no apron, and Davita supposed she was a lady’s-maid.
“
What do you want?” she asked in a rather disagreeable voice.
T
hen before the footman could reply she saw Davita and said:
“
Are you Miss Kilcraig who we’re expecting?”
“
Yes, I am,” Davita replied, wondering how often she would have to answer the same question.
T
he lady’s-maid looked at her critically, but she did not say anything. As the footman walked away, Davita entered a small vestibule with several doors leading out of it.
“
Wait here!” the maid commanded.
She went through the centre door and Davita heard her speaking to somebody. Then she opened it, saying:
“Come in! Her Ladyship’ll see you.”
Feeling as if she were a School-Girl who had been sent for by the Head Mistress, Davita walked into a large room full of light from the afternoon sunshine.
To her surprise, it was a bedroom with a huge four-poster bed against one wall.
Sitting in the centre of it propped up by pillows was an old lady who seemed to Davita quite fantastic in her appearance.
Her white hair was elegantly arranged on top of her head, and beneath it was a face that had once been beautiful but was now lined and very thin.
But what was so extraordinary was the amount of jewellery she wore.
There were ropes of magnificent pearls round her neck, there were diamond ear-rings in her ears, and above her blue-veined hands her slim wrists were weighted down with bracelets.
The bed-cover was of exquisite Venetian lace and she wore a lace dressing-jacket to match it, but it was almost obscured by her jewels.
Davita stood just inside the door.
Then the Dowager Countess said sharply:
“What have they sent me this time? If you are another of those nit-wits who have been popping in and out of here like frightened rabbits, you can go straight back on the next train!”
The way she spoke sounded so funny that Davita instead of being frightened wanted to laugh.
“I hope I will not ... have to do ... that,” she said.
Then quickly she remembered to add “Ma’am” and to curtsey.
“
So you have a voice of your own. That is something!” the old lady said. “Come here, and let me have a look at you.”
D
avita obeyed, moving closer to the bed.
T
he Countess stared at her. Then she said:
“
You are nothing but a child! How old are you— sixteen?”
“
I told Mrs. Belmont at the Domestic Bureau that I was nearly twenty-one,” Davita said.
“
And how old are you really?”
“
Eighteen ... but I desperately wanted ... employment.”
“
Why?”
“
For one reason ... because I wanted to get ... away from ... London.”
“
What has London done to make you feel like that?”
“Things I would rather not ... speak about, Ma’am,” Davita replied, “but I only came ... South three days ago.”
T
he Countess looked down at something that lay on her lace cover and Davita realised it was a telegram.
“
Your name is Kilcraig,” she said, “so I suppose you are from Scotland?”
D
avita nodded.
“
My home was near Selkirk, which is not far from Edinburgh.”
“
And why did you leave?”
“
Both my father and mother are ... dead.”
“
And have left you with no money, I suppose?” Davita did not think it was strange that her whole life story was being extracted from her in a few words.
“
That is why I have to find employment,” she said. “Oh, please, Ma’am, let me try to do whatever you want. I will make every effort to be satisfactory.”
“
You are certainly not what I expected,” the Countess remarked.
“
I can only hope I will not be another ... rabbit to be sent back on the ... next train.”
“
I think that is unlikely,” the Countess said. “Now, suppose you let Banks show you to your room, and then you can come back and tell me all about yourself, as I am certain you are anxious to do.”
T
here was something a little sarcastic in the way she spoke, and Davita said quickly:
“
I would much ... rather hear about you, Ma’am, and this enormous ... exciting house.”
“
From the way you speak,” the Countess said, “I imagine your own home was much smaller.”
“It is a crumbling old Castle,” Davita replied, “but very, very old.”
The Countess laughed.
“I get the implication. Sherburn was built only forty years ago. I suppose that is what you are hinting at.”
“
I would not have been so ... impertinent as to ... hint at it,” Davita answered, “but I am glad to think I was not ... mistaken when I first ... saw it.” The Dowager put out her hand and picked up a small gold bell that stood on a table beside the bed.
S
he rang it and the door opened so quickly that Davita suspected Banks had been listening outside.
“Take Miss Kilcraig to her room, Banks,” the Countess commanded. “She can come back when she has taken off her travelling-things.”
“Very good, M’Lady.”
Davita remembered to bob a curtsey before she followed Banks from the room, and she was almost certain that the Countess smiled at her.
As they walked down the corridor she said to the lady’s-maid:
“Please, help me. I would like to stay here, but I am very afraid I shall be too ignorant and inefficient.”
Banks looked at her in surprise.
“Most of them thinks they knows everything!”
“I know nothing,” Davita replied, “and I am quite prepared to admit it!”
There was just a faint smile on the elderly woman’s thin lips.
“
Her Ladyship’s not easy,” she said, “and if you ask
me, she doesn’t need a Companion. I can do all she wants, if it comes to that.
”
D
avita understood that this was a bone of contention, and she suspected that Banks had had a great deal to do with the Companions being dismissed almost as soon as they arrived.
“
I promise you I will not get in your way,” she said, “and perhaps I could help you if you would tell me if there is anything you want me to do. I can sew quite well, and I have always pressed my own clothes.”
T
he maid looked at her with what Davita thought was a far more pleasant expression.
A
t the end of the corridor she opened a door and Davita saw it was a nice bedroom with a high ceiling.
I
t was well furnished. Already her trunks had been brought upstairs and placed on the floor, and there was a young housemaid starting to unpack them.
“
Emily’ll help you to unpack,” Banks said, “but she’s too much to do to give you much attention otherwise.”
“I can look after myself,” Davita said quickly, “and it is very kind of Emily to help me.”
S
he paused before she added:
“
I am afraid there is rather a lot in the trunks. They contain everything I possess in the world now that my ... father is ... dead.”
She could not help there being a little quiver in her voice on the last words, and Banks asked:
“
Has he been gone long?”
“
Just over a month,” Davita replied. “And my mother died some years ago.”
“
You just have to be brave about it,” Banks remarked. Then, as if she felt she was being sentimental, she said sharply to Emily:
“
Now hurry up, Emily. Get everything straight for Miss Kilcraig.”
S
he would have left the room if Davita had not said: “One thing I would like to ask ... although it may seem rather ... an imposition.”
“
What is it?” Banks asked in an uncompromising voice.
“
Would it be possible for me to have something to eat? Just some bread and butter would do. I did not like to leave the Waiting-Room at Paddington Station before the train came in, and I have had nothing to eat since breakfast.”
“
Good gracious! You must be starving!” Banks exclaimed. “What you want is a cup of tea and something substantial with it.”
“
I do not want to be a bother.”
“
It’s no bother,” Banks answered. “Nip downstairs, Emily, and see if you can find something for Miss Kilcraig to eat. Don’t be long about it. Her Ladyship’s waiting for her.”
Emily sprang to her feet to do as she was told, and as she left the room Davita said: