Authors: Barbara Perkins
It was some little time later, when a great many more people had arrived, that I found Kevin approaching me. I had been doing my best to converse with the people I had been introduced to, though I found they were apt to lose interest when they found I didn’t ride: most of the conversations I could hear were concerned with the hunting season, next week’s point-to-point, the vagaries of stable-girls, and the doings of mutual acquaintances who were unknown to me. (I felt even more glad that most of my stiffness had worn off and that my long sleeve made my bandage unobtrusive when I saw Mamie Laidlaw glance at me with a knowing grin). Feeling rather isolated, I wished that I could have busied myself with handing things round—but Sarah Ann and one of the other staff from the village were doing it, decked in the neatness of housemaids’ uniform. Essie was among a group of around her own age: the guests seemed mainly to be in their forties and fifties, or late teens. I was almost in a mood to welcome Kevin’s arrival beside me—if it weren’t for the wariness of wondering what he would choose to say—and I was unwillingly conscious that in other circumstances I might have felt flattered that the tallest and best-looking man in the room sought my company. I reminded myself quickly that he was also several other things, and gave him a guarded look from under my lashes as he stopped beside me. A glint of mockery promptly came into his own eyes.
‘I’ve come to see that you don’t feel out of things. Have you met everyone? I haven’t more than a nodding acquaintance with half of them myself, but Henry does things very thoroughly, doesn’t he?’ He went on without giving me a chance to reply, ‘You’re to be congratulated on your handiwork. And Essie, you’ll be glad to hear, has just given that Laidlaw girl a firm warning against repeating any ... stories.’
‘She could hardly give a graphic description, since she wasn’t there,’ I said coolly—though I wondered how much Essie had told Mamie when she returned the Laidlaws’ horse. I gave Kevin a challenging look, and added, ‘I’m grateful, of course, that everyone shouldn’t be told how—how capably I made a fool of myself!’
‘It’s the interesting point of why you did it that Essie doesn’t want repeated. Very interesting.’ He studied me over the rim of his glass as he raised it to his lips. ‘Surprising, too. Could you look a little less as if you disliked talking to me? We should display household solidarity, I feel.’
‘Oh, was that why you came over?’ I enquired coldly.
‘Henry told me to talk to you.’
‘How kind of him. But unexpected. He told
me
to treat you as less than the dust under my feet,’ I retorted, feeling unreasonably annoyed that he had only sought me out because he had been told to. ‘However, if we’ve got to display household solidarity—which I’m sure you find as trying as I do!—I’ll do my best to look flattered by your company! Do tell me all about your job, Mr. Thurlanger—and I’ll do my
best
to look as if I understand what you’re talking about, though I’m sure I shan’t, because all that medical terminology must be
so
complicated!’
He gave me a sharp look—rather too sharp—but at that moment my attention was diverted by a new arrival at the front door. The party was spreading itself between the hall and the drawing room, and from where I was standing I had a clear view across several groups of people to the sight of a surprisingly familiar face. Michael Chace was limping in through the door, in the company of a girl of about my own age who was dividing her attention between concern for his progress and a rather prim greeting of Mrs. Mott who had opened the door for her. Kevin, beside me, followed my gaze, and when he spoke it was with a calm satisfaction.
‘Ah, your friend from the village has arrived. I wondered when he was going to make it. We’ll go across and greet him, shall we?—and you can introduce him to Henry.’
‘But—’
‘I called in and invited him,’ Kevin said coolly into my surprised face. ‘I’ve seen you with him several times, and you seem to be on such good terms that I thought you might like him to come. Since he didn’t have any transport I asked Rosalind to pick him up. You seem startled. I wonder why? Henry wouldn’t object to a friend of yours, I’m sure. But come along, we mustn’t leave him standing there.’
It was on the tip of my tongue to say tartly that if he hoped Michael was going to prove to be an unacceptable type to be entertained at Thurlanger House he would be disappointed—but, I thought confusedly, it was quite possible that Kevin’s lordly gesture in inviting Michael for my benefit, without remembering to tell me, was quite simply well-meant. I didn’t have to suspect a trick in it. Besides, it was very pleasant to see Michael, who had caught sight of us by now and was giving me one of his open smiles. Kevin shook him by the hand, and turned to introduce me to the girl—Rosalind Marten—who must be Essie’s ‘this Rosalind’ who kept a riding stables and was Kevin’s girl-friend. She was a couple of inches shorter than I was, brown-haired, and of an obviously serious disposition. She also had a tendency to flutter her eyelashes every time Kevin spoke to her—either from nervousness, or admiration. I found myself deciding unkindly that if she admired him that much and showed it so clearly, she was undoubtedly very bad for him.
For the next half-hour I was constantly with Michael, taking him to meet people, and standing-back while he made all the right comments. Henry seemed not in the least put out at having an extra guest. It became a little embarrassing to have Michael repeatedly introduced as ‘Charlotte’s friend’ when we were in fact no more than acquaintances, and I wondered if he too felt we were being rather firmly bracketed, particularly when I caught him giving me a thoughtful look. He was too good-mannered to do otherwise than let it pass, but after a while I took care to detach myself from him—which was simple enough, since he had both an enviable ease of manner, and the ability to join in discussions on horses and hunting which I lacked. It was a little dispiriting to feel that I was so hopelessly out of place amongst this company, as I listened politely to remarks which were only marginally addressed to me, and tried not to notice that Mrs. Laidlaw turned her shoulder on me to continue a loud and uncharitable discussion of an acquaintance in a nasal drawl as ugly as her daughter’s. However, I had only to catch sight of Essie amongst the throng to be able to remind myself that I had succeeded, a little, in doing what Henry was employing me to do. If he had also suggested that he himself would value my company rather than having to talk to his neighbours, he was too busy playing the host tonight to remember it ...
The party began to break up at last. Kevin was going out somewhere, and offered to drive Michael home: I wondered if he had a date with his Rosalind, but the disappointed look she cast him made it seem unlikely. She was one of the last to leave, and said her goodbyes with an effusiveness which made Essie give her a disgusted look rather too plainly for politeness. I had the impression that Henry didn’t think too highly of Rosalind, either: no doubt she was too serious for his taste, not to mention the fact that her interests, as far as I had been able to gather, were centred exclusively on her riding school, or on committees for the preservation of bridle-paths. When all the guests had gone, I made the tentative suggestion that I should go out to the kitchen and help Mrs. Mott with the clearing up; but Henry vetoed the idea at once. Over a late cold supper, he dissected his party guests with entertaining malice, complimented Essie on her appearance with a lightness which fortunately called for no answering comment, and asked me with apparent interest how well I knew Michael Chace. When I explained we were no more than acquaintances he seemed oddly relieved—though that might have been my imagination, or the amount of cocktails I had consumed while trying to look politely attentive.
Essie got up from the supper-table and announced her intention of going to bed. She had been quiet through the meal: now, in a manner I had been half expecting, she said she’d be glad to get into something comfortable instead of being done up like a trussed chicken. I went up with her to take the pins out of her hair, and asked her, casually, whether she had enjoyed the party.
‘What, all that prosing? Can’t see that it’s necessary. I mean, why bother, when you could be doing something useful like cleaning tack?’ she demanded. I grinned at her.
‘Most of the prosing was about horses, wasn’t it? I couldn’t understand a word of it. Anyway it’s—oh, a convention. Does it matter too much?’
‘Dressing up’s a bore. At Ballyneelan—’
‘You lived in the stables and kept the horses in the drawing-room?’
‘You’re quoting Pa,’ she said crossly. ‘Anyway, why not? If you’re breeding horses they’re the most important thing. Uncle Joe wouldn’t waste money on a shindig like that, even if he’d got it, which he hasn’t. And besides—’
‘All right, all right,’ I said pacifically, seeing how cross she was getting. ‘There, that’s the last pin out. And I’m not trying to lecture you—I didn’t enjoy the party much myself, if you want to know! Do you need unzipping, or can you do it?’
She was wriggling out of the dress herself, so I turned to go. She said abruptly, ‘That stupid James Tetley—’
‘That stupid James Tetley what?’ I asked, as she didn’t finish.
‘Oh, saying he hardly
recognized
me. People do make idiotic remarks.’
‘Which was James Tetley? Oh, the fair one, studying agriculture.’ I remembered him now—and the admiring looks I had seen him giving Essie. He had looked about twenty, and definitely inclined to be smitten. His sister Poppy, I knew, was a crony of Essie’s and, one of her riding companions. I asked cautiously, ‘Don’t you like James?’
‘I shan’t if he goes on like that. It’s almost as bad as that stupid Rosalind. I don’t know why Kev doesn’t tell her, and put her out of her misery,’ Essie said shortly.
‘Tell her what? I mean, perhaps he—’
‘Well, Kev’ll have to marry
me
in the end, won’t he?’ Essie said with astonishing coolness. ‘Not that he cares for her much anyway, at least he wouldn’t if he’d got any taste, and
I
don’t believe he does. But with things the way they are he’s booked whether he likes it or not.’ She glanced at my startled face, and made a gesture of impatience, which had something defiant about it. ‘Well, he’ll have to, won’t he? Thurlanger’s entailed to him, and Pa’s going to leave all his beastly wealth to me, so that’s why he’s throwing us together. I don’t suppose it matters much. I mean, one way or the other.’
‘Are—are you sure?’
‘Well, unless Pa married again and has a son.’ She gave me a sudden, disconcertingly sharp look. ‘The family used to get into flaps every now and again in case he provided me with what they called the wrong sort of stepmother, though to give Kev his due, it never seemed to bother
him
much.’ She let out a sudden chuckle.
‘Did you notice tonight, though? He was very hot on letting everyone know that that Michael person was your property. I thought at the time, I bet it was to stop people thinking you were a girl-friend of Pa’s. After all, you
are
living here.’
‘I’m your father’s secretary. Temporarily,’ I said, as soon as I had got
my
breath back. ‘I—I have no intention of ever being anything else!’ Memories of Gypsy Rose took hold of me and shook me, but I pushed them sharply aside. ‘But—but, Essie, you certainly don’t have to marry Kevin, for his sake, if you don’t want to! The idea’s outrageous!’
‘Pa insisting on tidying me up, as if he was going to put me on the market, is what’s outrageous,’ Essie retorted, but there was a note in the gruffness of her voice which worried me. ‘I told you, it doesn’t matter, anyway! For the lord’s sake, Shah, don’t look so shocked! If I can get over the idea I’m sure you can! And look, don’t go off in a dudgeon and leave because I said that about people thinking you were Pa’s girl-friend, will you? To tell you the truth, if he was going to weigh in with a stepmother I’d sooner it was you than some. I mean, from all I hear you’d be a lot better than that opera singer he was trailing around with!’
‘B-but I’m not—’
‘Yes, but don’t go away, will you? Not for a bit? Promise you won’t?’
It was a genuine appeal, and for all the shattering nature of her previous remarks I had to respond to it. ‘All right,’ I said weakly. ‘I promise. But
no one
has to marry
anyone
if they don’t choose to, for all the—the property situation! And don’t you ever believe they do!’
‘Oh well, we’ll see. But I’m glad you’ll stay. You don’t fuss, and things,’ Essie said, and swept the subject away. ‘I’m going to bed now. I want to take Fiddlestick out early in the morning and give him some jumping practice—he’s out of training, and I want to enter him next week as well as Cora. G’night, Shah.’
It was too much of a dismissal for me to stay longer, so I went away, still feeling shaken. Essie’s calm appraisal of the situation—or perhaps not quite as calm as she made it out to be—was enough to rock anyone’s composure. I reserved the angriest of my reflections for Kevin Thurlanger. His position in all this seemed far too clear. I found myself disliking him more intensely than ever, and resolving that if I had anything to do with it, he should never get anywhere near marrying Essie. I could add up as well as she could that inheriting Thurlanger House and its grounds would be less of a proposition if one didn’t also gain the wealth to run it—and I could gather from Essie’s remarks that what money his own family possessed was tied up in Ballyneelan. No doubt Kevin, so tall, so handsome, so
arrogant,
thought himself a satisfactory catch for his cousin anyway ...