The Shadow of the Lynx (38 page)

1 knew he was thinning he was maKing progress.

“Have some coffee,” I said and went over to the table to pour it for him.

“We are invited to Whiteladies,” I told him.

“I am delighted,” he replied.

She was smiling. She had become more animated since Stirling had arrived. Naturally, I thought, he seems exciting because she is accustomed to Franklyn Wakefield.

It was rather gratifying to discover what a stir we had made in the neighbourhood. We did seem rather incongruous, I supposed—a young man close to thirty with a stepmother just entering her twenties, living together in the Mercer’s House. It was the most respectable of relationships; besides we had the servants as chaperons plus the presence of Mrs. Glee. Stirling’s rooms were on the first floor, mine on the second; his at the front, mine at the back. Mrs. Glee, in black bombazine, dispelled any gossip for it was inconceivable that she would be found in any house where the slightest impropriety was practised.

She came to me every morning to discuss the menu for the day; she behaved as though we were a large household;

and I realized that this ceremony was necessary to her dignity. It was only when she discussed Whiteladies that she forgot her decorum. I confess that I lured her to talk of that household which was of the utmost interest to me.

“I don’t like it, madam,” she reiterated on an old theme one morning after we had decided what should be prepared for luncheon.

“For years I served Lady Cardew—the first Lady Cardew, that is—and I venture to say that she never had cause for complaint. And then suddenly I’m told my services are to be dispensed with. They could do without me. As though, Madam, what I did was of such little importance that I could go and no difference be noticed.”

“I gathered from Miss Cardew that economies were necessary,” I said.

“Economies! There was money wasted in that house. Oh no, the second Lady Cardew wanted me out of the way. She wanted to run the place. She didn’t want anyone there who might see what she was up to. And that’s the long and the short of it, madam.”

“I daresay it had to be, you know. The expense of keeping up a place like Whiteladies must be great.”

Mrs. Glee sniffed.

“I always thought there was something going on in that house.”

“Oh?” Of course I shouldn’t be discussing my neighbours with my housekeeper, but the temptation to do so was irresistible.

“Oh yes,” went on Mrs. Glee.

“She’d make up her mind what she wanted and she didn’t want anyone there who might see through her. After all, what was she in those days? A sort of companion, neither one thing nor the other.”

“Miss Cardew seems very fond of her stepmother.”

“Miss Cardew’s one of the blessed innocents. Wouldn’t see what was going on right under her nose if you was to ask me.”

“She seems a very charming young lady.”

“She and her father … a pair of babes in the wood. Oh, you can smile, Mrs. Herrick, but she was after the doctor at one time. We all thought there’d be a match there, and then her ladyship dies and ” No thank you,” said madam to the doctor, ” I’m after her ladyship’s shoes. ” Mrs. Glee’s language became more colourful as she warmed to her subject, and I felt I must put an end to these observations which I believed were decidedly prejudiced.

“Well, I hope, Mrs. Glee, you don’t regret the change too much. Miss Cardew was saying how lucky we were to get you.”

“Miss Cardew was always the lady.”

“I’m sure of that. And I think we’ll have the apple pie. Mr. Herrick is very partial to that.”

Confidences were over, we were back to business.

Franklyn Wakefield picked us up in his carriage. Our own had not yet been delivered but Stirling already had four fine horses in the stables.

I liked the courtly manner in which I was handed into the carriage. He asked if I liked riding with my back to the horses or otherwise. I told him I had no preference.

“I daresay you rode a great deal in Australia.”

“Everywhere,” I told him.

“It was necessary. We even camped out. Do you remember, Stirling, that occasion when we rode some forty miles or so to Melbourne … and then back?”

I could smell the perfume of the eucalypts; I remembered Adelaide boiling the kettle and Jagger coming close to me

while I knelt by the fire. Would there always be these memories?

“You will be an expert horsewoman.”

I shrugged my shoulders, and he went on: “I would like to show you my estate one day. Perhaps we could ride out together and I could introduce you to the countryside.”

Stirling started to talk about the vastness of the property in Australia in a rather brash, patronizing way which made me frown; and the more I frowned the more bombastic he became. Franklyn listened politely and made no effort to cap Stirling’s stories which I should have been tempted to had [ been in his place. It was a pity Stirling could not hide his contempt for Franklyn who, of course, completely disguised his reaction. A lesson in good manners, I would remind Stirling when we were alone.

To arrive at Whiteladies after dusk was an experience. The place looked mysteriously romantic and—in odd contrast-almost sinister.

There was a lantern hanging in the porch which creaked slightly as it swung and as we mounted the steep stone steps an excitement possessed me. I glanced at Stirling. His eyes gleamed; I was aware of his tension.

Franklyn pulled the bell rope and we heard the clanging echoing through the hall. The door was iron-studded and looked impregnable;

there was a grille through which we saw the eyes of the manservant before he opened the door.

Then we were in the hall; the floor was stone-flagged, the panelling intricate; candles guttered in the sconces. So it must have looked nearly forty years ago when Lynx came here to give his Arabella drawing lessons. How could I ever forget him when there were a thousand things everywhere I went to remind me of him!

Minta appeared at the staircase on one end of the hall. T heard the bell,” she said, descending. She looked radiant and as dainty as a fairy princess in the candle light.

“I’m so pleased that you’ve come.”

“We’re pleased that you invited us,” said Stirling.

“It’s a great occasion, I can tell you, to be guests in this house.”

Minta said she wasn’t sure whether it was the house or its inhabitants that pleased him.

“Both!” replied Stirling.

“If you’re interested in architecture.” put in Franklyn, ‘you couldn’t have a better example of the Tudor than you have

here. Some of it is a little later but the house is fundamentally Tudor. “

“Living in Australia, I have had no opportunity of visiting these ancient houses,” said Stirling.

“So it’s a great novelty to me. Not so Nora. She was a tenderfoot, you know. She was only out there a mere two years or so.”

“I’m fascinated by Whiteladies all the same.”

“We must show you over the house,” promised Minta.

“Perhaps after dinner. First you must meet my father and stepmother.”

Stirling started up the stairs after her, and as Franklyn and I followed he pointed out the carving which was the work of a sixteenth-century artist He was sure of this because that particular artist always left his special mark—a nun’s head. There were examples of his work in other houses in this part of the country. It might have been that his first big commission was the carving in Whiteladies and ever after he had used the nun’s head as his symbol.

“As soon as one begins to delve into the past one makes all sorts of interesting discoveries,” he said.

“Do you delve into the past?” I asked.

“In a dilettantish manner. I am interested in thig part of the world.

We’ve had several discoveries. We’ve found old coins and jewellery belonging to the Stone and Bronze Ages. But I’m interested in the more recent past. The history of old houses, for instance; and this one is one of the most fascinating I’ve ever known. “

“I find it fascinating too,” I said; and by this time we had reached the top of a staircase and Minta had thrown open the door of a room.

It was delightful with its tall mullioned windows and lofty ceiling;

the cupola had been so designed to make this appear even higher than it was. I imagined that in daylight the wood carving was magnificent.

There were portaits on the walls, and the furniture I judged to be early eighteenth century. It was extremely elegant; in daylight I was to discover that it was somewhat shabby, but that was not noticeable at this time.

I recognized Lucie immediately though she had changed. She had a new dignity and was striking in an unobtrusive way. She appeared to be very modestly dressed in puce-coloured velvet but the dress was beautifully cut and elegant in its simplicity. She was reserved, yet completely mistress of the

occasion. Her dark hair was simply dressed but becomingly. She came forward and took my hand.

“This is a pleasure,” she said. She spoke gently but without warmth.

“I remember you well. Minta has been telling me.”

Then she turned to Stirling.

“Oh yes, indeed. I do remember. After all it is not so long ago. Come and meet my husband.”

Sir Hilary—Minta’s father—came towards us and shook hands. He looked frail and had the same guileless expression I had noticed in Minta.

Innocent, I thought, and quite unworldly; and then immediately I was thinking of his marrying the woman whom Lynx had loved, and it seemed incongruous that I should be here taking up the threads of Lynx’s past. Here I should remember him as vividly as I had done in Australia.

“We are so pleased to have neighbours,” he said.

“Franklyn has told me all about your taking the Mercer’s House. You’re lucky to get it. It’s a gem of a house.”

Franklyn was near.

“We’re lucky to have such tenants at Mercer’s,” he said.

“Ah, Franklyn, and how are your parents today?”

Franklyn said they were very lively and well; and Sir Hilary went on to ask questions about them. He was obviously interested in their ailments and comparing them with his own.

Two other guests arrived. I had already met the doctor who looked, I thought, quite ill at ease; and with him was Miss Maud Mathers, the vicar’s daughter, a rather tall young woman with an outdoor complexion and a breezy manner. I was immediately convinced that she was a great asset to her father in the parish.

Dinner was served in a dining-room the same size and similar in many ways—the same type of ceiling, the same panelling—to the drawing-room. Minta mentioned that they used this dining-room most of the time although for occasions when there were many guests, such as Christmas time, they used the hall.

“In the old days we used it more than we do today,” she explained.

“We used to have a houseful of guests. I’m sure my parents didn’t know half the people they entertained. Now of course we have to be careful.”

“One day perhaps it will be different,” said Stirling.

I was uneasy. He was showing his obsession with the niar-a sol. -k too clearly. There was something so honest about Stirling. 1 loved him for it, but I felt it would be better to hide his intentions as yet.

He had no subtlety. Now Franklyn. I was continually comparing the two, and everything about Stirling I lovjed, although I did not necessarily applaud or admire it. Now he was being almost naive as his covetous eyes roamed about the house.

I noticed there was only one parlour maid and the butler was the man who had opened the door. They evidently had few servants. The meal was well cooked and well served, which I imagined was due to Lucie’s supervision. She had her eyes on everything and I was quickly aware that the servants were in awe of her.

Conversation at the dinner-table ranged over a number of subjects. Sir Hilary and Franklyn discussed the Wakefield estate; Stirling was asking Minta questions about the house;

Lucie from one end of the table was looking after her guests and joining in here and there; I was seated next to the doctor and opposite me was Maud Mathers, who talked in an animated way about parish affairs.

“You’ll love the church, Mrs. Herrick. It’s the same period as this house. The tower is quite impressive, isn’t it, Dr. Hunter?”

The doctor agreed that it was a fine old church.

“I hope you’ll come along to some of our social affairs,” said Miss Mathers.

“Do you intend staying long tn the neighbourhood?” the doctor wanted to know.

“It’s difficult to say,” I answered.

“My stepson is enamoured of this part of the world and he has fallen in love with Whiteladies.”

“It’s the sort of house about which people get obsessions,” said Maud.

“I believe one or two people have wanted to buy it.”

“I understand it’s been in the family for centuries.”

“Yes, handed down from generation to generation. Not like our house, which goes with the living,” “Miss Cardew has promised to show us round after dinner.”

Lucie joined in the conversation.

“Most people want to see over the house.”

“You must get tired of showing them.”

“I never get tired. I’m as fascinated with the place as every250

one else, except of course those who are born in it, like Minta. I always tell her she doesn’t appreciate it. It will be the same with Druscilla. ” She smiled.

“My daughters,” she added.

“And how is Druscilla?” asked the doctor. Lucie’s smile gave luminosity to her face. Mother love, I thought, plus candle light.

“She is quite well now.” She turned to me.

“I’m like all mothers with a first child. I fuss. I call the doctor in for nothing.”

“It’s called ” first baby nerves”,” said the doctor.

“It shows a mother’s tender care,” Maud put in.

“And I’m sure Dr. Hunter understands and doesn’t blame any of the mothers in the parish for their over-anxiety.”

“Oh, I’m very tolerant,” said the doctor lightly.

“A necessary qualification,” added Lucie almost sarcastically. I seemed to be sensitive that night. I was aware of a certain tension between the doctor and Lucie Cardew. Or was I imagining it? I fancied that he was very interested in her, that he admired her and she did not return his esteem. Then once again I was thinking of Lynx. There would have been dinner-parties such as this one to which the drawing-master would not have been invited. I could imagine his anger at slights, his determination that one day he would sit at the head of this table.