Daughter of Deceit (21 page)

“He gives me the creeps,” Gertie said of him. “I always think he’s watching if I do the corners right and that he’s just about to give me a telling-off. Yesterday he wobbled. That thing’s not strong enough for him. He’s too grand for it.”

As I came onto the stairs, Gertie was beside the bust with a feather duster in her hand.

“Hello, miss,” she said. “Off out?”

I said I was.

“Going to that Miss Vance, I reckon. You like those old bits and pieces they’ve found, don’t you?”

“Yes, I do.”

She was smiling at me rather indulgently. She moved a little closer to the bust and, as she did so, she swayed slightly and clutched at the pedestal for support. The figure swayed for a fraction of a second, then it clattered to the floor. I jumped back, for it
was very heavy. I stared at it in horror while Gertie looked on in utter dismay.

“Gawd help me! This is the end,” she murmured.

We both must have noticed at the same time that the tip of the general’s nose was lying on the carpet beside a piece of his ear. I thought flippantly: The general will never look the same again.

My flippancy was short-lived when I looked at poor Gertie’s face, which was woebegone with hopeless fear. I was ashamed that I could have been amused even for an instant.

I made a sudden decision.

“I’ll say I did it,” I told Gertie. “I’ll say I was passing the plinth. It was insecure, I brushed against it accidentally and immediately it toppled off.”

Hope shone in Gertie’s face. “Oh, miss, you couldn’t do that!” she said.

“I could.”

“Her ladyship will be very angry.”

“I shall have to accept that.”

“She don’t like you very much already, miss … not any more than she likes me.”

“But you would lose your job. As for me … well, she can’t dislike me more than she does already, and if she asks me to go, I can do so. It’s different with me.”

“The master wouldn’t let you go. Nor would Mr. Roderick. They like you too much. And she does take notice of them.”

“Leave it to me, Gertie.”

“Oh, miss, you’re just wonderful!”

“I’d better see her right away.”

Resolutely I went up the stairs. Gertie was looking at me with something like adoration in her eyes.

I knocked at the door of Lady Constance’s sitting room and she called: “Come in.”

“Good afternoon,” she said coldly.

“Good afternoon,” I replied. “I am afraid there has been an accident.”

She raised her eyebrows.

“I am very sorry,” I went on. “As I was passing the bust on
the stairs, I must have touched it and it fell off the pedestal. I am very much afraid that it has been damaged.”

“The bust? You mean the general?”

“Yes,” I said. “The bust on the landing.”

“I’d better see what harm has been done.”

I followed her down the stairs and, as I did so, saw Gertie making a hasty exit.

Lady Constance stared at the statue in dismay.

“Dear me,” she said. “It has been in the family ever since it was made.”

“I can’t tell you how sorry I am.”

She was staring at the tip of the general’s nose.

“It is most unfortunate.”

I felt deflated, but all the time I was thinking of Gertie, who was saved—at least for a time.

After that, I was very much aware of Lady Constance’s eyes upon me. She seemed to be watching me at every moment. Although nothing more was said about the broken bust, it was constantly on our minds. I thought she was gloating over my discomfiture, hoping I would commit some other offence, something which would make it impossible for me to stay on.

I promised myself that, as soon as Charlie returned, I would tell him I must get away. I had, however, promised to stay until his return, so I must do so. On the other hand, I could go to London for a short visit again. The truth was that I did not want to. I did not know which was worse: to stay here, under the resentful eyes of Lady Constance, or to return to the perpetual memories of London.

I was living in a world of despair in which there was a faint glimmer of hope that, through Roderick, I might escape to a brighter future.

I confessed to myself that I stayed because of him.

All the same, I began to get an obsession about Lady Constance. I had nightmares and in my dreams I was afraid of her. In
one, she came to my bedside and offered me a glass of wine, which I knew was poisoned. I awoke screaming: “No … no!”

In daylight I could laugh at myself. I reasoned: You have suffered a great shock … far greater than you realize. You are not your normal self. Lady Constance naturally does not want you here. It was a mistake on Charlie’s part to bring you here and when you realized the position you should have retired gracefully, even though it did mean hurting Charlie. And let’s admit it, it was not really what you wanted to do. It was all because you needed affection, reassurance, and Charlie, who had been your mother’s friend of long standing, was the best able to give it—so she had thought. Moreover, there was Roderick. But, for all that, you had to accept the animosity—even malevolence—of Lady Constance.

But the situation was decidedly uncomfortable and, in addition, I had allowed the vague warnings of Mrs. Carling to unnerve me a little. When I was out in the fresh air, I thought of her as a harmless old lady who liked to imagine herself a seer. There was no harm in listening to her, humouring her, when I was in her company; but in the middle of the night, after a frightening dream, she seemed a significant figure, and I told myself I should listen to her prophecies of the evil which was overhanging my life, and I could not stop thinking of the hatred which I was sure Lady Constance felt towards me.

When I looked at the matter calmly, I could tell myself that I was in a vulnerable state, and just because one terrible tragedy had overtaken me, that did not mean that others were waiting to beset me. I must wait patiently for Charlie’s return and then make plans. Meanwhile, I must forget the dislike Lady Constance felt for me and the mystic warnings of a fanciful old woman.

At the back of my mind was the problem of my feelings for Roderick. I was falling in love with him, and I felt sure he had some special feeling for me.

One morning Gertie came to my room full of excitement. She set down the hot water and turned to me.

“Oh, miss,” she said. “There’s been a fire in the night. What do you think? It was at the cottage … you know … the one where Miss Vance does her work.”

I sat up in bed. “How terrible! Is there much damage?”

“No … hardly any. Thanks to the rain, they say. It’s been pouring cats and dogs all through the night. It must have started just after the fire. Farmer Merritt was driving his dogcart home late at night and saw smoke coming from it. He gave the alarm. Then, of course, there was the rain … heavy stuff, so there wasn’t the damage there might have been.”

“Oh, dear. I wonder what Miss Vance will do.”

“It’s not all that bad, they say. Makes you wonder, though. Good job nobody was there.”

Everyone was talking about the fire.

I saw Roderick at breakfast. He said he had already been over to take a look at it.

“It’s the upper rooms,” he said. “It’s a good thing we had that torrential rain … and of course Tom Merritt’s just happening to be out that way. He’d been coming home late with his wife. They’d been visiting a friend, and they took the shortcut past the remains. He was able to give the alarm and it was soon under control.”

“Poor Fiona.”

“She’ll be there this morning. Why don’t you come along with me? I shall be going over there shortly.”

I said I should like to.

As we walked over, he said: “One wonders how a fire could start in such a place.”

“You don’t think … ?”

“It was deliberate? Good heavens, no. Why should anyone want to?”

“There are people who have odd ideas … disturbing the dead and that sort of thing.”

He laughed. “I don’t know of anyone who would feel all that consideration for the Romans.”

“Well, there must have been a reason.”

“Was there lightning last night? The place might have been struck perhaps.”

“That’s a possibility.”

We found Fiona already there. She was most distressed.

“How could it have happened?” she cried. “I really cannot understand.”

“Never mind,” said Roderick. “What harm’s done?”

“The rooms upstairs are in a mess. Something will have to be done about the roof. Fortunately everything is all right down here.”

“All the artifacts in perfect order?”

“It seems so … just as they were.”

“That’s something to be thankful for.”

“Let’s have a look at the damage upstairs,” said Roderick.

We mounted the stairs. There was a bed in each room and these were decidedly damp. There was one part of the ceiling through which one could glimpse the sky.

Roderick said: “That can be put right today … preferably before there is more rain.”

“We have to be grateful to the rain.”

“And to Tom Merritt,” added Roderick.

“It would have been such a blow if the whole place had been damaged.”

There were footsteps on the stairs and we all looked towards the door, which opened to disclose Mrs. Carling.

“I’ve come over to see the damage,” she said. “Oh, my goodness! You won’t be able to work here, Fiona.”

“Downstairs is all right. You wouldn’t know there had been a fire.”

Mrs. Carling pursed her lips. “This will need a good deal of repairing,” she said.

“There is not a great deal of damage, when you come to assess it,” said Roderick.

“All the same …”

“Let’s go down and have a look,” went on Roderick.

He led the way downstairs, and we stood in the room where Fiona worked.

“You see,” said Fiona to her grandmother, “there is nothing much changed down here. Fortunately farmer Merritt saw it in time … and then there was the rain.”

“I
haven’t seen rain like it for years,” said Mrs. Carling.

“Providence looking after us,” commented Fiona lightly. “It would have been a tragedy to have lost anything down here.”

“Oh, sometimes good comes out of evil,” said Mrs. Carling, staring ahead, as though into the future.

Fiona looked at her quickly.

“Well,” went on Mrs. Carling. “You might have had a better place to work.”

“But this is ideal,” cried Fiona. “It’s right on the spot. I have everything at my fingertips. It couldn’t be better.”

“You know I could always find a room for you at the Manor,” said Roderick.

“There, Fiona!” cried Mrs. Carling. “That would be very nice.”

“It
is
nice of you,” said Fiona, “and thanks for suggesting it. But it is best here. You see, there is nothing like being on the site, as it were.”

“I have offered it before,” said Roderick. “After all, it’s all on Leverson land.”

“I’m perfectly all right here,” insisted Fiona. “And it won’t take long to put the roof right.”

“It will be repaired today,” Roderick assured her. “It must be. Then, of course, the stuff up there will have to be taken out. What do you want in its place?”

“Just a few bits and pieces. A chair or two … a table. Some of what’s up there may still be all right.”

“Well, that will be sorted out. You’re sure I can’t tempt you to come up to the Manor?”

Mrs. Carling was watching her granddaughter intently. “It would be very nice,” she said, almost coaxingly.

“I’m sure it would,” said Fiona firmly. “But I’m perfectly all right here.”

Mrs. Carling pursed her lips. For a moment she looked almost venomous. I could see she was very displeased with Fiona.

She said she had to leave us, and rather abruptly did so.

“Poor Granny,” said Fiona. “She has always thought I
shouldn’t be working here in this place. She says it is like a shack.”

“Well, the offer is open,” said Roderick. “I’d find a comfortable room for you.”

“I know. But you do understand, don’t you? It wouldn’t be the same. I want to be here … close to everything.”

“Of course,” said Roderick.

“When it’s all patched up, it will be as good as ever.”

“I’m going off now to arrange that patching-up. We must get the roof done. It looks as though we might be getting some more rain soon. So … it’s imperative.”

When he left us and we were alone together, Fiona said: “The idea of having a room at the Manor doesn’t appeal to me at all.”

“No? Wouldn’t you be more comfortable?”

“Decidedly not. Her ladyship would not like it. As a matter of fact, she is not very fond of me.”

“She does not like me either.”