The Unknown Mr. Brown (9 page)

She sounded so tired and unsure of herself that Victoria immediately felt ashamed of her outburst

“I’m sorry,” she said, “I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that, Kate. You’ve made me feel so much one of the family that it’s difficult sometimes to remember my place.” That made Kate laugh and she stretched out a conciliatory hand.

“What an idea! Your place is here at Farthings and has nothing to do with employment. And if you can bring yourself to accept Robert along with Timmy and me, I for one will be grateful to you.” It was graciously spoken, Victoria thought, considering the probable state of Kate’s affections, and she would have liked to assure her that far from leading Robert Farmer up the garden she had every intention of discouraging further opportunities when next he came to Farthings. But too much had already been made of a situation that should never have arisen and she could only smile apologetically and take herself off to bed.

CHAPTER FIVE

IT was June before Robert paid them another visit and despite her hope on the last occasion that pressure of work would keep him away, Victoria found that she had missed him. Kate’s circle of acquaintances was small and consisted largely of young marrieds with growing families which kept them too busy for cultivating more than a casual neighbourliness, and sometimes Kate would look at Victoria a little ruefully and apologise for the dullness of country life.

“I’ve let myself drift since Jim died, I suppose,” she said on one occasion. “Timmy occupied so much of my time when he was a baby that it was easy to drop out, and now I’m just selfishly content with my own company and the peace and pleasant monotony of Farthings. But you should be having fun, admirers like other girls and justifying the expense of that finishing abroad.”

“You needn’t feel anxious on my account. It’s still a novelty to have anchorage after years of being pushed from one select establishment to another and very restful,” Victoria replied, sounding old-fashioned and a little pedantic, and Kate frowned.

“Well, I suppose that’s natural considering the unusual circumstances, but I can’t feel the aim of all this careful preparation was to bury you in the country where chances to benefit by it are few,” she said, and Victoria laughed.

“Well, I wasn’t being prepared for a London season and the chance of an eligible husband, if that’s what you’re thinking was the aim—unless of course it was Mr. Brown’s original intention and the idea just died on him.”

“That’s possible, I suppose, and rich cranks who indulge in the whims of the moment are notoriously unreliable.”

“Do you think Robert knows who he is?”

“Rob? I shouldn’t think so for a minute, and he’d know better than to abuse professional etiquette by pumping old Chappie to satisfy your curiosity.”

“Yes, of course. Only sometimes he’s so ribald about poor Mr. Brown that I’ve wondered if he thinks he doesn’t exist.”

“Well, whatever he may think, five dozen roses would seem to settle that doubt. Have you had any reply to your letter of thanks?”

“Only from the solicitors, but they never do more than acknowledge mine. I
had
thought that as this was something more personal, they might have mentioned it, but I expect the roses, like the cheques, were just so much routine to them. When is Robert coming down again?” She asked the question casually enough, but Kate glanced down at her curiously. She was lying on her back in the long grass by Kate’s deck chair thoughtfully chewing a piece of clover and there was a withdrawn look about her as if she was indulging in one of her private fantasies.

“I don’t know,” Kate said, careful to sound equally casual. “Why? Have you missed him?”

“I suppose I have—like the way one misses a tooth when it stops aching.”

“Well! Robert
would
be flattered!” Kate exclaimed, not knowing whether to be relieved or mildly indignant. “I must certainly remember to pass that compliment on.” Victoria giggled, unabashed, and rolled over on her stomach.

“Well, you know what I mean. An irritant keeps you on your toes even while you wish it would stop. I have the same effect on Robert, judging by his behaviour, so I’m sure he’d understand.”

It was not the sort of remark to give Kate any real clue as to the measure of Victoria’s feelings, but she had to admit to a superficial element of truth. It was, she thought, unfortunate that owing to Mr. Brown’s liking for wrapping his protégée in cotton wool, the only man she was likely to get to know well should be her own cousin.

“Oh, well,” she said a little helplessly, “if you feel Robert is neglecting us, you’d better write yourself and suggest a visit. I had a notion that his reasons for stopping away were not entirely unconnected with yourself.”

“I could hardly do that since it’s your house and he’s your guest,” Victoria answered with a polite air of rebuke and impatiently tucked her hair behind her ears to stop it from tickling her.

Kate observed those faun-like features with interest, remembering Robert’s teasing, and said lightly: “A guest in his own house, not mine,” and Victoria gave her a quick enquiring look.

“Well, it’s yours for the present, since you pay rent,” she replied, and would have liked to follow up the statement with queries about the future of Farthings when Kate’s lease was up, but it might be premature to press for an answer, neither did she particularly relish a too definite reply.

“Yes, of course. Still there’s always been an understanding that he should treat the place as his home, so he’ll come without being asked when the mood takes him,” Kate said with an air of closing the subject, and Victoria thought she sounded a little short.

During the week, however, it was easier to avoid the unwelcome thoughts which these chance remarks could cause to flourish unsatisfied. Kate, on the final chapter of her latest book, was closeted with her typewriter for long hours, and Victoria, in sole charge of Timmy, delighted in sharing in his games and inventing fresh amusements of her own.

John Squires, who privately considered Kate’s concern for her son excessive, if understandable, approved the ease and youthful casualness with which Victoria handled the boy.

“You’ll make a charming mother when your time comes,” he told her once when he had met them in the village and paused for a chat. “You’ll not grow old in heart like so many women. Do you want children of your own?”

“Oh, yes, but first I have to find a husband,” Victoria replied demurely, but her eyes were dancing. She had always found it very easy to get on with the doctor when she had him to herself.

“Well, that shouldn’t present any difficulty. If I was a younger man—” he said, shamelessly dismissing Kate’s image in an effort at gallantry which Victoria found rather touching.

“You say the nicest things, John, but I know where your true heart lies,” she said affectionately.

“Do you indeed? Well, it’s your prospects we’re discussing, not mine, and I have to admit there’s not much choice to be had in these parts. How long will you be staying with Kate?”

“As long as she’ll keep me—if that is, the solicitors allow it. It’s supposed to be a trial run, you know.”

“Ah, yes. The omniscient Mr. Brown who pays the piper and calls the tune.”

She looked at him and her eyes were startled.

“Yes, I suppose that’s the whole answer,” she said, sounding surprised. “Well, in less than a year the piper will have been paid off and that will leave
me
to call the tune.”

“So ... and what are your plans?”

“I haven’t any. It wasn’t any use making plans for earning a living. My suggestions were either stamped on or there was a last-minute postponement. It was really a most unexpected concession to be sent here, but I suppose Kate’s credentials were so exemplary that no objections could be raised.”

“Or your Mr. Brown is shrewder than you think. Not much chance of unwelcome competition in a village as remote as this.”

“Competition? But there’s nothing personal in the arrangement. I’ve never even met him.”

“For all that, I understand a pretty observant eye has been kept on your activities. If admirers are to be discouraged, Farthings is a pretty safe place for a young girl’s first job.”

“Yes, I suppose it is, only there doesn’t seem much point, does there, if when the Trust is wound up I’m free to do what I like?”

“No, it doesn’t sound very logical, but who’s to know what twists and quirks govern the actions of rich eccentrics with a taste for power?”

Victoria giggled: “You make him sound rather sinister—a kind of Svengali chuckling in the wings and casting spells.”

“Farmer hasn’t been down for some time. When is he next expected?” John observed casually.

“I don’t know. I believe the lists are very heavy for this term,” Victoria said, and he glanced at her speculatively.

“H’mm ... Kate seemed to have an idea—still, she could well be wrong.”

“Kate, like anyone else, can jump to wrong conclusions,” Victoria said, choosing her words carefully. “She’s been working rather long hours lately, finishing the latest children’s epic, and imagination can carry over into real life without much distinction.”

“You’re a wise child, aren’t you, Victoria? I wonder how you came by your perceptions so young,” he said, looking down at her with a measure of wryness.

“Well, when one’s self-appointed mentor is never there to give counsel, I suppose one learns to seek it in oneself. Poor Mr. Brown! What a lot he’s missed by sitting on a horse so high that they’re both lost in the clouds,” she said, deliberately making light of the matter, and he smiled, his blue, observant eyes momentarily losing their thoughtful gravity.

“Yes, poor Mr. Brown!” he echoed with his mock solicitude. “What a strange, unloved individual he must be, if that is, he exists at all, outside that fertile imagination of yours.”

“Well,
someone
exists. I haven’t imagined the monthly cheques and the other evidences of a directing power,” Victoria retorted, and as if she had invoked some mysterious agency to give credence to her statement, a second delivery of roses arrived the very next day with an identical card attached.

This time the roses were pink, but their number no less extravagant, and Kate, observing the girl’s heightened colour and the tenderness with which she arranged her flowers, felt a shade uneasy. It was not fair of Mr. Brown, whoever he might be, to start playing games of this kind, she thought, and wondered for an unreasoning instant if the thing could be some kind of crazy hoax on the part of staid old Mr. Chappie.

“Well,” she said trying to sound flippant, “if this sort of thing goes on, you’ll be raising false hopes again of a happy-ever-after ending,” but Victoria smiled at her with that secret air of withdrawal and replied gently:

“Oh, no, Kate, I don’t live in a fairy tale any longer, but you’ll have to admit that, however disinterested this sort of gesture may be, it at least has the virtue of adding to one’s stature.”

“What a queer mixture you are,” Kate said, reassured but not wholly satisfied. “Sometimes you talk like a woman twice your age, but I get your point regarding the tonic action of floral tributes, whoever they may come from. You’re growing up, darling.”

“Oh, no, I grew up a long time ago, I think, Victoria said reflectively, and Kate sighed, aware that there might be a rather sad truth in this observation.

“Yes, perhaps you did,” she agreed, remembering her own childhood secure in the ties of a family united in love and wellbeing. There had not been the money to afford her the educational advantages bestowed upon Victoria, but neither had she been obliged to create images for herself in return for the chilly dispensations of an unknown benefactor.

Kate was to spend the following week-end in London which made quite a break in the household’s routine, but her book was finished, her publishers anxious to discuss a fresh contract, and John Squires had been urging a short change of scene for some time. There was no reason to worry about Timmy with Victoria in charge and himself within easy call, he had said.

Victoria drove Kate to the station, attending gravely to the last-minute instructions of an anxious mother, solemnly offering assurances in the matter of her own competence until they both began to giggle.

“I’m not naturally a fusspot,” Kate excused herself a trifle sheepishly, “but it’s such an event for me to leave Timmy just to go on the razzle that I suppose I’m reverting to type. Are you sure you won’t be lonely, Victoria? I wish there were a few nice young people you could ask over to Farthings to keep you company.”

“For heaven’s sake stop feeling guilty because you’re treating yourself to a holiday!” Victoria told her. “If you want to know the truth, I’m looking forward to playing mistress of the house in your absence and pretending Farthings belongs to me. I would be most intolerant of nice young people distracting me from my simple pleasures, so you can be thankful we don’t know any.”

So Kate went away satisfied and refrained from a warning not to build dreams round Farthings, a much more tangible fantasy than Mr. Brown, and Victoria drove home with a mounting sense of delight in the novel experience of being answerable to no one but herself for the next two days.

Elspeth had prepared a cold lunch for them set out in the shade of the patio, and afterwards, with Timmy settled on a lilo for his rest instead of being sent upstairs, Victoria wandered through the rooms of the house, enjoying her game of pretence. Here in the drawing-room filled with the elegant cabinets of china and bibelots treasured by that unknown maiden lady she would entertain friends after dinner; here in the cool flagged hall, masculine belongings would clutter up the brassbound chest, together with the discarded toys of children, and here in the white-panelled parlour she would sit and dream when she grew old and remember the follies of her youth with gentle amusement

‘There’s no call to run your finger along the mantelshelf for dust, for it was done the mom,” Elspeth’s voice observed disapprovingly behind her, and she jumped.

“I wasn’t thinking of dust,” she said, her mind still focussed on that other world. “I like to touch things for remembrance.”

“Are you thinking of leaving us, then? That’ll no be good news for Mrs. Allen to come back to. I’d thought you were different to those foreign hussies who’d up and go as soon as they’d unpacked their traps for want of a gay time.” Elspeth spoke in the uncompromising tones that Victoria first remembered and she said quickly: