Mistress of Brown Furrows (9 page)

She couldn’ t have told anyone just then just why she would have liked very much indeed to have known that Timothy was not to be so very far removed from where she was herself. Even if they were separated by a corridor—or perhaps a wing of this ancient house—it would be something to know exactly which wing did contain his old room. For, naturally, he would be occupying the room he always had occupied.

She listened again to the silence of the house and then opened her bedroom door very gently and soundlessly. She peered out on to the softly-carpeted landing—rich crimson carpet, and the wall lights, shaped like the petals of flowers, shone down upon it and created a gentle radiance. Her room was almost at the head of the stairs, and she could make out the

gleaming handrail, and the tall, carved, supporting pillars. She tip-toed forward until she was peering down at the shining oak treads, and into the well of the hall. And then a door slammed sharply behind her.

“Is anything wrong, Carol?” Timothy asked quietly—very, very quietly it seemed to her, as his eyes stared at her with a strange, inscrutable expression in their depths with which she was certainly not very familiar.

“Oh, no—no, thank you! ” Carol felt like a child caught in a guilty act, and yet she knew that was absurd. “I—nothing,” she concluded confusedly.

He stood aside to allow her to pass. She was clutching the white robe close about her, and her hair was a dim, pale fire in the corridor.

“Sure?” he asked.

“Quite sure,’ she said.

He smiled suddenly, the old, kindly smile she remembered.

“Goodnight, child! ”

“Goodnight, Timothy! ’ she replied, and slid past him into her bedroom and closed the door rather unceremoniously. And afterwards she stood leaning up against it and feeling her cheeks so hot this time that they seemed to scorch her fingers when she touched them.

C H A P T E R TEN

IT was Agatha who awakened her next morning with her early tea, and who told her, when she drew back the curtains, that it was a brilliant morning, and going to be a wonderful day.

Certainly the sunlight was flooding the room and streamed across the bed where Carol was sleepily trying to recall where she was, and exactly what it was that had happened to her on the previous day.

“We used to call it Queen’ s weather when I was a young girl,” Agatha added conversationally. “Now that the master has brought home a bride I think we ought to call it bride’s weather! ”

She smiled across at Carol, who sat up abruptly in the huge bed. So that was it! She was a married woman! She was no longer Carol Inglis! She was Carol Carrington!

Agatha started to pour out her tea from the squat little silver tea-pot which looked so attractive sitting amongst the flowery-patterned china on the pastel colored tray. If the old servant was aware that only one side of the bed had been slept in, and that her ‘Master Timothy’ had occupied his bed in the adjoining room—separated by a bathroom—she was the last person in the world to disclose such a secret, or even to marvel at it very greatly in her own heart. People’s affairs were their own, or so she always said, and she behaved in accordance with these chosen principles of her own.

Carol caught sight of the little clock on the mantelpiece, and she saw that it was close upon half-past eight. She felt slightly shocked, for breakfast in this well-run household was almost bound to be early, and it would look very bad if she was late for it on her very first day. Or so she thought naively, entirely overlooking the fact that as mistress of the place she now had the power to change even the hours of meals if she so desired.

She sprang hastily out of bed, and Agatha handed her her dressing-gown. She explained that she didn’t want to be late for breakfast, but Agatha merely smiled.

“Don’ t tell me I’ m late for it already! ” the girl exclaimed, in such horrified accents that Agatha shook her head soothingly.

“No, no! Nobody expected you to be down so early,” she said. “The master and Meg went for a ride almost as soon as it was light, and afterwards they had their breakfast together in the small parlor. Miss Meg has gone off now on some errand of her own, and Master Timothy’ s out inspecting the farm. They left word that you were not to be hurried, and your breakfast’ s all laid ready for you as soon as you’ re ready for it—or you can have it up here if you like?” Agatha suggested. “It’s no trouble.”

But Carol negatived the suggestion at once. She was a trifle vexed by the thought that already they were treating her as if she had not hitherto been a member of the family—which, of course, she had not! —but on this, her first morning in her new home, it would have been nicer perhaps (or, at any rate, she would have felt less of an outsider!) if either her sister-in-law or her husband (she wondered whether she would ever get used to thinking of Timothy as a husband!) or both had decided to include her in a family breakfast-party, and introduced her to the house and make her familiar with it and its surroundings.

On the other hand, there was a certain amount of relief in the thought that she could breakfast alone, without Meg’s curious, watchful, slightly cold blue eyes drifting occasionally in her direction, and studying her, as they had done on the previous evening. And she hurried through her dressing and went downstairs to the small parlor, which was a comfortable little oak-panelled room not far from the green baize door which gave access to the kitchen quarters, and therefore much handier for the staff than the main dining-room. It had at one time no doubt been the housekeeper’ s room, but was much used these days by Meg—and her brother, when at home—and there Carol found her breakfast set forth on a bright yellow and white checked table-cloth, while the sun poured through the window and made a blaze of the silver.

Ellen James waited upon her, and her handsome dark eyes beamed approvingly at Carol. She was a buxom, obviously robust country girl, and she thought that Carol’ s beautifully tailored slacks and her primrose yellow sweater with the high polo collar looked enchanting on their wearer. Carol herself was not at all certain whether she wouldn’ t have done better to have donned a neat tweed skirt instead of the slacks, in view of the fact that she had no notion at all whether her sister-in-law approved of women in trousers—especially a brother’s wife— and she had a genuine desire to arouse only friendly and certainly no antagonistic feelings in Meg.

If the antagonistic feelings were there, she hoped they might in time be overcome.

But for the moment she was interested only in her breakfast, and it was such an excellent breakfast that she devoured it with relish. The honey seemed sweeter and more delicious than any honey she had ever tasted before, and the butter was served in golden curls kept crisp by being interspersed with little blocks of ice. The bacon she guessed was home-cured, and there was a little brown earthenware jug of cream for her coffee.

She decided that at this rate it was a good thing she had a natural tendency to slimness—in fact, she was a little over-thin—for it would not be long otherwise before she was putting on weight.

Ellen James said that Agatha thought she might like to see the kitchen and the dairy when she had finished breakfast, and she accepted the invitation with the greatest willingness, being very pleased for one thing that it had been issued. And when she saw Agatha, in her big white kitchen, making pastry on a snowy scrubbed table, while Judson sat shelling peas in the open, sunlit doorway, she thought it was the most attractive picture she had seen for years.

Judson stood up and saluted her rather awkwardly, spilling peas all over the red-tiled floor, and Carol hastened at once to help him pick them up. They both laughed as they gathered up the shucks and returned them to his bowl, and Agatha watched them with a smile on her own face.

Miss Meg would never have done that, she thought—she would have rebuked Judson for being clumsy, and perhaps for wasting some of the peas.

Ellen James—who seemed unable to remove her eyes from her new mistress’ s face, with its delicately lovely coloring— showed her round the dairy, with its rows of shining pans, and its atmosphere of intense cleanliness. Carol lifted the lids and peered into the various receptacles with a great deal of interest, exclaiming at a vast pan of cream for butter making, and another of butter-milk, which she was informed was included in the diet for the pigs. And there was electrical equipment for churning and an enormous refrigerator which intrigued her immensely, and the spick and span condition of everything surprised her more than she could say—although she was not slow to praise.

“How
do
you do it?” she said to Ellen James. “You must work more than a forty-eight hour week! ”

Ellen James revealed her beautiful strong white teeth in a pleased smile.

“Oh, we manage,” she said. “We manage.”

“You certainly do,” Carol agreed.

Although it was not long since she had finished her breakfast she accepted a tumbler of rich, new milk, which tasted like nuts, before she left the dairy, and drained it almost at a single draught. And when she returned to the kitchen, where the smell of baking was creating a most pleasing aroma, she inquired of Agatha whether she knew when her master or Miss Meg might be likely to return.

“Any time now, I should think,” Agatha said. “But why don’t you have a look over the house and explore the place, if you want to? You’ll naturally be wanting to get acquainted with it,” she added, remembering that this slender young woman in the slacks—which wouldn’ t please Miss Meg! —with the naive expression in her grey eyes, was, after all, the new mistress, and had a right to see everything there was to be seen. “And the garden’ s lovely just now, isn’ t it, Judson? Just you go and have a look at the garden, and all those lovely roses Miss Meg’s so crazy about, miss—er, I beg pardon, madam! ” she corrected herself, with a sudden little flush.

Carol smiled at them all and disappeared.

“All right, I will! ” she said.

She peeped into a little room on the right of the hall, the door of which was standing open, and which seemed to be used as a sort of study, for there were a great many books and a writing-desk, and—

“Come in, inquisitive! ” said a hoarse, utterly unexpected voice from a corner of the room, startling her terrifically. “Come in and look about you! It’s a free country!”

Carol was at first quite horrified, and then when she caught sight of the parrot she couldn’ t help laughing aloud. Why, of course, Captain! She recognized the bird from Timothy’s description, and she went up to the cage and met its wicked bright eyes through the green-painted bars. It was swinging on its perch and it ruffled up all its handsome, gaudy feathers. “Hello, there! ” said Captain, “hello, there! ”

“You gave me quite a fright,” Carol told him truthfully, “and you’ re not what I would describe as a very polite bird! ”

“Polite bird,” he echoed, following a loud screech. “Polite bird, bad bird, wicked bird, devilish bird!... ”

“If you say so,” Carol agreed smilingly, and left him and wandered away round the room, inspecting the bookcases and the little low writing-table which looked very feminine to her eyes, while the books were obviously of feminine interest. She looked out of the window at the smooth lawn which crept right up to the window itself, and in the distance, through a gap in the trees, she glimpsed the misty blue hills, far-away looking this morning, because of the heat haze which was quivering in the atmosphere.

On the window seat, which was wide and cream-painted, were set out a number of silver-framed photographs, mostly of children in old-fashioned clothing. Carol instantly recognized a portrait of Timothy, wearing a school cap and brandishing a cricket-bat, and there was another that was obviously Meg in an ugly, frilly frock and a wide hat with streamers. One very early photograph might have been Timothy as a baby, and Carol was picking it up to examine it with interest when a sudden, loud bark sounded behind her. She turned quickly to find Kate, the golden spaniel, rushing into the room.

“Oh, what a beautiful creature! ” exclaimed Carol, and knelt down at once to make friends. Kate wagged a feathery tail in a pleased fashion, offered a satin-smooth paw, and they shook hands ceremoniously.

“What on earth were you barking at just now, Kate?” Meg’s voice demanded from the doorway. And then she caught sight of Carol. “Oh, you!” she said. “You in here!” There was no particular pleasure in her voice—indeed it was slightly surprised, and a little cold. Her eyebrows had ascended above her straight-gazing blue eyes, and her lips were definitely a little compressed.

“I’ m sorry if I’ m trespassing! ” Carol said hastily, shocked by her greeting. “The door was open and I wandered in! If this is your private room...?”

“It is,” Meg told her quietly. And then suddenly she smiled. She held out her hand to her new sister-in-law. “My dear,” she said, “of course you can use this room if you want to, but I normally work in here—my accounts and letters and so forth. There is so much to be done! ” She went up to the desk and somewhat ostentatiously tucked away a few envelopes. “I am afraid I am not terribly tidy.”

“I think you are very tidy indeed,” Carol murmured, somewhat confusedly. She hoped Meg did not think she had been looking at her letters.

Meg turned to her, and then moved closer and lightly kissed her cheek.

“You look,” she said—eyeing first the trousers, and then the sweater, and finally the pink, smooth cheeks and clear eyes— “very much better this morning. As if,” she added, “you slept well. ”