Love and the Loathsome Leopard (3 page)

The room was full of sunlight and for a moment nothing seemed to have changed from the way he remembered it since he was a child. Then he realised that the curtains were very faded but had been patched and mended skilfully.

The sofas also had mellowed and the softness of their colour reminded him of the bricks of the house itself. Their covers too had been repaired.

The furniture shone and there were flowers everywhere – roses, honey-suckle, blue delphiniums, and even lilies, such as had always been grown in the greenhouses for the altar of the small grey Church his mother had attended on Sundays.

‘It’s incredible! Unbelievable!’ he said to himself.

He had thought he would find a ruin, not this.

As Lord Cheriton stood just inside the door, his eyes taking in every detail of the room, someone came through the open window and with her back to the sunshine it seemed as if her head was haloed in light.

He did not move and for a moment the woman who had entered did not see him.

She was carrying still more flowers in her arms, white roses, and she looked down at them so that he could see the darkness of her long eyelashes against the clearness of her skin.

Then, as if she sensed that she was not alone, she looked up, and her eyes seemed to fill her whole face as she gave a startled exclamation.

“Forgive me,” Lord Cheriton said, “but the door was open and I understood the house was empty.”

“Who – who told you it was – empty?”

There was a little tremor in her voice that was almost one of fear.

“I had no idea anyone was living here.”

“Why should you – expect there would–not be?”

“This house is called Larks Hall?”

“Yes – that is – right.”

“And it belongs, I think, to Lord Cheriton?”

“Yes, but he never comes here and we heard, although it may not be true, that he wished the house to – fall down.”

There was silence, then Lord Cheriton said,

“I am, as it happens, acquainted with the owner.”

“You know him?”

The words were almost a cry and now the girl, for she was little more, put the roses down on an adjacent table almost as if they had become too heavy for her to carry.

“Yes, I know him,” Lord Cheriton said carefully.

“He is not – thinking of – coming here?”

There was no mistaking now that there was an expression of fear in the blue eyes and that there was a note almost of horror in the young voice.

“I don’t think so,” Lord Cheriton replied, “but why should that perturb you?”

The girl looked away from him and he saw that she was clasping and unclasping her fingers in an agitated way.

“Do you intend to – tell him that you have – been here?”

“Is there any reason why I should not?”

“Every reason.”

“I don’t think I understand.”

She made a little gesture of helplessness.

Then she looked at him gravely, searching his face as if considering whether he was trustworthy and she could confide in him.

“May I say,” Lord Cheriton said quietly, “that I will not tell the owner of this house anything you would not wish me to. At the same time, I would like to understand myself why the idea of his knowing that you are here should perturb you.”

“I suppose you were bound to ask that,” she said with a little sigh.

“I admit to feeling curious.”

She looked at him again and he told himself with just a touch of amusement that it was the way he would look at a new recruit or an Officer who wanted promotion, searching for something deeper than the man’s external appearance, looking rather into his heart or perhaps his soul.

There was a vague smile on his lips and after he had endured her scrutiny for some seconds he asked,

“Well? Do I pass?”

“It’s not that,” she said quickly. “It’s just that the future happiness of so many people depends on what you might say.”

“Many people?”

“The people who live here.”

“May I beg you to explain?”

“I must try to do so,” she said. “But I am afraid, desperately afraid, that if Lord Cheriton learns of what I have to tell you, he will turn us out.”

“I think you can trust me not to tell him anything which might prove disastrous to you at any rate.”

“That is kind of you, especially as you are promising before you know the truth.”

“I feel that anything you have to tell me could not be entirely reprehensible,” Lord Cheriton said. “If you will trust me, I am prepared to trust you.”

He was used to dealing with men, but he knew that the manner in which he spoke reassured her.

As if she suddenly realised that he was standing just inside the door, she said quickly,

“Forgive me. I have been very rude in not asking you to sit down, but you took me by surprise. I never thought – I never dreamt that anyone strange would come here. They never do.”

“No strangers?”

“No – never. They are too – ”

She stopped suddenly and he felt she had been about to say something which might have been indiscreet.

With her hand she indicated a chair by the fireplace and he walked towards it.

As he did so, he looked at her more closely and realised, now that she no longer had her back to the window, that she was in fact very lovely.

It was an unusual face, not in the least like that of any woman he could remember seeing before.

Her eyes were blue, the colour of the delphiniums which stood in a vase beside the chair she had indicated to him, and her hair was very fair, so fair that it was, he thought, the colour of the dawn creeping up the sky to dispel the night.

She was very slender and now that he could look more closely, he saw that her gown, like the furniture, was old and darned and had lost its colour, doubtless from frequent washings.

And yet it did not disguise the soft curves of her body or the smallness of her waist.

Lord Cheriton seated himself in the wing-back armchair and tried not to remember his father occupying it, and his mother pleading with him with a sob in her soft voice.

He saw that the girl standing beside him was choosing her words with care and before she could speak Lord Cheriton said,

“We have not introduced ourselves. May I tell you that my name is Stuart Bradleigh and I am in fact only passing through the village on my way to Dover.”

He thought that her eyes seemed to light up at the information, and she answered,

“I am Wivina Compton.”

Lord Cheriton bowed.

“May I say that I am delighted to make your acquaintance, Miss Compton.”

She did not reply, but seated herself opposite him and he thought that she moved gracefully and held her head proudly in a manner which would have graced any of the ballrooms he had attended since his return to England.

She looked at him in silence until he said,

“I am waiting, Miss Compton, and in case you are worried, may I assure you that anything you tell me will be in confidence, complete confidence, unless you give me leave to repeat it.”

She flashed him a little smile, but her eyes were still worried.

“You will perhaps think that what I have to tell you is very – reprehensible.”

“I can only answer that when I hear what you have to say.”

“Yes – of course.”

She drew in her breath and then she began,

“When the late Lord Cheriton died nine years ago, there was no provision made for his servants.”

“His servants?” Lord Cheriton exclaimed.

This was something he had not expected to hear.

“They had all been here for many years,” Wivina explained. “Mrs. Briggs, the cook, was nearly seventy, and naturally it would have been impossible for her to find another position at her age.”

“I can understand that.”

“And there was old Rouse, the gardener, who had come to Larks Hall as a boy and had never known any other place.”

Wivina’s voice dropped as she said,

“He was told to vacate his cottage. Although he was given a small pension, as was Mrs. Briggs, it would not have provided him with a roof over his head.”

Lord Cheriton’s lips tightened, but he said nothing.

“And there was Pender, the Head Groom, who was getting on for retirement, and he had hoped that he would not only have a pension but also a cottage provided for him in the village.”

“Did they speak to the Solicitor about this?”

“Of course they did! But he said he had no instructions to do anything about those who looked after the house.”

“So what happened?” Lord Cheriton asked.

“They struggled in vain to find other posts and when their cottages were taken from them, they – moved into Larks Hall.”

“They came to live here?”

Wivina nodded.

“It was Mrs. Briggs who thought of it, because she was determined not to move.

“‘I comes here as a scullery-maid, miss,’ she said to me once, ‘and when I goes it’ll be feet first in me coffin!’”

Lord Cheriton smiled, then he asked:

“And where do you come in?”

“My father – the Vicar of the Parish – died four years ago.”

“I am sorry.”

“It was an – accident.”

There was a little pause before the last word and Lord Cheriton looked at her speculatively as he repeated,

“An accident?”

“It – must have been– although I have so often – thought – ”

She stopped once again and he knew that she was putting a check on her words. After a moment she went on,

“My brother and I were left with very little money.

“Your brother?”

“Yes, my brother, Richard. He is seventeen now, but then he was only thirteen and had just had a fall out riding.”

Wivina’s voice was unhappy, as she continued,

“He broke his leg and it was wrongly set, or perhaps the fracture was a complicated one, I don’t know, but anyway ever since then he has been crippled and walks with a limp.”

“That must be very unfortunate for him,” Lord Cheriton said gravely.

“It is,” she answered, “and he hates not being able to do all the things other boys do, but fortunately he is very clever.”

She gave a little sigh, then almost to herself she said,

“If only he could go to University, it would mean everything to him, but of course it is impossible.”

“Because you cannot afford it?”

She smiled at him as if he was a rather stupid child.

“When my father’s affairs were cleared up, we found that Richard and I had under one hundred pounds a year on which to live. We could hardly pay the fees of a University out of that.”

“No, of course not,” Lord Cheriton agreed.

Wivina made a little gesture with both her hands as she said:

“So we came to live here.”

She spoke very simply. Then, as if he would not understand, she explained,

“The new Vicar is very kind to Richard. He teaches him for nothing and we are deeply grateful. But we could not expect him also to keep us at the Vicarage.”

“I suppose not.”

“And this house is so large. Do you know that there are eighty bedrooms here?”

“Room for you all,” Lord Cheriton said.

“A great many of the ceilings have fallen. I cannot bear it when I hear a thud in the night, because I know that either the exquisite paintings on them are ruined or the plasterwork is all over the floor and can never be replaced.”

There was a note in her voice which told Lord Cheriton that she really minded.

“I think you love this house,” he said aloud.

“Yes, I love it. I have always loved it,” Wivina answered. “I used to come here when I was a very little girl. It seemed to me like a fairy Palace. Then after Lord Cheriton died it seemed so sad that everything should get dirty and dusty and there should be cobwebs everywhere.”

She gave a quick glance at Lord Cheriton before she said,

“Mrs. Briggs’s niece had nowhere to go after her husband was killed fighting in Portugal.”

“So she is living here too?”

Wivina nodded.

“She was so grateful for a home and she said she would clean the place up. As you see, it now looks a little like it must have done years ago when Lady Cheriton was alive.”

“You knew her?” Lord Cheriton enquired.

He asked the question without thinking, then realised it was a silly one.

“I must have been six or seven when she died,” Wivina reflected, “but I remember seeing her in Church and thinking how beautiful she was. In fact I used to think that angels must look just like her.”

Lord Cheriton was silent.

After a moment Wivina went on,

“There is a picture of her upstairs. After she died and Lord Cheriton was too ill to leave his bedroom, I used to creep into the house to look at it and pray that one day I would be like her. She was very kind and everyone in the village loved her.”

That was true, Lord Cheriton thought, but they had hated his father, loathed and detested him!

He remembered when he passed in his carriage how he had seen the villagers shaking their fists at him and swearing beneath their breath.

His thoughts had carried him away from Wivina for a moment and now he realised that she was looking at him, an expression of pleading in her blue eyes.

“Now you understand,” she said, “that if you turn us away we shall, none of us – Mrs. Briggs, Rouse, Pender, Emma, Richard, and I – have anywhere to go.

“Please – please don’t tell Lord Cheriton. He is hard and cruel like his father and he does not care if we starve to death.”

“How do you know he is like that?” Lord Cheriton asked sharply.

“How can he be anything else,” Wivina asked, “when he has sentenced this house – this lovely – beautiful old house to die?”

Chapter Two

There was silence for a moment, then Wivina said in a different tone of voice,

“I am – sorry. I should not have spoken like – that. It was – wrong of me.”

“I think if one feels very deeply about anything,” Lord Cheriton replied, “one speaks the truth and that is what I would prefer to hear.”

Again there was silence, then Wivina said,

“I know that the late Lord Cheriton was a very hard, cruel man. Mrs. Briggs has told me how his son, John, ran away and no one ever heard of him again – but I suppose there are excuses for him.”