The Black Benedicts (10 page)

“
If you don
’
t mind,
”
she replied, for her ankle was hurting her a little, but she did not look too pleased to see all four of the others move off in the direction of the stables.

Serena was lifted up by her uncle to caress Shamrock, a shapely young chestnut without any vices, but he would not permit her to approach anywhere near to Saladin
’
s stall. Mallory leaned across the half-door and spoke to it softly, Adrian remaining close to her elbow, but only the owner of the big black went actually up to it and placed a strong, sensitive hand on its muzzle.

“
It
’
s a wicked-looking brute, isn
’
t it?
”
he observed at last, over his shoulder to his brother and Mallory.

“
I don
’
t think it
’
s so much wickedness as perversity that is its besetting sin at the moment,
”
Mallory voiced it as her opinion,
“
and the cure for that is a tremendous amount of exercise.
”

Her employer glanced round at her with an odd smile on his lips.

“
And I take it that you
’
d like to make yourself responsible for the exercising?
”

“
Oh, no, not me!
”
Mallory sounded quite genuinely horrified by the bare idea.
“
I couldn
’
t ride a horse like that—it would be much too strong for me—but I do admire it all the same.
”

“
How much do you really know about horses?
”
Raife inquired, looking at her curiously.

“
I
’
ve told you—quite a lot.
”

“
But you wouldn
’
t care to ride this one?
”

“
No; but I
’
d ride the chestnut.
”

“
Have you any clothes with you?
”

“
I
’
ve got jodhpurs.
”

“
Good! Then you shall have your wish, and one day you shall ride Shamrock. I
’
m getting a pony for Serena, and the two of you can get some exercise that way.
”

“
I think that
’
s a very nice idea,
”
Mallory told him, pleased, and Serena of course was delighted. Adrian looked on at them both as if he approved because they so obviously approved, and it was his wish that they should both be happy.

CHAPTER NINE

T
he
afternoon drive through a countryside coming alive with all the delights of Spring was, Mallory found, most enjoyable. She was a little surprised that Adrian drove so well, and that he seemed to have so much more confidence in charge of a car than he did at any other time—save, of course, when he was playing his piano—and also because he already looked younger than when she had seen him first. His eyes held none of the vagueness she had first surmised in them, and his smile was quick, and warm, and interested. Even to Serena he was much more affable, and she succeeded in amusing him at times just as much as she did Mallory.

The house they were to visit lay tucked away in a fold of steeply undulating country. Around it in the summer there would be golden fields of
w
heat and every other sort of grain, and above it rose wooded heights. Below it a river twisted and sparkled in the
c
hanging light, and beyond the river there were green water-meadows
w
here the peaceful cattle browsed.

Already the sap was bubbling in the bare branches of the trees, and in some cases Mallory could almost imagine a film of green overhanging them. A lark soared into the air and well-nigh burst its little throat with song when they slowed down to negotiate an unexpected sharp turn
w
hich actually brought them to the white gates of the house, beyond which rose twisted Tudor chimneys.

“
This,
”
said Mallory,
“
is another very old house, isn
’
t it?
”

“
Old, yes, but not so old as Morven,
”
Adrian told her,
“
and of course not nearly so big. In fact it
’
s just an enlarged and fairly recently modernized farmhouse, which was left to me by my great-aunt.
”

“
But you
’
ve never lived here?
”

“
No, never. I did plan to live here—once
...
”

His voice trailed away, and Mallory thought it wisest to say no more on that subject, for the time being at any rate. Instead she didn
’
t wait for him to open the car door but got down and assisted Serena to alight. Serena had not neglected to bring Belinda with her, and she was
e
xperiencing some difficulty in grabbing her by her always rather slippery middle and attaching a lead to her collar, to prevent her from wandering off and getting lost.

The house was unoccupied, even by a caretaker, and no sooner were they inside it than Mallory realized that it was badly neglected, although it possessed great possibilities. The floors were all of solid oak, and most of them had a slight list, and there were deep-set windows with diamond-paned lattices. The fire-places were huge and open, and the ceilings crossed by heavy beams. In the room which had once been used as the dining
-
room there was some fine linenfold panelling, and the drawing-room at that hour of the day had a lovely light from two windows which faced each other at opposite ends.

Mallory looked about her with appreciation, and Adrian watched her as if her reactions to what she saw were important to him just then. Serena raced about what had once been a child
’
s nursery and discovered an old rocking-chair which she misused very happily for several minutes.

The garden had once been laid out very attractively, but was now mostly given over to weeds. Mallory stood looking down at the face of an old sundial and traced the inscription upon it with the tip of her little finger.

“
Gather ye rosebuds while ye may
...
”

The usual inscription, and the usual injunction to make the most of life that is all too fleeting
...
!

“
I thought,
”
said Adrian, beside her,
“
of having something done to this place—of having it put into order again
...”

“
It would be a good idea,
”
Mallory replied rather absent-mindedly, for she was studying the shadow cast by the declining sun and trying to work out the time of day without consulting her own watch.
“
A very good idea
...
”

“
You think so?
”

His eyes were on her face, with its fair skin and its clear colour, her feathery-light eyebrows, that she darkened a little, although her eyelashes were exactly as nature intended them, long and much darker than her eyebrows, and dusted at the tips with something which looked like gold-dust. The way her soft hair, growing out of its short cut, turned upwards on the nape of her neck fascinated him.

“
Oh, yes—oh, yes, of course I do!
”
She suddenly realized that he was talking to her seriously, and roused herself to return serious answers.
“
It
’
s a beautiful old house, and if it belonged to me I wouldn
’
t let it remain like this for another day. At least, I
’
d start doing all I could to restore it with as little delay as possible. Why, there must be hundreds of people in the world who would go quite crazy about a place like this
...
”

“
I did think of selling it at one time,
”
he admitted.

“
But why should you sell it? Your own house—an enchanting old house in an absolutely perfect setting! Do you realize that this would be a kind of house agents
’
dream, particularly if there is any land going with it
.
..
?
”

“
There is q
ui
te a lot of land, but some of it is leased to neighbouring farmers. Even so, there are still a good
m
any acres which actually go with the house, and could be p
u
t to quite profitable use.
”

“
Have you ever thought of making use of them yourself?
”
she inquired.

“
What, farming, you mean?
”

“
Yes, farming. With someone to do the actual work, of course—but it would still be an interest
...
”

“
It would,
”
he agreed, and she could see that the germ of an idea had been born in his head.
“
It certainly
would
.”
He looked at her again, his dark eyes lightenin
g
.
“
Miss Gower, do you like living in the country?
”

“
I love it,
”
she confessed.

“
Even in such an isolated spot as this?
”

“
I think an isolated spot is more attractive than a densely populated one
...
”
She paused. Something in the way he was looking at her made her suddenly decide to
proceed
a trifle more cautiously. It was not impossible, of course, that h
e
could find her rather attractive, but if he did—she wouldn
’
t ever want to hurt him. No man who had been hurt as he had been hurt—once—must ever be hurt again
...
!

She said rather quickly:

“
I
’
m so sorry, but I
’
ve suddenly remembered I
’
m going out to supper to-night with the Hardings. Do you think we could get back now? I don
’
t want to be late
...”

“
Of course not,
”
he agreed at once, and led the way out to the car.

But when they had collected Serena and Belinda and were actually on their way back to Morven, Adrian Benedict still appeared much more cheerful than those who knew him well were accustomed to seeing him. And he was burning over in his mind schemes for the restoration of the White Cottage.

Mallory just had time to effect a few necessary alterations to her appearance before setting out to walk the not very considerable distance to the doctor
’
s house in the village. It was a lovely evening, as it had been a lovely day, and she chose to take the short cut through the park.

Walking between the magnificent straight aisles of beech trees, she caught a curious drumming sound behind her which she decided immediately was the sound of galloping horses
’
s hooves. She looked back over her shoulder, and in the faint blue dusk which was deepening moment by moment, in the shade of the trees she made out the
s
hape of a horse and rider coming towards her at speed. Instinctively she stepped aside, and then halted, but when the thunder of hooves grew louder and the man on the powerful black was almost abreast of her, unthinking she threw up a hand to greet them in passing and her whi
te glove gleamed ghostlike in th
e gloom.

There was a sudden, abrupt abatement of the horses
’
s speed, a kind of wild plunging of its iron-shod feet, and the next thing
s
he knew was that its forefeet had actually left the ground and
that it was rearing upwards like a black fury. When it came down its rider also came down clean over its head, for he had had no opportunity to adjust himself or his balance to the suddenly altered pace and angle of his mount, and to Mallory
’
s horror, there in the deep gloom of the trees, she discovered that it was her own employer who was lying, apparently unconscious, almost at her feet
.

Having relieved himself of his rider, Saladin trotted off quite happily apparently until he was lost amongst the trees, and Mallory knelt down fearfully beside Raife Benedict. She touched his face, which was, of course, still quite warm to her touch, and even in such a moment as that she noted how thick and crisp was his hair, and particularly the wave which persistently tried to dip down towards one eyebrow. His eyelashes lay thick and black on his cheeks, making him look much younger, and rather devas
t
atingly handsome.

But he showed no signs of life. She made up her
mind
that this was no time for nice feelings and slipped her hand inside his shirt, which was of thick, soft silk, and endeavoured to ascertain
w
hether
his heart still beat. And just as she did so he opened his eyes and looked up a
t
her, coolly, calmly, with
a hint of a smile in the sherry-brown depths.

“
I am neither dead nor dying, Miss Gower,
”
he told her.
“
So pray do not upset yourself or prepare to shed tears over me. Instead, give me a hand and help me up!
”