The Black Benedicts (2 page)

The housekeeper looked suddenly rather thoughtful
.

“
I hope you won
’
t find it too lonely here,
”
she said.
“
We
’
re rather isolated where we
’
re situated,
and a very quiet household, except when Mr. Raife entertains—which he does do sometimes. And then we
’
re often uncomfortably crowded.
”

“
It
’
s a wonderful house to entertain in,
”
Mallory remarked with enthusiasm.
“
I
’
m sure if it belonged to me I should love to fill it with people who would admire it as much as I did.
”

Mrs. Carpenter remained silent
.

“
You said that it is unlikely I shall see my pupil to-night?
”
Mallory reminded her.
“
But if she
’
s nearly ten it
’
s hardly likely that she has gone to bed yet?
”

Again Mrs. Carpenter seemed to hesitate.
“
I
’
m not sure whether Darcy would wish you to see her to-night—she may even have to put her to bed early.
”

Mallory looked astonished, f
“
Surely not! And who is Darcy?
”

“
Darcy has been with Miss Serena for the last five years,
”
the housekeeper explained.
“
I suppose you would describe her as a kind of nannie.
”

“
But isn
’
t Serena a little too old for a nannie?
”

Mrs. Carpenter made a slight movement with her black-clad shoulders.

“
Darcy is not the typical kind of nannie,
”
she explained.
“
She is quite young, and she has been all the close companionship the child has had for years.
”

“
I—I see
...”
Mallory said slowly, not really seeing at all.

Mrs. Carpenter pressed a bell.

“
I will send for Rose to show you to your room,
”
she said.
“
I expect you will be glad to unpack and have a wash after your journey. And, by the way, don
’
t hesitate to make use of Rose to help you with your unpacking, and I hope you
won
’
t mind having your meals served in your own sitting-room. Otherwise it is a little awkward...
”

“
O
h
, of course,
”
Mallory agreed at once, anxious that no one should think she had imagined even for an instant that she would have meals with her employer. And her educational pretensions made it just a little incorrect for her to appear in the servants
’
hall...

A light tap came to the door and it swung open before the housekeeper could even grant permission.

Oh, hullo, Carpie,
”
said a man
’
s voice vaguely.
“
I thought I might find you alone...
”

He was quite a young man, and
very
slenderly built, with dark—intensely dark—hair and eyes. His skin was pale, with a hint of olive, and the co
rn
ers of his mouth had a melancholy droop. In the little sitting-room, with the firelight playing on white panelled walls, and an atmosphere of warm cosiness and intimacy, he stood looking a little uncertain and slightly fragile, with his back to the silent, shadow-filled hall.

“
What is it, Mr. Adrian?
”
Mrs. Carpenter stood up, and there was a certain amount of deference in her manner, perhaps also a shade of rebuke, but her voice was also extraordinarily gentle.
“
Is there anything I can do for you?
”

“
No, nothing, thanks.
”
He was staring at Mallory as if more than astonished to see her there, and then gradually his look became tinged with the merest suspicion of comprehension, a slow dawning as of recollection, and all at once he smiled It was a curiously charming smile, adding lustre to his extraordinary lustreless eyes; that were large and deep and long-lashed.
“
You must be Serena
’
s new governess!
”
he said.
“
How do you do?
”

Mallory gave him her hand, and he retained it within his for a second or so longer than was strictly necessary, as if he liked the feel of it. And then he let it go, smiling afresh.

“
Have you seen Serena yet?
”

“
Not yet.
”

“
I suppose that
’
s because Darcy has put her to bed early. Darcy
’
s a bit of a martinet.
”
The vague look crept back into his eyes, and they roved round the room.
“
I see you
’
ve just had tea,
”
he remarked
“
I expect you had a tiring journey?
”

“
Oh, it wasn
’
t really too bad,
”
Mallory assured him, and added:
“
And, anyway, it was worth it to arrive at such a wonderful spot as this.
”

“
You think so?
”
For an instant, like Mrs. Carpenter, he appeared pleased, and then he wandered away to the door.
“
Well, I hope you won
’
t find it too quiet here. It is very quiet—or some people might find it so. But I never do
...
”

The door closed behind him, and Mallory found herself looking for explanation at Mrs. Carpenter. The housekeeper
’
s expression was quite surprising—her eyebrows were uplifted in obvious astonishment.

“
Well!
...”
she said. And then a blank look descended over her face and
s
he pressed the bell again, hard.
“
I can
’
t think what
’
s keeping Rose
...”

CHAPTER
TWO

Rose c
ame in a few moments later, full of excuses and apologies for keeping them waiting, and Mrs. Carpenter reproved her with some severity. But Rose was a country girl with soft, dark, brilliant eyes, which suggested her roots were on the other side of the border, and she looked shyly at Mallory, and smiled at her very pleasantly, and conducted her willingly from the room.

On the way up the stairs, slippery with centuries of high polishing, Mallory paused to gaze at the portraits climbing the wall beside her. Dark men and women most of them, with here and there a lighter hue having the strange effect of a star
shining
unexpectedly forth from a welter of dominating blackness. The costumes in the portraits represented a cavalcade of changing fashions throughout several centuries, and one and all were distinguished by a certain elegance of appearance, and a touch of unmistakable highbredness in the cast of well-marked features. Mallory thought she recognized a Gainsborough amongst them, and a Lely, but her knowledge of the various Masters was not so great that she could establish without doubt the identity of any one of them when applied to their work.

The well of the stairs was lighted by a great swinging lantern descending by unseen bronze chains from the distant roof, but the warren of thickly-carpeted corridors along which she followed Rose—who frequently disappeared ahead of her—were much more fitfully illuminated. And the solemn ticking of more than one grandfather
cl
ock out of the dimness was a little uncanny, especially as footfalls made not the slightest sound.

When Rose flung open the door of a room on her right Mallory peered round it with the greatest curiosity. Then she drew a little breath of pure pleasure, for the comfort which reigned downstairs in the housekeeper
’
s sitting-room was equally well repeated up here, and her bedroom was just as delightful. Mallory took in the pleasant combination of mushroom-coloured carpet and dainty floral hangings, in which clear green and pale primrose predominated, and was a trifle awed by the enormous half tester bed with huge feather pillows and hemstitched sheets. There was a beautiful little Venetian mirror above the white mantelpiece, and magazines on a low table placed beside a deep armchair near the fire.

Rose insisted on unpacking her cases, although Mallory assured her she could do so quite well herself. Rose looked at her with those transparent golden-brown eyes of hers, and said softly that it was her job, and that Mrs. Carpenter had given her her instructions. She also inquired what time Mallory would like her dinner brought up, and whether she liked early tea in the morning.

Mallory looked at her humorously.

“
Are you going to try and ruin me?
”
she asked.
“
It
’
s I who get up and get the breakfast at home, and my early tea is usually consumed in the kitchen!
”

“
Then it will be nice for you to have a change,
”
Rose said decidedly.
“
I will bring tea to you at half-past seven, if that is not too early?
”

“
But you mustn
’
t do that when you have visitors,
”
Mallory told her.
“
While the house is more
or less empty I suppose it doesn
’
t matter, but when you have other people to attend to you must forget about me.
”

Rose
’
s attractive face seemed to grow shrewish all at once.

“
There are those whom it is always a pleasure to wait on,
”
she remarked, a trifle obscurely, and added:
“
And there are those,
”
with emphasis,
“
whom it is not!
”

And Mallory received the impression that amongst the visitors who sometimes came to the house were certain individuals who were not entirely approved of by Rose at least.

She went early to bed that night, for she was deadly tired, and she was a little curious to test the comfort of that enormous half tester bed. She felt a little lost when she climbed into it, and despite her weariness sleep did not come easily. With the light out and the electric fire turned off the room was very dark, but between gaps in the curtains moonlight found its way in after a
while
and silvered the edges of the furniture. Mallory tried to picture the scene outside, with that white light shining down on the terraced gardens and the slumbering Welsh hills. Almost
s
he was tempted to desert her bed and creep across the room to look upon it from the window, but the exquisite comfort of the mattress claimed her after a time, and she began to drowse.

Somewhere far off in the house someone was playing a piano, or it could have been the wireless. But it did not sound like the wireless. Sleepily Mallory decided that it was someone improvising, and the improvisation was a kind of fantasia on the th
eme
‘
Greensleeves
’
. It went on and on, rising and falling softly like a sweet spring torrent bubbling its way over moss. Then it changed to a snatch of Brahms, to the first movement of the Moonlight Sonata, and then back again to
‘
Greensleeves
’
. It was fascinating, and far from having a soporific effect it gradually restored Mallory to complete wakefulness.

She lay staring in the darkness and wondering who it was who was obviously finding pleasure and consolation in the mere touch of a piano at this late hour of the night. Oddly enough the word ‘consolation’ did actually pass through her mind, for she was a fair player herself, and she knew the magic and queer soothing effect to be obtained from sitting in front of the ivory keys and allowing one’s hands to wander over them. It was one of her favourite forms of relaxation after a day spent in attending to the wants of her mother’s little tribe of mixed spaniels and Pekinese, and supervising the cooking arrangements for the family as well. It was a kind of release, an outlet, when otherwise there would have been no outlet.

But after a time she forgot the music and began to think of other things. Why had she not been allowed to meet her pupil, Serena, when she arrived, and in what part of the house was the child quartered? Why was it that Mrs. Carpenter had not introduced Adrian Benedict to her downstairs in her sitting-room, and why had she looked at him as if for some reason he aroused her pity? Why did he appear so vague
...
?