The Black Benedicts (8 page)

It was permission to make an attempt to do so at least, which was a concession, she realized, when she was merely the governess.

With a careless pull at one of Serena
’
s curls he went out, and with his departure something forceful and virile departed also from the little sitting-room. And away down in the depths of the hall the great Burmese gong began to send forth its summons to dinner.

Serena was so excited that dressing her
w
as a matter of some difficulty, and as this was Darcy
’
s evening off Mallory had to take over the task of
making
sure her appearance left no room for criticism. She wanted to put on all sorts of trinkets, but Mallory forbade this, and in the end she looked altogether enchanting in a dress of broderie Anglaise, with a satin ribbon looped through her curls, and black patent-leather shoes. Mallory was more simply attired in her only evening frock, a misty grey georgette, which exactly matched her eyes, and with which she wore her mother
’
s pearls,
loaned to her in case she should ever need them.

Behind the drawing-room door when they reached it they could hear sounds of mirth and a great deal of conversation. Mallory was about to knock and await permission to enter, but Serena unhesitatingly thrust open the door, quite sure of her welcome, and stood beaming upon the threshold of the long, flower-filled, softly-lighted room.

Mallory had a confused impression of sleek heads of men and black dinner-jacketed forms, and dresses which repeated all the tints in the rainbow, seen through a haze of cigarette smoke, which was curling upwards to the Adam ceiling. One pair of eyes, enormous and green as a cat
’
s, and bla
ckl
y
l
ashed, gazed languidly across at her from the depths of the most comfortable armchair in the room, and their
owner had her feet on a footstool, and it was about her that all others seemed to be gathered, like courtiers paying homage before the occupant of a throne.

“
Why, Serena!
”
exclaimed this green-eyed beauty, in a voice that was as languid as her looks—and that she was beautiful no one could ever dispute, for hers was a beauty of colouring as well as perfection of feature, her complexion flawless as a paper-white rose, her lips red and inviting, her hair a coronet of silken black braids wound about her shapely head. And the dress she was wearing must have cost far more than even a popular ballerina could afford.
“
Come here, child I Come and see what we
’
ve got for you!
”

There was a basket on the rug in front of the glowing electric fire, and Serena made straight for it, holding her breath when out from it emerged a pure white Siamese kitten, whose ears
and tail had not yet acquired that delicate chocolate hue which would distinguish them later on. Its eyes were as blue as cornflowers, however, and Serena picked it up, crooned over it delightedly.
“
Oh, how perfect,
”
she cried.
“
How perfect!
”
She looked up at Mallory, and her eyes were sparkling.

“
Hold it, Miss Gower,
”
she invited, thrusting the kitten at her.
“
It
’
s as soft as silk.
”

Mallory took it from her gently, and the little creature, terrified by so many strange
humans
collected around it, nestled against her
as if
seeking protection, and unexpectedly loud purrs filled the room.

“
Why, it
likes
you,
”
Serena cried, as if amazed.
“
It likes you even better than it does me! Look, Uncle Raife, the kitten really likes Miss Gower!
”

“
The kitten has probably got good taste,
”
Raife Benedict observed, tossing away his cigarette in order to lean forward and tweak one of the soft white ears.
“
And Siamese kittens especially are reputed to have good sense as well.
”

His eyes, without any sign of humour in them, seemed to be looking curiously at Mallory.

Sonia Martingale
’
s voice, also as soft as
silk,
but with a note like ice behind .the unruffled
laziness
of it, remarked with apparent casualness:

“
I am not at all fond of cats, Siamese or otherwise. I much prefer dogs.
”

And she, too,
was
looking at Mallory, but there
was no
friendliness
at all
in her gaze.

Her host looked down at her, an odd smile curving his lips.

“
Poor Sonia,
”
he said teasingly, bending over her caressingly to pat her hands.
“
Didn
’
t the kitten purr loudly enough for you? Never mind!
”

“
I don
’
t mind,
”
Sonia assured him, looking up into his dark face with a brilliant smile.
“
My own dog comes into my room in the morning and gives me the most tremendous morning greeting, licking me all over the face. So why do I have to bother about any other animal?
”

“
You don
’
t have to bother about anything or anyone—they bother about you!
”
Raife assured her,
leaning
negligently against the white marble fireplace and carelessly lighting another cigarette.
“
And if you ask me, you possess an extraordinarily sensible dog
!
”
There was a look on his face as he studied his most beautiful guest which Mallory found it a little difficult to understand, for altogether there was a little flicker of something like tenderness in his eyes as they watched her, there was undoubted amusement behind the tenderness, and Sonia, she was quite sure, sensed it. She did not look too pleased.

“
I
am
tired,
”
she announced suddenly, and
assuming
the look of a wilting flower all at once.
“
I suppose I am not very strong yet, and it has been a long and tiring day.
”

“
Then you must go to bed early,
”
he said at once.

“
I loathe going to bed early.
”
She looked at him reproachfully.

“
Then we will all do something to amuse you and make you forget your tiredness,
”
and he came and sat on the arm of her chair and picked up one of her
perfect
hands, and this time his expression as he looked down at her was all tenderness, and Mallory concentrated all her attention on the kitten when
she
saw it softening the outline of his rather hard mouth.

CHAPTER SEVEN

M
allory
had only the vaguest recollection of what happened during the remainder of that evening when she thought about it afterwards. She knew that Adrian came across and spoke to her, and that he seemed glad of the opportunity to do so, and that she was introduced to an elderly man with a keen, business-like face and unusually white hair and shrewd eyes who had something to do with Miss Martingale
’
s professional life, and was as noticeably drawn to her as were all the other men in the room. Then there was Miss Martingale
’
s dresser—apparently an old friend as well—a plump, suburban kind of little woman, who ran liberally to rows of unreal pearls, and ought never to have worn purple velvet, because of her high colour. But she was friendly enough to Mallory, and plainly delighted and a little overawed by her surroundings.

There was also the local doctor and his wife and daughter, the latter a t
a
ll, slim girl with reddish hair and clear brown eyes who looked often and thoughtfully at Adrian. She, too, was particularly friendly to Mallory, and when they sat side-by
-
side for a short time they exchanged quite a few confidences considering the extreme brevity of their acquaintance.

Jill Harding explained that
she
worked in London as a model, but she had been ill, and was at home for a few weeks to recuperate. She invited Mallory, when she, got some free time, to visit them, and also to bring Serena, if she found it impossible to leave her behind.

“
That child has been well-nigh ruined by her un
cl
e, but she
’
s a
b
it of a poppet all the same,
”
she said.

“
Oh, there
’
s nothing very seriously wrong with Serena,
”
Mallory voiced it as her opinion.
“
Nothing, that is, that can
’
t very easily be put right—with her
uncle
’
s co-operation, of course,
”
she added.

“
Um!
”
Jill ex
cl
aimed, in a low voice. She was watching the host dividing his attention between his most important guest and her own mother, and her straight dark eyebrows met in a little frown.
“
Pity he doesn
’
t get married to someone who could really mother the child. All children are the better for someone who can at least
act
the part of a mother.
”

Mallory followed the direction of her gaze.

“
Miss Martingale is, I
believe, a wonderful dancer,
”
she observed, wondering whether Jill had her in mind as a mother for Serena.

Jill
’
s answer was uttered with sudden, and unexpectedly vicious disdain.

“
Oh, most people can do
something
,
and quite a few can do a lot of things! In this life I think it is better to do a lot of things averagely than one
thing
superbly—better for other people, I mean! And Miss Martingale is, of course, a
superb
dancer!
”

Mallory looked at her in mild astonishment.

“
But there are not many superb dancers in the world,
”
she reminded her.

Jill shrugged her shoulders carelessly.

“
Just as well, if you want my candid opinion!
”

She looked away and saw Adrian, standing a little disconsolately before one of the tall windows, parting the heavy velvet curtains and looking forth into t
h
e night.

“
Poor Adrian!
”
she murmured, with sudden sympathy, her brown eyes— so many shades
li
ght
er
than Adrian
’
s own— softening miraculously.
“
How terribly out of it he always looks, and there
’
s nothing very much anyone can do about it. It was a dreadful thing that happened to him.
”

“
Was it?
”
Mallory asked.
“
I haven
’
t been told a great deal about it, but I gather there was an accident.
”

Jill nodded.

“
And he lost his wife and his earning capacity all in a single evening! There is only one interest left to
him
in life, and that is his piano, and he really plays quite divinely.
”

“
I know,
”
Mallory told her.
“
I
’
ve heard him.
”

Jill looked at her in slight surprise.

“
Did he play for you, or did you just overhear
h
i
m?
”

“
I overheard
him,
and he played for me,
”
Mallory admitted.

At that moment Adrian turned and caught sight of them and gravitated ov
er
to the settee on which they were both seated.

“
You two girls look as if you might be holding some sort of a conference,
”
he remarked, with his gentle smile—but it was a smile which was largely for Mallory.
“
Have you any objection if I break it up and join you?
”

“
None whatsoever,
”
Mallory assured him, but she thought that Jill made rather a wry little face.

“
You honour us, Adrian,
”
she told him, in a very distinct voice.
“
It isn
’
t often you work up
enough interest on an evening su
c
h as this even to wish to break up a conference, as you term it. And I
’
m wondering whether it
’
s some particular magic Miss Gower possesses?
”

“
As to that,
”
Adrian returned, quite gravely, his eyes dwelling thoughtfully on his daughter
’
s governess
’
s face,
“
I think Miss Gower has got some sort of magic
w
hich has certainly had its effect on Serena. I was having a chat with the child a few minutes ago, and she tells me that she is already
‘
in love
’
with Miss
’
Gower. And she certainly never fell in love with Miss Peppercorn, or any of the others who have had temporary
c
harge of her.
”

Mallory felt herself colouring slightly, for some reason which she could not quite fathom, under the influence of this compliment, but Jill Harding looked at her with the faintly rueful smile still clinging to her lips.

“
There you are, Miss Gower! Serena has fallen for you! I wonder how many more conquests you will make in Morven Grange before you depart from it?
”

Her tone
was
light, but Mallory decided it was the moment to go in search of her small charge and take her upstairs to bed.

“
It
’
s late for her,
”
she said.
“
She
’
s accustomed to being in bed much earlier than this.
”

But before
she
left the room with Serena she saw that Adrian was no longer sitting beside Jill on the settee. He was back looking out of the window, that remote, lost look on his face.

Serena retired to bed with Belinda as usual, and it was arranged that Mallory should have the new kitten in its basket with her, in case, as Serena
phrased it in some anxiety, Belinda should
“
suddenly wake up and eat it in
the night.
”

“
Oh
I
don
’
t think Belinda has any cannibalistic
tendencies
of that order,
”
Mallory reassured her;
“
but it
’
s such a wee thing, it might be better it I took charge of it for a day or so, particularly as we don
’
t even know whether it
’
s house-trained
.”