An Introduction to the Pink Collection (8 page)

He tightened his arms so that she was held hard against a broad, comforting chest. He was taller by several inches, and she had a faint awareness of a soft thunder where his heart was.

Then there was another feeling, almost incredible, on the top of her head, as though he had planted a light kiss on her hair. But he released her straight after, so she might have imagined it.

“How do I put this back?” he asked, holding up the cap and pins.

“I'll do it. You go and – I don't know. Practise looking like an Earl.”

He grinned. “Do you think I'll pass muster?”

He looked splendidly handsome in a dark suit. But it was his height that was impressive, plus his broad shoulders and long legs.

His face was good looking, but it was more than that, she decided, giving the matter her full attention. It was his proud carriage, the way he carried himself with an air. And then there was the indefinable something in his blue eyes, the gleam of humour and lust for life that was never far away.

It was hard to see how Miss Wyngate would not fall in love with him. In fact, she was probably the one behind this, and her father was acting at her wishes.

Rena had a sense of alarm, as though she could see some terrible danger rushing towards John, and she might pluck him from its path.

But then she realised that she was powerless to do any such thing. They might find more coins, but were unlikely to find enough to help.

She returned to work with a heavy heart.

An hour later there was a sound of wheels outside the front door. They were here at last. She and John had talked so much about them that they had come to feel strangely unreal.

But now they were very real, standing outside, demanding admittance. She felt herself become breathless and a little afraid.

She pulled herself together and tried to assume the demeanour of a servant.

After all, she had wanted to be an actress. This was her chance.

The front door bell rang.

Eyes cast down she crossed the great hall and opened the door.

Outside stood a man in his fifties who, despite his lack of inches, managed to be extremely impressive. He was not particularly attractive, but there was something about him that she had never seen before, an aura of wealth, and power.

It was not only the fact that his heavy Astrakhan coat and gleaming top hat were obviously new and expensive. Nor that his diamond tie-pin was sparkling in the sunshine or that the ring on his finger was also a diamond. It was something more.

She felt it come at her like a blast of air from the furnace of hell. Sheer brute determination to have his own way in all things.Callousness, cruelty, the hardness of rock. She sensed all these things.

Sinister. She had used the word to John almost without thinking, but now that she was faced with the reality she recognised it at once. He was sinister. He was frightening.

And he was something far worse. Rena was a parson's daughter, subtly attuned to the vibrations of another world, and now the hairs stood up on the back of her neck as she recognised evil.

She had never met it before. It had been a theory, a biblical abstraction. Now, at this moment she knew, unmistakeably, that she was in its presence.

Standing beside him was his daughter. She was exquisitely dressed in what Rena assumed must be the very latest fashion. Her clothes were trimmed with fur, her brooch was pearl and her ear-rings were diamonds. Somebody was bent on announcing to the world that she was the daughter of a rich man.

And that same somebody had more money than taste, since Rena's mother, who had belonged to the gentry in her youth, had once told her that no lady ever wore diamonds before six in the evening, and then never with pearls.

“Good afternoon, ma'am.”

“My name is Wyngate. Lansdale is expecting me.”

His voice was unpleasant and grating, and the way he said “Lansdale” made it clear that he already felt able to command here.

She murmured something respectful and stood back to let them pass. Mr Wyngate  shrugged off his coat and tossed it to her without a second glance. His silver topped stick followed.

Now that he was divested of his top coat Rena could see that there was something strange about his body. He was not a tall man, but his shoulders were very broad and his arms very long. His head, too, was slightly too large for his body. In fact he reminded her of a picture of an ape that she had once seen in a picture book at home.

Then John was there, striding across the hall on his long legs, looking, Rena thought, more handsome than any man had the right to. And it seemed absurd to think that Miss Matilda Wyngate would not fall in love with him.

“Good to see you again Lansdale,” Wyngate grated. “You remember my daughter.” It was a statement, not a question.

“I remember Miss Wyngate with great pleasure,” John said politely.

Matilda smiled up at him in a way that reminded Rena of John's words. “She's very quiet, and some men might find that charming.”

It was true. Matilda was no beauty but neither was she plain. Her oval face was pale, her demeanour was shy, and she did have charm.

“I remember Your Lordship very well,” she said softly.

“None of that,” her father said curtly. “You don't have to ‘lordship' him. We're Lansdale's equals any day.”

“Indeed you are,” John said. “And you are both very welcome to my house. Rena – ” he turned to her unexpectedly, “please come and meet our guests.”

The idea of a man introducing his housekeeper was outrageous, and plainly Mr Wyngate  thought so too, for he turned cold eyes on Rena.

“This is my cousin, Mrs. Colwell,” John continued, apparently oblivious to their astonishment. “She is visiting me to help me look after the house.”

There was a twinkle in his eyes as he added: “She will tell you she has found it even worse than she had expected. Rena, my dear, these are my friends. Mr Wyngate  who has been very kind to me and his charming daughter, Matilda who has come with him to see the ruins which have so shocked us.”

Rena shook hands with them both, her head whirling.

It was all very well trying her hand at being an actress, but she had not expected the role to change without warning.

Then she realised that John had forgotten one essential stage ‘prop'.

A wedding ring.

Where could she find a wedding ring at a moment's notice? Did men ever think of anything?

To conceal the bareness of her left hand she thrust it into the pocket of her dress. And there, to her surprise she found a broken ring which had fallen from one of the pictures. She had taken it down because it was dangerous.

Quickly she slipped the ring on her finger, keeping the broken part well hidden. With luck, it would pass as a wedding ring, if nobody looked too closely.

“I do hope,” she said aloud, “you have had a good journey from London.”

“An excellent journey,” Mr Wyngate  grated. “Fortunately there are trains to this part of the world, or at least to Winchester. After that we had to take a coach, but I fancy that will soon be remedied. The railways are the only modern way to travel, and in time the whole country will be covered with them.”

Rena remembered that this man had made his fortune from railways. Clearly he was determined that everyone should be aware of that fact.

But while he spoke he was looking round at the dust and dirt in the hall. Following his eyes Rena thought that it would take at least two or three men a week to get the hall clean and tidy. And he knew that.

She had forgotten that the windows were broken. She also remembered that the stairs going up on one side of the hall were in need of a wash. The carpet on them had almost lost its colour and was torn in many places.

And all the while Mr Wyngate  absorbed these details he continued talking about railways.

He was a machine, Rena thought, capable of splitting his mind so that it worked in two ways together.

“Now I want you to show me the house, which I can see at a glance needs a lot doing to it,” Mr Wyngate  said in a brusque voice.

“I think what you should have first is a little rest after your drive,” the Earl suggested. “Perhaps a glass of wine would revive you. Come into the drawing room which is the most civilised room so far. We will show you all over the house later.”

“I will not refuse a glass of wine,” Mr Wyngate  said. “I am sure Matilda will say the same.”

“I think it is so exciting to be in the country,” Matilda replied. “I would like to go out into the garden.”

“I will be glad to show you,” Rena said at once. She was glad of the excuse to get out of Mr Wingate's orbit. She found him horribly oppressive.

At the same time she was interested to study Matilda, and Matilda's clothes. Shut away in this quiet place she had had no opportunity to study fashion. Now she realised that crinolines had grown to a vast size. Matilda's was so enormous that it swayed as she moved, and she only just got through the French windows.

She wore a huge skirt of honey coloured velvet, which in itself marked her out as wealthy, Rena thought wryly. Only a woman who could command armies of cleaners could wear something that would dirty so quickly. The blouse above it was white silk, and over that she had a little jacket of matching honey velvet.

But it was her hat that undermined all Rena's resolutions of virtue. It was a perky little creation in the same velvet, worn over her left eye and sporting a feather.

What would it be like to own such a hat? She wondered. And suddenly her dowdy dress with its narrow petticoats seemed a crime against nature.

“This was once a beautiful garden,” she said as they strolled in the sun together, “but now, I'm afraid, only the wild rabbits and the birds enjoy it.”

Matilda laughed. “They must have lots of fun playing here with no one to stop them.”

“I only hope they appreciate their freedom,” Rena said. “I know when I was very young I would have loved to have a place like this to play in. Let me show you the lake.”

They moved away together, deeper into the grounds.

In the drawing room Mr Wyngate  looked around him. Watching him, John had the same sensation as Rena, that here was a man who noticed everything and calculated exactly how to take advantage of it.

He felt uneasy and troubled. He was a blunt man, a man of action. If an enemy ship had appeared on the horizon he would have known how to deal with it bravely and efficiently. Even ruthlessly. But this situation required dodging, feinting and subtlety. It needed skill with words.

In short, it needed Rena.

And she had abandoned him to manage as best he could.

“So what are you going to do?” Mr Wyngate  barked. “You're not going back to sea, are you?”

“I'm finished with the sea,” John said. “I have enjoyed seeing the world, but that's now in the past.”

“So you're going to live here?”

“Yes.”

“Good. That's how it should be. Houses like this are part of our country's heritage.”

It gave John an eerie feeling to hear such words falling from this harsh man's lips. He sounded as though he'd learned them by rote.

“Our country's heritage,” Mr Wyngate  repeated, as though having taken the trouble to learn the correct expression he wanted to get full use out of it, for reasons of economy.

“And our country's heritage must be protected,” he went on. “For the sake of future generations. Children. Grandchildren. They need houses like this to remind them of our glorious history. Such places are a sacred trust. They must be preserved at all costs.”

His voice was like the cawing of a rook.

“But the place is falling down,” he went on. “How the devil do you manage to live here?”

“I have nowhere else to go, and very little choice about how I manage here! I can't sell the house or the lands because they're entailed. They have to be passed on to my heir – intact, which is rather amusing considering the state they're in now.”

Mr Wyngate  leaned back against the sofa, and looked pleased.

“That is exactly what I want to talk to you about,” he said. “You'd find this place very empty and depressing – if you did not have your cousin with you.”

He left the last words hanging in the air, having given them a sly emphasis that made John want to hit him.

“If you mean what I think you do, sir, then let me inform you that my cousin is a most honourable lady, of impeccable reputation and – ”

“Yes, yes, yes,” the other man said testily. “I'm sure she's as pure as the driven snow. They always are, you know, and if you haven't learned that by now then it's time you did. Never mind her. I don't care what you do as long as she's out of the way when the time comes. I don't want any trouble, d'you hear?”

“I fail to understand you, sir,” said John stiffly.

“No, you don't. You understand me perfectly. We're both men of the world and it's a fair bargain. I'll probably be out of pocket, but I don't mind paying for what I want, as long as I get what I pay for. And I always get what I pay for, because there's trouble if I don't.”

John stared at him, feeling sick with loathing at this man who spoke of Rena in such a way. He would have liked to slam his fist into Wyngate's face. The only thing that had prevented him was the reflection that he himself had exposed Rena to this by claiming her as his cousin.

To have inflicted violence on him would had cast further suspicion on Rena, so John clenched his fists and controlled himself with a violent effort.

Wyngate's cold eyes met his.

“I'm quite sure you follow me,” he said.

John had the nightmarish sensation that cobwebs were being spun around him, and when he tried to break them he would find that they were made of steel.

Where was Rena?

Why didn't she come and help him?