Beneath the Major's Scars (7 page)

There was a knock at the door.

‘If you please, miss, Major Coale is here to see you.’

‘Is my sister not available?’

The maid bobbed another curtsy. ‘He asked to speak to you,
ma’am.’

‘Oh.’

She turned to the mirror and picked up her brush, then put it
down again. Without removing all the pins, brushing out her curls and pinning it
all back up again, which would take far too long, there was not really much
improvement she could make, save to tuck an escaping tendril behind her ear.

Zelah pulled the neckline of her gown a little straighter,
smoothed out her skirts and, after a final look in the mirror, made her way
downstairs to the morning room.

The major was standing by the window, his back to the room and
his hands clasped behind him.

‘Good morning, Major Coale.’ He turned to face her, but with
his back to the light Zelah could not read his expression. She said quickly,
‘Nicky is in the garden, sir, if you wish to see—’

‘No, it is you I came to see,’ he interrupted her, his tone
more clipped and curt than ever.

She sank on to a chair. He ignored her invitation to sit down
and took a turn about the room. Zelah waited in silence, watching him. His right
leg was dragging and he was frowning, the crease of his brow making the scar
running down his face even more noticeable. Zelah clasped her hands tightly
together and waited.

‘Miss Pentewan.’ His shadow enveloped her as he stopped before
her chair. Then, with a slight shake of his head, he took another turn about the
room, saying as he walked, ‘You may think I should have spoken first to Buckland
or perhaps to your sister, to sound them out on the matter, but you are of age,
and knowing how you value your independence I decided to address you
directly.’

Zelah dropped her gaze. There was a slight crease in her own
brow now. Her heart was hammering so hard against her ribs she thought it might
burst free at any moment. She hoped he would not expect her to speak, for her
throat felt so tight she could hardly breathe. He approached, his steps thudding
a soft, uneven tattoo on the carpet and soon she was staring at the highly
polished toes of his topboots, yet still she could not look up.

He cleared his throat again. ‘Miss Pentewan, I have a proposal
for you.’

Chapter Four

Z
elah closed her
eyes, waiting for the world to stop spinning. After
a few deep breaths she opened her eyes, but could not bring herself to look up
into the major’s face. Instead she fixed her gaze on the rather poor landscape
painting on the wall.

‘A p-proposal, sir?’ Her voice was little more than a
croak.

‘Yes.’

She jumped up and went to the window, her hands on her burning
cheeks. What was she to say? Could this really be happening? She kept her back
to him as he began to speak again.

‘You have honoured me with your confidence and informed me that
you are seeking employment as a governess. I want to ask—that is, would you
consider a rather...
different
form of
employment?’

The heat and colour fled from her cheeks as swiftly as it had
come. She wheeled around, this time firmly fixing her eyes upon his face. Her
heart was still hammering but there was such a confusion of thoughts in her head
that she felt sick. She swallowed, hard.

‘Just what are you offering me, Major?’

He looked uncomfortable. She found herself praying.

Please do not let him say it. I cannot
bear to think he would even ask...

‘Miss Pentewan, you will know I am alone at Rooks Tower.’ Her
heart sank even lower. She clenched her hands together, closed her eyes and
prepared her answer even as he continued. ‘I have been struggling for some weeks
now but—madam, would you consider working as my archivist?’

‘Sir, thank you, but I could not possibly—
what?’

He shrugged. ‘Archivist, librarian, I am not sure what title
you would use, but I need someone to put my books in order. Rooks Tower has a
large library and I intend to make use of it. I have had the room decorated, but
have done nothing about unpacking the books I brought with me from Markham. I
have collected a great number of volumes over the years and transported them all
here, but they are in no particular order. It is the devil of a job and with the
summer coming on I need to be supervising the work outside as much as possible.
I just haven’t the time...’

She blinked at him.

‘You...you want me to, to
arrange your
books
?’

‘Yes. Oh, I know it is not the type of work you were looking
for, but from our discussions I received the impression that you were intent
upon becoming a governess because that is the only respectable occupation
available to a young woman.’

‘Respectable, yes, and...I know nothing about organising a
library!’

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

‘You told me you knew nothing about children, but that has not
stopped you advertising yourself as a governess. I need someone to sort out all
those damn—dashed volumes.’

‘But surely you should employ a scholar to do this, someone who
understands the value of your collection—’

Again that grimace distorted his features.

‘I am not interested in its value, only that the books are
recorded in some sort of order and that they are on the shelves and to hand when
I want them. They are, in the main, useful books that I have collected.’ He took
a turn about the room. ‘Besides, I do not wish to have a stranger in my house.
No, madam, I want the library organised and all the books catalogued during the
next few months. I see no reason why you could not walk over there every day and
continue to live with your brother and sister.’

‘I—I am not sure...’

He waved an impatient hand.

‘You need fear no impropriety. Mrs Graddon and the housemaids
will be present and I spend most of my time out of doors. I am willing to pay
you a total of fifty guineas for the work: twenty-five when you begin, and the
rest once the library is complete. It should not take too long, two months,
perhaps three at the most.’

‘Then the remuneration you offer is far too generous.’

He shrugged. ‘I want it to be done, and soon. The cost is not
important.’

Zelah shook her head, trying to think clearly. In the space of
a few minutes her spirits had experienced ecstatic heights, deep despair and a
fury of indignation, and all for nothing. He was offering her nothing more or
less than a job of work.

The major picked up his hat.

‘Perhaps you would like to consider it. Talk it over with your
sister.’

‘No,’ she answered him quickly. ‘No, I have made my
decision.’

If she discussed this with Maria or Reginald they might well
try to dissuade her, but here was an opportunity to earn her keep, albeit for a
short time, and remain with her family. She squared her shoulders, raised her
head and met his gaze.

‘I accept your offer, Major Coale.’

For a long, breath-stopping moment his eyes searched her face,
then he smiled and she found herself responding, until he looked away from
her.

‘Thank you, that is excellent news,’ he said crisply. ‘I see no
reason for delay. Report to Rooks Tower on Monday morning!’

* * *

‘My dear sister, have you lost your wits?’

Zelah gazed up at her brother-in-law, a laugh hovering on her
lips. ‘Why should you think that? I have merely accepted a very lucrative
engagement.’

She had kept the news of the major’s proposal until they were
sitting together in the drawing room after dinner. She had hoped that a good
meal would put Reginald in a more mellow mood, but her announcement was still
met with a mixture of indignation and amazement.

‘You cannot accept,’ declared Maria. ‘It would be most
improper.’

‘But I
have
accepted and there will
be nothing improper about the arrangement. Major Coale has already informed me
that he spends his days out of doors.’

‘For an unmarried lady to be alone in his house—’

‘I shall not be alone, Reginald, I shall be surrounded by
servants. Besides, who will know of it?’

‘The whole of Lesserton by the end of the week,’ replied
Reginald drily.

‘But it is a job of work. I shall continue to advertise for a
position as a governess, but until then it will give me a measure of
independence, and if the task takes only three months then I should be able to
save a good proportion of my money against hard times.’ Zelah looked at her
sister, begging her to understand. ‘I have been here long enough, Maria. I told
you when I came I would not be your pensioner. Major Coale has promised to give
me half my fee in advance. I intend to give some of it to you, to pay Nicky’s
school fees.’

‘But there is no need of that, Reginald and I have already
agreed—’

‘To sell the seven-acre field, I know.’ Zelah interrupted her.
‘I would much rather you took my money.’

‘Never,’ cried Maria, pulling out her handkerchief. ‘I would
not dream of taking your wages—’

Reginald held up his hand.

‘I think Zelah has a point,’ he said slowly. ‘To sell off the
field would mean less return at harvest. If we keep it, we may well be able to
repay your sister by the end of the year.’

Maria did not look convinced. She reached across and took
Zelah’s hands.

‘Oh, my dear, for any young lady to take such a position, in
the house of a man like Major Coale, would be to risk her reputation, but in
your case—’

‘In my case I have no reputation to risk.’

An uncomfortable silence followed Zelah’s bald statement. She
withdrew her hands from her sister’s grasp and rose.

‘I made up my mind when I left Cardinham that I would support
myself. I have caused my family enough sorrow and will not compound my guilt by
allowing you to keep me.’

‘But you might marry—’

‘You know I have set my mind against marriage.’

‘Oh, sister, pray do not say that—’

Reginald put up his hand to silence his wife’s protest.

‘My dear, Zelah is right,’ he said heavily. ‘Any man who formed
an attachment would have to be told of her...unfortunate past.’

Zelah winced.

‘But if a man truly loved her—’ cried Maria, looking
beseechingly at her husband.

Zelah shook her head.

‘Of all the requirements a man may have when looking for a wife
three things are paramount: good birth, good fortune and a spotless character. I
am afraid I have only the first of those requirements. So you see, it is much
better that I should learn to make my own way in the world.’ She smiled at them,
knowing tears were not far away. ‘If you will only allow me to continue living
here while I work at Rooks Tower, then I shall consider myself truly
blessed.’

‘Of course you may.’ Reginald came forwards to kiss her cheek.
‘We could not countenance you living anywhere else.’

* * *

‘Good day to you, Miss Pentewan. The master said you was
coming. I am to show you to the library.’

Despite having told herself that she did not expect the major
to be at Rooks Tower to greet her, Zelah was disappointed. She followed the
housekeeper through the hall, heading away from the main staircase and towards a
pair of ornate double doors. Zelah expected to pass through into a grand
reception chamber, but she was surprised to find herself enveloped in shadows.
When her eyes grew accustomed to the gloom she could see that it was indeed a
large room with a magnificent marble fireplace and intricate linenfold panelling
on the walls, but each of the long windows was shuttered to within a few inches
of the top, allowing in only enough light to see one’s way between the
furniture.

‘The master instructed that these shutters should remain
closed,’ explained the housekeeper. ‘This is the yellow salon and everything
here is just as it was when Major Coale bought it, but he never uses it. One
soon gets used to walking through the gloom.’ There was a tiny note of regret in
the older woman’s voice. She had reached the far end of the room and threw open
the doors. ‘This is where you will be working.’

The library was identical in size to the yellow salon, but here
the morning light shone in through a series of long windows that filled one
wall. The other three walls were lined with open bookcases in rich mahogany,
their ranks broken only by the doors and the ornate chimney breast. A large desk
and chair stood at one end of the room and a wing chair had been placed near the
hearth, but the remaining floor space was taken up with a multitude of crates
and boxes.

‘Goodness,’ murmured Zelah, her eyes widening. She felt a
little tremor of excitement as she thought of all the books packed in the boxes.
Who knew what treasures lay in store!

‘It is indeed a sorry mess,’ said Mrs Graddon, misinterpreting
her reaction. ‘I’m sure you’ll soon begin to set it all in order. The master has
left you new ledgers in the desk drawer and there’s pens, paper and ink, too.
Graddon will send someone to help you with the boxes.’

She went away and Zelah stood for a few moments, wondering just
where to start.

She began by exploring the room, running her fingers along the
smooth polished wood of the empty shelves and then over the cold marble of the
fireplace. She moved across the room. The long windows with their low sills
looked out on to a wide terrace where little tufts of grass sprouted between the
paving. Beyond the stone balustrade the grounds sloped down to the river before
the land rose again, the park giving way to woodland that stretched away as far
as the distant hills.

An idyllic setting, she thought, drinking in the peaceful
tranquillity of the scene. Then setting her shoulders, she turned again to face
the task ahead of her.

* * *

When the clock on the mantelpiece chimed four o’clock
Zelah looked up, surprised. She had no idea where the day had gone. Books were
piled haphazardly on the shelves and several opened crates littered the floor.
The volumes had been packed in no particular order, novels and religious tracts
jostling with books on wild flowers and a furniture directory. She would have to
go through them all before she could begin to catalogue them. The room looked
even more chaotic now than when she had started, but it could not be helped.

She tidied her desk and glanced around the room, mentally
deciding just where she would begin tomorrow. Her eyes fell upon the small door
in the far corner. The housekeeper had told her it led to the tower. Zelah stood
for a moment, indecisive. Perhaps, while no one was about, she would take a
quick peep at the tower.

The door opened on to a small lobby where a steep, wooden
stairway wound its way upwards. There was an air of neglect about the plain
painted walls and worn treads, but the banister was firm enough and Zelah began
to climb the stairs. A door on the first landing opened on to a storage room
which was filled with old furniture. Zelah gave it only a cursory glance before
moving on to the second floor. She found herself at last on a small landing. The
wooden stairs gave way to a narrow stone spiral staircase at the side of which
was a single door. Grasping the door handle, Zelah turned it, half-expecting it
to be locked. It opened easily and she stepped into a room filled with sunlight.
At first glance it seemed there were no walls, only windows from breast-height
to ceiling, the leaded lights divided by thin stone mullions and giving an
extensive view of the country in all directions.

The only solid wall was behind her, surrounding the door
through which she had entered and housing a small fireplace. There were just
three pieces of furniture in the room: a mahogany pedestal desk and chair and a
much older court cupboard pushed under one window, its well-worn top level with
the sill. Zelah knew that such pieces had been designed to display the owner’s
plate, a visible indication of wealth and status, but this cupboard was as empty
as the desktop. There was nothing in the room to detract from the magnificent
views. Zelah moved to the windows. From the first she could see right over the
forest and vales towards Devon, from the next the road curled off towards
Lesserton and the densely packed trees of Prickett Wood, while from a third she
looked out across the park and woods of Rooks Tower to the uplands of Exmoor.
She put her hands on the window ledge, drinking in the views.