Gates of Dawn (14 page)

In the kitchen Mrs. Abbie was looking and feeling hot and bothered as she dished up the dinner with the one
-
armed assistance of Brigid. Melanie caught up an apron from off the door and tied it about her slender middle, starting off for the dining-room with a pile of Sevres plates. But by an unfortunate circumstance, as she crossed the hall, her employer was also descending the stairs, looking as faultlessly perfect in his evening things as only a personable male of exactly the right height and breadth of shoulder and sleekness of head can look in such regalia. And although at first he appeared only mildly astonished to see her clasping the better part of a dinner-service to her bosom, the astonishment was rapidly chased away by a look of haughty indignation:

“
Miss Brooks!
”
he exclaimed.
“
What did I tell you at tea-time? You are
not
employed here in the capacity of a parlormaid, and if Mrs. Abbie is short of help she must get some from the village. I will not permit you to undertake Brigid
’
s duties. Take those back to the kitchen.
”

But Melanie decided that this was absurd, and in any case she was not going to carry the plates meekly back to the kitchen and meet the astonished looks of the housekeeper and her one solitary helper. So, after gazing at him for a moment and biting her lip, she continued on her way across the hall, entered the dining-room and deposited her load on the sideboard, amongst the dishes of fruit and the holly. And when she returned to the hall, expecting him to tear her limb from limb, he merely looked at her with rather a strange gleam in his eyes and said tersely,
“
Come into the library!
”

She followed him into the library. It looked supremely comfortable, with its deep leather chairs and its roaring fire, its boxes of cigarettes and whisky decanter and syphon on a little low table close to the hearth. She herself had arranged the flowers on his desk—some really choice chrysanthemums, which gave off a tangy odor—and placed the garland of glistening laurel above the portrait in oils of an inflammable-looking gentleman in the costume of an eighteenth-century admiral which hung above the fireplace. And Baxter was purring happily in his master
’
s chair.

That master took up his position in the centre of the hearthrug, and subjected Melanie to a look which was intended to reduce her to, at least, a semblance of contrition. But apart from the fact that she felt awkwardly conscious of the apron tied over her cloudy-grey dinner-dress, and she realized he had some justification for his annoyance, Melanie was unperturbed, and her eyes gazed back at him almost serenely. He suddenly threw back his head and gave vent to a short burst of laughter.

“
What a girl!
”
he ex
cla
imed.
“
To coolly defy me as if I wasn
’
t master in my own house, and as if I hadn
’
t already offered to double your salary! But poor old Abbie is probably having hysterics in the kitchen, so I
’
ll forgive you!
”

He walked over to his desk and picked up an envelope that was lying there. As he did so Melanie
’
s eyes were attracted to a long, leather-covered box which lay open beside a neat stack of parcels, its inner bed of white velvet attracting like a magnet all the rays of light in the room. And on the white velvet the creamiest row of perfect pearls was displayed for anyone to ga
z
e at.

“
Oh!
”
Melanie exclaimed, the expression drawn out of her without the volition of her will.
“
How absolutely lovely!
”

He followed the direction of her eyes and looked down at the pearls. His face became quite inscrutable as he gazed.

“
You like pearls?
”
he asked distantly, after several moments of silence.

“
I?
”
Melanie hesitated.
“
Who—who doesn
’
t?
”

“
Certainly not many women
,
apparently,
”
he replied shortly, and snapped down the lid of the case and thrust it away in a drawer. Then he came over to her and offered her the envelope.

“
A small cheque as a little Christmas gift,
”
he told her.
“
I didn
’
t know what to get you, so I thought you
’
d better get something for yourself.
”

“
It
’
s very kind of you,
”
she replied, stumbling a little in her thanks. And then she added childishly:
“
But I
’
m afraid I haven
’
t got anything for you!
”

“
You can give me your promise to be more obedient in future,
”
he said, surveying her.

The door opened without anyone attempting to knock, and Sylvia stood framed in the opening. She had changed to a dress of white slipper satin which clung to her as if it loved her, and hung in graceful, classical folds above her ankles. Her arms and her shoulders and the upper portion of her exquisitely formed bust were as bare and as white as the untrodden snow outside, and there was a white flower in her hair, and a suggestion of sparkling stones about her throat.

“
Am I intruding?
”
she inquired in a remote voice, looking with icy disdain at Melanie.
“
Or am I, at any rate, interrupting something?
”

“
Nothing of any importance,
”
Richard assured her, in a level tone, and Melanie hastily made good her escape. As the door closed and shut them in together she pictured Sylvia going over to him on the thick skin rug before the fire and looking at him with her enormous green eyes in a penitent fashion, and apologizing in a way it would be quite impossible to resist for her sudden loss of temper after tea. And whether she already knew it or not one of her admittedly dearest wishes was about to be realized, and if the pearls were not handed over to her tonight they probably would be in the morning. And they had just that faint touch of pink in them which she had specified. They would look enchanting on her white neck.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

ON the whole Melanie decided that she was not sorry when Christmas was over, although for her Christmas had always been a happy time, and she had
m
any treasured memories of joyous Yuletides with her father. But whereas she and her somewhat unwise but infinitely human parent had known how to infuse a spirit of happiness and good cheer into the always essentially sparse economy of their days, at the Wold House, where there was no necessity for any sort of economy, that spirit was quite noticeably absent, although efforts were certainly made to introduce it.

On Christmas morning, so far as she was aware, no one but herself went to church, although the bells pealed lustily across the hard frozen moors, and for a short time even the sun shone. Noel, when she approached her for her company, seemed strangely adverse to the idea of the short service—possibly, as
Melanie
realized, because this was the first Christmas she could remember which she had not spent attending bleak services in the icy-cold school chapel, together with a handful of girls left over from all the fun and frivolity of Christmas at home. So Melanie decided not to press her but to leave her examining her unexpectedly large collection of gifts, amongst which Melanie had bestowed on her a beautiful hand-worked nightdress which had thrilled her immensely. And in return she had given Melanie a small sketch of the Wold House executed quite cleverly by herself, which Melanie knew would always remind her of these days.

On her way home from church she wondered why it was that, with everything to bolster the festive spirit, things seemed to be falling flat in the house on the edge of the moors. She herself, if invited to be a member of a house-party in such surroundings, could have found the utmost enjoyment in daily tramps to explore the district, despite the weather—which was now freezing so hard that every tiny trickling burn and sheet of open water, which in summer reflected nothing but the blue sky and the lazy
flight of birds, had become immovable, and almost fantastically white, as if an Arctic spell had been laid upon the land. And the unrelenting severity of it would have had a queer, uplifting effect upon her spirits, particularly with the thought of the warm fires and the comfort of the Wold House to return to. But Sylvia Gaythorpe, although she was willing to dance half the night—and last night the radio-gramophone had enjoyed very little respite until the small hours, which was probably one reason why Mrs. Abbie had not looked in a particularly seasonable humor at breakfast that morning—was apparently unable to face more than half a grapefruit and some very black coffee served to her on a tray in her room on Christmas morning. And the very idea, as she snuggled beneath her bedclothes with her curtain still drawn, of venturing forth into the white world would have struck her as a trifle mad.

Melanie wondered whether she had even yet examined the many presents she had received—including her pearls! Such exceedingly perfect pearls must surely have delighted her!

Melanie looked to see them appear on her neck during the next few days, but rather strangely enough they did not do so, and she wondered whether perhaps Richard Trenchard had changed his mind about them, or was holding them over for some other occasion. But they had undoubtedly been chosen with a view to satisfying the exact taste of Miss Gaythorpe.

On Boxing Day and the day after the company did little but do ample justice to the excellent and seasonable fare provided by Mrs. Abbie, and test the comfort of the chairs and settees in the lounge. They lay about in very languid attitudes and looked, at times, a little bored, as if they were conscious of something lacking in their entertainment. Even Sylvia, who tried to be consistently sweet to her host, revealed occasional claws when the wireless programme ceased to be of interest, or when she suddenly thought of their isolated situation, and the fact that the snow might last for days yet. She was not interested in literature—only the glossy type of magazines from which she obtained hints for her truly astonishing wardrobe, which contained outfits which she fondly believed were exactly the right sort of country-wear for a holiday such as this, but
which did not include a single pair of shoes (or boots) that
would take her through the snow dry-footed! And recognizing herself as a prisoner, unless Richard got the car out and drove her somewhere—but where was there to drive to in this bleak countryside?—she grew a little fractious, and even peevish, at times, and once or twice crossed swords with Richard, whom the festive season now seemed to have rendered a trifle more arrogant and impatient than
usual.

But Melanie, in the role of an onlooker who was regarded as a complete outsider by Sylvia, took note of the fact that she knew precisely how far to go with Richard, and that she was always ready with her endearments and her consoling speeches when her little burst of spleen was over. Indeed, on one occasion she actually flung her arms around his neck while the others were all present and imprinted a kiss on his cheek—leaving a smear of lipstick which he impatiently wiped off when he saw it in a mirror—and cooed so softly and repentantly into his ear that Melanie was conscious of feeling suddenly almost acutely embarrassed. But the rest of the company—apart from Tony Malpas, her weedy admirer, who did not appear to be enjoying his Christmas holiday—merely looked on indulgently and smiled—especially Mrs. Gaythorpe. And Melanie thought she knew what Mrs. Gaythorpe was thinking and hoping.

She decided to withdraw to her own room for a time after this little exhibition, but her employer saw her go, and followed her out into the hall.

“
Where are you going?
”
he asked curtly.

“
Upstairs to my room,
”
she told him truthfully,
“
to read for a little.
”

“
Christmas is not a time for reading,
”
he answered her abruptly.
“
It
’
s a time for being sociable. Come back and join the others and don
’
t try and run away again.
”

Thus ordered to do so she felt bound to obey, but there was no enjoyment for her in being an unwanted member of
a
party whose ways were most certainly not her ways. And fearing a repetition of the affectionate demonstration she sat uneasily on the edge of her chair and fought against a rather sick feeling which took possession of her
a
t times, because the march of events could be so easily foretold and very soon, she knew, the Wold House would have a mistress! And then she, presumably, would return to Mrs. Duplessis
?

That Sylvia would see she went quickly she realized whenever she caught the faintly malevolent—where she was concerned—green eyes upon her. Sylvia had no more time for her than she, secretly, had for the exotic film star. And two evenings later some of her spite leapt out.

Sylvia has discovered a way of banishing her boredom when it was proved that the lake in the grounds was frozen to a depth of several inches, and that it was quite safe to skate on it. Sylvia, who did so many things gracefully, was almost a champion skater, and she persuaded her host to make the journey into Murchester where they found it possible to obtain skates. And then she treated them to an exhib
i
tion of her skill upon ice.

With a bright cap upon her flaming hair and an even brighter jumper and short, whirling skirt she treated them to a display of every type of turn and half turn and graceful pirouette. She even waltzed with Tony Malpas, who somewhat surprisingly was almost as skilled as she was, and their host congratulated them both with obvious sincerity when they ceased their performance. Melanie thought he looked at Sylvia with increased admiration in his eyes, which was so obvious that she did not altogether blame Sylvia for almost acting the part of a hostess at dinner that night, and putting forth suggestions which she obviously did not intend should be ignored.

And one of the suggestions was that they should repeat the afternoon interlude upon ice by moonlight. The others all seemed to think it a good idea, especially as that night the moon was to be almost at its full, and was already transforming the grounds into a near likeness of fairyland.

Only Mrs. Gaythorpe elected to stay beside the drawing
room fire. Melanie could see that Noel, although she had enjoyed the afternoon
’
s entertainment, was not greatly tempted by the thought of the icy cold which would await them without, and the dark shadows on either side of the lake where they two, who did not skate, would take up their
positions as spectators. And as she had not yet quite got rid of her slight snuffly cold Melanie made up her mind to get her excused if she could. But Sylvia, who was wrapping herself in a mink coat in the hall, instantly turned on her.

“
Really, Miss Brooks! What on earth do you imagine you
’
re going to turn Noel into if you persist in coddling her like this? You muffle her up at every turn, and the poor child doesn
’
t get a chance to get away from you! I
’
ve watched you and your methods, and I think Mr. Trenchard is
most
unwise to permit you so much freedom with his niece.
”

“
What is this that is so unwise?
”
Richard, who was winding a white silk scarf about his neck over his dark evening coat, came forward into the centre of the hall to ask rather blandly.

Instantly Sylvia turned to him.

“
My dear Richard,
”
she exclaimed, making an almost French gesture with her hands,
“
surely you can see that a sixteen-year-old girl is not to be treated like a babe-in-arms and denied all the fun which is her right? Miss Brooks now suggests that Noel
goes upstairs to bed
”
—Melanie had not even mentioned bed—
“
instead of coming outside with the rest of us and having a good time! Probably,
”
she added scathingly,
“
Miss Brooks herself is afraid of the cold, and so Noel is to be sacrificed to her comfort!
”

This sounded so melodramatic that even Melanie was somewhat amazed, although not so much as at the venom which lay behind the words, and Richard turned and looked at Melanie gravely.

“
Are you afraid of the cold, Miss Brooks?
”

“
No, of course not,
”
she answered hastily.
“
At least, not for myself.
”

“
But you
’
re afraid that Noel might take cold?
”

“
She already has a cold.
”

“
I don
’
t wonder!
”
cut in Sylvia bitingly.
“
She never gets a chance to become hardened. She
’
s always wrapped up in cotton wool.
”

Richard glanced at his niece, who was alarmed at having created such an unexpected stir, and was certainly looking very much better and healthier than she had looked in London. It did not strike him that the clear, cold, sparkling
air of a radiant moonlight night could do her much harm, especially if she kept moving. And it would be unfair to deny her such an obvious treat.

“
Miss Gaythorpe is right,
”
he said, with sudden curtness, to Melanie.
“
I do not wish my niece to be consistently coddled, Miss Brooks. After all, we have to remember that in this world there are few people who can remain coddled once they have left their schooldays behind them. It is essential to become toughened and ready to face up to life.
”
Melanie experienced almost as much shock as if he had slapped her across the face. And then she recovered the normal, quiet possession of all her senses and answered levelly,
“
Very well, Mr. Trenchard. I
’
m sorry if I
’
ve been pursuing the wrong methods.
”

“
With probably the best intentions you
’
re not really helping Noel. I
’
m anxious for her to overcome that absurd sensitiveness of hers, and as this place obviously suits her you mustn
’
t try to hold her back.
”

“
As you have been doing,
”
Sylvia added,
“
we
’
re not living in the mid-Victorian era, you know, Miss Brooks.
”

“
Go and get your coat,
”
her uncle said to Noel, who had not the courage to support Melanie by adding her own plea to be excused. And to Melanie he added, with the faint beginnings of a smile:
“
Why, you
’
re rather like a hen with one chick, aren
’
t you, the way you fuss over that child? But you must remember that youth needs to be encouraged, not driven into a shell. And Noel will require to be extricated from her with a tin-opener if we allow her to retreat into it any further!
”

Melanie said nothing, and Sylvia seized his arm.

“
And if you want to know what I personally
think
,”
she said softly, leading him forth into the night,
“
there
’
s nothing like a first-class finishing school for a girl at that age. On the Continent!
I
went to a finishing school outside Paris, and believe me I thoroughly enjoyed myself, as is natural when you
’
re amongst a lot of other girls. This attitude of clinging to
one
person is absurd—quite seriously absurd!
”

Melanie stood listening as their voices died away, and she heard Richard teasing Sylvia lightly.

“
So that
’
s why you
’
re such an altogether finished article!—since you went to a finishing school! But are you proposing that I shall settle the bills for this extravagant experiment, when I
’
ve already provided the chit with a home?
”

Noel, with apology in her eyes, touched Melanie
’
s arm gently, and the two girls went outside, following the others
’
into the night.

Melanie was very thoughtful as they walked up and down, doing their best to keep warm in a niggling, bitter wind which seemed to be blowing straight off the wastes of the Arctic. The lake was certainly brilliant and beautiful in the moonlight, and the shadows of tree and shrub were like blue pencils on the snow. Sylvia had discarded her coat and was describing an intricate figure, her friends were experimenting with skates for the first time and enjoying themselves with shrill laughter, and only Richard Trenchard, the host, stood alone at the edge of the great sheet of ice. Melanie wondered whether he was too conscious of his dignity to risk a tumble like the rest, and she also wondered, as she watched the glow of his cigarette, whether he knew that they were pacing up and down behind him.

Noel shivered suddenly, as she clung to Melanie
’
s arm.
“
It
’
s c-cold,
”
she muttered, through chattering teeth.
“
Do you mind if we walk a bit faster? We might even go as far as the Lodge.
”

Melanie put an arm about her as if to protect her from the chill menace of the night.

“
Would you like to go in?
”
she asked at once.
“
You can if you want to, you know.
”

“
But they won
’
t
l
-like it,
”
Noel demurred, looking towards the frozen, glittering surface of the lake where the others were still disporting themselves, and where her guardian still stood watching.
“
It might have been better if we
’
d said we
’
d skate, but I don
’
t think there are any skates over.
”
She paused, and then,
“
Did you hear what she said about school?
”
she asked.
“
Melanie, I think she
’
s hateful, and I don
’
t want to go away to school again,
”
with a white, pinched, apprehensive look.