Gates of Dawn (4 page)

Melanie said nothing. She went up the stairs with the sound of Sylvia
’
s second insistent
“
Richard
!”
in her ears, and his answering, casual
“
Coming, my sweet!
”
while her wrist tingled a little where his fingers had encircled it. She decided that she hated him to touch her, even when it meant coming to her rescue. She wasn
’
t at all sure that she didn
’
t hate him altogether, despite his consideration for his niece. Apart from that one weak spot he was iron-hard and self-sufficient, but susceptible, apparently, to flattery. He would get that from Sylvia Gaythorpe.

CHAPTER
FOUR

RICHARD TRENCHARD
’
S visit was extended for only
another two days, and then he returned to London. His sister seemed to draw a deep breath of relief when he had gone, leaving her once more without the need to exert herself in any way she did not choose in order to entertain him, and the atmosphere of the White Cottage became again completely feminine. Melanie wondered a little whether, before his departure, Richard had mentioned his intention of depriving her of her secretary-companion when the need arose: but, if so, Eve Duplessis gave no sign.

Possibly, thought Melanie, she was too overwhelmingly conscious of the escape this would mean for her, in that her well-ordered and luxuriously comfortable home-life would stand no danger of being disrupted by an unwanted and unwelcome stranger niece at the awkward age of fifteen. And secretaries—even the best of them—can be replaced. Melanie was by no means indispensable, and if she had to be offered up as a sacrifice, well
—
!

It was all in the cause of an ordered peace, and Mrs. Duplessis had trodden the calm and untrou
b
led ways all
her
life. Also, if her consc
i
ence occasionally disturbed her
at all
in connection with her brother
’
s child, here was an opportunity to salve it!

In any case, life pursued its normal course, and with the approach of autumn, and the shortening days, there were a few more bridge parties, and cosy little luncheon-and dinner-parties, which Eve so much enjoyed. Melanie wrote
her
letters and exercised Potch, and drove the car into Murchester to change her library books and match her knitting wools, and performed all the useful little daily errands which she herself would have disliked very much to perform. And some new people arrived in the district and gave a delightful dance to celebrate their arrival, and
the
Vicar announced a Grand and Imposing Sale of Work
which
would mean the display of some of her finer petit-point, and Melanie taking over the charge of a stall. And a new amateur dramatic society was being formed locally, and she was being pressed to act as a judge of talent, and there were always the demands of the Women
’
s Institute. She liked to feel that she had a certain amount of value in the eyes of the neighborhood generally.

Her brother wrote to let her know that the negotiations connected with his purchase of the Wold House were now complete, and he was setting about having the place put into order and furnished according to his own taste without delay. Eve was sufficiently intrigued to order Melanie to get out the car and drive them both there, and she decided that Richard might have done much better had he bought something a little less old and more readily convertible to present-day standards of comfort; but Melanie—when she saw it in the process of its restoration—could not agree with her. The Wold House had something which the White Cottage, for all its eighteenth-century elegance, could never hope to acquire. It had solidity as well as atmosphere, and its character was as unshakable as its antiquity was undoubted.

She could envisage it one day as a home—a real and permanent home—with its background of flaming moorland and misty hills. But whether its owner would ever look upon it as such she could only conjecture.

Certainly he was displaying excellent taste in the manner he was setting about its restoration. To begin with he had employed an architect of well-earned reputation to deal with the major alterations, and these included an entirely new plumbing system and at least two extra bathrooms as well as completely modern domestic quarters. But the rest, of the house was treated very gently. Nothing could improve the beauty of the ancient panelling, or the seasoned timbers which were so much a feature of the place, and when it came to furnishing, all the hangings and carpets and period pieces were chosen unerringly to harmonize with the house and with each other. There was nothing in the very slightest degree ostentatious or over luxurious. On the contrary a somewhat monastic simplicity prevailed, and especially in the room selected to be the master of the house
’
s study. That was adorned only by a couple of obviously choice oriental rugs, one or two rare prints, and
some editions which made Melanie
’
s mouth water wh
en
she looked at them.

Mrs. Duplessis was quite unimpressed, but she made discouraging comments. She looked rather hard at Melan
ie
one morning, however, when she handed her over a lette
r
to read, and Melanie, in some surprise, absorbed the contents. In Richard Trenchard
’
s upright, bold, and very black hand she found that she was commanded—
”
requested
”
would not have described his manner of expressing his wishes—to present herself at the house of his Great-Aunt Amelia in Hill Street, in close proximity to Park Lane, London, at the earliest possible moment she could be freed from her present duties, and take over the charge—as
promised
—of Noel Trenchard, his niece and ward.

“
As promised?
”
Eve Duplessis murmured, very gently, looking across the table at Melanie. It was bright with the sparkle of silver and flowers—great, shaggy golden chrysanthemums—and the breakfast cloth was gay and yellow also. Outside the windows a blanketing November mist hid the garden and the moors, but within there was leaping firelight playing on white panelled walls, and Potch comfortably asleep in his basket on a thick skin rug.

Melanie actually looked confused.

“
But I didn
’
t promise,
”
she endeavored to excuse herself, without even hoping to be believed.
“
I merely promised Mr. Trenchard to—to think it over!
”

Mrs. Duplessis smiled. There was something rather cold about the smile, but it was not altogether condemning.

“
In that case, of course, you are lost,
”
she said.
“
For Richard would never believe that, having thought over any suggestion of his, you could find any reasonable objection to it! As a matter of fact he told me all about it before he left, and not being in a position to agree wholeheartedly with him, I did give him my word that I would not, at least, prove obstructive. So we are both committed! But it rests with you to make the final decision. I shall be sorry to part with you—naturally
...
”

Melanie was a little surprised that she did not appear more greatly concerned, but thought that perhaps she already had someone in view for her job.

“
But won
’
t it
be very awkward my leaving you—with so little notice? I mean, it might be some little while before I can be replaced
—”

“
In that case I shall just have to struggle along without you!
”

Melanie felt suddenly bereft of words. They were a strange family—these Trenchards. Their faces, and even their voices, betrayed so little of what they were actually thinking and feeling. Her employer
’
s beautifully cared-for mask, with its detached eyes, and even more detached and impersonal mouth, was almost like a barrier between her and any impulsive, anxious gesture she might be tempted to make at that moment. For, after all, they had lived in the same house now for over a year, and Melanie had been given the impression that if she was not actually valuable and indispensable she was at least highly satisfactory. But now, apparently, at the request of a man she had only met for the first time several weeks ago, she was to be despatched to London with the most cursory of blessings and no thanks whatsoever!

And what if she didn
’
t want to go to London? She was very far indeed from sure that she did! Very far from sure!

“
Don
’
t worry, my dear,
”
Mrs. Duplessis urged her smoothly, as if she at least was able to read her thoughts.
“
I shall be very sorry to see you go, but I should be sorrier still to have my home invaded by a niece I know almost nothing about. You may think me intensely selfish, or whatever you please, but I simply couldn
’
t bear to have my life disorganized by a girl at the impossible age of fifteen! What in the world Richard is going to do with her I can
’
t imagine, but perhaps Great-Aunt Amelia has some sort of a plan. She loves interfering in other people
’
s affairs. And perhaps after all you won
’
t have to stay away for long, and then you can come back here. I shall try and get along without replacing you for a while, in the hopes that I shall soon have you back.
”

Melanie murmured her gratitude at this, and then Eve continued about her great-aunt.

“
Don
’
t let her frighten you half out of your
wits by staring at you and barking at you as if you were some sort of an under-servant! She
’
s like that, and her great age gives her a kind of determined arrogance which most people find intimidating. Personally I refuse to be intimidated, and never go near her unless I simply can
’
t avoid it. Richard, for some reason, is a great favorite of hers, and she plans to leave him all her money. We
’
ve all been given to understand that it
’
s a considerable amount.
”

“
Oh, yes?
”
Melanie murmured abstractedly, wondering how soon she would be expected to leave, and what would happen if she definitely refused to go.

But Mrs. Duplessis settled all that for her by getting up and removing the A.B.C. from a drawer of the desk. As she looked up train times she said, as if Melanie was in entire agreement with her.
“
You
’
d better get packed today and leave tomorrow. Wilson can drive you to the station and bring the car back. I
’
ll send a wire to Richard to let him know when to expect you, and if you
’
re not met at the other end it
’
s a simple matter to take a taxi to Hill Street. Your expenses, of course, will all go down to Richard
’
s account.
”
She concluded ironically:
“
And convey my regards to my niece! One day, perhaps, when she is not quite so young, I
’
ll have her to stay with me. And in the meantime I wish you joy of your new charge!
”

Melanie felt in need of all the good wishes that could have been bestowed upon her when she stood in the murk at King
’
s Cross station the following day, and discovered that there was no one to meet her.

She had not really supposed that Richard Trenchard would consider it necessary to drive his own car to the station to pick up her and her luggage, but she had vaguely hoped that someone—
p
erhaps a chauffeur if he employed one—would be there. As it was she shivered as she stood waiting in a thin downpour for a taxi, and thrust up the collar of her coat about her ears, and pulled her little velour hat down closer on her head. The taximan who finally took her instructions regarded her with an approving smile, however, for the coat was neat but beautifully fitting, and there was a jaunty little upstanding quill at one side of the hat.

Hill Street—still one of the most salubrious thoroug
h
fares in London—squelched with rain as the taxi sped along it. Otherwise it looked grey and forbidding and quite uninviting, Melanie thought, after the country she had left. It was near tea-time, and there were one or two lighted windows, and the street-lamps flickered like pale tulips endeavoring to pierce the murk.

Melanie thought of Mrs. Duplessis enjoying tea and toast and hot buttered scones in front of her drawing-room fire—with Potch making short work of the crumbs!—and was depressed as a consequence.

When she had clambered out and paid the taxi-man outside Great-Aunt Amelia
’
s residence, she stood for a moment looking rather forlorn on the edge of the curb. Her suitcase had been dumped down beside her, and she was picking it up with a view to approaching Aunt Amelia
’
s front door, and tugging at her shiny brass door-bell, when a long and somewhat ostentatious and very sleek grey car slid noiselessly up beside her.

Melanie put down her suitcase again as Richard Trenchard opened the door nearest to her and unhurriedly descended from his imposing means of transport.

“
So you
’
ve arrived, Miss Brooks,
”
he said, and subjected her to a rather curious scrutiny.

Melanie answered
“
Yes,
”
automatically, and wished that he had either met her at the station or allowed her a decent interval to rest and refresh and refurbish herself before coming beneath the searchlight gaze of his critical eyes.

As it was, she was sure there was a smut on the end of her nose, and her hair seemed to be straggling wispishly under her hat. But whether he noticed these disadvantages or not she was unable to guess, for, like his sister, he allowed little to be given away by his expression.

“
I meant to be in time to meet you off your train,
”
he told her.
“
But unfortunately I got held up by an over-lengthy luncheon engagement, and I thought it best to come straight here. Did you have a good journey?
”
he asked conventionally, picking up her suitcase.

“
Oh, yes, thank you,
”
she assured him, brushing a strand of hair out of her eyes.
“
But it
’
s such dreadful weather, isn
’
t it? I don
’
t like London when it
’
s wet.
”

“
Don
’
t you?
”
He seemed to give her a faint, superior smile.
“
You prefer your benighted moorland? Well, every one to his or her own taste, but for my own part I like civilization whenever possible and practicable, and especially at this season of the year.
”
He gave a hearty tug to the brass bell.
“
My sister did not, I suppose, altogether relish parting with you?
”

“
She raised no serious objection.
”

“
Good!
”
he exclaimed, his lips curving cynically.
“
That was self-sacrificing of her! And you did not decide at the last moment to tell me that I had not the slightest right to command you as I did, and suggest that I should find someone else to look after my niece?
”

She gazed back at him steadily.

“
Would it have been any good?
”

His smile broadened.

“
Well, perhaps not! I might even h
a
ve come myself and fetched you in that case!
”

The door behind them opened suddenly, and a neat maidservant stood framed in the opening. Richard Trenchard handed her over Melanie
’
s case, and waved to Melanie to enter the hall. She did so with a feeling that she had stepped right into the middle of the Victorian era, for there was a great deal of plush carpet and mirrors, and festoons of heavy plush curtaining over the doors. Even the maid, elderly and angular though she was, wore a ruched cap and
stiffly
starched apron over an old-fashioned dress of black alpaca.

“
My aunt is resting, I suppose?
”
Richard Trenchard inquired, pushing open the door of a small and very obvious drawing-room on his right, where there was a magnificent thick skin rug in front of a bright coal fire, and some very uncomfortable-looking furniture upholstered in crimson damask.