Mistress of Elvan Hall (4 page)

“Hello there,” drawled Helen Wyatt. “You’re a surprise. Anne, isn’t it?”

“
Yes ... Anne. So I believe,” said Anne, managing to look directly at her older sister-in-law. “How do you do, Helen?”

“How do you do.”

“I’ll just bring tea in now,” Mrs. Hansett was saying. “You’re going upstairs, Miss Judith.”

“Yes, Jessie.”

“She isn’t going to serve you with a tray of poison,” Helen admonished her. “Someone must keep Mummy company.”

Why? Wondered Anne, though she said nothing.

“Do you like your new abode?” Helen was asking. “Think it makes it all worth while?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Anne told her rather stiffly.

“No? I guess you must love Francis, then.”

Anne was about to assure her, rather defiantly, that she did when she. remembered the remarks she had overheard.

What had they meant? Would she begin to understand her strange marriage to Francis Wyatt when she met a girl called Caroline? But if he really loved Caroline, why had he married her?

Anne felt an odd wave of fear and loneliness. She was mistress of this great house, but she felt alien, suddenly, to every part of it. She had no business here, she thought, trying hard to still the fear in her heart.

Then the door opened and Francis walked in.

“So you’ve met my wife, Helen,” he said, with a smile as he came forward to warm his hands in front of the fire. “Good. I hope you two will be friends.”

“Oh, darling,” said Helen, with a laugh, “you do the strangest things and expect us all to applaud. Poor Anne must feel like a fish out of water.”

“You can soon put that right,” said Francis sharply.

“Give us time. You spring a new bride on us ... a new mistress of the house ... and we have all to adjust in a moment.”

“Why not?” asked Francis. “You knew I planned to marry.”

“But not...” Helen bit her lip and had the grace to colour deeply.

But not me, thought Anne.

They were saved from further discussion by the arrival of Mrs. Hansett with a heavy wooden trolley. Anne felt that her appetite had deserted her, but once again Francis had put his long sensitive hands on her shoulders.

“You pour, Anne,” he said gently. “You must be hungry, dear. Jessie has made a special effort for you, too.”

This time Jessie Hansett’s smile for her was completely natural.

“It’s an occasion, ma’am. It’s lovely to have a new bride at Elvan Hall.”

Warmth slid into Anne’s heart.

“Thank you, Mrs. Hansett,” she said huskily.

There was much to do in the two days before Francis left for America. He conducted Anne carefully all over the old house, carrying a folder containing plans and suggestions worked out by a firm of interior decorators. Anne had studied the plans carefully and thought that the suggestions made were excellent, though Francis had written in several notes of caution regarding parts of the house which must be carefully preserved without alteration in any way.

“These notes aren’t enough either, Anne,” he told her. “As you see, many things have become neglected. Tapestries require to be repaired, and I would like to preserve some old hangings which have been embroidered.”

“I couldn’t tackle those jobs,” said Anne quickly. “I’m no needlewoman, Francis.”

“I don’t expect that of you,” he returned smoothly. “I would expect you to employ a skilled needlewoman. In fact...
”
He paused, rubbing his cheek thoughtfully.

“Have you someone in mind?”

He turned to her, almost with a start.

“No,” he said, flatly, “no one. I shall leave all that to you, my dear. You can perhaps arrange for someone to come from London. I’m making financial arrangements for you so that you may spend as you wish, though I know it will be used carefully and judiciously.”

They had mounted a broad stairway of polished wood, blackened with age.

“You like it, Anne?” he asked eagerly, catching her hand.

“It’s very beautiful,” said Anne truthfully.

But how could she ever think of it all as hers?

“I knew you were right for it,” Francis told her, his voice deepening, and suddenly his arms were round her, drawing her close.

Anne’s heart raced, but even as she felt his nearness, she remembered that he only cared for her because it had become necessary for him to marry, and in his opinion she had been his most suitable choice.

She forgot her resolve that her own love would be enough for both of them, and stiffened a little in his arms. Immediately he let her go.

“I’m sorry,” he told her, rather stiffly. “I forgot that there are certain things about our marriage I must respect.”

“Such as?”

“Your right to your own feelings,” he told her roughly, and she was silent. Had he guessed her feelings?

Colouring, she walked ahead of him.

“We have very little time, Francis. Shall we check the bedrooms?”

Their own bedroom was a huge place as different from Mrs. Wyatt’s as possible.

“It hasn’t been changed over many years,” Francis told her. “It was my father’s and grandfather’s. Mother never cared for it, so she chose her own further down the corridor.”

“I see there’s little to be done to it, from your report here,” said Anne, leafing over the pages.

“I thought it unnecessary,” said Francis.

“Nevertheless, I would like to make one or two small changes,” said Anne, her chin firming a little. She had no idea why she was asserting herself in this way. In its own way the bedroom was perfect, but it had rather sombre overtones, not in keeping with a happily married young couple. “That is, unless you’d prefer me, too, to choose another bedroom further down the corridor.”

Their gazes locked and she saw Francis turn white.

“You must do as you wish,” he said stiffly. “You are mistress here. You are entitled to your own wishes over the matter of ... of a bedroom.”

It was a hollow victory. Anne inclined her head, feeling that she had gained nothing and feeling, too, that she had somehow hurt Francis. But she didn’t know what to say to put things right between them.

“I take it the girls have been allowed their own choice with regard to their rooms?”

“Certainly. This is one of our guest bedrooms. There are three more on this floor. We’ve turned part of the top floor into a flat for the Hansetts, Tom and Jessie.”

“I’m glad of that,” smiled Anne, with relief. She had quite enough to digest at the moment. “I take it that they, too, are happy with their own decorations?”

“They were all freshly done two years ago when the gardener’s cottage was condemned. It hadn’t been built to stand the test of time, as has the Hall,” said Francis rather dryly.

“And they like the flat
?”

“It’s warm and comfortable ... and convenient. They can use the back stairs to the kitchen. I’ve asked Tom to show you over the gardens when I go. It isn’t so difficult to keep as it looks, with a good rotary mower and well laid out beds and shrubberies. Besides, the ground round the house has been much reduced. We let the park and fields beyond for pasture land. My sister also breeds young horses and Shetland ponies. She has the use of all the stables, and pasture lands to the west of the house.”

“She’s very young for that, isn’t she?”

“She’s been riding since she was a baby.” Suddenly he smiled. “I’m sure Helen will be happy to show you the ponies. They are the great love of her life.”

“I’d like that,” said Anne, rather shyly, and he took her hand again.

“I know it isn’t easy for you, dear, but you have my ... my gratitude for all you are doing.”

But she didn’t want his gratitude, thought Anne forlornly, as they walked back down the polished stairs with the red carpeting running down the middle. She wanted his love. How different it would all be if they could claim stewardship of it together.

“And remember, you mustn’t let my mother overrule you,” he told her firmly.
“
She ... she has her own ideas, ideas which my father was at great pains to modify. She mustn’t be allowed to order improvements which are not in keeping with the house.”

Anne said nothing. Soon she would be on her own, after Francis went. However would she manage to keep Mrs. Wyatt from giving whatever orders she wished in her own home?

Not
hers ... mine, thought Anne. My own house.

But it wasn’t hers. It was alien to her. Even Francis was sometimes alien to her. What had she done? wondered Anne, as her feet again sank into soft carpeting. She was greatly afraid that the road she had chosen was far too full of potholes...

CHAPTER THREE

“WOULD you like me to come with you to the airport?” Anne asked, trying not to betray her feeling of depression with loneliness at his departures While he was with her, his presence gave her authority, and there had been a strange inward happiness at having him so close to her, even if it had been bitter-sweet.

But now he was going and there would only be herself, Helen and Mrs. Wyatt left in the house, besides the Hansetts, Judith having been obliged to return to school.

The little girl had shyly held Anne’s hand.

“I’m glad you’ve come,” she whispered. “I like having you here, although I like Caroline, too.”

Anne had resisted the temptation to question the child. Who was Caroline, and what did she mean to Francis? She also resisted the temptation to question Francis, feeling that he had enough on his mind.

Anne had been able to do little for him, as he preferred to do his own packing, and Miss Dalton was arranging all the relevant papers for him to take with him. Anne recognised that Louise Dalton was a better secretary than she had ever been, and felt rather humble when she saw how efficiently everything was arranged.

But she was now Francis’ wife, not his secretary, and that task was even more Herculean, she thought despondently, as she looked behind her at the large old house which was going to be left in her charge, and possibly two other women to fight for full authority.

Mrs. Wyatt had decided to come downstairs to see Francis away, clad in rich warm furs, though the day was warm and sunny.

Tom Hansett had recently cut the huge lawns and the herbaceous borders were full of colour with peonies, Californian poppies, blue and purple iris, and a variety of small colourful plants. The huge, rather overgrown rhododendrons and. azaleas formed a windbreak for the house, and Anne looked round at the peaceful scene, the warm fresh air blowing her hair, while the river, fast-flowing with clear, pure unpolluted water, made a soft surging sound behind the call of the birds.

It was beautiful, thought Anne, a strange new intensity of feeling taking hold of her heart. So had many mistresses of Elvan Hall stood on the broad steps taking leave of the master, no doubt many of them riding into war and facing unknown dangers. So had other women before her been left to guard the heritage while their menfolk helped to preserve peace in the land.

She saw Francis’ eyes on her, as he put the last of his belongings into the car. He had kissed his mother and sister with a whispered word that he was leaving his wife in their care, and now he turned to Anne, kissing her too, rather clumsily.

“Look after...” he paused, then said, deliberately, “Look after
yourself,
Anne. I hope I shan’t be away more than two or three weeks.”

It was a lifetime to Anne, then she caught sight of a gleam of amusement in Helen’s eyes. Francis had said a warm goodbye, but it hadn’t been the poignant leavetaking of a young husband for a new bride.

“I don’t care,” thought Anne, defiantly tossing back her heavy fair hair. “It was precious to me ... and to Francis.”

She fought back the tears as she waved him away, knowing that they would put her at a disadvantage when she faced the women on her own. They had talked a great deal, to each other and to Francis, but she had scarcely listened to their chatter. Now the silence seemed absolute, as all three stood on the steps, with Jessie Hansett in the doorway, and Tom already making his way back to the gardens.

“Jessie, I shall want you in my room after lea,” Mrs. Wyatt was saying. “There are several things I wish to discuss with you.”

Ignoring Anne entirely, she walked heavily back into the house. Helen walked forward quickly and took her mother’s arm, throwing a glance at Anne over her shoulder.

Anne was left on the steps alone, and as she walked back inside, she knew that her own particular war had started. This time the mistress of Elvan was at war, not the master!

It was obvious to Anne, very soon, after Francis’ departure, that Mrs. Wyatt was choosing to ignore her presence in the house. She asked Mrs. Hansett to come to her room every morning to receive orders, and meals were silent affairs, with only Helen to make the occasional remark.

At first Anne felt hurt and bruised, her heart aching for Francis more than she would have believed possible. She had not realised how much it was coming to mean to her to have his constant companionship.

Mrs. Hansett was obviously ill at ease in her presence, occasionally looking as though she wanted to pass some remark, then turning away abruptly. Helen came in and out at odd hours, and although Anne knew that she was in charge of the horses and ponies, she had little idea what that involved, and didn’t feel like asking Helen to take her round. Francis’ sister was wayward towards her, occasionally greeting her in a friendly way, then becoming coolly withdrawn as though she was remembering that Anne was supposed to be in Coventry.

Anne felt too confused at first to know what to do about this state of affairs. Now that Francis had gone, she felt too much of an intruder to assert herself. Then one morning Mrs. Hansett asked if she might speak with her privately.

“Of course,” smiled Anne, rising from the breakfast table where she was enjoying an extra cup of coffee. Helen was already on her way to the stables, and Mrs. Wyatt was having breakfast in bed.

“What can I do for you, Mrs. Hansett?”

“It’s ... er ... it’s the bills, ma’am. It’s the month end and Mrs. Wyatt says you’ll be paying them now. I’ve got a note of all the housekeeping bills for the month and ... and...”

She stopped, confused, and Anne’s brows wrinkled. Then suddenly her head began to clear, and it seemed as though she was able to think for the first time since Francis left.

But of course! There was the matter of accounts to be paid, and wages, and the ordering of supplies. Francis had given her full instructions and had arranged a bank account for her.

“Come with me to the study, Mrs. Hansett,” she said crisply, and the housekeeper followed her almost eagerly.

Anne sat down at Francis’ desk, and motioned Mrs. Hansett to sit down.

“I understand that J pay your salary as well as the bills,” she said with a smile, and saw the older woman’s eyes clear with relief.

“Yes, ma’am, there are several wages to be paid today. Mr. Wyatt used to get the money from the bank, but he said you would pay by cheque. I ... I don’t think it’s a good thing for a young lady like you to be carrying a lot of money from the bank.”

“And you all find a cheque quite agreeable to you?”

“Oh yes, ma’am. We can get our own money.”

“Give me the bills and I shall write the cheques this morning. If you call in with a cup of coffee, say ... in an hour’s time ... I shall have your cheques ready, and I will also have gone into these bills. I should like to see them before I write out the cheques.”

“Yes, ma’am,” said Mrs. Hansett, with respect.

“Oh, and as I’m paying the bills, Mrs. Hansett, I think I ought to take over the running of the Hall, especially since Mrs. Wyatt is not keeping so well, and Miss Helen already has a job to do. I ... er...” Her heart quailed a little. “It’s what Mr. Francis wished, and I’d better have a word with Mrs. Wyatt and ... ah ... tell her that I’m willing to take this responsibility off her shoulders.”

This time the gleam of approval became a warm smile.

“Very well, ma’am.”

“Though I’ll need advice over the housekeeping, Mrs. Hansett,” said Anne quickly, feeling nervous again at the thought of the task ahead.

“I’ll be happy to help in any way I can. Mr. Francis asked me to give you my support before he left and I promised.”

“Oh,” said Anne, her warm glow receding a little. So Mrs. Hansett had decided to stand by her, not for her own sake, but for Francis. Still, it was better than having to fight everybody.

“Very well, Mrs. Hansett,” she said, nodding dismissal.

An hour later she had gone through the household accounts, writing out cheques, but feeling rather appalled by the amount of money being spent on items which, she felt, could be cut down with no loss of comfort.

She paid the staff their wages, smiling pleasantly but with authority, then drank her coffee thoughtfully. Mrs. Wyatt didn’t make her appearance until lunch time and Anne glanced at her watch.

Mrs. Wyatt seemed to have little objection to holding court from her bed. There were things to be ironed out between them, and Anne rose briskly to her feet. It was never any good putting off unpleasant tasks, and she quickly made her way out into the corridor and up the broad main staircase.

Mrs. Wyatt’s voice sounded quite cheerful when she shouted for Anne to come in, in answer to her firm knock. Her face grew cool, however, when she recognised her visitor.

“Oh, it’s you!”

“I’m sorry to interrupt the privacy of your bedroom, Mrs. Wyatt,” said Anne, pleasantly but purposefully. “However, I feel that we have matters of some urgency to discuss, so I took the liberty of coming to you. I hope you’re feeling better this morning?”

Mrs. Wyatt merely inclined her head in answer to the query about her health. She adjusted her fluffy wrap on her shoulders.

“I can’t imagine what these matters of urgency could be,” she commented.

Anne produced the household bills, together with pencil and paper, on which she had jotted a few notes.

“These bills, Mrs. Wyatt.”

“They don’t concern me any more. My son is master of this house. As his wife,
you
are responsible for the household accounts, and it’s your duty to pay those bills. They’re not my responsibility.”

“I agree, said Anne smoothly. “I’m glad you recognise that arrangement. However, since I’m paying the bills, I think it’s only fair that I should also order our supplies. I find much in these bills very wasteful. It should cost a great deal less to feed this household, even allowing for entertaining.”

Mrs. Wyatt regarded her balefully.

“I shouldn't go out of your way to advertise the fact that you’ve been brought up in ... ah ... rather different circumstances from those you now enjoy,” she said softly. “I’m quite capable of ordering what we need, and if you’re wise you’ll leave that to me, since you lack experience and may find it difficult. It’s sufficient for you to write the cheques at the end of the month.”

Anne had flushed scarlet at Mrs. Wyatt’s reference to her own background, and for a moment she quailed a little. Then her chin lifted. Allowing for luxury such as she little knew, and also for lavish hospitality, the bills were still too high, and a visit to the kitchens had confirmed Anne’s belief that rather more common sense could be applied. She had a feeling that Mrs. Hansett would appreciate firmer control, rather than otherwise.

“I abhor waste,” she said quietly, “like many others of my background. I’m sorry I can’t agree that you should continue to order our food while I pay for it ... blindly, if I may put it like that. Perhaps my experience is nil, but how can I learn if I don’t take responsibility?”

“Surely it’s enough that Francis should bring us a girl like you ... out of the blue ... even more unsuitable than...”

Mrs. Wyatt’s burst of anger broke off abruptly, and she bit her lip.

“Very well,” she said. “Make a fool of yourself, and of him. You’re entirely unfitted to be here. My son always showed lack of judgement in his personal life. I ... I suppose we can be grateful that he has the ability to run his business more efficiently.”

“That certainly ought to be a comfort to you,” returned Anne. Francis had told her that his mother was entirely dependent on him, and his sisters till they were of age, though Helen was. pulling her weight by working as his groom. Anne knew, too, from her position as his secretary, that the wealth and prosperity of the company was increasing, and had done since his father died. They had every reason to be grateful to Francis. Mrs
.
Wyatt should be so proud of him, instead of criticising him.

Then Anne’s gaze softened a little. Perhaps she
was
proud of him, so proud that, inversely, she didn’t dare show it. Could that be her main reason for resenting Anne, and in fact, for thinking that nobody was good enough for Francis, not even the girl Helen had mentioned?

Anne considered a little as she rose to go, still firm in her resolution to take charge of running Elvan Hall.

“Please don’t let’s be bad friends,” she said gently. “I know it must be hard on you to have me foisted on to you, but Francis wanted a quick wedding, or I’d have preferred to have you get to know me first. But we
are
married now, and I’ve got to live here a very long time. All my life, in fact. Surely it would make it easier for both of us if we pulled together, and not against each other.”

But the older woman’s expression showed no sign of softening, and Anne knew that she might just as well have saved her breath.

“All your life?” she repeated. “My, that
is
a long time. I hope you settle down then. Others ... others before you have found themselves being rejected by Elvan. The house didn’t like them ... or something. It takes a very special woman to fit in. That’s why...” Again she broke off, shrugging.

“I can’t even talk to you,” she said, with a wave of dismissal. “I don’t think we even talk the same language.”

Again Anne flushed. The soft Scots accent was noticeable in her speech, though Francis had not found it irritating. But of course, Mrs. Wyatt might have been speaking figuratively.

“Send Mrs. Hansett up to me,” she commanded, “and see that the door is shut properly when you leave.”

Controlling her anger, Anne collected her papers, and walked quickly across the room, feeling the older woman’s eyes almost burning a hole in her back.

“She hates me,” thought Anne, feeling rather sick. No one had ever shown such hatred towards her, ever before.

Her new home was one which was beginning to envelop her with hatred, and not with love. She didn’t even have the true love of a man for his new bride.

Mrs. Hansett began coming to Anne each morning to discuss any problems which came up regarding the running of the house. Anne found that she had to make decisions and sometimes she made them with outward authority, but inwardly praying that they were right.

When it was the wrong decision, Mrs. Wyatt was never slow to make a cutting comment and Anne’s ready colour would warm her cheeks, but she learned by her mistakes, and gained confidence as the days slowly passed.

Occasionally she received a letter from Francis, little different from the crisp, business letters he used to dictate to her, but she cherished them as a link with him, and she was proud to feel that he was handling his business affairs successfully. He also hoped that Anne would be feeling at home, now, and would have had time to study the plans for renovation and redecoration.

Anne had rather laid those plans to one side, feeling vaguely disturbed by them, yet strangely attracted, too, rather like a kitten eyeing a wasps’ nest, she thought, with a smile. Or could it even be a hornet’s? she wondered, catching Mrs. Wyatt’s eye one day as she found herself a comfortable seat by the fire and began to study the plans. The work for the bedrooms had already been put in hand for the following week.

“Some of those lovely old tapestries and chair covers could be repaired carefully,” said Anne to Helen an hour later, when the other girl called in for a cup of coffee.

“You know, I read somewhere that the museums employ women ... at least, I suppose it would be women ... to repair old and precious embroidered articles. I think it’s possible to take a degree in that sort of thing at university. Perhaps it would be possible to employ someone to come here and put all our own precious hangings into good repair.”

Helen was looking at her sideways, her eyes gleaming.

“Well, my dear Anne, you won’t really have far to look. Caroline Cook has just qualified, and is in fact, going to Goldsmith’s in London in September, but I’m sure she would come here first of all ... if you asked her nicely.”

Anne said nothing for a moment, gazing at Helen’s impassive face. There had been nothing in her words but a desire to be helpful, yet the light casual tones had only been overtones, and Helen was looking at her with a gleam in her eye. Mrs. Wyatt had flushed.

“I’m quite sure there’s no need to bother Caroline Cook,” she said firmly, “especially now!”

“No, you never really encouraged her, did you, Mother?” asked Helen. “Don’t you think that was a mistake ... from
your
point of view, I mean?”

“A mistake?” asked Anne.

“Of course. Things could have been put right ages ago. I refer, of course, to the tapestries.”

Mrs. Wyatt was glaring at her daughter.