Mistress of Elvan Hall (7 page)

She shivered a little at the mental picture this invoked, and put the papers back again, going to the window to look out at her favourite view, which was of a long sweep of garden, bright with herbaceous borders, protected by tall, stately silver birch trees, pines, firs and cedars, and the bright sparkling river beyond, where otters had been hunted to their death.

Yet she herself had been furious with the owls when she saw the wreck of a wren’s nest.

Anne finished tidying the room and tried to imagine it with fresh ivory walls instead of the present neglected-looking buff colour. The lovely old panelling could be polished until it reflected the light, and the carpet and curtains were still good. The chairs and tapestries would look splendid after Caroline Cook had Worked on them.

Anne felt a sudden surge of happiness and satisfaction, and a strange inner excitement at the thought of seeing Francis again. She was sure he would be pleased with everything she had done, and she thought how nice it would be if it had all been finished before his return. However, in his last letter he said that his business transactions might be concluded fairly quickly, as problems were gradually being ironed out.

“You’re a fool,” said Mrs. Wyatt to Anne, having called her up to her bedroom on Monday morning.

Anne said nothing. She was well aware that Mrs. Wyatt thought her a fool.

“You’ve brought that girl here after all.”

“She’s doing a splendid job of work,” defended Anne. “There’s so much beauty in this house, so much fine work which is going to be spoiled through neglect. I don’t intend that to happen. Caroline has been trained to save that sort of thing, so it seems to me very sensible to employ her to do it.”

“She’s after Francis. I don’t know why I should bother tilling you that, but I don’t want more scandal in the house. The Wyatts haven’t always been discreet. And Helen will only encourage her. She wanted her to have Francis in the first place, but I put my foot down. I stopped her games, and for once Francis seemed to listen to me, which I may as well tell you was a surprise. He’s far too fond of going his own way. But you go inviting her back here again. You’re a fool, Anne Wyatt!”

Anne caught her breath. So there had been something after all. Yet why had Mrs. Wyatt waited till she had Caroline actually working in the house before telling her all this? What hadn’t she told her so when she knew she had gone to see the girl in the first place?

“Why haven’t you told me this before?” she asked, anger and a spark of fear making her voice husky.

“Why should I? I thought you learned by mistakes and wouldn’t be such a fool. Besides, I gave you a broad enough hint.”

“Foolishness and ignorance aren’t the same, are they? I’d no knowledge of what happened...” She bit her lip.
“
Did ... did Francis want to marry her?” she asked in a small voice, and for a moment there was a slight softening in the darting gaze of the older woman.

“He’s a man, isn’t he?” she demanded, “and she’s a soft, pretty little thing. She’s full of feminine wiles, making herself look pretty and helpless, then showing how clever she is with her needle. A very womanly pursuit. She clings, too, so don’t think you’ll get rid of her easily. Get her in, and you can’t get her back out!”

Anne stared back.

“I’ve no intention of getting her back out till the job is finished,” she said, with a lift of her chin. “I’ve employed her, and I hope to see that she carries out the work which needs to be done. After that, I’ve no doubt she will be going to London to take up her post-graduate course.”

“You hope!”

“I’ve no reason to think otherwise,” said Anne quietly.

“You must be very sure that Francis is deeply in love with you.”

The eyes which looked at her were veiled, and Anne felt the hot colour rush to her cheeks, and fear swept
over
her like a sickness. Francis didn’t love her. In fact, she suspected now that Francis might still be in love with Caroline, but in some way this rather selfish woman had spoiled things for him. What could she have said, which made Francis heed her for once?

The colour began to drain from Anne’s cheeks leaving her pale and tired-looking.

“Francis can surely arrange his own life, can’t he?” she asked quietly. “He’s a grown man, and my husband.”

She stopped, desperately wanting to know more, to probe the past and to have more idea as to how Francis had felt about Caroline, and what strong weapon had been used to break it up. But she knew it was no good asking questions, and pride kept her tongue stilled in any case.

“I’m getting up now,” Mrs. Wyatt said, rather peevishly. “I want to see those decorators anyway, to see if they’re brightening up that appalling drawing room. It’s like the Black Hole of Calcutta.”

“It will look beautiful when the walls have been painted ivory,” Anne told her. “It’s just the dark ceiling which makes it look so dull.”

“I’ve always said it’s too dark, but Henry wouldn’t have it any other way. Francis is almost as bad. I hate all this gloom.”

This time Anne smiled. That was evident in the bright frills of Mrs. Wyatt’s bedroom. She loved soft fluffy things.

“Tell Mrs. Hansett I want her,” she called as Anne turned towards the door.

“Very well.”

“And throw that girl out, if you’ve any sense.”

Could it be that for once, Mrs. Wyatt was on her side? wondered Anne wryly.

It was after lunch before Anne had time to look in at the drawing room and see what impression, if any so far, that the painters were making. Caroline had elected to go home for lunch, and Anne breathed a small sigh of relief. She hadn’t relished a meal with Mrs. Wyatt either scowling or being openly rude to the girl.

The information that Mrs. Wyatt had given her about Caroline had tended to make her view the girl rather differently, making her seem even lovelier with her dainty slenderness. It was easy to imagine Francis in love with her, thought Anne with a sudden fierce pang of jealousy, as she looked at the soft cloud of dark hair falling over Caroline’s face, as she bent over her stitching. Anne had provided her with all she needed, in a corner of the morning room, and Caroline had laid out her materials on a spacious table where she could work comfortably.

Mrs. Wyatt grumbled that there was nowhere decent left to sit in, and went off in the huff to her room. This was untrue, as Elvan Hall was plentifully provided with public rooms, and the central heating could easily be switched on if she wished. Anne had made herself unpopular by switching it off until evening during the warmer days.

“You’ll freeze us all to death,” Mrs. Wyatt had declared, pulling on a woollen jacket.

“On days like these?” asked Anne. “That’s nonsense! You could even sit outside on the summer seat, and feel the warmth of the sun on your face.”

“And get eaten alive by insects. Besides, there’s a draught. If you won’t switch on the heating, I’ll have my fire.”

So Mrs. Wyatt’s bedroom became a hothouse of warm air, while the others were glad of a cooling breeze, now and again, coming up from the river.

The painters, an elderly man and young boy, sang and whistled merrily as they pulled out furniture and moved planks. Helen looked pink-cheeked and excited—almost too excited, thought Anne uneasily, and took every opportunity of talking to Caroline and inviting her out to the stables to look at the horses.

“But I’m here to work,” the girl protested, glancing at Anne.

“Surely she can just come over to the stables for five minutes!” protested Helen, and Anne nodded.

“I’m sure Caroline will plan her time here properly,” she agreed, and watched the girls run along, side by side. She’d had her own girl friends at school, but most of them were married now, with families. But it would be nice to have a friend, she thought rather wistfully. It was easy to see now that Helen would much prefer to have had Caroline here all the time.

Anne wandered along the corridor, promising Mrs. Hansett that she would come along and help her with one or two things very shortly.

“I’ll just look in at the drawing room,” she said, making for the heavy oak door.

“Very well, ma’am,” the housekeeper smiled.

Mrs. Hansett approved of Anne. The kitchen staff might have to mind things a little more, but Mrs. Hansett preferred it that way. Things were no longer so lackadaisical, she thought, as she made her way to the kitchen.

Anne was bereft of words as she stood in the large drawing room, where everything was covered with large sheets, and the young boy painter had started to put a first coat of paint on the dark wood panelling. Anne was so appalled that she couldn’t find a word to say for the first minute.

“Stop!” she gasped. “For heaven’s sake, stop! Whoever gave you permission to paint that panelling?”

The boy turned to stare at her, then the older man slowly descended the ladder.

“I thought it was funny,” he confessed, “but the lady of the house said to paint it all right, that it needed brightening up, and that the plans had been changed.”

“I’m the lady of the house,” said Anne, her eyes flashing.

“The older lady ... Mrs. Wyatt,” protested the painter. “She told us. She really did say the plans were changed.”

“They were not changed. I thought I made that clear to you.”

The man looked uncomfortable.

“Oh aye, miss ... ma’am ... only it wasn’t clear who had the right of it, you see. You or her.”

“You could have asked!”

“Asked who? Her or you?”

Anne bit her lip.

“I’m afraid it will have to be cleaned off,” she said firmly.

“Cleaned off! But ... but that’s well-nigh impossible, miss. It’s...
”

“I don’t care how impossible it is, it will have to be cleaned off,” said Anne firmly. “You do not paint carved oak panelling, centuries old, and polished with age.”

The man pushed a hand through his hair.

“No, I wouldn’t have thought so, but ... well, it will take time. It’ll be costly, too. Thank God there’s only a little bit done.”

This time Anne gave no thought to be economical.

“I don’t care
what
it costs,” she said, her eyes flashing. “It must be cleaned off.”

She looked at it again, her panic rising. Whatever would Francis say? Now she was beginning to understand his insistence that she took charge of the work which had to be carried out. Only she hadn’t ... she’d let him down. She should have checked up on it all along the way, but her head had been so full of fears over Francis and Caroline, and her own efforts at deciding whether to allow the girl to keep coming, or if it would be wiser to send her home. Yet the renovations had to be considered, and Anne had put that first. Now she was furious with herself for not checking on the painters, too.

'Anne hurried from the room, a cold sickness in her heart, and mounted the stairs to her mother-in
-
law’s bedroom. This time they really were going to have it out!

“The place has been like a mausoleum for years,” protested Mrs. Wyatt. “Henry promised me I could brighten it up, then he wouldn’t allow it to be touched. No woman has been allowed to bring a bit of taste to the place for generations.”

“I’d hardly call painting beautiful carved oak panelling bringing taste to the place,” said Anne hotly. “Francis trusted me to look after it, and now you ... you went behind my back!”

“If I hadn’t it would still be the same dull room,” Mrs. Wyatt told her balefully. “I could make this house a place of beauty, fresh and bright with a ... a sort of lightness to the place. But I was never given my head, and now ... now Francis has handed it over to
you
and you’re obviously going to toe the line, like all the rest. I think I might at least have had my chance.”

Anne sat at the foot of the bed. For some reason she began to feel sympathy for the older woman who would probably have been much happier in a different sort of home from the Hall.

“The panelling has only improved with age,” she said gently. “It’s beautiful. It was made with love, and generations of women have looked after it with love, and its beauty was enhanced by its patina. When you paint it, that’s all swept away by each stroke of the brush. Don’t you see? ... anyone coming after who prefers the original panelling would find it almost impossible to remove the paint, and till keep what was already there. As it is, heaven knows what harm has been done...
”

Her voice trailed off forlornly, but Mrs. Wyatt was more angry than sorry.

“It’s ridiculous to waste time and money going back,” she said, her eyes sparkling. “The only way is to take one’s courage in both hands and order the job to be done. It takes one woman with an individual mind to be firm. No doubt everyone will enjoy the freshness and brightness and will bless me when it becomes a
fait accompli.
I don’t see how you can order the men to remove what’s been done, Anne. You’d be much better to accept it, and enjoy it, as we’re all likely to do.”

Anne stared at her for a long time, then rose slowly to her feet. It was no use talking. Her father-in-law must have been a strong man to have kept Mrs. Wyatt in check for so many years!