Mistress of the House

MISTRESS OF THE HOUSE

Eleanor Farnes

Laurie thought that marriage would open the door to a happy and carefree life, but she soon found that not only had she acquired a loved and loving husband, but an unwelcome admirer and a jealous, desperate enemy, who between them were almost to wreck her marriage.

Laurie, however, found a way to defeat them and establish her own plan for happy living.

CHAPTER ONE

Mr. Humphries leaned on the stout oak gate and watched Jessica at work with the poultry. She went about the job in an unhurried, forthright fashion that pleased him. Then she saw him, lazily leaning on the gate, smoking his pipe, amusement in his face.

“Hallo, Mr. Humphries. How long have
you
been there?”

“Quite a long time, admiring the efficiency of your work.”

“Anybody can be efficient with poultry.”

“I’m sure anybody can’t. I couldn’t, for one. I’ve been up to the house, but there’s nobody at home.”

“Oh? I think Max ought to be. I know Mother’s gone to the village, but Max was around.”

“Perhaps you could find him for me. I want to talk to him, or Mrs. Lorney.”

Jessica closed the gate behind her.

“Come up to the house, and I’ll make you a cup of tea; and by then, one of them is sure to be back.”

“This is very nice of you, Jessica. I always like coming here, and having some tea in the kitchen. It’s such a nice, human kitchen. I never dare to go into my own.”

“Well, I often wish I didn’t see so much of this one. And I often wish it had any floor but a red-brick one. It takes some scrubbing.”

It was on the tip of Mr. Humphries’ tongue to point out that they needed a daily woman for such rough work, but he remembered in time his wife’s opinion that financial matters looked none too rosy for the Lorneys, so he refrained, and merely remarked that the red bricks looked very nice.

Jessica sat on a straight-backed chair and drank a cup of tea with him. The cookies, which she had made herself, were crisp and delicious. She hoped that Max would come in and sample them. Meanwhile, she made polite conversation with Mr. Humphries, enquiring after his wife, his daughter, who was a doctor, and his son, whose visits to his home were far too rare. She was curious about Mr. Humphries’s visit. Why did he want to talk to Max or her mother, yet not tell herself why he was here? She was on the point of asking him, when she heard footsteps outside, on the narrow brick paving which surrounded the house.

“Here’s somebody,” she said.

The door opened, and two people came in. Mr. Humphries rose to his feet to greet Mrs. Lorney, the mother of Jessica and Max. She was a plump, pleasant-faced woman of middle age, and she carried a shopping basket and several parcels. These she put on a side table, smiling at Mrs. Humphries, and saying that a cup of tea was just what she needed. Jessica poured one out for her, and then one for Max.

“How are you, Max?” asked Mr. Humphries.

“Fine, thanks, and pretty busy.” Max made the routine enquiries after the Humphries, and crossed the room to a chair. He was a tall man of about thirty-five, with crisp brown hair and dark brown eyes; a good-looking man, with a strong, virile face, but when he crossed the room, holding his tea and plate, he limped very noticeably. Mr. Humphries watched him for a moment, and then looked away, thinking, as he thought every time that he saw Max, what bad luck it was for him.

When they were all settled comfortably over their tea, he began to explain his visit.

“I came over,” he said, “to see if you would help me out of a difficulty.”

“If it’s anything we can do...” said Mrs. Lorney.

“I’m afraid you’ll think it rather presumptuous of me; and I hope you won’t hesitate to say so if it’s inconvenient; but I can’t find anywhere for this secretary of mine to stay, and I wondered if you could put her up for a short time, until we can find somewhere else.”

“I thought,” said Jessica quickly, “that you had arranged with Mrs. Gasset to have her.”

“I did, but Mrs. Gasset’s daughter and baby have come to stay with her for an indefinite period, so she tells me she can’t have Miss Giles. I asked at one or two nearby places, but they aren’t really quite suitable; and it’s a long way to the village. I know you have plenty of room,
and if
it isn’t too much bother for you, just for a short time, it would help me out.”

They thought about it. Mrs. Lorney thought at once that it would help, money matters being what they were. Jessica immediately decided against having anybody in the house; for one thing, they never had yet descended to having lodgers (whether one called them paying guests or not), and there was quite enough to do in the house already, without extra people to wait on. Max, having little to do with the running of the house, neither approved nor disapproved.

“What do you think, Max?” asked his mother.

“It’s for you to decide, Mother. It will make extra work for you.”

“Oh, that doesn’t matter. Anyway, she might not want to stay. She might prefer the village. We could manage it for a while if it will help Mr. Humphries.”

Jessica looked rebellious, but said nothing.

“That’s very good of you, Mrs. Lorney. She is due to arrive on Thursday, but if that’s too soon for you, we could keep her at the house until you are ready.”

“You have more room than we have,” Jessica pointed out, her face indicating plainly that she did not like this idea.

He looked apologetically towards her.

“Well, you know Jessica, how it is. My wife won’t have another secretary living in the house. Not after Miss Scott-Scott. She’s quite firm about it. We simply could never get away from Miss Scott-Scott. She had all her meals with us, and never stopped talking. She was at home every evening. She never wanted to go out. She stayed at home and talked to us. And how she talked. I’m afraid I was brutal. I went away to my study, or out into the garden, and my poor wife bore the brunt of Miss Scott-Scott until my book was finished. So, although I tell her that this one is quite different—and the agency reassures me about that—she won’t risk it.”

“That’s all right,” said Max. “If we get a talker, we’ll tell her it isn’t convenient for her to stay. We’ll let her loose on the village.”

“But I shouldn’t want to put you to the slightest inconvenience for my sake. The head of the agency tells me that I shall have no complaints at all about Miss Giles.”

Jessica still looked mutinous, but it was obvious to her that the affair was settled, and that Miss Giles was coming to the farmhouse to stay, at least for a time. Well, decided Jessica, she shan’t stay long. Why should the Humphries preserve the peace and harmony of their own house at the risk of disrupting that in the Lorney house? Jessica resented the intruder already. She saw their pleasant evenings round the fire, disturbed by a stranger; and one who came from town and wouldn’t understand country ways. She saw Max making polite conversation to her, instead of talking to herself. (Not that he talked much to anybody, especially these days.) And on their rare pleasure trips, they would probably have to take along this secretary person. No. If Jessica had anything to do with it, she wouldn’t want to stay for long.

When Mr. Humphries, repeating his gratitude to them several times, had taken himself off, across the fields to his own house, Mrs. Lorney began to unload her shopping basket.

“Now where shall we put this young woman?” she asked. “I suppose we could give her Roger’s room.”

“I don’t see why,” said Jessica. “Why should Roger be put out for a stranger? He wouldn’t like it.”

“No, perhaps he wouldn’t; though he usually doesn’t care where he is. Still, we needn’t disturb Roger. Aunt Hilda’s is a very nice room. We’ll put her in there.”

“And what will Aunt Hilda say to that, when she gets here? And finds herself in one of the little back rooms?”

“Aunt Hilda doesn’t get here for a few weeks yet, and by that time this secretary may have had enough of us and taken herself somewhere else. I don’t think you need to
look
for trouble, Jess. After all, we can do with anything extra in the way of cash.”

“Taking lodgers,” said Jessica in disgust.

“Well, if you want to look at it like that, you may. I look on it simply as obliging Mr. Humphries for the time being.”

“What’s the matter, Jess?” asked Max. “What don’t you like about it? Is it the extra work?”

“No. I can’t say I like the extra work, but it isn’t that. It’s having a stranger always about the place; not being able to talk as we always do; having somebody butting in.”

“She’ll be out all day at the Humphries’.”

“Well, I don’t like it.”

“Give it a trial. See how it works. We’ll let her understand at the beginning that it’s a temporary measure.”

“All right,” yielded Jessica, with a bad grace.

Max got up to go outside again. As he limped past Jessica’s chair, he put his hand on her shoulder.

“Cheer up,” he said. “She’s probably a harmless little mouse who will be terrified of you.”

Jessica turned her cheek on to his hand, and pressed it there a moment.

“Do you want any help?” she asked him.

“No, thanks. I’m just going to finish milking.”

“I’ll come, if you want me.”

“Well, if you insist...”

She got up at once, her face quite changed; no longer sulky and mutinous, but pleased and youthful. At the door, she paused.

“I’ll be back soon, Mother, to give you a hand.”

“That’s all right,” said her mother.

Mrs. Lorney stood still for a moment or two when they had gone, thinking about them. And about Roger, too. When they were little, you expected them to be problems and a lot of hard work; and you looked forward to their growing up as a lessening of responsibility. But they never ceased to be problems. And how they changed! There was always something to cope with. Ever since Max had had his accident, Roger and Jess had been different. Roger had run the farm all the time Max was in hospital; and what a hopeless muddle he had made of it, too. Half their present worries were due to his terrible mishandling of everything. Always so cocksure, so certain of himself; never listening to advice, but going his own way; and now, of course, feeling all the time that he was having to eat humble pie, though Max never rubbed it in. He was being very difficult these days, was Roger; but even he was not quite so disconcerting as Jess. Of course Jess had always adored Max right from a baby; but since the accident there was nothing she would not do for him.

Fetching and carrying for him, racing through the poultry to help him with the milking; bringing up the cows to save him the walk. Pity, in some ways, because it never gave Max a chance to forget his lameness. Poor Max. Poor darling Max. Mrs. Lorney’s eyes filled with tears, which she hurriedly wiped away. No good crying over it now, but there was no doubt about it, Max felt it badly, although he never mentioned it.

“Well, this won’t do,” she said aloud. She finished putting away her purchases, and, deciding that she had just time to look at Hilda’s room before she started on preparations for supper, she went upstairs and along the narrow passage to a door at the end.

The room into which it opened was a corner one, with two windows, one looking over the farmyard, and the other across the garden to rolling fields, and, in the distance, misty blue woods. It was a pleasant room, comfortably furnished with good pieces, which Aunt Hilda had picked out for herself all over the house. The secretary ought to be quite pleased with this. The mattress must be aired tomorrow, and the counterpane from Roger’s room could come in here. At first, the early farm noises might be a bit of a nuisance, but they couldn’t be helped, and if the secretary didn’t like them she could always go to the village to live. Mrs. Lorney, however, wondering what was the correct charge to make, was already deciding that whatever money came from this, should go towards the payments of the new tractor. That would be a bit of help for Max.

* * *

Laurie Giles, arriving at White Lodge to take up her work for Mr. Humphries, entirely approved of the idea of living out, and hoped that comfortable lodgings had been found for her. For five years she had been employed by the same agency, and during that time, had experienced a multitude of interesting and different jobs, and had endured an equal diversity of lodgings. She had sometimes lived in the house where she worked, but she did not like it. She was neither one thing nor the other, she confided to her mother when she was home again. Neither one of the family, nor one of the servants; but somewhere between the two in a nebulous position hard to endure.

Occasionally, somebody made her feel thoroughly at home, but this was rare. She preferred to find her own place to live. Sometimes her work was for a business firm or corporation, and this was on an impersonal plane that left her private life entirely to herself, but more often, since she was an easy person to get along with, she was sent out on work for private people.

She liked the look of White Lodge. A large, rambling house, with a slightly shabby air of comfort, settled into its surrounding trees snugly, as if it had grown there. She liked the look of Mr. Humphries, too, and was not at all overawed, as she had expected to be. He did not look like a famous scientist, or talk like one. He seemed kind and paternal, and when they had talked for a while in his study, he took her into the drawing room to meet his wife and to have some tea. Laurie looked about her frankly, with interest She liked the homeliness of everything, the atmosphere of go-as-you-please comfort. And she liked Mrs. Humphries.

Mrs. Humphries, for her part, was agreeably surprised by Miss Giles, but withheld her judgment until she knew her better. She had known several secretaries in her time, and she knew that they often made a very good first impression. But this girl seemed entirely agreeable. She did not, like Miss Scott-Scott, rush into a long, self-advertising story of her past work. She did not gush, yet, on the other hand, she did not act aggressively like a secretary who was determined to be businesslike and know her place. She was fresh and natural, spoke when she was spoken to, and took in everything with those large, interested grey eyes of hers. Her smile was frank, too, and pleasant. If she fulfilled the promise of this first tea-time and was intelligent as well, she would almost be too good to be true.

“We had a little difficulty,” Mr. Humphries was saying, “about a place for you to live.” Laurie Giles looked at him enquiringly. “We had it all fixed up that you should stay with a Mrs. Gasset, near here. A pleasant person with a nice little house, and a reputation as a cook. But, unfortunately, some of her family arrived to live with her for a time, and our arrangements fell through.”

“What a pity,” said Laurie, who had lived with enough bad cooks to appreciate a good one when she found her.

“Yes, but I think you will be very comfortable at the new place we have found. It isn’t quite the same
sort
of place. The people are friends of ours, and don’t normally take in paying guests; but they have plenty of room and will take you for the time being. You might, of course, prefer to make other arrangements for yourself, later on—when you know the village and other surroundings.”

“And where is this place?” asked Laurie. “Conveniently close. I think you can see the chimneys of the house from here, if you come to the window. This house being rather isolated means that we haven’t a very wide choice. You see down there, that little copse? Well, you go through that, and over the fields on the other side. It isn’t a very long walk. You can go by the road, but that is much longer.”

Laurie looked in the direction indicated, and hoped once more that the place was a pleasant one with pleasant people.

“I expect,” said Mrs. Humphries, “that Miss Giles would like to go over and see the place. You must be tired after your journey, my dear, and would like to settle in.”

“I’m not a bit tired, but I’d like to see it.”

“I’ll take you in the car,” said Mr. Humphries, “and we’ll go round by the road, as you have your bags to take. But if you go now, you’ll have to eat another tea, because we shall get there at their tea-time. They have it a little later than we do, to fit in with the poultry and the milking and so on.”

“Oh,” said Laurie with sudden interest, “is it a farm?”

“Yes. We forgot to mention that. Does that make any difference?”

“Yes, it does. I’m prepared to like it now. I have a very soft spot for farms.”

They smiled on her, liking her freshness. She stood up, prepared to depart, buttoning her jacket and pulling on her gloves. She was a small person, well dressed, her hair beautifully dressed and brushed. Unobtrusive, thought Mrs. Humphries, but not a bit subservient.

Laurie went out to the car with Mr. Humphries, and set out for the farm. They made polite conversation about the countryside, he pointing out the landmarks, Laurie admiring everything. They turned off the main road on to the farm road, a rough one with dried mud tracks along it, and evidence of the cows and horses that frequently used it; and then they came to the farm. Laurie had no time to study the house before they had drawn up at the front door and Mr. Humphries was helping her to get out, and leading her into the hall.

“I expect everybody is at the back,” he said. “I usually use the back door. Anybody at home?” He lifted his voice for the last three words, and then went and knocked on the open door, but without waiting, went to the back of the hall and opened another door. He looked round, found nobody there and coming back, peeped into another room. “Oh, there you are, Max,” he said. “I’ve brought Miss Giles along.”

“Come in,” said a man’s voice clearly. “I heard you arrive, but I’m on the ’phone. Isn’t Mother around?”

“She’s not in the kitchen, and nobody has answered my knock.”

“Well, come in, Mr. Humphries and bring Miss Giles. I won’t be a moment. Hallo!” He went back to his telephoning, and Mr. Humphries led Laurie into what was obviously the office.

They seated themselves while Max finished his conversation. He smiled at Laurie and nodded, and she smiled back, listening to him and studying her surroundings. It was a bare little room, with its big desk, its one armchair and two small chairs, its charts hanging on the wall, and its worn rug and heavy curtains. The desk was crowded with papers, but she noticed at once that they were methodically arranged. She looked at the man seated behind the desk. ‘Mmmmm,’ thought Laurie. ‘I expect he’s married and runs the farm with his wife. And his mother lives here. Or perhaps he has a family and calls his wife Mother.’ He looked about thirty-five, she thought. Almost certainly married. Farmers usually were.

He rang off.

“How do you do, Miss Giles?” he said, standing up and offering her his hand. She shook hands with him. “I hope we shall make you comfortable. I’ll go and find my mother. She’s about somewhere; probably in the garden. Won’t you come into the kitchen? It’s much pleasanter than this.”

Before he moved, however, his mother came into the room.

“Ah,” she said. “I heard your voices. I’d only just gone up the garden to get the washing in. You’ll be Miss Giles, now? And I expect you could do with a cup of tea?”

“There’s no hurry,” said Laurie. “I had some at Mr. Humphries’s house.” Mr. Humphries was introducing them all round.

“Well, I expect you could drink another. It’s all ready in the kitchen, if you like to come through. What about you, Mr. Humphries?”

“I’ll get back, if you don’t mind. I’ve left all Miss Giles’s bags in the hall. I expect she’d like to get settled down. Don’t bother to come over tomorrow, Miss Giles. I thought if we started on Monday, it would give you time to get acquainted with the village.”

“Oh, but I’m quite ready to start. I can see the village at the weekend,” said Laurie. “I’d rather start right away, if you’d like me to.”

Mr. Humphries, who wanted nothing so much as to get going on his work, immediately arranged to start the next morning, and went back to his car. Mrs. Lorney led Laurie out into the kitchen, Max saying that he would be out in five minutes.

“What a lovely kitchen,” said Laurie impulsively.

“You like it? It’s comfortable. We use it as a living room most of the time. But I expect, if you come from Town, it seems very old-fashioned to you.”

“I come from London. I expect you wouldn’t think our kitchen a kitchen at all. It’s not much more than a cupboard really.”

“Sit down there, will you, Miss Giles, and I’ll give you a cup of tea while we wait for the others. We usually have tea at this time, but it isn’t a big meal, because we have our supper between seven and half-past. That’s when Max and Roger are through with their work.”

Laurie sat at the table and sipped her tea. Mrs. Lorney sat where she could conveniently bob up and down between the table and the oven and the door into the scullery. Laurie looked to her right, through a large window, on to the farmyard. She could see the wide strip of grass between the house and the chestnut fencing, the dusty farm lane, more fencing bordering its farther side, and then the field where the poultry were kept. Next to the poultry field and ending the lane, were the barns and outbuildings, the stack yard, the bull sheds, and the pigsties farthest from the house. Laurie did not know what all these things were, but she enjoyed the pattern that they made, and liked the tidiness and compactness of the whole.

“I hope,” she said to Mrs. Lorney, “that it didn’t put you out too much, having me here. Mr. Humphries explained that you came to his rescue; but I daresay I shall be able to find something in the village if I’m in the way.”

“There’s no hurry. It’s a long way into the village every day, unless you have a bicycle or car. I don’t think it will put us out at all.”

The door opened, and Max came in. Laurie looked at him brightly, prepared to smile, but he did not look at her. He closed the door behind him, and crossed the room to his usual seat at the table. Laurie realized, with a shock of surprise, that he was lame, and immediately looked away from him, out of the large window. What a pity, she thought, such a fine, tall man, and so good looking. His mother gave him some tea.

They started their tea, Laurie answering the polite enquiries about her journey, while she wondered if Jess were the wife of Max. She glanced out of the window and saw a tall girl of about her own age crossing the lane with a bucket in each hand. She wore fawn breeches and a yellow jersey with a high collar. Her brown hair was blown by the wind and shining in the pale sunlight, but her face was set in somewhat sulky lines. Laurie wondered if this was Jess, if this was the wife of this nice-looking man at the table; and she had not long to wonder for the door opened and Jess came in. She had left her buckets in the shed, and without stopping to look at the party having tea, she went straight in to the scullery to wash her hands. When she reappeared, her hair was tidy, and she crossed to the table.

“Jess,” said Max, “this is Miss Giles. Miss Giles, my sister.”

The two looked at each other. Laurie’s face broke into a friendly, attractive smile.

“How do you do?” she said.

Jessica did not smile. She nodded tersely and sat down in her chair. Laurie looked at her in surprise for a moment, and then glanced from her to Mrs. Lorney and Max.

She saw that Max frowned a little, and that Mrs. Lorney was not pleased, but she did not think much about the incident. Perhaps Jess was tired after her work, perhaps she resented their not waiting tea for her, perhaps she was normally a person of few words. Laurie did not judge her at all. She reserved judgment, waiting for Jess to show herself. But Jessica did not speak to anybody, until nearly the end of the meal, when she asked if Max would like her to help with the milking.

“Reg is out there,” he said. “I’ve put him back on the milking for the time being. I was out there before tea, so he should be almost finished by now.”

Jess sank back into silence, and as soon as Max excused himself and went back to his office, she left the table too, and went out of the room.

“Well, now, Miss Giles, I expect you’d like to go up to your room. I hope you’ll find it comfortable. If there’s anything you need, don’t mind asking.” Mrs. Lorney led the way out of the kitchen into the hall. All Laurie’s bags had disappeared. “Max will have taken them up,” said his mother, and they went up the stairs.

The room was large and light. Its two windows looked over interesting views. It was furnished with good, old furniture and was very pleasant. Laurie thought it was a lovely room and said so.

“Well, I’ll leave you to your unpacking. The bathroom is at the end of the passage. We have supper at about seven.”

Laurie did not immediately unpack. She went to the window that looked over the rolling fields and woods and leaned on the window sill. It was getting dusk now, but even so, she was enchanted by the half-tones.

Supper in the kitchen proved to be a good and big meal. The curtains had been drawn and the lamps lit, and the fire in the range glowed red. Roger was introduced to her, a tall, well-built man, fairer than his brother, not quite so good looking, but with an attractive smile and an apparently equable temper.

After supper, Jessica began to clear away the dishes, while Max and Roger took their papers and their pipes to the fire. Mrs. Lorney sat still in her chair, looking tired, so that Laurie jumped up and asked to be allowed to help with the dishes. Jessica was on her way out of the room with a loaded tray, but she stopped at once and looked back.

“Indeed, no,” she said. “We can manage quite well by ourselves, thanks.”

Laurie paused. She was about to insist, thinking that Jessica’s refusal was the usual politeness, but she saw that Jessica’s face was hostile and that she did not want her to help, so she turned back to the table, folded her napkin, put it into its ring, and stood, a little forlorn, wondering what she was expected to do.

“Come along, Miss Giles,” said Max’s voice from the fireside. She looked at him, and found his pleasant smile directed at her. “Come and take a chair. I don’t know if you’ve seen the day’s papers. We don’t get round to them until the evening, usually.” He pulled her chair closer to the fire, offered her a paper, trying to make her feel at home and to atone for Jessica’s rudeness.