Sister of the Housemaster (3 page)

Just as she considered retracing her steps, a man turned into the cloisters, a man so tall and broad that she felt sure it could only be Laurence Pinder, and as he came closer, she saw that it was he. She smiled in quick recognition.

“
I
’
m so glad I met you,
”
she exclaimed.
“
I
’
m lost.

I find myself quite baffled by these complicated buildings. Can I get to my brother
’
s House this way?
”

“
Yes, I
’
ll show you,
”
he said at once.
“
It is rather puzzling until you get used to it.
”

He turned to walk beside her. The dim grey cloisters, enclosing a green lawn, rang to the sound of their footsteps. They turned into a still darker stone passage
(
known to the boys as the Black Alley), and emerged at the end of it, on to the quadrangle.

“
We have to walk round,
”
said Laurence Pinder.
“
It
’
s forbidden to walk on this grass. Your brother
’
s House is at the far corner.
”

“
Oh, thank you. I need not bother you any further then.
”

“
It
’
s certainly not a bother. It
’
s a pleasure,
”
he said, continuing to walk with her.
“
A fresh face is always an event, you know, here. And one as appealing as yours is doubly welcome.
”

“
A very pretty speech,
”
said Ingrid, smiling at him.

“
I hope you will be with us for a long time,
”
he said.

They came to Arnold
’
s house.

“
You can go in through the garden. It
’
s quicker.
”

“
Good. I would like to ask you to come and have
s
ome tea, but I feel rather a new gir
l.
I
’
m not sure
o
f the customs of the country yet.
”

He laughed.

“
I wouldn
’
t dream of intruding, but I do hope to see you again soon.
”

Ingrid went through the garden and into the house. She found Sylvia becoming impatient, but placated her with the library books, while she went to make the tea. The warm buttered scones and cream cakes placated Sylvia still further, and when Arnold appeared she was in a good mood. He spent little time over his tea and was s
o
on off to his study. Sylvia was reading one of her books, so Ingrid picked up some school magazines and calendars and began to glance through them.

She was amused and interested by the magazines for a while, and then turned to the school calendar for the present term. The preachers for the Cathedral for all the Sundays of term, the hockey and rugger fixtures, the boxing and fencing, some lantern lectures and sixth-form lectures given by members of Parliament or editors of newspapers; The House drama, visits by chamber music trios or quartets (how did the boys enjoy that, wondered Ingrid), a talk with film accompaniment on British aviation by Patrick: Edgeworth
...
Patrick Edgeworth! Ingrid
’
s mind came to a full stop at that name. She did not go on, but looked across at Sylvia.

“
Patrick Edgeworth,
”
she said.
“
That is your brother, of course.
”

“
Yes,
”
said Sylvia, looking up.
“
Why? Oh, I see, you
’
ve got the school calendar.
”

“
He
’
s coming down to give a lecture on British avi
a
tion.
”

“
Yes. The Head gave him no peace until he consented. You can always trust the Head to get the most out of every chance acquaintance.
”

“
I expect he thinks of the boys,
”
said Ingrid, quite unconsciously beginning to justify the Head.
“
After all, they will be far more interested in that than in the chamber music concerts.
”

“
I should think so. And, of course, it looks well on the calendar. The more big names to impress the parents, the better from the school
’
s point of view. I think it is rather an imposition myself. I
’
m sure Patrick is far too busy to have time to prepare lectures for a lot of unwilling schoolboys.
”

It was on the tip of Ingrid
’
s tongue to say that perhaps Patrick liked schoolboys, and that he would want to encourage in them an interest in aviation, but then she thought that, if he were like his sister, he might have her viewpoint about it. She said instead:

“
Yes. He must be very busy, but I suppose that is one of the penalties of such brilliant success.
”
Sylvia looked pleased at that. Her brilliant brother covered her in a good deal of reflected glory.

“
You never met him, did you?
”
she asked.

“
No. During the war, when he was earning such fame, I was a schoolgirl evacuated to the country. And when I came to your wedding, he was on some service overseas. And our ways never did cross
—
he never visited you at the same time as myself.
”

“
Well, of course, he is so much in demand that he can
’
t get down as often as he would like. Only recently he was in Australia, in connection with this latest aircraft of his, and that has piled up work on this side for him. As for social engagements, well, he just has to refuse most of them, or he wouldn
’
t have any time for work. He
’
s so very popular and so sought after.
”

Ingrid began to feel a prickly resentment of this paragon of all the virtues. It might be Sylvia
’
s exaggeration, her customary praise of everything that belonged to her, but it sounded as if Patrick Edgeworth had a good deal of his sister
’
s self
-
satisfaction.

“
There is a photograph of
him
in my bedroom,
”
said Sylvia.
“
Would you like to see it?
”

There was only one answer to that, and Ingrid made it, although she had little interest in the photograph.

“
Go and bring it in,
”
said Sylvia,
“
It is on my bedside table.
”

Ingrid went to Sylvia
’
s bedroom and crossed to the little table and took the photograph in her hands. It was a large studio portrait, and, before returning with it to the living-room, Ingrid stood still and studied it. The first thing about it that struck her was the resemblance between the man in the portrait and the woman in the living-room,
and this may have created in her a slight prejudice; for the light eyes
—
grey or blue
—
looked cold to her, the set of the jaw arrogant, and the slight smile on the closed lips seemed disdainful rather than pleasant. Rather a t
hi
n face, she thought. A detached type, not very human. Very like his sister Sylvia, but better looking, and obviously very blond where Sylvia could only be called mousy. Oh well, thought Ingrid, I never did like blond men, and I wouldn
’
t really expect to like Sylvia
’
s brother. She took the portrait into the living-room.

‘
Well,
”
asked Sylvia.
“
What do you think of
h
im?
”

That was one of those awkward questions, impossible to answer truthfully. Ingrid did her best

‘
What particularly strikes me,
”
she said,
“
is how very much he resembles you.
”

That pleased Sylvia enormously, for Patrick was really handsome, and this was tantamount to Ingrid
’
s saying that she was handsome too. She forgot to ask Ingrid for a further opinion, but began a long series of anecdotes about her brother, all pointing to his charm, his brilliance, his remarkable talent, and she did not notice that her enthusiasm was not shared by her listener, that, in fact, Ingrid was doing her best to control her boredom.

CHAPTER TWO

INGRID met Laurence Pinder in the town. She was carrying a loaded shopping basket which he immediately took from her.

“
Why don
’
t you have this stuff delivered?
”
he asked her.

“
We do have nearly everything sent,
”
she replied,
“
but there are some things you can only get from the special little shops and they don
’
t have a delivery service. But if it ruffles your manly pride to be seen carrying a shopping basket, I really am quite capable of doing it myself.
”

“
My manly pride can look after itself. But you shouldn
’
t spend your Saturday afternoons this way. I thought you were coming to watch the match. You missed seeing the first team score a resounding victory.
”

“
I did mean to come,
”
said Ingrid apologetically,
“
but you see, we
have this party tomorrow night
for Mrs. Southbrook
’
s brother, and I remembered
a whole lot of things I would like to have for the
buffet, So here I am
—
and here are you with the shopping.
”

“
Too bad to burden you with the entertaining. Couldn
’
t the Head have taken him off your hands?
”

“
Well,
”
said Ingrid,
“
to speak very confidentially, I believe the Head wanted to. And before I came, my sister-in-law was afraid she would have to let him. She didn
’
t want to, because her brother is somebody rather important, and she wanted the glo
r
y of entertaining him in her own house, but her illness seemed to put it out of the question. But with me here, it becomes possible, though I don
’
t mind telling you that I
’
m not used to entertaining on this scale, or people of such eminence. I do hope you
’
re going to be a read stand-by tomorrow evening.
”

“
Would you like me to help?
”
he asked eagerly.

“
I certainly would. Rush to my rescue whenever you see me looking a bit lost, will you?
”

“
I
’
ll stick by until you will wish you could get rid of me. But there
’
s nothing much in it
—
chiefly staff, you know, and a few people from the town, and perhaps the Dean and a Canon or two. I expect you already know the star of the evening
—
he
’
s a sort of brother
-
in-law to you, isn
’
t he?
”

“
Not exactly,
”
laughed Ingrid.
“
And I don
’
t know him at all. He
’
s one of these important, elusive people who is always doing something very necessary somewhere else.
”

“
I hear that he
’
s a very decent chap,
”
said Laurence.

“
He sounds a bit pompous and arrogant to me,
”
said Ingrid.
“
I get rather a lot of him from Mrs. Southbrook,
a
nd I should say that success
h
as gone to his head.
”

That she should think this did not particularly dismay Laurence He was already feeling a desire to stand better in her opinion than any other man,
a
nd the frank and friendly way in which she was speaking to him pleased him very much. The fact that she had enlisted him as her help for the following evening pleased him still more. He was considering asking her to lunch with him one Sunday, away from the school, but he had not quite screwed up his courage to this point. She seemed to him so vital and so charming that she must think of him as a dull and pedantic schoolmaster. But he would help her tomorrow evening with her entertaining, and after that, he would ask her to dine or lunch with him.

“
I hope you
’
re not finding this somewhat cloistered school life too dull,
”
he said, as they walked the narrow strip of pavement together.

“I
love it,
”
said Ingrid.
“
I must confess that one thing puzzles me. How do you ever lea
rn
to tell all the boys apart? Or don
’
t you? Or ever memorize all the names
?
So far, only the very tall, or very short, or very cheeky have managed to sort themselves out in my mind. Miss Everton says she knows all hers
—
she
’
s rather a dear
—
she lets them go into her room and use the gas ring, and she says they sometimes cook the most revolting things on it. I suppose they are always hungry, being at this growing stage, but they think of nothing but food, it seems to me. I never really thought much about boy
s
before, but I
’
m beginning to like them enormously.
”

“
Good. Then you won
’
t want to dash away from us.
”

“
They have such beautiful manners
—
to me, anyway, if not to each other. And the darlings think they
’
re so clever, but Arnold always knows when they
’
ve been cooking in the studies, or having smoking parties in the night, or something dastardly like that. But he knows when to turn a blind eye
—
when to let them get away with it, and when not.
”

“
He
’
s a fine chap,
”
said Laurence earnestly.
“
The best Housemaster we have, and a great asset to the school. I have a great admiration for your brother.
”

Ingrid smiled delightedly at him.

“
So have I,
”
she said.
“
That
’
s a nice thing to have in common.
”

“
I would like to think there was much more,
”
he said.

“
Oh, I
’
m sure there is,
”
she said lightly, not wanting him to be too earnest and serious. She turned the conversat
i
on deftly to something else until they came to the Cathedral precincts and the ancient grey stone buildings of the school.

“
I
’
ll look out for you tomorrow evening at the lecture,
”
said Laurence as they were parting.

“
I doubt if I shall make it. I
’
m going to be quite busy, because Mrs. Southbrook wants this affair to be a success and she
’
s sure to have me running round at the last minute.
”

“
Try, anyway.
”

“
Yes, I
’
ll try
—
and if I get there, I
’
ll look for you.
”

With that he had to be content, but although Ingrid hoped to get away to hear the lecture and the film, she was not surprised when Sylvia said it would be quite impossible and that really Ingrid was most inconsiderate to think of it. She was out for a walk when Patrick Edgeworth arrived at the school and called at Arnold
’
s House for a few minutes before going on to tea with the Headmaster. She took her supper with Sylvia, while Patrick was sitting at the High Table in the Dining Hall, in the admiring view of hundreds of interested boys. She was unable to get to
le
c
t
ure and so it was not until the guests began to arrive when it was over that she caught her first glimpse of him. Even then, so many people had to be introduced to her that she had no more than a brief greeting from him, and a decided handshake. But the glimpse was sufficient to surprise her. The portrait had been rather
colourless
. This man was far from that. The eyes were grey, but very keen, and she noticed later that his la
s
he
s
were unusually long. His hair, which was blond as the photograph had suggested, was a very golden blond which caught the light, so that it seemed to her he was instantly discernible in the room. He was, she admitted at once, extremely handsome. All the women in the room were very conscious of
him
, were directing their behavior towards were a little more sparkling and vivacious because she was there. And that, Ingrid decided, probably made him more conceited than ever.

She had little time for watching him. She was seeing that the guests were supplied with drinks, and kept the little school maid and Laurence and another young master busy, helping the guests from the buffet. Also, she was called to be introduced to the Dean, and spent a few minutes talking to him; then to the Headmaster who was being delightfully bland and genial to everybody.

Laurence joined her at last, and they breathed relief.

“
I hope Mrs. Southbrook is satisfied with this,
”
said Laurence.
“
She ought to be
—
it
’
s going very well.
”

“
Thank goodness for that.
”

“
Pity you didn
’
t manage to be at the lecture. It was quite thrilling
—
the film too. You could have heard a pin drop, which is not always the case at
the Sunday lectures or concerts. The boys went for him wholeheartedly.
”

“
I suppose there will be a rush of recruits to the science classes.
”

“
It wouldn
’
t surprise me. And Mr. Edgeworth has offered prizes for the six best essays on aviation. A conducted tour over an aircraft factory, and a visit to an airport to see how it operates.
”

“
I suppose it
’
s fairly easy to buy popularity.
”
Laurence looked at her in surprise. It was the first time he had heard her say anything remotely cynical, and he realized it might have come from her sister-in-law at any time. He hoped that that kind of cynicism was not contagious.

“
I don
’
t think that it quite fair,
”
he said.
“
I think he would have been popular without that. And I feel that he has a genuine desire to encourage an interest in anything to do with aircraft. Pity you weren
’
t there this evening
—
you would have realized his own absorbing interest.
”

“
You seem to have fallen under his spell, anyway.
”

“
I?
”
Laurence laughed.
“
No, I just wanted to be fair to the chap. If it
’
s spells you
’
re talking about, I think I
’
ve fallen under an entirely different one.
”

“
Now who is talking about spells?
”
asked a voice, behind Ingrid, and she turned to find one of the Canons of the Cathedral behind her, with an empty glass.
“
I find the wine very good,
”
he added,
“
and I wonder if there is more of it.
”

“
Certainly, sir,
”
said Laurence at once.

“
Now, what is this about spells? No witchcraft, I hope?
”

“
Perhaps a certain amount of witchcraft too,
”
said Laurence,
“
but a very harmless kind.
”

It was the end of their privacy. A group formed round them, an
d soon there was a general conv
ersation to which Ingrid was contented to listen. Then she found Miss Everton at her side.

“
Mrs. Southbrook wants you for a moment,
”
she said.

Sylvia was looking very flushed and happy. Everybody, including the Headmaster and the Dean, had said the most charming things about Patrick, and she was feeling a social success. She said to Ingrid:

“
We thought Patrick would have to go back tonight but he says he can stay for a day or two.
C
ould you slip out and make up the spare room bed for
him
?
”

The prospect of a lengthened visit obviously delighted her. Ingrid said she would go at once, and Miss Everton offered to help. They went together to get fresh sheets and to make up the bed.

“
Quite a social occasion,
”
said Miss Everton,

“
A welcome change in this House. Pity you didn
’
t hear Mr. Edgeworth
’
s talk. Even I, with the most unmechanical mind in the world, felt that I understood what he was talking about. Lucky you, to have him staying here.
”

“
I think everybody has gone quite mad about the man,
”
said Ingrid indifferently.

“
Not you, apparently. Ah well, perhaps your friends in London are all handsome and clever and attractive. He struck me as something special.
”

No, thought Ingrid, I just won
’
t run with the herd. I expect he takes it as a foregone conclusion that everybody will fall under his enchantment. Well, I won
’
t.

When the guests had gone, and she had helped Sylvia to bed, she did not go back to the living
-
room where Arnold and Patrick were talking together, but went to her own room. She did rather wish she had been at the lecture, so that she might
have judged it for herself, but her chief feeling was one of relief that the evening had gone off successfully, and with no more thought for the brilliant aircraft designer, she fell asleep.

Next morning she woke at her usual early hour, put on a dress of warm crimson corduroy, covered it with a small apron, and cooked her breakfast in the kitchen. Sylvia, who did not choose to be disturbed so early, would have hers in bed later, and it was Ingrid
’
s plan to lay the small table by the living-room window for Patrick
’
s meal. Arnold came into the kitchen before leaving, thanked her for her part in the entertainment the previous evening, kissed her cheek, told her she looked a delight, and went away. Ingrid was just pouring out her coffee when the kitchen door opened, and Patrick
’
s head appeared round it.

“
Ah, good morning,
”
h
e said, opening the door wider.

“
Good morning,
”
said Ingrid.

“
May I come in
?
”

“
Of course.
”

Bother the man, she thought. Why must he come in at the very moment when she was about to begin to eat
?
Why could he not have waited until his table was laid and she was free to cook for him? Now she must put hers aside and see to his needs.

“
I hope I
’
m not being very inconvenient,
”
he said,
“
coming too early or too late.
”

“
Not at all,
”
lied Ingrid politely.

“
The coffee smells delicious.
”

He found her rather stiff and wondered if she was annoyed at the arrival of an unexpected guest.

“
Will you have some while I cook your, breakfast?
”
asked Ingrid, bringing another cup and saucer.
“
I will set the table in the living-room for you.
”

“
Don
’
t bother to do that. Can
’
t I have my breakfast here? Where do you have yours?
”

“
Here,
”
she said.

“
Then I will too. Why, yours is ready, and I
’
m keeping you from it. You sit down and have it, and I
’
ll cook for myself.
”

“
Certainly not,
”
said Ingrid.

He smiled at her. A most charming smile, but Ingrid was proof against it. She, who was ordinarily so open and friendly, meeting people half-way, could only think that he turned on the charm as if he were turning on a tap. He expected her to be subjugated, expected her to expand into friendliness simply because he chose to smile at her. She was ruffled in a way that was most unusual for her.

“
But I assure you I can cook,
”
he said.
“
I
’
ve often had to do it for myself in most out-of-the-way corners of the world, and not with a gleaming cooker and pots and pans either.
”

He insisted that she should sit down and start her breakfast. He dealt with eggs and bacon competently, made more toast, and came to join her at the table.

“
Have we enough coffee?
”
he asked.

“
I think so.
”

“
Good.
”
He sat down opposite her, and smiled across the blue-checked gingham cloth.
“
Now,
”
he said,
“
we can begin to be acquainted. It
’
s surprising that we never met before, with your brother married to my sister.
”

“
Yes, isn
’
t it?
”
said Ingrid politely.

“
It
’
s very good of you to come down and look after Sylvia. I
’
m afraid she has had rather a bad time lately.
”

“
Yes, she
’
s
been trying to carry on for too long.
”
He could not thaw her. He wondered if she was always so diff
ic
ult. Was she shy? Or naturally frigid? Or simply annoyed that, to her work for Sylvia, was added a certain amount of work for
him?

“
I
’
m so sorry that my visit should make more work for you,
”
he said.
“
Would it be better if I put up in the town for a day or two?
”

Ingrid was ashamed of her inhospitality. She
s
aid at once:

“
Good gracious no. Sylvia is delighted to have you here, and I really have very little to do. You will make practically no difference.
”

She rose from her place at the table.

“
Don
’
t run away,
”
he said.
“
Stay and get acquainted.
”

“
Please excuse me
—
I have to cook Sylvia
’
s breakfast.
”

He gave up. She did not want to talk. She did not want, apparently, to become acquainted with him. He poured himself some more coffee, watching her as she went about her work, thinking she must be very much younger than Arnold, and wondering what made her so unapproachable.

Later in the day, he saw her in the town. In a slim
-
fitting coat and an attractive little hat, she was standing before a bookshop talking to one of the masters of the school, a tall and extremely broad young man whom he had met the previous evening. As he walked towards them, he studied her. Nobody could call her unapproachable now. She was laughing and talking, her head tilted up to look at the young man, her eyes dancing, her hand sketching rapid movements to accompany what she was saying. She looked very much alive and very attractive, and Patrick remembered now
that the two had stayed together most of the time at Sylvia
’
s little gathering. Perhaps so much of her time and thoughts and attention centred on this young man that she was completely indifferent to all others.

Laurence saw him coming, and turned smiling to greet him. Patrick joined them, and they blocked the narrow pavement for a few minutes as they talked.

“
I’
m afraid we are causing an obstruction,
”
said Laurence at last.
“
If you are going back to the school, we can all walk together.
”

“
You two go on,
”
said Ingrid.
“
I have to get the scones.
”

“
We
’
ll all get the scones,
”
said Laurence comfortably, so the three of them called at the shop, and then walked back in the cold winter afternoon to the Cathedral, and through the cloisters to the school. They attracted a good deal of attention, the attractive girl walking with the two handsome, upstanding men. Many backward glances were sent after them as they walked swiftly, and many of the young girls hurrying about their business would have changed places with Ingrid then.

She insisted that he should come and have some tea in Sylvia
’
s house, and since Patrick seconded the invitation, Laurence was prevailed upon. They entered the imposing hall, avoided a charge of young boys headed for the tuck shop, and went into Sylvia
’
s living-room, to find that Sylvia had a visitor with her.

“
See who is here, Patrick,
”
called Sylvia, and Ingrid could see that the good mood of the evening before was still with her. It was obvious that the arrival of this guest gave her almost as much pleasure as Patrick
’
s arrival had done. The newcomer was a young woman of about twenty-six,
tal
l
, willowy, with chestnut hair. At this moment,
s
he was pleased and smiling, and greeted Patrick warmly. Some of her graciousness was left over for Laurence, but it was a little perfunctory by
the time it reached Ingrid.