The Golden Maze (12 page)

"Was it Yvonne who persuaded you to go to the solicitor?"

Peter laughed. "In a way. She nagged like-mad and of course I ignored it. Then it struck me that I owed it to Dad to look after it. Then, as you know, I met you and changed my mind."

"Then that article was published and you changed your mind again," Cindy put in. "I wish I knew who phoned the newspaper. I didn't." She looked up at him angrily. "You think I'm a liar, but I'm not," she said, and began to run down the slope.

"Watch out !" Peter shouted, chasing after her, catching up, grabbing her hand and running with her.

As she ran, Cindy looked straight ahead. She was afraid if she turned to look at him, he might see the truth in her eyes. Why must she love this man? she asked herself miserably. If only it was possible to control love ! If only .. .

They were both a little breathless as they reached the castle. The sun shining on it seemed to increase its majesty—some of the trees had a few green buds and the snowdrops were pushing their way bravely through the cold soil as usual.

"Spring won't be long," Cindy said gaily.

"Spring comes late here," Peter began.

"Do you have to be so depressing?" Cindy asked laughing.

"I'm a realist, not a dreamer like you."

"Remember what you said that day? Something about a golden maze," Cindy asked as they went inside the castle.

"Peter !" Yvonne came storming down the hall, her 'cheeks bright red, her eyes flashing. "You must speak to that impossible creature, Paul Stone. Impudent ! I've never heard such cheek in all my life or such bad language—and I thought I'd heard most. There he was down in one of the vaults, digging. What are you doing? I asked. He told me to mind my own business and I said it was my business, and then he was rude and said it had no right to be my business . . ." She stopped, glaring at Peter, who was laughing. don't see anything funny in that." She turned to Cindy. "Do you ?"

"No, I don't," Cindy agreed.

Peter stopped laughing. "Sorry, Yvonne, but you get so involved with the word business I couldn't help laughing. That young man has got to pull up his socks. He's been able to do just what he likes too long. Why was he digging ?"

"He wouldn't tell me."

Mrs. Stone appeared, banging the gong. She, too, looked angry.

"I'm hungry, aren't you, Cindy?" Peter asked, leading the way. "Walking gives one an appetite."

Yvonne sulked all through lunch, hardly saying a word. Cindy felt uncomfortable, particularly as Peter was obviously finding it hard not to laugh, but as they drank coffee, Peter said

"Cheer up, Yvonne, it isn't the end of the world. I'll speak to Stone."

Her face changed. "You will ? And find out why he was digging, Peter. That's most important. You won't forget, will you ?"

"No, I won't forget," he promised.

It amazed Cindy, but Yvonne's whole attitude changed. She turned to Cindy and began to talk in a friendly voice, asking questions about her work, and it was only as they finished their -coffee that she turned to Peter again and asked him in a casual voice, a voice so casual that it caught Cindy's attention :

"By the way, Peter, doesn't Claife mean a steep, hillside with path? I can't find the path. There must have been one to give the castle its name. That Paul Stone knows where it is. He told me so and refused to tell me where it was." Her voice shook angrily. "Perhaps you know the path ?"

"The path ?" Peter looked puzzled. "I never thought of there being one."

"Oh dear, it is so annoying. Look, Peter, you find out from Stone. You're his boss. He'll have to tell you."

Peter stood up. ``I can hardly twist his arm, can I, but I'll do my best. It's time he realised who's the boss

round here. I'm afraid he's done what he likes too long."

He left them and Cindy wondered how she could get away tactfully, Yvonne stood up and wandered round the room, then turned.

"Cindy, I wonder what would be the best colour for the curtains in here. We ought to have it centrally heated too."

"I thought Peter wanted it to be furnished in the way it would have been in the period this castle represents."

"Does he? We've got to consider the best way to make money, not some sentimental idea . . . We shall only live here part of the year, because London must be our headquarters. I'll have to get a good manager, for Peter is hopeless at judging characters, he's too much of a romantic."

"A romantic?" echoed Cindy, and began to laugh. Peter came in. "What's the joke?" he demanded. "Yvonne says you're a romantic, Peter."

He gave her an odd look. "You don't think I am?" "Most certainly not," Cindy said firmly.

"Did you see Paul Stone ?" Yvonne demanded. "I did."

"And what did he say ?"

"Nothing. Precisely nothing," said Peter, sounding amused.

"But, Peter, he must have said something !"

"My dear Yvonne, he did. He talked for a long time and at' the end had said precisely nothing. I gather the digging in the vaults was because of the rats."

"Rats?" Yvonne sounded worried. "I didn't see one down there."

"It seems they roam at night. Stone is putting down poison or something."

"And the path ?" Yvonne asked eagerly.

"He says he's heard of it, folk talk of it in the village. He doesn't know where the path exactly is, but reckons it would start from the lake but has grown over long ago."

"I thought you said he had told you nothing?" said Cindy.

Peter smiled. "Well, what I've just told you took an awful long time to say. A sort of intelligentsia type, using long words whose meaning he probably doesn't know himself. Anyhow, I made it clear that he mustn't be rude to you—he said you were rude to him. That he wasn't a serf . . . that was the word he used," Peter sounded amused. "Apparently you were rather arrogant, Yvonne."

"Arrogant? Me? I merely told him that he was your employee and had no right to dig in the vaults without your permission."

Cindy, murmuring something, slipped away from the two of them and escaped to her room. Somehow their wrangling made it all much worse, for they had sounded like a couple who had been married for years and who enjoyed a quarrel because of the fun of making it up afterwards ! The more Cindy saw them together, the more convinced was she that they would one day marry, for Yvonne seemed so sure of herself, so possessive with Peter.

If only the week would end, Cindy thought miserably, and she could go miles away, never to see

them again. Yet, inconsistently, the idea made her want to cry, for how could she say goodbye to Peter, knowing she would never see him again.

In the morning, soon after breakfast, Yvonne vanished. Peter asked Cindy if she would like to walk round the castle with him, giving him her ideas of What they should do to turn it into a profitable business.

"I'd love to," she said, her face glowing with surprised pleasure before she had time to hide it. "Yvonne says though that . . ."

Peter smiled. "Let's forget Yvonne, she's full of ideas. I still prefer yours. I think a lot of people, particularly from abroad, would enjoy the feeling that they were living in a replica of an old castle. We wouldn't fool them, we'd just make it as much like it would have been in the old days. I'm afraid you'll have to do a lot of research on it for me."

Cindy caught her breath. So Peter was not going to walk out of her life? Or perhaps it would be more accurate to say he was not going to let her walk out of his.

"I'll enjoy it," she said breathlessly. -

They took their time, wandering up and down the different flights of stairs, going into the lofty cold rooms, many of them filled with furniture that was covered with sacking.

"When Mother was alive, everything was different," Peter said wistfully.

"I imagine in those days you had quite a big staff ?"

"Actually we did. I suppose Dad, on his own, didn't

need them. I wonder why he took on Mrs. Stone ?"

"Ask Mrs. Usher," Cindy suggested. "She knows everything."

Peter laughed, "I will, too !"

They went down into the vaults. No sign of Paul Stone anywhere. It was dark and cold and Cindy shivered, imagining the days long gone by when in real castles these horrible places might be full of prisoners.

"I wonder where Yvonne is?" she said as they went back to what Peter called the civilised part and Mrs. Stone brought them coffee.

Peter gave Cindy an odd look. "She's a perfectionist. She has some idea that the imaginary path—for that's what I think it is—holds some secret and that it must be discovered if we're to get the castle's full value." He laughed. "Honestly, Cindy, she amazes me. That girl has a one-track mind : money ! She can't bear to be cheated or fooled."

Cindy sat silently, listening as Peter tried to make her understand Yvonne. He did it in a surprisingly gentle way, almost as if he was a father, talking of a difficult child he loved. For it seemed to Cindy that Peter's love for Yvonne showed all the way through.

Yvonne joined them just before lunch. She looked tired and bad-tempered.

"You'd think some of the locals would know about the path," she grumbled. "Or is it just that they won't tell me ?"

"Why not go and ask Mrs. Usher ?" Cindy suggested. "She's very helpful."

"Where does she live ?" Yvonne asked, so Cindy told her. "I'll go down this afternoon."

"Mrs. Usher likes an after-lunch nap, Yvonne," Peter pointed out.

Yvonne frowned. "So what ?"

"Why not go about half past three ?" said Cindy. "She'll give you a marvellous tea."

Cindy went walking that afternoon, but first she drove down to the village and parked her car before walking along the side of the lake. Here she was under the shadow of the mountain behind her, but she could just see the castle through the groups of trees. It was cold and she shivered, but anything was better than staying in the castle and listening to Yvonne laying down the law as to what should be done to make the castle a financial success. Peter must really love her, Cindy thought, to have the patience to listen to her all the time. It was odd, because Peter was not a patient man. Nor was he . what was the word... biddable. He did what he liked. Yet he often seethed to give way to Yvonne. It could only mean one thing : he loved her.

That evening, the guests arrived for dinner : Luke and Maidie Fairhead, Mrs. Usher, David Baxter and Johanna Younge. Mrs. Stone cooked a delicious dinner of roast duckling and the conversation was easygoing. Cindy sat next to Luke Fairhead with David on her other side. David hardly spoke to her, but that didn't matter, for Luke Fairhead had plenty to say. Yvonne, of course, was very much the hostess, but afterwards as they all went to the drawing-room to have coffee round the huge log fire, David Baxter went to sit by Yvonne, Cindy by Mrs. Usher, and Johanna was left with the Fairheads and Peter.

Not unnaturally both the Fairheads had a lot of

questions to ask Peter, for both were interested in his adventures since he left. Johanna sat still, looking attractive, her hands folded almost meekly as she looked at Peter, but Cindy noticed that she kept glancing to where David and Yvonne were talking seriously.

Poor Johanna, Cindy thought, loving David, and now Yvonne has walked in, for despite Johanna's beauty, she was nothing in comparison with Yvonne, who was years younger and much more beautiful. Cindy sighed, glad she had Mrs. Usher to talk to, for Cindy knew she was the plainest of them all.

"It must be wonderful to be so beautiful," she said wistfully to Mrs. Usher.

The little old lady chuckled. "They pay a price later. Can you imagine how ghastly it must be to look in the mirror and say : 'My, can that be me?' in horror?"

Cindy laughed, "I say that all the time !"

Mrs. Usher looked at her. "Your trouble, child, is that you believed what those naughty cousins of yours said. You mustn't. Can't you see they wouldn't have said it if they weren't jealous?"

Cindy was startled. "They were jealous of me ?"

"Why not? Your face has an unusual charm, a sort of fey look. Heart-shaped, with huge dark eyes and the prettiest of hair. You look kind of cute with your glasses on."

"Oh, Mrs. Usher, that's just what Mr. Jenkins—he's my boss—said."

"Did he now? Shows the man had some sense. Tell me what he said."

It was quite early when Johanna said she must go.

Peter took her to her car and when he came back he had a puzzled look, Cindy noticed.

Gradually everyone went, the last being David, who seemed unwilling to leave.

"That'll be fun, David," Yvonne said gaily. "I'll meet you for lunch tomorrow. Peter will drive me in."

As Cindy went to her room, she realised with a shock that her week was nearly up. On Sunday she could go back to London. How swiftly the last few days had gone. The best way would be to slip off early on Sunday, before breakfast perhaps, leaving the diary and a letter for Peter. No doubt they'd be glad to go down and find she had gone—for good.