Winter at Cray (7 page)

BOOK: Winter at Cray

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The matter would probably have been dropped at that point, but Robert was in no mood to be frustrated so easily and his eyes turned reproachfully to Louise.
‘
I would
like
to have gone out,
’
he told her soulfully. T would really, Mummy.
’

Surprisingly support for his plea came from Stephen who had apparently followed the conversation despite a seeming preoccupation with his breakfast.
‘
If Robert really wants to go for a walk, Louise,
’
he told her,
‘
I
’
m quite willing to take him. I know the ground rather better than Dar—Mr. Darrell does and I
’
d be very careful, of course.
’

Louise looked at him for a moment, unable to disguise her surprise at the offer. Stephen was no lover of the outdoors at any time and in the face of such discouraging weather it was doubly surprising that he should make the offer. It took her only a moment to realise the reason for it. Stephen was apparently prepared to go to almost any lengths to put Jonathan Darrell in his place and, judging by the smile on his face, the other man realised it.

She hesitated whether to risk an outright rebuff from Robert by offering the choice of going with Stephen or not. So many times her cousin had attempted to ingratiate himself with the boy and he found Robert
’
s continued reticence disheartening, to say the least.

It was better, she decided at last, to make the refusal herself and make it as diplomatically as possible. She chose her words with care and hoped he would not guess the reason behind them.
‘
I don
’
t
think you
’
d better, Stephen, thank you.
’
She laughed.
‘
I don
’
t want to have to come and dig you both out of a snowdrift or have you both down with colds for the big day.
’

She sensed Jonathan Darrell
’
s gaze switch from herself and back to Stephen, and his expression indicated that he guessed something of the position, a suspicion confirmed by his briefly arched brows a moment later. He was discomfitingly observant, she thought, and kept her eyes studiously downcast as she resumed her breakfast. Stephen
’
s dark head was bent once more over his coffee, his shoulders hunched in a gesture that betrayed his rather moody character. His expression closed and rather irritable as if he too had suspected the reason behind her diplomatic refusal, despite her efforts.

She sighed inwardly and prayed for an early cessation of the snow so that the visitors could leave before the two men actually came to blows, as she was sure they were bound to if things went on as they were.

‘
Essie says we
’
re likely to be stranded here.
’
The deep voice broke into her thoughts and made her start a little guiltily.
‘
What
’
s your record for being snowed in, Miss Kincaid?
’

‘
Nearly three weeks,
’
she told him, disliking the look of amusement he watched her with.

‘
I
’
m sorry you
’
re stuck with us,
’
he told her,
‘
and for my sake I hope it isn
’
t for three weeks, but short of swimming across there
’
s not much we can do about it, is there? Unless,
’
he added,
‘
any of the cottages down there could take us.
’

She shook her head, suspecting his meekness, but seeking to suppress the now familiar resentment as he held her gaze challengingly.
‘
There
’
s no need for you to go down there, Mr. Darrell. For one thing it would mean making your way down the path to the cottages, and that
‘
would be almost impossible in this, and for another thing I told Essie we have plenty of supplies to last for quite a long time even with two extra ones. Of course you
’
ll stay here.
’

‘
Thank you.
’
She looked up hastily, suspecting he was laughing at her, but his expression was as sober as it could be and only some faint gleam in his eyes gave her cause to doubt.

‘
I also told Essie,
’
she went on quickly,
‘
that you can use the phone whenever you want to as long as it
’
s in working order.
’

‘
Is it likely not to be?
’
He looked surprised for a moment and she could not suppress a feeling of satisfaction that something at last had altered that self-satisfied expression.

‘
It could be,
’
she agreed, and he nodded.

‘
Then I
’
d better use it soon after breakfast,
’
he told her,
‘
if I may.
’
He smiled at her and she hastily looked away from the unexpectedness of it, wishing there was something she could do about that pulsing nerve in her temple.
‘
Did you manage to fix me an interview with Mrs. Kincaid?
’
he asked, and she nodded.

‘
Yes, I did, but—
’
She hesitated, not wanting to sound over-fussy.
‘
She
’
s a very old lady, don
’
t overtire her, will you
?’

‘
I won
’
t,
’
he promised, and it sounded sincere enough for her to take it at its face value; but not to Stephen, it seemed.

He looked up, frowning, his tone disapproving. T don
’
t quite see,
’
he told Jonathan Darrell,
‘
what my great-grandmother can tell you that isn
’
t already known.
’

‘
Interviewing Great-gran was the whole object of the visit, Stephen,
’
Louise pointed out reasonably,
‘
and she doesn
’
t mind in the least.
’
She smiled briefly at him, almost by way of apology for her lack of support.
‘
Confidentially,
’
she added,
‘
she
’
s rather enjoying it all.
’

‘
I have a feeling,
’
Jonathan Darrell interposed before Stephen could speak,
‘
that Mrs. Emma Kincaid has more stamina than the rest of us put together. She really is a very remarkable old lady, I can scarcely believe she
’
s really lived the kind of life she
’
s reported to have done. It sounds too incredible to be true.
’

Louise looked at him for a moment, a fierce pride lending fire to her eyes, as if she suspected him of doubt.
‘
It
’
s all perfectly true, Mr. Darrell, and we
’
re all very proud of her. Also don
’
t be misled into thinking she doesn
’
t know what
’
s going on around her, she does.
’

‘
I believe it,
’
he allowed,
‘
and I wouldn
’
t dare doubt her authenticity for one moment.
’

He was, Louise decided, laughing at her again, and she clenched her hands tightly on the table top, a sparkle of anger making her eyes a deep, dark blue.
‘
I
’
ll arrange for you to talk to her privately in the small sitting-room,
’
she told him.
‘
It will be a little while yet before she
’
s ready to see anyone, but I
’
ll let you know.
’

‘
It occurs to me,
’
Stephen declared loudly, as if afraid the subject might be dropped,
‘
that it would be a good idea if one of us sat in on the interview.
’

Louise stared at him, as much at a loss as the man he was addressing.
‘
Old ladies can be indiscreet,
’
Stephen went on,
‘
and you
are
a journalist after all, Darrell.
’
Louise waited with lips slightly parted for the reaction and was not altogether surprised to detect a faint glimmer of anger deep down in the brown eyes when he looked across at Stephen, but his voice was quiet and quite controlled when he answered.

‘
I
’
ve never claimed to be other than a journalist, Mr. Kincaid,
’
he said,
‘
but it you prefer, by all means have someone sit in on the
‘
interview, anyone you like.
’
His gaze turned on Louise again.
‘
But may I suggest Miss Kincaid, since your great-grandmother
’
s used to her company? I
’
m quite sure you need have no fear of my being allowed to get away with anything in the circumstances.
’

It was with reluctance that Louise invited Jonathan Darrell to the small cosy room next to the dining room some time later, and with even, more reluctance that she faced her duty as guardian of the family secrets. The look he gave her as he passed her in the doorway was both speculative and amused and she tried not to meet his eyes.

The old lady turned her bright enquiring gaze on him and smiled.
‘
You can go now,
’
she told Louise,
‘we
can talk better on our own.
’

Louise hesitated indecisively. She knew how Stephen would react if she failed to sit in on the interview as she had promised, but she disliked the amusement it caused Jonathan Darrell, an amusement she suspected her great-grandmother would probably share.

‘
We—we thought it might be better if I—if someone stayed with you,
’
she ventured, seeing the old lady
’
s eyes narrow sharply at the information.

‘
Oh,
’
she said,
‘
why?
’

Louise shook her head.
‘
Certain members of your family thought it better if someone stayed during the interview, Mrs. Kincaid.
’
The answer came before she could find words to explain and the brown eyes mocked her reticence.
‘
I thought Louise would be less of a disruption to the proceedings than anyone else.
’

His use of her Christian name was as typical of him as the admission to his reason for choosing her, Louise thought wildly, hating the flush that coloured her face and betrayed her feelings so plainly.
‘
We thought—
’
she began, but the old lady
’
s dry chuckle interrupted her.

‘
They don
’
t trust me,
’
old Emma declared with evident delight at the idea.
‘
They don
’
t trust me with a good-looking young man, even at my age!
’

‘
And quite right too,
’
he told her solemnly, though obviously sharing her enjoyment of the situation.

‘
Well, all right, if you must stay, sit down,
’
Emma told her.
‘
If I have to have a chaperone, sit down and don
’
t interrupt.
’

‘
Great-gran—
’
She put a hand on the old lady
’
s arm, hating Stephen at this moment for putting her in this position. It was obvious that her great-grandmother needed no protection from her own indiscretion, she was quite capable of handling Jonathan Darrell or anyone else. The old eyes were watching her enquiringly as she stumbled over the words she was trying to say, wishing she had simply kept quiet.
‘
Great-gran, it wasn
’
t—I mean I—
’

A thin impatient hand waved her to silence.
‘
I know
’
it wasn
’
t your idea, you silly girl, but I
’
m glad this young man had enough sense to choose you for the job of gui
de
dog, instead of one of the others.
’

‘
I
’
ll try not to be in the way,
’
Louise promised, and sat down at the other side of the room as far away from him as she could get.

The old lady eyed her interviewer for a moment in silence. Weig
h
ing him up, Louise thought wryly, and knew he had guessed as much too, from his smile. Her smile when she finished her study of him was almost gamin-like and she settled in her chair, ready for anything.

‘
Ask away, Jon.
’
A dry chuckle followed the request and she looked at him steadily with those bright, sharp eyes.
‘
I
’
ve decided to call you Jon,
’
she informed him,
‘
because you
’
re too young for an old woman like me to call Mister.
’

‘
By all means call me Jon, Mrs. Kincaid,
’
he replied.
‘
I
’
m flattered.
’

‘
You needn
’
t be,
’
Emma Kincaid told him bluntly.
‘
I usually speak my mind.
’
She studied him again for a moment thoughtfully.
‘
You really
are
like my Robert was,
’
she said at last,
‘
and I
’
ve no doubt you
’
re just as big a rogue when it suits you.
’

He laughed, not at all averse to the accusation, it seemed.
‘
No doubt,
’
he agreed,
‘
but you
’
re the subject of this interview, Mrs. Kincaid, not me.
’

‘
Don
’
t try and rush me,
’
old Emma warned, reluctant to
l
eave the subject of his similarity to her husband.
‘
I only wish someone in the family looked a bit like Robert, but they don
’
t. Only young Robert did, and he died too.
’
The statement was blunt and made her so
und
hard and unfeeling, but Louise knew
this was not the case. It was simply that Emma Kincaid had been raised in a hard world and learned to call a spade a spade.

She looked at him steadily for a moment, something deep and almost unbearably hurtful stirring inside her.
‘
Robert
’
s eyes were brown like yours,
’
she told him softly,
‘
and he had a smile like yours too; it
’
s very difficult to resist and you know it.
’