Winterwood (6 page)

Was he hinting that she must be careful—supposing that innocuous story were not the true one?

But it turned out that he was thinking of something else entirely.

“It might be just as well not to mention my method of persuasion. Charlotte regards riding in gondolas at night a highly frivolous pursuit.”

And was accustomed to not trusting her husband? Since she couldn’t ask that question, Lavinia fell silent.

They were slowly getting nearer to the San Marco water stop, the lights of the hotel, and yet another beginning to her life. The little red light bobbing on the prow was pretty, but much too dim to show the way.

I
N HIGH DUDGEON
COUSIN
Marion, with Gianetta, departed for Florence. She had washed her hands of Lavinia forever, she said. That elderly nondescript couple, the Monks, who should never have left the safety of their fireside, decided that Lavinia was much too flighty for their taste, and also departed, thanking their lucky stars that they were spared such an unreliable traveling companion.

So the die was cast.

A little later Charlotte Meryon sent for Lavinia to come to her bedroom.

This time Charlotte was alone. It was impossible to know whether she was pleased or displeased. Her huge eyes rested speculatively on Lavinia. She was holding a fan, which she moved languidly now and then. It was a hot morning and the heat evidently made her limp and tired. There was no vestige of color in her face, though this seemed to add to her strange attraction. She was still in a negligee and her heavy black hair was tied back loosely as if she hadn’t had the energy to put it up.

“My husband tells me that you have been persuaded to change your mind, Miss Hurst. May I ask why?”

Lavinia decided on frankness.

“I have fallen in love with Venice and would dearly like a few more days here. That, and the prospect of traveling with two elderly very dull people, made me regret my rather hasty decision yesterday.”

“You think we will make more amusing traveling companions?”

“I wasn’t thinking in terms of amusement, Mrs. Meryon.”

Charlotte moved her fan rapidly.

“Perhaps you were overcome with pity for our daughter?”

“Yes, I feel great pity for her. Though, if you will forgive me saying so, I don’t think it’s good for her to make a weapon of her helplessness. I should like to treat her as a person who is normal in every way.”

“Have you expressed this opinion to her father?”

“No, not yet.”

“I expect you will. You seem to be a very opinionated young woman.”

Lavinia bit her lip and said nothing.

Charlotte’s great eyes looked over her fan.

“I will warn you at once that my husband doesn’t enjoy gratuitous advice any more than I do. However, let us keep to essentials. I must know something about your background. Who were your family? What education have you had? Why are you in the position of having to support yourself?”

The story Lavinia had rehearsed came easily. She had so quickly become an accomplished liar.

“I was brought up in Somerset, Mrs. Meryon. My father had a small estate. I had a governess and was taught all the usual things, music, sketching, French and a little German, the English poets, dancing, of course, and riding. Then, just before I was to come out, my parents were killed in an accident. The dogcart they were driving in overturned. Papa liked fast horses, and—” It was still too painful to talk about, the frantic shock and disbelief, Papa dead, and Mamma dying, beautiful black Caesar with a broken foreleg, shot.

“He sounds like my husband,” Charlotte commented. “This passion Englishmen have for horses. Well, go on. Wasn’t there some other member of your family who could take over bringing you out? Were you an only child?”

“Yes.” Forgive me, Robin, she thought, but it’s safer this way. “The reason I couldn’t come out was that it was discovered after my father’s death, that he had a great many debts. There was nothing left for me. So my Cousin Marion offered to have me as her companion. I’m afraid we finally found each other quite incompatible. It was mostly my fault, I admit. I hadn’t been brought up for that sort of life.”

“Have you any reason to think you will be more successful in our employ?” Charlotte asked.

“I shall do my best, Mrs. Meryon.”

“Your position won’t include wearing fine clothes to the opera.”

“That was foolish of me,” Lavinia admitted.

“Yes, it was.” Charlotte seemed to be summing up Lavinia’s appearance, perhaps reflecting on her youth, for the daylight showed faint lines about her own eyes, and for all its perfection her face had a lack of freshness, a worn and delicate look, as if the heat or the traveling, or anxiety, had drained her. Already she seemed exhausted by this interview. She pressed her fingers to her temples.

“I am a martyr to headaches. Only someone who suffers similarly can understand how I feel.”

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Meryon,” Lavinia murmured, the thought coming that Daniel must show insufficient sympathy.

“I am forced to spend half my life on a sofa. I can’t describe the effort this trip has been. But it was absolutely essential to make it for my poor aunt’s sake. She wrote to me expressing her wish to die in her native country, so what could I do but regard it as a sacred trust. Have you had an experience of nursing, Miss Hurst?”

“A little,” Lavinia answered.

“Well, that’s a blessing, at least. As my husband has told you, we have been left entirely in the lurch by Eliza’s getting ill and that wretched Miss Brown’s leaving us in Switzerland. Although I must be fair to her and say that my daughter tormented her. I must have your promise, Miss Hurst, that if you undertake this journey with us you will not desert us halfway. After we reach Winterwood is another matter. Shall we regard this as a trial arrangement?”

“Certainly, Mrs. Meryon. Nothing could suit me better.”

Charlotte sighed with relief. She had saved face. She had been forced to engage Lavinia, but had done so on her own terms.

“Then I hope you are ready to begin at once. My husband and I will be at my aunt’s
palazzo
all day, so I shall want you to stay with the children. Please pay particular care to Edward. He is a high-spirited child and loves to do what he calls his disappearing trick.” Charlotte smiled fondly and went on, “Tomorrow I will want you to pack my aunt’s belongings. Eliza is coming today to help me sort them out. It’s all so exhausting in this heat. And I worry continually about my poor aunt. She isn’t fit to travel, but insists on doing so.”

“It would be terrible if she died on the way,” Lavinia said.

“Don’t even begin to think of such a thing,” Charlotte spoke with a peculiar intensity. “It simply mustn’t be allowed to happen.”

Lavinia very soon had sympathy with the departed Miss Brown. She knew that Flora, self-willed, pampered and highly disturbed as a result of her crippled condition, would be difficult, but Edward proved to be nothing less than a fiend. He refused to obey, was ill-mannered and noisy, and tormented Flora until she was in furious tears.

“I told you, Miss Hurst. Mamma ruins him. She thinks he can do no wrong. He’s her pet. How do you like being a pet?” she demanded viciously of Edward.

“How do you like being a crybaby?” Edward retorted. He really was a beautiful child, with his rosy cheeks and glossy black curls. He was the exact opposite of Flora with her waxen peaked face and straight brown hair. She must have been a plain child even before her accident. No doubt her mother had always been disappointed in her. Her best feature was her eyes, which could blaze into a tigerish color when she was agitated. But even they became a disappointing hazel when she was dejected or tired. The Italian sun had brought out a faint dusting of freckles on her cheekbones, which were causing her distress. She wanted to put rice powder over them, and sulked when Lavinia laughed at her vanity.

“If you’re going to behave like Miss Brown I’ll be sorry I ever persuaded Papa to employ you,” she said spitefully.

“Old Brownie,” Edward put in. “Flora was awful to her. Miss Hurst, can I go out and play?”

“Not until Flora has had her rest after luncheon. Then we will all go for a walk.”

Edward behaved as if he hadn’t heard her. This, Lavinia was to find was a characteristic of his when people didn’t say what he wanted to hear. He appeared to be quite contentedly occupied playing with his toy soldiers, and Lavinia giving her attention to Flora, couldn’t have said when he disappeared.

It was the stranger bringing him back who startled her.

He walked into the room after the most perfunctory tap at the door, dragging a pouting Edward by the hand.

“I found this young man wandering in the Piazza. I thought I had better bring him back”—he had given Lavinia a casual look, then looked again, with some intentness—“since I hardly think you had given him permission to be out, Miss—”

He waited in the boldest way for her to say her name. He had expected her to be Eliza, and was inquisitive as to her identity. She hadn’t the slightest idea who he was. He had a handsome highly colored face, though it verged on coarseness, with thick lips, and bright bold eyes. His clothes suggested the dandy. He had a look as if he were about to break into laughter. His lips were slightly parted and seemed to quiver.

What was so funny?

“No, he wasn’t supposed to be out,” Lavinia said coolly. “Thank you for bringing him back. I’m afraid I don’t know who you are.”

“Oh, he’s Mr. Peate,” Flora put in. “He’s a relation of Great-aunt Tameson’s.”

“Jonathon Peate,” the man amplified. “A nephew of the Contessa. And, you neglected to say, Miss Flora, a friend of yours.” In an exaggerated gesture which made Flora wince, he lifted her hand and kissed it. “Ma’am! Your servant Aren’t you going to introduce me to your new companion?”

His gaze was raking her again, and unaccountably, Lavinia was nervous. She believed he was just one of those too familiar and breezy men whom she had occasionally encountered among Robin’s friends. Yet there was a sharpness in his look that could have suggested more than mere admiration.

“She’s Miss Hurst,” Flora said offhandedly. “Did Edward invite you to visit us, Mr. Peate?”

“How do you do, Miss Hurst?” The man bowed, then said in a loud jovial voice which no doubt he thought appealed to children, “I have just rescued your small brother, Miss Flora. I must say you don’t seem very grateful.”

“Mamma and Papa are out.”

“Then can’t I have a short visit with you? Miss Hurst, will you be so unwelcoming as our small invalid?”

“I am not an invalid!” Flora said between her teeth.

“Oh, sorry, sorry. I quite realize that. You have very sensitive toes, princess.”

“Toes?” Flora said coldly.

“I seem to tread on them rather often. I hope Miss Hurst will be more charitable toward my clumsiness.” He was laughing softly now as if his amusement couldn’t be held back any longer. “After all, I believe I have done you a good turn, Miss Hurst, in bringing back young Edward. It would have been bad luck to have been hauled over the coals on your first day.”

“How do you know that it is my first day?”

“Deduction, my dear young lady. You were not here yesterday. I wish you well with these charming little imps of Satan.”

Lavinia made no answer. She had already decided that she disliked Mr. Jonathon Peate intensely, although she had to admit he had a certain virile attractiveness. He hardly seemed the kind of friend Charlotte and Daniel would have, yet he was behaving with great familiarity. Indeed, he was quizzing her again with that slightly disturbing intentness. She supposed he was the kind of man who would not think someone in her position worthy of the best manners.

Flora’s outspokenness matched their visitor’s.

“How long are you staying, Mr. Peate? You were not invited.”

“Pardon me, princess.” Mr. Peate bowed with a great flourish. “Then I must leave. I merely thought your papa or your mamma might be in.”

“They’re not. And don’t call me ‘princess.’”

“Flora!” Lavinia felt she had to make a halfhearted protest, even though she secretly approved of the child’s rudeness. But Mr. Peate merely seemed amused by it. He gave his merry laugh and said that he would have to call again.

“I shall look forward to improving our acquaintance, Miss Hurst.”

He was still laughing softly as he left.

“Isn’t he abominable?” said Flora intensely. “He always calls me ‘princess’ and behaves like that just because he sees it makes me angry. I can’t think why Mamma and Papa have him here.”

“Why do they?” Lavinia asked.

“He’s a cousin of Mamma’s, though she had never met him. They have both come to see Great-aunt Tameson, so of course they have to be friends. I am sure Papa doesn’t like him.”

“And your mother?”

“Oh, she says family things are important. I don’t agree at all. When I am grown-up I shall certainly refuse to speak to Edward.”

This made Edward, who, as well as his gift for detaching himself from conversations in which he wasn’t interested, had a sharp ear for ones that concerned him, spring up and come over to Flora’s chair.

“Won’t you even say good morning?” he asked with great interest. His lively little face was highly attractive when it lost its look of obstinacy and self-will.

“Never. You are too odious.”

“Well, so are you. You’d better be careful what you say to me because you can’t run away. I’m going to pull your hair until it comes out in my hand.”

“No, no! Stop him, Miss Hurst! He’s a devil! Miss Hurst!”

It was a pity that Charlotte chose that moment to return. This was the signal for Edward to burst into loud sobs and fly to his mother’s skirts, and for Flora to sink into a white sulkiness.

“There, there, my baby!” Charlotte raised indignant eyes. “What have you been doing to him, Flora? You’re the eldest, and should know better. Miss Hurst, this was one reason why I was glad to have Miss Brown leave. She seemed unable to keep order.”

“I believed I was engaged to look after Flora only,” Lavinia pointed out.