Bird of Prey (15 page)

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Creed,” Caroline said miserably. “I told Mr. Craig I didn’t want to move, but he wouldn’t listen, and—”

“But why should he do this? Did he give any reason?” the housekeeper broke in.

Again Caroline felt embarrassed as she met the glance of sly knowledge.

“No—except that of course he didn’t like my room. He said it was dingy—” Caroline paused, aware of the inadequacy of the explanation.

“But to move you to the brocade room—that’s quite a change,” the housekeeper persisted.

What had Randall said about this change? Caroline tried to remember.

“Oh, he said something about my being his personal assistant and that from now on I must have a proper room and—”

“His personal assistant? Well. I never did!” exclaimed the housekeeper. “Assistant with what, I wonder,” she added dryly.

Again Caroline tried to remember. “It was something to do with the Christmas party,” she said at last. “I think he wants me to help with the children. He says I’m good with Robin and—”

“That explains it, perhaps,” Mrs. Creed said without particular conviction. “Yes, he did say you understood Robin, and really I’ve never seen the boy as good with anyone as he is with you. You’re so much younger than his nursery governesses, you see, so I suppose you still remember something of what it’s like to be a child. He seems to need someone Who can keep up with his activities—and that’s where the others failed. Yes, perhaps that’s it.”

But again there was the hint of suspicion in her reply and Caroline was aware that she was now the object of new and

covert interest to the housekeeper.

“Mr. Craig holds a children’s party every year, doesn’t he?” Caroline put in quickly, anxious to avert that penetrating and wary regard.

For the moment Mrs. Creed was diverted. “Yes, the master gives the green dining-room for the children’s party every Christmas. It’s a custom that’s been going on for generations at Longmere. All the presents are at his expense. Then on the following evening there’s usually a big dinner for his friends. Many of them come from a distance and some stay on afterwards. As a matter of fact, this was the room Mrs. Brant had last year. There was a big dinner party and several of the guests stayed overnight.”

As she spoke she transfixed Caroline with a very significant look, and it struck Caroline that the housekeeper expected her to realize the importance of this room because it had been Grace’s.

There was an awkward pause after this and Mrs. Creed said briskly, “Well, I’d better be off. I expect you’ll want to bring down your bits and pieces and get settled in.”

So Caroline for the last time climbed the stairs to that small attic room in which she had slept since her arrival. She drew out from under her narrow brass bed the battered fibre case and packed her possessions in it. She tied her books in their strap and last of all she took Smudge from his place over the knob at the head of her bed and with the little toy hooked over her arm made her way to her magnificent new room. Here she placed her few meagre possessions in one of the big bureau drawers. How shabby they seemed now that they had been moved from the chipped white-painted chest of drawers in her old bedroom! She arranged her books along the back of the dressing-table, but they too looked shabby and at last she placed them in one of the drawers. Poor Smudge appeared quite out of things in this magnificent background. It would have been unthinkable to hang him around one of the slender bedposts, so he had to be hidden in the wardrobe, hung up on one of the padded coat-hangers.

When she had finished Caroline surveyed her surroundings critically, thinking that her possessions had made no particular impression on the room. How different it would have been when Grace stayed here, she thought wistfully. Then Grace’s magnificent, lace-frothed negligees would be strewn around the room, her velvet high-heeled mules with the tufts of gay feathers on the toes, her toilet articles perfumed with scents especially blended to suit her personality, her silver-backed hairbrushes and combs. One or two of the expensive articles Grace would have brought with her for her stay overnight would, no doubt, have been more costly than all of her, Caroline’s, possessions put together.

Her eye was caught by the door of the dressing-room. She wandered towards it. It should have been locked; so Mrs. Creed had informed her; but this, she found, was not so. As she touched it, it swung open and she found herself gazing into a small room lined with cupboards. In a corner she saw Randall Craig’s riding-boots, carelessly flung aside as he had come in from riding in the morning. She wandered across and fingered a rack of ties hanging on the door of one of the cupboards which stood open. She picked one up and slowly rubbed it against her cheek, thinking that the little room seemed to breathe his presence, so vividly did his personality seem to hang around this place.

“Don’t let me disturb you,” he said sardonically, behind her.

She gave a little gasp of dismay and whirled around, the tie still in her hand. Had he seen the small gesture of tenderness? she wondered, her face flaming with embarrassment. She tried covertly to tuck her hand behind her back, but immediately her wrist was clutched in a grip of iron and the tie removed from between her fingers. “So you’ve been exploring Bluebeard’s domain! May I ask, by the way, what conclusions you have drawn?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Caroline stammered unconvincingly.

“Don’t you? It’s possible to tell a great deal about a person’s character by studying their possessions. Why don’t you come into my bedroom and have a look around? It should be even more revealing and serve your purpose better. ”

As Caroline drew back in alarm, he gave a short, rasping laugh. “You must be even more of an innocent than you appear if it hasn’t dawned on you what conclusions will be drawn when the gossips get to work and it’s common knowledge that you’re no longer sleeping in the servants’ quarters.”

“Then why did you insist on it?” Her eyes met his defiantly. “You must have known how uncomfortable it would make things for me with the rest of the staff, especially Betty. She already resents me, and this will make things even more difficult. ”

“I must admit Betty’s feelings on the matter don’t influence me in the slightest,” he said dryly. “As the master of Longmere I’ll make any decisions I think proper without consulting my neighbours or begging for the approval of my staff. On the other hand, if you don’t like your new quarters—” he hesitated.

But honesty forced her to the reluctant admission, “I love it: it’s beautifully furnished and perfect in every way.”

“What’s your objection, then?” he asked coolly.

She stood silent for a moment, knotting her fingers together in agitation. It was impossible to mention Mrs. Creed’s insinuation concerning his motives.

But already, with his almost uncanny perception, he had guessed! His lips quirked into a smile, although his eyes were steely. “So Mrs. Creed has been filling your receptive ear with dire warnings! No doubt she pointed out to you the proximity of my room and all it might portend?”

Caroline nodded speechlessly.

“I see.”

But she noted that he gave her no reassurance on this subject but stood regarding her thoughtfully for a long moment until she stirred uncomfortably.

Then he said abruptly, “By the way, have you written to the debonair Dick Travers yet, concerning by suggestion for the children’s Christmas entertainment?”

“No, not yet,” she admitted reluctantly. Once again he was the imperious employer. Why had she not yet written to Dick? she asked herself. There was an ambiguity about her feelings that she found confusing. Why this reluctance to get in touch with Dick again? Was it simply that he belonged to a part of her life that she wished to put behind her, or was it rather that she feared she would look on Dick with new eyes: more critical; more mature?

However, before she could summon up an excuse, he said briskly, “Write to him immediately and if he’s unable to come we’ll have to make alternative arrangements. There’s not such an awful lot of time left now. Any day Fred will be getting in the Christmas tree and then there’ll be the job of decorating it. It’s something that neither he nor Mrs. Creed particularly enjoy, so I was wondering if you’d take this chore in hand?”

She nodded, feeling her spirits rise in almost childish pleasure anticipating the task.

“And perhaps, later on, you’ll come with me and help select the presents in Carlisle?”

But, a little to her annoyance, she realized that she had really no choice in the matter: it was rather a command than a request.

“Yes, of course,” she said swiftly.

“All right then, that’s settled?” And with a curt nod he turned and entered his bedroom, shutting the door firmly behind him.

As she returned to her room Caroline felt a little upsurge of excitement. Somehow she hadn’t realized how near Christmas was, a time of the year she had always loved, and now, when she came to think of it, there was an unusual bustle about the house. She had been put to extra jobs, polishing and buffering the silver, and Mrs. Creed had a preoccupied air as she sent Betty scuttling about her business. Only Fred Creed, ambling between the house and gardens, preserved his usual taciturnity.

That night, after she had gone to her room, Caroline wrote to Dick Travers. It was something she should have done long before, she realised, aware that during the winter months he took casual engagements in different parts of the country and no doubt now that Christmas was approaching he would be in special demand as an entertainer at various parties and functions.

When she had finished, she studied the results of her efforts thoughtfully. Had she, perhaps unconsciously, given Dick an erroneous impression of her position at Longmere? Now, on rereading the letter, it occurred to her that he might consider her Randall Craig’s secretary. There was a self-confidence, an almost demanding tone in the letter that Dick Travers, for all his easy good-humour, would immediately be sure to detect. This was not the young, rather naive and admiring girl he had known at the camp. Yet, as she glanced about her new domain, it was difficult not to feel a certain complacency: the long curtains of greenish-gold brocade covered the wide bow windows and above the small, delicately carved table at which she sat glowed a cluster of rose-shaded lights. A log fire crackled in the chimneypiece with its milk-white mantelpiece and gleaming brass andirons.

As her eye travelled about the room, it fell for a moment on the crystal handle of the door that led into the dressing-room; and once again she felt a growing unease. The key was on the other side of the door, she knew. Should she take the precaution of slipping into the room as silently as possible, sliding the key out of the lock, and turning it on her side of the door? But suppose he should hear the furtive sounds and interpret them correctly, would he be amused at her apprehensions, or instead contemptuous of her presumption that she would consider herself in danger of his attentions? It was so hard to understand what went on behind those grey hawk-like eyes.

With a sigh she sealed her letter to Dick Travers. Tomorrow she would walk to the village and post it.

As she undressed she asked herself why she felt almost reluctant to have him at Longmere. At one time she would have been unable to sleep with excitement at the thought of his being beneath the same roof as herself. When they met again would she once more experience the upsurge of interest and excitement his presence used to give her?

A smile touched her lips as she drifted to sleep in the wide, soft bed. She dreamed that the crystal handle of the dressing-room door was turning slowly and that Randall Craig stood in the doorway watching her with a strange, enigmatic smile.

But that night she was left undisturbed. She was not to know that when he did appear it would be in an atmosphere of violence almost as elemental as the man himself.

CHAPTER SIX

ON the day they were due to go to Carlisle it was bitterly cold and an icy wind blew across the fells. The lake looked slate-grey and its once mirror-smooth surface was now choppy and turbulent. However, Caroline wasn’t altogether displeased at this turn in the weather because it meant she could wear the little fur hat she had purchased on her last shopping expedition. The soft, dark brown colour outlined her small-boned face, emphasising the pure paleness of her skin and the delicacy of her features.

She surveyed herself with satisfaction in the long mirror. Yes, her new winter overcoat of soft misty green looked well. It had been wildly extravagant, of course, but then it had been her very first shopping expedition with money she had earned herself. It gave her a feeling of independence and satisfaction that she had never experienced when she had been living with her uncle and aunt. Besides, she had told herself firmly, she would require really warm clothes for the Cumberland winter!

Before leaving she went into the kitchen to inquire if there were any commissions she could carry out for Mrs. Creed. When she opened the door she realized that the housekeeper and Fred were in close conversation and as she entered she was met by Fred’s slow assessing gaze. They had been discussing her, she felt in sudden embarrassment. It was almost with relief that she saw Betty come in from the pantry with a tray.

Betty gave a highly dramatic start as she observed Caroline in her new outfit. “Dear me, we are very grand this morning!” she remarked in affected mincing tones. “And where is my fine lady off to now—if I may make so bold as to ask?”