Читать книгу An Introduction to the Pink Collection - Barbara Cartland - Страница 8

The Earl stared at Rena as though she had taken leave of her senses.

“What did you say?”

“You do have some money,” she said excitedly. “That’s why I’m here.” As he continued to regard her with bewilderment she asked. “Didn’t you wonder what I’m doing here?”

“Well – ”

“Do strange women pop up in your kitchen every day, cooking you breakfast with no questions asked?”

“I’ve never had a kitchen of my own before now,” he observed mildly, “so I’m a little vague about the normal procedure. But now you mention it, I suppose it is a little strange.”

“A little strange?” she squealed, indignant at his annoying composure.

“One of the advantages of being a sailor is that you become ready for the unexpected, what ever it may be. Hurricanes, mermaids, beautiful young women springing up through trapdoors – Her Majesty’s Navy is ready for anything.”

“I wish you would be serious,” she said severely.

“You’re right,” he said, nodding. “There are no trapdoors here, and you could hardly have come up through the flagstones could you?”

“You – ” her lips were twitching, and she hardly knew what to say.

“Yes?” He was suspiciously innocent.

“Nothing. When you can be serious I’ll tell you what I have to say?”

“I am immediately serious,” he declared, although the gleam in his eyes belied it. “Please tell me how you came to be in my house? Did you break in? Should I send for the law? No, no, I’m sorry – ” for she had risen in exasperation.

“Please sit down. I promise to behave like a sensible man.”

“You shouldn’t promise the impossible.”

“Oh dear! Dashed! I’m afraid you understand me all too well, Miss Colwell.”

She pressed her lips together.

“Please tell me what you wish to say,” he said meekly.

“I came because I’d heard somebody was here,” Rena said, “to tell you that I found something on your estate which it’s only right for me to give to you.”

She took out the three coins she had taken from under the thistle, and put them down on the table. The sunshine coming through the window seemed to make them sparkle.

The Earl looked at her in astonishment. Then he lifted the coins and turned them between his fingers.

“These are ancient,” he said. “Several hundred years probably. Where did you find them?”

“Underneath a thistle in your grounds. And I brought them to their owner, which is apparently you.”

He looked at her curiously. “Did you not think of keeping them for yourself?”

“I told you, my father was the parson here. One thing he never expected me to do was take possession of anything which did not belong to me!”

“My apologies. It’s very kind of you to bring me these coins. I’m sure they’re valuable. But you know, they won’t go very far. What we really need is a few thousand of them!”

“They may be there for all I know,” Rena told him. “That’s why I came at once to tell you. You should search as soon as possible, in case anyone does what I tried to do.”

“What you tried to do?”

“I was visiting the cross.”

“What cross?”

“It stands on your land. It was found years ago. They cleaned it up and Papa deciphered the words carved on it. They are an invitation to prayer, so people sometimes go there instead of the church. I found a thistle growing at the foot, spoiling the beauty of the kingcups, so I pulled it out. These were underneath.”

“Just these? No more?”

“I don’t know, I didn’t look further. But there might be, and that would solve all your problems.”

He was silently staring down at the three gold coins.

“Will you take me to where you found these? I can hardly wait to know what’s really there.”

“I don’t think you should hope for too much,” she said gently. “I have a feeling that the coins were placed there in gratitude by someone whose prayers had been answered.”

“Is that why you were there?”

Rena shook her head. “No, I went there to ask for something. Like you I am penniless because my father is dead and I have to find some way of making money,” she explained.

He stared. “You’re as poor as that? And you weren’t even tempted to keep them?”

“Oh yes,” she said quietly. “I was tempted.” She rose, to silence further discussion of this fact. “Shall we go now?”

He was about to make a light hearted comment, but something about her pale face silenced him.

“If you will be kind enough to show me the way,” he said, “I would be grateful.”

They left the house and climbed down to the woods and the stream, across a rough wooden bridge, grown somewhat precarious with age.

“Why is the cross on my land rather than in the cemetery?” the Earl enquired.

“Because this is where it was found, and Papa thought it should stay there. Look, there it is.”

Just ahead of them stood the cross looking strong, dark and impressive amongst the trees.

She walked quickly ahead, and when she reached the cross she knelt down and said a private prayer thanking God for letting her find the money, with all the good it might do for the man who owned it, for the villagers, and perhaps to her too, although she could not, for the moment, see how.

The Earl stood still, watching her in silent respect, wondering what was happening to him and to his whole world.

Only when she had finished praying did the Earl move forward. She lifted the thistle, which he took from her and flung away. Then he bent down and started to pull up the ground round the cross. It crossed Rena’s mind that perhaps he would find nothing. As the Earl pushed his hand lower and lower, she closed her eyes and held her breath.

Then she heard him make a sudden sound which was almost a yell of delight.

She opened her eyes. He was looking towards her, his hand outstretched. In it she saw a large lump of soil. Something in it was shining in the sunshine coming through the trees above them.

More coins. For a moment she thought she was dreaming.

“Your prayers have been answered,” he said jubilantly. “And there are probably more if we dig deeper.”

“It is true, it is really true!” Rena said almost beneath her breath.

The Earl lowered his voice. “Let’s get back to the house. No one must know what we’ve found or that we’ve been here. The rest need to be brought up by experts who know how to treat them so that they won’t be damaged.”

As he spoke he put the soil he was holding into the pocket of his coat. Then, putting his arm round Rena, he took her back the way they had come. Only when they reached the house and went in through the front door, did the Earl speak.

“You’ve saved me,” he said. “At least for the moment, you’ve saved me from feeling nothing but despair for this house and all it contains.” Then he shook his head like a man in a dream. “I don’t know how to thank you.”

“It’s Papa you should thank,” Rena said. “Do you really think there will be enough money for you to restore The Grange?”

“I cannot believe our luck is as good as that,” the Earl answered. “But even a little money is a tremendous help. It gives me a chance to think. But this must remain our secret.”

“Of course,” Rena promised. “Once word gets out and you’ll have the whole village digging up your land.”

“And the only person I want to share it with is you.”

Smiling, she shook her head. “It belongs to you.”

“Miss Colwell, please tell me something. When you first went to that place this morning, what were you praying for?”

“For a job,” she said simply. “I’ve ‘eaten the bread of idleness for the past two months,’ and frankly it’s beginning to taste rancid.”

“Then let me offer you a job, as my housekeeper.”

She stopped and stared at him. “You mean that?”

“It’s not much of a job. You’ve seen the place as it is. It would take a brave spirit even to contemplate taking it on? And indeed you are a brave spirit.”

“Am I?”

“Everything you’ve done today – I’m filled with admiration. You could take that huge task on, and defeat it. Oh, wait!”

“What is it?” she asked anxiously, seeing her lovely new job vanishing before her eyes.

“Perhaps your family wouldn’t care for you to take such a post. They might think it beneath you.”

“Mama’s family probably would. They were Sunninghills, and very proud of it.”

“You’re a Sunninghill? There’s an Admiral Sunninghill.”

“My third cousin. Or fourth. Or fifth maybe.”

“He might object.”

She stopped and faced him. “My lord, are you still in the Navy?”

“No.”

“Then Admiral Sunninghill’s disapprobation is neither here nor there.”

With a slight dismissive gesture, Rena disposed of Admiral Sunninghill and all his works.

“But you?”

“They ignored Mama after her marriage. I doubt he knows of my existence.”

“I won’t tell him if you don’t.”

They shook hands solemnly.

“And your family at home in the vicarage? How will they feel?”

“I have no family.”

“Nobody? No brothers, sisters, mother?”

“No brothers or sisters and my mother died last year.”

“You’re completely alone?”

She nodded. Suddenly she couldn’t speak for the tightness in her throat.

“So,” he said, “that settles it. Now you’re my housekeeper.”

“Then my first job should be to ensure that you are well fed,” she said, forcing herself to speak brightly. “I think we’ve already used up whatever was in the house. If you will give me some money, I will go to the shops and buy provisions, although they won’t be very grand.”

“I’ll be thankful for anything,” the Earl answered. He put his hand into his pocket and brought out a sovereign.

“Will this be enough?”

“Oh, more than enough,” Rena said.

The Earl laughed ruefully. “I hope you won’t find my stomach is bigger than my pocket, which happens to most people after they leave the Navy.”

“I am sure you were well fed in those days,” Rena said. “I dare say ships are run very effectively.”

“That’s true. Everywhere you looked my ship was clean and bright which is something I cannot say about my house!”

“Leave the house to me. Later, when I’ve seen you fed, I can bring you some vegetables from my own garden. And then there’s Clara.”

“Clara? I thought you said you lived alone.”

“Clara is a chicken. She lays eggs.”

“An invaluable addition to our community,” he agreed.

Rena collected a shopping basket from the kitchen and hurried out to the village grocery. Luckily Ned, the owner, had been to the town the previous day, and was well stocked.

She went through the shop like a whirlwind, buying in flour, milk, tea, coffee, meat, butter, sugar, paraffin for lamps. It wasn’t going to leave much of the sovereign, but she had a hungry man to feed.

“Are you buying for an army Miss Colwell?” Ned asked in admiration.

“No, for the new owner of The Grange.”

He stared. “I did hear someone had arrived but – owner? Are you sure?”

“He’s the Earl of Lansdale.”

“But the family died out.”

“Apparently not. It took time to trace him, and he was in the Royal Navy, which is why it took so long to get hold of him.”

“That’s good news,” Ned answered. “And, of course, if he’s opening The Grange, he’ll have to repair it and that’ll be a blessing to us all. There are too many workmen with no work now.” He added slyly, “Best not tell him about the ghost, then.”

“I wasn’t going to mention the ghost,” Rena declared primly, for the simple reason that there’s no such thing.”

“No ghosts?” Ned demanded indignantly, as if she’d deprived him of a treat. “Course there are ghosts. What’s a house like that without a ghost?”

“I suppose there’ll be a headless horseman galloping through the kitchen while I’m making pies?” she demanded. “Really Ned!”

“Why are you making pies?”

“Because I’m going to be the housekeeper there.”

“Parson’s daughter? Housekeeper?”

“Even parsons’ daughters have to work to live.”

“Well, you’ll be in the right place to keep him in order. You can make sure he knows what we all need.”

There it was, the burden that was to be laid on the new Earl, the yearning expectations of ‘his’ people, who looked to him for succour and sustenance.

But as she left the shop she was too cheerful to heed its warning.

Since it was early in the year the light was already beginning to fade as she returned to The Grange. So she hastily filled an oil lamp with paraffin and ventured upstairs to the master bedroom.

She soon found it, a grandiose room with painted ceilings and dirty gilt furniture, full of glory at the expense of comfort. A door stood ajar. Pushing it open Rena found herself in a small dressing room with a narrow bed. The Earl’s bags were there, and he’d made some attempt to unpack them, but the bed was bare of sheets and blankets.

Further investigation revealed an airing cupboard containing sheets that were incredibly free from moths. She took out some bed linen and conveyed it to the kitchen, lit a fire inside, and hung the sheets on an old clothes horse in front of it.

Then she put a kettle of water on the top. Now everything was warm and cosy, and the Earl, arriving soon after, stopped in the kitchen door and whistled with admiration.

“Now this is what I call homelike,” he said.

“Sit down,” she said cheerfully. “The kettle will boil soon.”

He drank the tea she set before him with an expression of bliss.

“Sweeter than the sweetest wine,” he said. “I see you’ve been busy.”

“You’re going to be really comfortable tonight. You’ve done the right thing in moving into the dressing room. I can put a small fire in there, but the big room would have defeated me. Can you watch the pots on the range, while I go and make up your bed?”

She gathered up the sheets and departed, returning a few minutes later to find the meal almost ready.

“The Earl really ought to eat in the dining room,” she suggested.

“No thank you,” he replied without hesitation. “We’ll eat out here. What’s the wine cellar like?”

“I’ve never seen it.”

He took the lamp and disappeared, returning a few minutes later covered with cobwebs but with a bottle under his arm and a triumphant smile on his face.

“Glasses!” he intoned. “We’ll dine in style.”

She fetched some glasses from the dining room, cleaned them, and laid them out ceremoniously beside their plates. The Earl uncorked the bottle with a flourish and filled the glasses with a delicious looking ruby red liquid, and they toasted each other.

“To us!” he declared. “To finding each other, and all the wonderful things that are going to happen now!”

“I wonder if they will!” she sighed.

“They will because we’re going to make them. And this magnificent vintage wine is the first wonderful thing. Sip it slowly and with appreciation, for you may never taste the like again.”

Together they sipped.

And together they choked.

“Thunderbolts and lightning!” he exploded. “What is this?”

“Vinegar,” she whispered between gasps. Her eyes were streaming.

They patted each other frantically on the back.

“Miss Colwell, I really am very sorry,” he said hoarsely. “I thought it would have – aaaarh! excuse me – matured over the years. But it’s only soured.”

“You said I’d never taste the like again,” she reminded him. “I only hope you may be right. No, give that to me – ” He was about to pour the wine down the sink but she stopped him. “If what it’s doing to my insides is anything to go by, it’ll probably clean the range very efficiently.”

“You’re a marvel,” he said admiringly.

She poured tea and they both drank it thankfully. Then Rena served the meal and they ate it companionably at the kitchen table.

“The news is getting around the village that you’re here,” she told him. “They’re afraid you’ll be scared off by the ghost. I said that was nonsense because of course there was no ghost.”

“Shame on you!” he said at once. “What is an ancestral home without a ghost. I think it very unkind of you, Miss Colwell, that you should attempt to deprive me of my birth right in this way.”

His droll manner caught her off guard, and she had to peer at him to make sure how to take his words. The gleam of amusement in his eyes was shocking, she decided. But very delightful.

An answering mirth growing inside herself made her say,

“Forgive me, sir. I had forgotten that among every nobleman’s patents of nobility a ghost is essential. However I fear that you may find The Grange’s extensive choice a little too much to cope with. There’s the Floating Lady, the Wailing Lady Anne, the Headless Horseman – or is it the Headless Horse? Well, I expect it amounts to the same.”

“You don’t mean I might meet them all at once?” he asked in alarm. “I mean, one Headless Horseman plus one Floating Lady, a man can cope with, but the rest – have a heart ma’am.”

She fixed him with a baleful eye. “Would you be afraid?”

“Absolutely terrified.”

They laughed together.

“As soon as I’ve washed the dishes I’ll lay the fire in your room, and then I’ll leave,” she said.

“Leave? I thought you were here for good now?”

“I am, that is, I’ll work for you, but perhaps I had better not stay here at night.”

She blushed slightly as she said this, and could not meet his eyes. The village would be shocked if she, an unmarried woman, were to share the house alone with an unmarried man. Especially such a young and attractive man as he was. But delicacy prevented her from referring to the matter, except obliquely.

Luckily he understood. “Certainly,” he said hastily.

“It’s strange,” she mused. “When I left the house this morning I thought I’d be back in an hour. Now it feels like another world.”

He nodded. He’d had that feeling a good deal himself recently.

“So I’ll stay tonight in the vicarage,” Rena said, “and return here very early tomorrow, to make your morning tea.”

He carried the wood upstairs and helped her lay the fire.

“I’ll light it myself when I come to bed,” he said. “Now I’ll escort you home.”

She laughed. “In this tiny village. I’ve walked about in the dark for years.”

“Part of the way then.”

He took her to the duck pond, from where they could see the church spire, bleak against the night sky.

“The moonlight will show me the rest of the way,” she said. “Good night.”

“In that case I’ll take myself to the local hostelry and get to know some of my neighbours. Good night.”

He strode off in the opposite direction and Rena headed around the pond, to the church and through the cemetery. As soon as the vicarage came in sight she stopped.

There were lights in the house.

She began to run, and as she neared she saw a wagon and trunks being unloaded and taken in through the front door. She ran faster, reaching the door out of breath.

“And who, may I ask, are you?” An extremely refined sounding woman appeared in the hall and challenged her.

“I might ask the same of you,” Rena said. “What are you doing in my home?”

“Your home? Our home I think. My brother, the Reverend Steven Daykers, is the new vicar of this parish and this is, I believe, the vicarage?”

“Yes, of course it is, but nobody told me you were coming.”

The woman sniffed. “Is there any reason why you should be informed?”

“Well – my name is Rena Colwell. My father was the vicar here until he died in January.”

“Then what are you doing here now?”

“I had nowhere else to go. Of course I knew I should have to leave when the new vicar arrived, but I thought I’d be given some warning.”

“It seems to me that you’ve had quite enough time.”

They were interrupted by a shout up above.

“Ma, look at these old clothes we’ve found.”

Two girls of about fifteen were standing at the top of the stairs, waving a couple of old fashioned dresses. Rena stiffened as she recognised her mother’s clothes.

“They were in the wardrobe of our room,” one of the girl’s called. “Aren’t they funny? There are a lot of other things there too – ”

“They’ll be mine,” Rena said, tight-lipped. “That is my room.”

“Not any more,” said the woman. “Please remove your things at once.”

Rena ran up the stairs and found her room a scene of devastation. Her drawers had been pulled out and upended on the floor. Her small personal possessions were strewn everywhere. The two girls ran after her into the room, staring at her rudely.

“This is ours now. You shouldn’t be here.”

“Then I will pack my things and go,” she said, tight lipped, trying desperately to remember Christian charity. “Please leave while I do so.”

Instead of leaving they giggled. One of them picked up a picture of Rena’s mother that she kept by the bed.

“What a frowsty old thing.” But her smile faded as she saw Rena’s face. “Oh, who cares anyway?”

She tossed the photograph on the bed and the two of them flounced out.

Scarcely able to control her temper Rena began to pack up her things, moving like a whirlwind. If she didn’t get out of here soon she would do something violent, she knew she would.

In the end her belongings filled two large bags. She took what she could of her mother’s clothes, but there was no room for everything, and it mattered more to have the photographs and personal mementoes of her parents.

Then she thought back to the find of the coins, and realised that but for them she would have no place to lay her head tonight. And more than ever she felt that her father was watching over her.

As she struggled down the stairs the haughty woman was standing at the bottom, waiting for her.

“I’m sorry you were inconvenienced,” Rena said to her politely. “I shall not trouble you further.”

The woman looked her up and down. “I do hope you haven’t taken anything that isn’t yours.”

Rena took a deep breath and controlled herself. “You may be sure that I have not,” she said.

A large piece of furniture was being manhandled through the front door.

“I’ll leave the back way,” Rena said.

“It’s up to you.”

Some strange noises were coming from the kitchen. Rena discovered what they were as soon as she entered, and received a feathered body almost full in the face. She dropped the bags and clung to it.

It was Clara, her chicken.

“Poor Clara, how could I forget you?” she said. “You’re coming with me.”

“Put that chicken down,” said a tow headed young man. “That’s our supper.”

“It most certainly is not. Clara belongs to me, and I won’t let you kill her.”

“What’s the trouble?” The haughty woman had appeared again.

“She’s trying to take our supper, Mama.”

That did it. Rena had borne much patiently but suddenly enough was enough.

“Once and for all,” she said, “Clara is mine, and I am taking her with me.”

She looked at the four of them ranged against her.

“If you take her from me,” she said, slowly and emphatically, “that will be stealing, and I shall report you to the constable.”

“Who’s to say who it belongs to?” the unpleasant young man demanded. “That animal is parish property, and the constable will say the same.”

“No, he won’t,” Rena flashed, “because he’s met this chicken before (she could have bitten her tongue out for the idiotic words). In fact, his mother gave it to me.”

“Which means,” she added, recklessly casting aside Papa’s teaching aside, “that he’ll know that this is a den of thieves. Ask yourself how your brother will like that on his first day.”

In sullen silence they stood back to let her pass. Still keeping a firm hold on Clara, Rena had to use her other hand to put one bag on the table, fitted her arm over it, and lifted the other with the hand of that arm.

She was horribly aware of what she must look like, staggering out of the house, laden down. It took her an hour to limp through the village to her destination.

But it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except that she had stood up against bullying and won. She could have cried hallelujahs.

Thus it was that Miss Colwell returned to The Grange in triumph, carrying all her worldly goods under one arm, and a chicken under the other.