Читать книгу Who Needs Mr Willoughby? - Katie Oliver - Страница 20

Chapter 10

Too furious and upset to go back to Barton Park, Marianne sat in the car for a moment to have a cry and tried to pull herself together. She searched in the glove compartment until she found a crumpled tissue and blew her nose.

She hated Matthew Brandon. Hated him. He obviously thought she was some kind of spoiled rich girl who’d never worked a day in her life and had no need of a job. He was the rudest, most unreasonable man she’d ever had the misfortune to know. Heartless, too. Not to mention self-centred, ill mannered, and avaricious –

There was a tap on her window. With a gasp of fright, Marianne looked up to see the veterinarian standing there. He leaned down until his face was on a level with hers.

She swiped at the black streaks of mascara under her eyes and rolled her window down. “What is it?” she snapped.

“Sorry to startle you,” he said, “but I just had a thought.”

“Is that right? What thought was that? Did you figure out a way to charge me for wasting your time? Or breathing the air? Or is there a parking fee I wasn’t aware of?”

“No. Although charging for parking’s not a bad idea.” He ran a hand through his already rumpled dark hair. “My receptionist’s leaving in two weeks, going off to Hull. Her sister’s just had a baby and Lynn’s staying with her for the rest of the summer.”

Marianne was silent. She wouldn’t give in to even the tiniest, teeniest flicker of hope, she wouldn’t. Not this time.

He paused. “I’ve got a girl in mind to take her place.”

“I just bet you do,” she snapped, picturing a busty blonde in a short skirt with a blouse open to her navel.

“She hasn’t much experience,” he went on, “but I reckon she can answer phones and schedule appointments easily enough.”

“No doubt.” Why was he telling her this? She didn’t want to hear it.

“I expect she might take issue with working reception instead of assisting in the surgery, though.”

“Well if you ask me, she sounds like a pillock,” Marianne sniffed, and blew her nose. “How can she expect to help in the surgery if she hasn’t the proper experience?”

“Exactly my thoughts.” He regarded her without expression. “I’m glad we’re finally on the same page, Miss Holland.”

Confusion, surprise, and hope warred on her face as she stared at him. His eyes, she noted distractedly, were an odd sort of silvery-grey. “We…we are? But – you don’t mean –?”

“I mean,” he said, his eyes steady on hers, “you can have Lynn’s job for the summer. If you want it,” he added. “And if you don’t object to answering phones, mopping up dog urine, and filling out an endless lot of forms. Otherwise –” he straightened “I’ll give the job to someone else. I’ve a long waiting list of qualified applicants.”

“I’m sure you do.” Marianne scrambled out of the car and stood facing him. “I’d be very happy to have the job,” she said, her eyes shining. “Extremely happy. Ecstatic. Thank you, Dr Brandon. So much.”

He took her hand in a firm grip. “Welcome aboard, Miss Holland. You can start next week and we’ll see how it goes. Lynn can show you the ropes before she leaves.”

“Is Maddie all right?” she asked suddenly. “Lynn told me all about her yesterday, that you suspected rat poisoning. Poor dog… Did she make it through?”

“She did. It was touch and go for a bit, but she pulled through the surgery with flying colours. She’s on a course of vitamin K to ensure her blood clots properly. Her family’s overjoyed.” He eyed Marianne. “I’m sure they’d appreciate your concern.”

“I love animals. I really do. You won’t regret hiring me, Dr Brandon, I promise,” she called out after him as he turned to go.

He glanced back at her. “Too late. I already do,” he retorted, and returned to the clinic.

***

When Marianne returned to Barton Park, a removal van stood near the front steps and a taxi was just leaving.

With a racing heart she parked the Peugeot and all but flew out of the car, rushing up the steps and through the opened front door.

“Mum!” she cried out. “Elinor!”

She flung herself, laughing and crying all at once, into their arms. There was a flurry of hugging, exclaiming, and more than a few hastily wiped-away tears before Mrs Holland drew back to inspect her youngest daughter. “You’re looking very well, I must say. Northumberland agrees with you.”

“You won’t believe half the things I’ve been through since I got here,” Marianne told her. “I’ll tell you both all about it over lunch. Why did you take a taxi?”

“Because someone had the car, that’s why,” Mrs Fenwick retorted. “Bertie couldn’t go and fetch them from the train station.”

“Oh.” Marianne turned to her mother in dismay. “I’m sorry. That must’ve cost a fortune.”

“It did, but we managed, and we got here all the same. The housekeeper tells us you had your job interview today?”

“Yes, that’s why I had to borrow the car. It was meant to be yesterday, but Dr Brandon was on an emergency call and couldn’t see me.”

“And did you get the job?” Mrs Holland asked.

“I did.”

Elinor let out a gasp and hugged her sister. “Well done, you. That’s wonderful news.” She drew back and glanced around the entrance hall. “Where’s Lady Violet? Is she not here?”

“She’s gone to Edinburgh to stay with a poorly friend. She won’t be back for at least another week.”

“She’s a trusting woman,” her sister observed with a smirk, “to leave you alone to your own devices in her house.”

“I’ve been the model of good behaviour, I’ll have you know,” Marianne retorted, and glanced over at the housekeeper. “Haven’t I, Mrs Fenwick?”

“I won’t answer that as it might incriminate me,” she said, and turned away. “Now if you’d care to follow Bertie upstairs, ladies, he’ll take your luggage up and show you to your rooms. When you’re settled, you can all come back downstairs and have yourselves a lovely lunch.”

***

The dining room rang with chatter as Marianne and her mother and sister took their places at the table to catch up on all of the latest news.

“So tell us, what have we missed since you arrived here at Barton Park?” Mrs Holland asked.

“Yes, do please bring us up to speed, Mari,” Elinor agreed. “What’s happened since you left Norland?”

“Not much, really,” Marianne said airily as she helped herself to one of Mrs Fenwick’s pasties. “Only, Lady Violet’s car was stolen out from under me, and I met the most rude and impossible man – who turned out to be the local veterinarian, Dr Brandon – oh, and I fell from the top of a tree house behind the cottage during a storm and was rescued by a handsome stranger on horseback.”

“Goodness,” her mother exclaimed, and froze with a forkful of salad halfway to her mouth. “It all sounds like something out of one of Lady Violet’s books. Are you all right?”

“Fine. I twisted my ankle but it’s mended now. Kit –” she blushed and amended “I mean Mr Willoughby, carried me to the car and brought me back, and he made quite sure I was all right before he left.” She paused as the doorbell rang and her mother half rose. “Do sit down, mum – Mrs Fenwick’ll get it.”

“Never mind the door,” Elinor said with a trace of impatience, “tell us more about your rescuer. Kit, did you say his name was? How did he find you?”

“He heard me scream when I fell. Oh, Ellie – it was so romantic. A storm came up out of nowhere, a really bad one, and the wind kicked up, and it got horribly dark. Lightning struck right next to me when I was climbing a rope ladder up to the tree house. I nearly made it to the top, but I was so scared, and the rope was so wet, that I lost my grip, and fell.” She bit into her pasty. “Mr Willoughby came back the next day to visit me, and brought me flowers, and chocolates.”

“That was very considerate of him,” her sister remarked. “Who is he, this mysterious Mr Willoughby?”

“He’s Mrs Smyth’s nephew, Christopher,” Marianne answered, “and he’s visiting her at Allenham Court. Her estate’s just next door, not at all far from our house.”

“And what does this cottage of Lady Violet’s look like?” Mrs Holland asked apprehensively. “I’ve not seen it yet. Is it as poky and small as you feared?”

“Not at all. It’s really quite lovely, and larger than I expected, with fireplaces and a chandelier and a sweeping stairway in the entrance hallway. It’s the grandest cottage I’ve ever seen.”

“You’ve been inside the house, then?” Elinor asked.

Marianne shook her head. “No, I hadn’t a key.” She added, “So of course I peeked in through the windows, as you do.”

“I can’t wait to see it,” her sister declared. “I’m consumed with curiosity.”

“What of Harriet?” Marianne asked her mother as she took up her spoon and dipped it into her soup. “Has Robert moved into Norland yet?”

“Oh, yes. We’d barely vacated the place when his removal van turned up,” Mrs Holland said, and pressed her lips together in disapproval. “Awful man.”

“Just like his stepsister,” Marianne agreed. She turned back to Elinor. “What about Edward?”

Elinor cast her a startled glance. “What about him?”

“Have you seen him again? He was so very nice that day he and Harriet came to Norland. So handsome and well mannered…and so obviously taken with you.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

“I understand he’s coming to Barton Park before very long, to see Lady Violet,” Mrs Holland offered. “Her daughter mentioned it to me the last time I chanced to speak with her. It was a week ago. Or was it two –?”

“Here?” Elinor froze. “Edward’s coming here, to Northumberland, to Barton Park?”

“Yes. Isn’t that great news?”

Elinor flushed and gazed down into her soup, and didn’t answer.

They heard voices and footsteps echoing down the hall towards the dining room, and looked up to see a handsome man with dark hair and an engaging smile standing in the doorway just behind Mrs Fenwick.

“Mr Willoughby’s here to see you, Miss Marianne,” the housekeeper said.

“Kit,” Marianne exclaimed as she stood and pushed her chair back. At a quelling glance from her mother she blushed, and a demure smile dimpled her cheeks as she sank back down in her seat. “I mean, Mr Willoughby. What a nice surprise.”

He wore jeans with an open-necked shirt, and his legs were encased in a pair of riding boots. A light sheen of perspiration gilded his forearms.

“Hello, Marianne, everyone. I didn’t mean to interrupt your lunch, ladies,” he added as his smiling glance went round the table. He looked down at himself in embarrassment. “Sorry. I’ve been riding, and as you can see, I’m in no fit state for company. I’ll come back another time.” And he turned to go.

“You most certainly will not.” Mrs Holland’s words were pleasant but firm. “We’ve only just heard about your amazing rescue of my daughter. I’m Lydia Holland, Marianne’s mother,” she added, “and this is my eldest daughter, Elinor. We owe you our sincere thanks for helping Marianne. I’d be very pleased if you joined us for lunch.”

He hesitated. “If I’m not intruding –?”

“You’re not.”

His lips curved into a warm smile. “Then I’d love to join you. Thanks.”

“We were just discussing Lady Violet’s cottage,” Mrs Holland told him as he took the empty seat beside her youngest daughter. “I haven’t yet seen it.”

“Then I’ll take you all,” Mr Willoughby said. “This afternoon, if you wish.”

“But you just told us you rode here,” Marianne pointed out. “I doubt we could all fit on your horse.”

He laughed. “No. But the walk’s a good one, not above a mile or so to the cottage. And,” he added, with a glance at Marianne, “this time, the weather’s perfect; there’s not a cloud in the sky or a trace of a storm to be seen.”

“Thank you,” Mrs Holland said, “but we only just arrived this morning, and I’m still a bit tired. I believe I’ll stay behind and take a nap after lunch.” She turned to Elinor. “But you and Marianne must certainly go.”

“And this time,” Marianne said, “I’ll be sure and get the key from Mrs Fenwick first.”

So it was decided, and when lunch was done, Marianne and Elinor accompanied Kit Willoughby across the fields and made their way to Barton Park.

“It isn’t poky at all,” Elinor said a short time later as she caught her first glimpse of their new home. “It’s every bit as big as Norland. Bigger!”

“Wait till you see inside.” Marianne went ahead of them and inserted the old-fashioned key into the lock. It turned easily, and with a creak of the door hinges, they stepped inside the front hall.

“It’s gorgeous,” Elinor breathed, looking around her in surprise. “Much nicer than I expected.”

Willoughby reached up and plucked the cheesecloth covering down from the chandelier. Dozens of prisms of crystal shimmered and tinkled in the afternoon sunlight with the action. A staircase with wide, curved treads stretched up to the second floor, and the oak floorboards, recently polished, gleamed underfoot.

Marianne darted from room to room. The windows were large and spilled plenty of light into the house, and all of them boasted deep sills – perfect places to sit and read and gaze out at the countryside.

“I love it,” Elinor avowed as she followed her sister and Willoughby up the stairs. “It’s absolutely perfect, isn’t it?”

“A perfect house for three perfect ladies,” Kit agreed.

Elinor looked over her shoulder at him. “You’ll spoil us with compliments, Mr Willoughby.”

Marianne saw that the removal men had left their belongings – what little they had – upstairs, in a jumbled pile of boxes and cartons and luggage at one end of the hall. She sighed. “We should stay and unpack, I suppose.”

“You two go ahead.” Elinor went to one of the boxes and pulled back the flaps. “I’ll get started on this lot.”

“I’m more than happy to help,” Willoughby offered. He lifted his brow. “And I’ll try to keep my compliments to a minimum.”

“Thank you, but it won’t take me above an hour or so to get this sorted. Go on, both of you, and have fun. I’ll be fine.”

“If you’re sure –?” Marianne said, even as her heart leapt as she caught Kit’s eye. “I’d love to take another look around outside.” The thought of spending the rest of the afternoon with him was too, too delicious.

“Go,” Elinor ordered. “I’ll find my own way home.”

Without further argument, Marianne and Willoughby made their way back downstairs, out of the front door and into the drowsy warmth of the late August afternoon.