The Marriage Wheel Page 5

  She gave him her hand through the window. Almost girlishly she confessed:

  “Yes, I’m Electra Wells!”

  Rosaleen, who had been inspecting the kitchen and deploring its lack of amenities, suddenly appeared in the living-room doorway—and after hesitating as if slightly stunned for a full half minute Lestrode proved his agility by leaping over the sill of the window and bowing almost theatrically in front of her.

  “And this—this must be the younger Miss Wells?”

  “Actually,” Rosaleen told him, dimpling deliciously, “I’m two years older than Frederica, but nobody ever guesses it. You see,” she added, “I’ve never been out to work, and she has—since she was sixteen, as a matter of fact.”

  Humphrey Lestrode was plainly very much impressed by this naive statement.

  “That explains a good deal,” he said. “Your sister takes to sheer hard work like a duck takes to water; but you—you, my dear,” admiring her very openly with his eyes, “could hardly be expected to perform manual tasks. If you’ll forgive me for saying so I simply can’t imagine you doing anything more strenuous than gather strawberries for tea ... in an enchanting, old-fashioned poke-bonnet!”

  She dropped him a laughing curtsy.

  “Even that might prove a little too strenuous if the sun was on the hot side.”

  “Dangerous, too,” with his eyes glued to the sheer perfection of her soft young skin. “With a complexion like that to protect I’m not at all sure you oughtn’t to go about permanently with an umbrella held over you to make sure you never encounter the rough edge of the weather!”

  Electra, who was devoted to both her daughters and accustomed to the effect Rosaleen had on most members of the opposite sex when they made her acquaintance for the first time, but nevertheless an individualist, decided to nip this effusiveness in the bud.

  “Mr. Lestrode,” she gushed to him, “you have been so kind to Frederica—” although Frederica herself would not have felt urged to underline this—“that I hardly know how to thank you! You have allowed us to come here, and I understand the cottage is to be a part of Frederica’s salary ... and for that I’m very, very grateful!” Her pansy-dark eyes seemed to melt under the influence of his. “But you do appreciate that it is a bit primitive, and perhaps if a little something could be done to it”—she waved a beautifully manicured hand to indicate the sparse furnishings—“a few more pieces of furniture acquired from somewhere to supplement these rather poor pieces...? I don’t want to seem unreasonable, but if we could have a new carpet for the sitting-room, and those dreadful beds upstairs could be taken away. ... I never sleep well on anything but a very well sprung bed!”

  “Of course, of course.” He said it as if she had but to run through a list of requests and he would see to it that they would be provided at once. “Naturally, it never occurred to me that you would be joining your daughter at Farthing Hall, but now that you’ve actually arrived we’ll have to do all that we can to make you comfortable.” He frowned, his bemused eyes still on Rosaleen, following every graceful movement she made. “For the time being I think you’d better stay on at the Bull.”

  “It’s very expensive,” Electra barely murmured.

  “Naturally, I don’t expect you to stand the expense.”

  “How kind!” Electra sighed gratefully, while Rosaleen turned shining blue eyes up to him.

  “And this place is hardly fit for a dog to take up his quarters in,” frowning round at it angrily, as if it offended him personally.

  Rosaleen giggled.

  “Certainly not my dear Pookie,” she said ... and for his enlightenment explained that Pookie was her white poodle, at present being taken care of at kennels in London, until such time as she was sure he would be all right in the country.

  “And welcome,” she added, with a shy lowering of her lashes.

  Lestrode assured her without a moment’s hesitation that Pookie would be one hundred per cent welcome if she cared to send for him, and Rosaleen answered eagerly that she would do so without delay.

  All this time Frederica stood by and wished that the ground would open and swallow her—or that she had relatives who knew their place. She, like her mother, was accustomed to Rosaleen carrying all before her and bowling people over—almost literally sometimes, if they were particularly susceptible. But this obvious assault on the sensibilities of a man whom Frederica herself had decided was as hard as granite was like a painful extraction of her own teeth. It hurt her in a part of her being that was particularly vulnerable, her pride, and her rather over-developed sense of the fitness of things. She would have preferred to move into the cottage without any furniture at all rather than make any sort of an appeal to her employer ... and the sooner her mother and sister recognised that he was her employer the better.

  She would have to have a sharp and urgent talk with them later on this subject.

  But for the moment she remained as if rather sullenly dumb, and her mother turned to her and accused her once more of neglecting her appearance.

  “My dear, you do look rather dreadful,” she accused. “I do hope that when you’re actually driving Mr. Lestrode you will endeavour to look a little more immaculate than you do now.”

  Humphrey Lestrode surveyed Frederica with a kind of careless criticism in his eyes.

  “She’s all right,” he observed affably. “It doesn’t really matter to me whether my chauffeur is impeccable, and so long as she can cope with care and maintenance that is all I really care about.” He turned back to the ultra-smart woman in navy-blue and white. “I expect you walked here from the Bull,” he said, “but I can give you a lift back if you like. As a matter of fact, I’m going into Greater Corsham, and if you’d like to have a look at the place—do a little shopping, perhaps—I shall be delighted to provide you with the necessary transport.”

  “You mean that Frederica can drive us as well as you?” Rosaleen enquired with naive delight.

  “Yes, Fred will drive, of course ... unless she loses her nerve,” with a cynical glance at the girl in the stained primrose blouse.

  Rosaleen giggled.

  “Fred! ... I think that’s gorgeous! Mummy and I call her Rica sometimes, but never Fred.”

  The drive into Greater Corsham was a great strain on Frederica. Not because she felt unable to handle the car, but because in addition to her employer she had her mother and sister in the back of the car.

  From the moment that she heard Lestrode issue his invitation she had never any doubt that Electra would turn down the invitation. It would have been entirely opposed to her practical outlook on life ... Take all that you can get so long as it’s not offered too grudgingly, and when a nice man comes along and proves that he wants to be nice, let him. And Humphrey Lestrode had something far more to commend him than the quality of niceness. He had just bought Farthing Hall, one of the most delightful houses in Gloucestershire—in the whole of England, if it came to that—was obviously a rich man and had not so far acquired a wife.

  With three such important assets he was like a gift out of the blue to a mother with two daughters—especially when one of them was a raving beauty.

  Most men found Frederica attractive, but Rosaleen had the effect of depriving them of their wits. They never really thought clearly while she was around.

  Frederica, who knew her mother so well, was perfectly aware of what she was thinking as they drove into the little country town. She was already making plans ... and Frederica felt so horribly ashamed of those plans that she was a little careless near the outskirts of the town and overtook another vehicle without properly realising what she was doing and when the road ahead wasn’t absolutely clear.

  Her employer, who sat beside her, barked at her furiously.

  “You little idiot! Don’t you know when to overtake? Do that again and you’ll find yourself helping Jason with his borders! Now, be careful, and be absolutely certain you don’t turn off absent-mindedly into a one-way street!”

 
; Frederica felt her cheeks burn fierily, and from the back of the car she heard Rosaleen giving her advice.

  “I never overtake. I much prefer to be late for an appointment rather than risk smashing up my car.”

  “Sensible girl!” Lestrode turned round to her approvingly. “Have you got a car?”

  “No,” and her wonderful eyes grew wistful. “We did have a little runabout, but we simply couldn’t afford to run it, and Mummy decided we should sell it.”

  She didn’t mention that the car had been Frederica’s, and that her mother had required ready cash ... and that was why the car had been sold.

  Lestrode looked thoughtful.

  “You’ll need something to get about in if you’re going to live in Little Corsham,” he said. “I’ll have to see what I can do in the way of fixing you up with your own means of transport.”

  It was inevitable that he should ask them to lunch with him at the George, despite the fact that he was also meeting a friend for lunch. The latter turned out to be a man, a farmer neighbour, and the invitation to the two women made up a delightful foursome—or so Lestrode himself observed.

  He slipped Frederica a pound note and told her to get herself some lunch at a cafe and to make certain that the car was safely disposed of in the yard of the George. He also told her to meet them and be prepared to drive them back about four o’clock, which meant that she had nearly three hours to herself.

  She spent them roaming round and renewing her acquaintance with Greater Corsham, and she spent quite a lot of time in an antique shop which was rather like an antique gallery, where would-be customers could inspect without buying.

  She didn’t in the least mind being forced to while away her time in this way, but she did feel very slightly outraged every time she thought of her mother and sister sitting at a table in the comfortable dining-room of the George, enjoying an expensive meal without the smallest right to it, and no doubt working towards a solid basis of friendship with Humphrey Lestrode ... who looked like becoming their patron before long.

  It wasn’t that Frederica objected to being passed over ... but where did her mother and sister get the nerve from to accept such an invitation? And surely they would draw the line at accepting a car from Mr. Lestrode, even if they couldn’t bring themselves to do so when it came to paying for their meals?

  And the knowledge that her mother had borrowed money from Robert Rawlinson—how much she wouldn’t say—was another reason why Frederica felt as if her spirits were permanently overcast as she strolled about the streets of the market town.

  It was about half-past three, and she was peering into the window of a smart little dress shop when Electra emerged with Rosaleen behind her. They were both carrying packages, and Rosaleen had a rather large dress box swinging from her finger.

  She explained with a self-conscious smirk: “Mummy thought I should have something new ... After all, Mr. Lestrode did suggest that we went shopping, didn’t he?”

  A faint—a very faint—expression of guilt flashed into Mrs. Well’s face.

  “It was such an exciting little dress—not at all the sort of thing you’d expect to find in a country town—and I couldn’t resist buying it for Rosaleen. After all, if we’re to dine at the Hall sometimes...”

  “Are you to dine at the Hall?” Frederica enquired, standing four-square in front of them, and looking as if she expected to be told the truth.

  “Well—er—yes, as a matter of fact, we are,” Electra admitted. “Mr. Lestrode mentioned Wednesday evening ... and as we haven’t any other engagements at the moment of course I said ‘yes’. It’s just possible he’ll ask you, too. It all depends on his ideas about employer-employee relationships. He didn’t give us any clue at lunch.”

  “Thank you, but I should refuse even if he asked me,” Frederica replied inflexibly.

  Her mother elevated one eyebrow.

  “Ah, well, dear, it’s up to you. Naturally I do see that it might be awkward for you. You have to take your orders from Mr. Lestrode, but most fortunately we don’t.” She glanced almost quizzically at her other daughter. “It’s a very happy position to be in at the moment, isn’t it, Ros? We get all the plums, and poor Frederica has to do all the work. But at least you’re getting a good salary, darling,” she reminded Frederica, “with the cottage and the Black Bull thrown in!”

  “If you allow Mr. Lestrode to pay for you to stay at the Black Bull, Mother,” Frederica retorted with sudden furious indignation, “I’m not at all sure I shall stay on at Farthing Hall! I’ll hand in my notice to Mr. Lestrode!”

  Her mother shrugged and smiled at her, plainly not taking her seriously.

  “Remember that you have to be at the George at four o’clock, darling,” she reminded her. “And I should think—although, of course, I’m not absolutely certain in the circumstances—that Mr. Lestrode would object very strongly to being kept waiting by his chauffeuse!”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Lucille was the only one at Farthing Hall to whom Frederica felt she could talk naturally and uninhibitedly.

  Lucille was amused by the arrival of Frederica’s relatives in such an unheralded but decisive fashion, and she liked Frederica enough to realise that their arrival had nothing to do with her. Frederica was so obviously horrified by, and slightly ashamed of, Mrs. Wells’ and Rosaleen’s attitude that they would be welcome almost anywhere, and at Farthing Hall they were surely entitled to a welcome.

  But even Lucille seemed to think it odd that the hard-headed businessman who had been her employer for several years should be willing to pay their hotel bill until the old lodge-keeper’s cottage was in a condition to receive them, and issue them invitations to dine at the Hall.

  For one thing, Lucille would have to do the cooking ... and Frederica received the distinct impression that she might be inclined to jib at that.

  “I haven’t seen your sister yet,” she remarked, “and I haven’t seen your mother. But between them they must have something—something that you and I haven’t got, and which makes a massive impression!”

  Frederica agreed with her not altogether happily.

  “Oh, yes, they’ve got something ... and I’ve seen it work rather well before,” she admitted.

  But what she was secretly thinking was that, if she herself was included in the dinner invitation, and she was not allowed to turn it down, how would Lucille react to that? Lucille was by no means an ordinary housekeeper. She was charming and attractive, and had been Lestrode’s secretary not so long ago. Frederica suspected that she would be prepared to work for him for nothing if he hadn’t any money, and that in itself suggested an attitude of mind ... and might one day pose a serious problem if Humphrey Lestrode thought of getting married.

  For while she would serve him willingly enough while he remained unmarried, as a married man Lucille might look upon him rather differently!

  But that was a problem for the future, and not hers in any case, so Frederica dismissed it from her mind.

  The next day Lestrode got on to a local decorator and requested him to make an inspection of the cottage, and report what could be done to improve it. The report was not very favourable, and Lestrode recollected that on his property there was a small dower house which was also in a bad condition of repair, but which might be more worthwhile spending money on than the cottage. Done up it would be an asset, and if he ever wanted to dispose of it he could get a much better price than if it was left in its present condition.

  “Your mother and sister could move in,” he suggested to Frederica, facing him in front of his desk in the half-furnished library after he had sent for her to discuss the matter, “and I’m sure we could make them sufficiently comfortable while the workmen get busy around them. If not, they’ll probably have to spend some time at the Bull, and I don’t think Rosaleen will like that. It’s not the ideal setting for a girl of her age.”

  Frederica stared back at him.

  “But, Mr. Lestrode,” she protested—and she mean
t to make her protest quite strong and forceful, “my mother and sister don’t have to live down here, and they can always return to London. As a matter of fact, their landlady hasn’t yet let their flat. I telephoned her about it only yesterday!”

  “Oh!” Lestrode exclaimed, and he sounded rather cold and bleak. “You want to get rid of your mother and sister, do you?”

  “Oh, n-no, of course not.” She was aghast that he should think so—although it was of course partially true. But she was really alarmed by the thought of Electra and Rosaleen, with their strange set of values, staying on in Little Corsham. “It’s just that—”

  “You begrudge them a little comfort.” His voice was crisp. “Lucille has fitted you up very comfortably here, but you don’t want your family to have the same standard of comfort.”

  “Oh, but that isn’t true!” she protested. And then, while his strange eyes studied her with a kind of open contempt and the coolest criticism she had ever encountered in her life, she decided to make her true reasons abundantly clear. “As a matter of fact,” she told him, in a voice that was suddenly very firm and determined, while her small chin jutted in the air, “I don’t think either my mother or sister fully realise that they have absolutely no right here ... and you are putting yourself out to spare their feelings and settle them down somewhere. They’ve fastened on you—battened on you—and you’re even encouraging them to believe that you’ll pay for them to stay at the Bull.”

  “So I will,” he replied impatiently. “As a matter of fact, I’ve already arranged matters with the landlord.”

  “Then in that case, I shall refuse to accept any salary from you, Mr. Lestrode,” she told him, drawing herself up to her full but inadequate height as she stood in front of him. “I won’t accept any salary so long as they stay at the Bull.”