Candles in the Storm Page 18

  ‘He . . . he’s not like that.’

  ‘Lass, they’re all like that.’

  Nellie watched Daisy bow her head, her voice a whisper as she said, ‘Gran, you don’t know him.’

  ‘Neither do you, me bairn. Neither do you. Their world would never normally touch ours, that’s the thing. Even in them big houses like Greyfriar Hall, the upstairs an’ the downstairs still keep to their own worlds. But when you pulled him out of the sea it muddled things just enough to let you peep round the door sort of.’

  ‘The green baize door,’ murmured Daisy.

  ‘What?’

  Daisy raised her head and looked straight at her grandmother. Shaking her head slowly, she said, ‘It doesn’t matter.’

  ‘You’ll think on about what I’ve said? You know I’m right at heart, lass, don’t you? An’ it’s only ’cos I care about you.’

  Daisy bent over her and kissed the grey head, but she didn’t say, ‘Aye, I know you’re right, Gran’, or, ‘Aye, I’ll think about what you’ve said’, as Nellie had hoped. Instead she reached for the empty cup in Nellie’s hand and stood up, her voice quiet and flat when she said, ‘I’ll get you another sup, Gran.’

  The air was soft and warm after the heat of the day on the walk back to Evenley House, and carried the scent of wild flowers and grass in its mild caress. Tiny gnats were dancing in dying shafts of sunlight and birds were singing. It was the sort of evening that normally filled Daisy with the inexpressible joy of being alive, but tonight, even as she responded with every appearance of normality to Kitty’s chatter, her mind was going round in circles.

  Her granny was worried about her, she knew that, and her granny was the last person in the world who would want to say anything which might hurt her, but Nellie didn’t understand. William was different from his father and the rest of them. Her heart told her so. He didn’t have a big opinion of himself, he was kind and gentle and - oh, just wonderful. She felt she really came alive when she was with him, even if Miss Wilhelmina was there too.

  But when they were alone . . . The way he looked at her then . . . Her heart began to thud. Was she being stupid? He had taken her hand the last time they were alone; even before that he had always complimented her on her appearance and talked to her as though he valued her opinion and thoughts, but was that just his way? She couldn’t take her eyes from his face when he was near her; did he think she was throwing herself at him? Worse, demanding the sort of attention he gave her? Her stomach turned over at the thought that William’s regard might be prompted more by gratitude that she had saved his life than real interest in her as a person.

  ‘Eeh, the carriage from the Hall is here, an’ on a Sunday. That’s unusual.’

  Kitty’s voice brought Daisy out of her reflections as they walked up the drive to Evenley House. Her head came up and she saw the waiting carriage. Was William here? Or perhaps it was just other members of the family? Lady Fraser and her daughters visited but rarely and never on horseback as Sir Augustus and William sometimes did. According to Miss Wilhelmina, Gwendoline Fraser was frightened of horses and had instilled this fear in her daughters.

  Daisy compelled herself not to hurry but to continue walking at a sedate pace by Kitty’s side, but once they entered the house by the kitchen door her heart sank as she saw Josiah Kirby sitting at the table. The valet’s presence meant Sir Augustus was here, and even if William had accompanied his father she wouldn’t have a chance to speak to him directly.

  Josiah had been in conversation with Harold. Neither man acknowledged the two girls’ entry into the kitchen, but the next moment Gladys appeared carrying a large silver teapot and looking more than a little flustered. Her small beady eyes flashed over her daughter and Daisy before she said to Kitty, ‘You, get your uniform on. The mistress has company an’ they want more tea.’

  Kitty didn’t remind her mother that her half-day finished at midnight as Daisy had hoped her friend would do, especially after the scene which had occurred earlier. Instead she shrugged at Daisy and left the kitchen without speaking. As Daisy went to follow her, Gladys spoke again, her tone the same but the words phrased as less of an order. ‘The mistress said if you got back afore Mr Francis left, she’d like you to go along to the drawing room.’

  ‘Very well.’ Daisy’s face had no softness in it as she looked at the cook. ‘I shall go and tidy myself first and be along directly.’ She didn’t allow her glance to encompass the two men at the table who were now sitting watching them, she never looked at Josiah Kirby if she could help it. From her first week at Evenley House it had been war, albeit a silent one, between the two of them.

  Once the kitchen door had shut behind her Daisy moved swiftly along the corridor leading to the main hall. Miss Wilhelmina hadn’t spoken directly to her about this brother, but Daisy had gleaned enough from listening to her mistress’s conversations with Sir Augustus to know she needed to be perfectly composed and in command of herself when she met him. She ran lightly up the stairs and along the landing, but on coming to the servants’ quarters and opening the green baize door she paused, fingering the coarse material for a moment once she had stepped into the uncarpeted section of the house.

  Did William see her as being on one side of this door and himself on the other? His eyes, his manner, the way he looked at her sometimes could lead her to think differently, but she was being foolish to hope for anything more than what she now had, she knew that at heart. Her granny was right. His class would never accept her. Her chin came up in silent protest at the thought. The more she learnt about the gentry and their blue blood and this breeding business, the more . . . nasty it seemed to her. Their morals were such that often they didn’t marry for love but for purely worldly reasons regarding lineage or wealth, and it seemed almost acceptable for them to have associations outside their marriages. And yet they thought they had the blood-bought right to look down on decent working men and women who wouldn’t dream of behaving in such a way. It was wrong. And the more she learnt in her lessons with Mr Price, her tutor, and from her conversations with William and Miss Wilhelmina, the more she was beginning to understand that there were lots of things that were wrong at every level of society. Issues she had never questioned before.

  The parson had said much the same thing the last time he had visited the mistress. He was a very intelligent and learned man, Parson Lyndon, and she had to confess she was in awe of him. He somehow seemed much older than his thirty-one years. Miss Wilhelmina had said this was because he was the only child of scholarly parents who had had him late in life and devoted themselves to his education. Daisy rarely said much when the parson was here but she enjoyed listening to the discussions he had with the mistress.

  Kitty’s door opening and her friend emerging clothed in her uniform brought Daisy out of her thoughts with a bump.

  ‘Creeping Kirby would come today after the do with me mam,’ Kitty said, adjusting her thick bun of curls behind her cap as she spoke. ‘I bet he’d hardly got in the door before she was on about me.’

  Daisy thought her friend’s nickname for the valet was very apt, having seen him dancing attendance on Sir Augustus with an obsequiousness which was sickening. ‘Kitty, your mam an’ da might work hard but you work harder,’ she said quietly. ‘You’re entitled to leave the house on your half-day and do as you please.’

  ‘Aye, I think so an’ all. I’ll see you downstairs then.’

  As Kitty’s plump body waddled off, curls bobbing, Daisy opened the door to her room and stepped inside, flinging her straw bonnet on the bed. Five minutes later she was downstairs again after quickly changing her crumpled dress and washing her hands and face, reaching the drawing-room door just as Kitty emerged from the end corridor carrying the big silver teapot.

  Daisy paused and waited for her friend to reach her.

  ‘I’ve just had a right ear bashing from Creeping Kirby,’ Kitty whispered indignantly, her cheeks scarlet. ‘Going on about showing me mam respect and saying that me eld
ers are always right, he was, as if he’s in charge of us here as well as them at the Hall. He said your village was no fit place for a lass like me, and when I asked him what sort of lass that was - you know, sarcastic like - he nearly choked on his tea.’

  ‘I wish he had done.’ It was said with great feeling.

  ‘Anyway, just as I walked out I told him the mistress was quite happy for me to go with you and if he didn’t agree with that perhaps it’d be better for him to talk to her. To put his mind at rest like.’

  Daisy was impressed. Kitty wasn’t usually so outspoken. No doubt her friend’s newfound courage with the valet would be laid at Daisy’s door and seen as another nail in her coffin, but that worried her not a jot.

  She knocked twice at the drawing-room door and opened it, allowing Kitty to precede her with the heavy teapot before following the maid into the room.

  ‘Ah, Daisy. Come here, child.’ Wilhelmina had inclined her head at Kitty and motioned with her hand for the teapot to be placed on the trolley. Now she focused all her attention on Daisy, patting the space on the sofa beside her.

  She walked across to her mistress and sat down, silently chastising herself for the sharp pang of disappointment she’d felt when she had realised William was not present.

  Sir Augustus was sitting at the far end of the room near the french windows which were open to catch the warm evening breeze. After a cursory nod in Daisy’s direction he returned to his languid contemplation of the gardens. His brother was seated in an ornate Queen Anne chair directly facing his sister and close to the sofa. It barely seemed adequate to contain his fleshy bulk.

  ‘Francis, this is the new nurse companion who has been looking after me so well. Daisy - my brother, Mr Francis Fraser.’

  Francis did not rise from his seat as he surveyed the young woman he had heard so much about, and from so many different sources. One did not show that courtesy to a servant. When Daisy rose and bobbed a curtsey before seating herself again, he said, ‘So . . .’ pausing for some moments before he continued, ‘You obviously have hidden talents, m’dear.’

  ‘I’m sorry, sir?’ Daisy kept the polite smile on her face with some effort. She didn’t think she had ever met anyone she found so instantly repulsive. Miss Wilhelmina’s younger brother was making her flesh creep.

  ‘A dainty little thing like you having the strength to rescue my nephew from the cruel sea,’ Francis drawled mockingly by way of explanation.

  He hadn’t meant that at all. He’d been being nasty, suggestive, Daisy thought, dropping her gaze so she didn’t have to look at the dark, somewhat rheumy eyes that were sliding over her face. The way he was staring was horrible.

  Wilhelmina must have thought so too because her voice was abrupt when she said, ‘Daisy, child, perhaps you would serve us all a fresh cup of tea?’

  Francis Fraser was five years younger than his brother but now, at forty-five years of age, appeared twenty years older than Augustus, the penalties of a lifetime of debauchery evident in both face and body. Utterly self-centred and opinionated, he had been an unpleasant child and had grown into an even more unpleasant man, excelling only in his capacity for the wide variety of sexual perversions he so relished. Now, as he considered the slip of a girl who had caused so much trouble in various ways in his brother’s household, and who had even got Kirby seething with resentment, he admitted to feeling a slight sense of disappointment.

  From all that Augustus’s womenfolk had intimated, and certainly from the little chat he had had with his brother’s valet, he had expected to see a bold, brazen hussy who would be more than ready to meet him halfway in a lusty romp once his sister’s back was turned. But that was obviously not the way this piece played it. Francis sighed inwardly. He had long since lost any inclination to cajole or inveigle, having found from experience that the type who demanded such treatment wasn’t worth the trouble or the money, and rarely submitted easily to the more . . . unusual practices he forced upon them.

  Still, this chit was comely enough, if a little thin for his taste these days. He allowed his eyes to wander over the slender waist and firm young breasts beneath the muslin dress. He liked his boys svelte and narrow; his females, whether young or old, he preferred with meat on their bones. Then again, the exceptions to the rule were what made life interesting . . .

  ‘Do you like milk or lemon in your tea, sir?’ Daisy had to force herself to look into the moist, high-coloured face which, although bearing the same unmistakable stamp as his siblings, seemed like a caricature of theirs. She didn’t like Sir Augustus Fraser - Miss Wilhelmina’s brother was cold and unfeeling and rarely acknowledged her presence - but there was no doubt he was a fine figure of a man and carried himself with authority, whereas Francis Fraser resembled nothing so much as a giant slug.

  ‘Lemon.’ He abhorred tea, in fact the last time he had drunk the obnoxious stuff must have been in this very room on his previous visit the year before, but Wilhelmina was always very chary of offering him anything stronger. As though a brief abstinence here would make any difference to the state of his liver! Augustus was the same; in fact they had had quite an altercation about his consumption of wine at dinner a year or two back, if he remembered rightly. Augustus had told him, in his usual icy manner, that if he wished to drink himself to death he was quite at liberty to do so but not at Greyfriar Hall. Damn it but he loathed the pair of them, and it was galling to have to tread so carefully. But he must, he must. Those gambling debts wouldn’t wait and he needed Augustus’s co-operation.

  He watched Wilhelmina’s protégée deftly using the lemon squeezer, his mouth twisting slightly. His sister was teaching her well, you’d think the baggage had been born to it instead of coming from the gutter.

  Without a word of thanks he took the cup offered to him but in doing so managed surreptitiously to stroke Daisy’s hand for a moment, feeling the recoil of the young flesh with a sense of amusement and resignation. She was going to insist he importune her, this one, solicit her attention before she consented to some sport. According to Kirby she had been at it from when she could walk, but now she had landed in clover with his sister maybe she thought she would assume the airs and graces of a lady? Well, he had nothing else to do in this dismal backwater, Francis decided, so he didn’t mind playing along a little. But he could only be pushed so far.

  It was almost half an hour before the two men took their leave of their sister, and Daisy wasn’t the only one who found their visit trying. Wilhelmina had always seen Augustus as an inordinately proud and fastidious individual, and knew the only way the older brother could stomach the younger was to pay little attention to him, but it irritated her the way he had removed himself from the conversation that evening. She had no illusions about Francis either but had chosen not to probe into his life, sensing that besides his immoderate gambling and drinking there were other vices he indulged in that she would rather not know about. This evening, however, she had been forced to acknowledge that she really didn’t want Francis within a hundred miles of Daisy, and had found this realisation disturbing. The girl was an innocent, Wilhelmina was absolutely sure of that, and the thought of her brother laying his hands on her . . .

  As the sound of the men’s departure faded, Wilhelmina cleared her throat. The more she had got to know Daisy, the more she had begun to think that if things had been different and she had been blessed with a husband and a daughter, the child she’d have wished for would have been very like the one sitting beside her now, in spirit and in nature. She had a duty to make things plain to the girl though of course it wouldn’t do to refer to Francis directly, he was her brother after all.

  She thought for a moment, reaching for her teacup and taking a sip of the tea which was now quite cold, before she said, ‘It is a sad state of affairs but some gentlemen have come to think that the pursuit of respectability and moral purity in a girl is something to be overcome for their own gratification. Such individuals, of course, cannot be trusted.’ She raised her head a
nd stared into the grey eyes watching her.

  Daisy’s reply was without embellishment, probably because the skin on her hand was still crawling from Francis’s touch. ‘Perhaps such men are to be pitied, ma’am, but whatever their position I really couldn’t refer to them as gentlemen.’

  Wilhelmina blinked. ‘Quite.’

  And after that there was nothing further to be said on the subject.

  Chapter Eleven

  His aunt had hit the nail on the head when she had likened these occasions to cattle shows. William glanced round the stately, shining dining table surrounded by glittering guests. The resplendent formality of the carefully displayed silver, crystal and fine china was only outdone by the brilliance of the jewels some of the women present were wearing.