Death at Dawn - Caro Peacock [81]
‘I’m very glad to find you on good terms with my sister,’ he said. ‘I was right to think she’d find you sympathetic.’
His voice was low and gentle, no hint of accusation in it.
‘Miss Mandeville is very kind. I fear I’m not as much help as I should like to be with her sketching.’
I looked down at our feet – his polished brown boots, my serviceable black – just as a governess should. In fact, I was feeling too guilty to meet his eyes. Here he was, showing concern for a sister, just as I’d hope Tom would do for me, and I was helping her deceive him.
‘My sister knows no more about sketching than my spaniel does, and cares even less.’
‘Oh.’
‘I’m not blaming you in any way, Miss Lock. I suggested you should make a friend of Celia, after all. But we’ve always been close and I sense sometimes when things are not well with her. Have you a brother, Miss Lock?’
‘Yes.’
I looked up at him and away again.
‘You’ll understand what I mean, then. I hope I’m wrong, but I sense Celia may be contemplating a step that might be very harmful for her.’
‘Harmful?’
‘A young woman’s reputation is easily harmed. My sister is the most warm-hearted girl in the world but, to be frank, without much forethought.’
‘Then I’ll be frank as well,’ I said. I looked him in the eyes now, not even trying to talk like a governess but doing my best for both of them. ‘The most important decision a woman makes is who she’ll marry. Shouldn’t she follow her own wishes?’
‘It’s not always as simple as that, is it, Miss Lock? Especially when families of some note are involved.’
I was on the point of replying sharply that note or no note, it made no difference to the heart. What silenced me was the thought that he might be thinking of his own mother who had married once for love and once for money. He let the silence draw out for a while.
‘I’m not asking you to betray a confidence, Miss Lock. I can only hope if you knew that Celia were on the point of doing something really unwise, you’d give a hint to me. In that case, I might be able to convince her to draw back before things went too far and came to other ears.’
The meaning was plain – Sir Herbert’s ears.
‘I understand.’
‘You’ll keep that in mind, Miss Lock?’
‘Yes. Yes, I shall.’
He stood up, gave me a brief nod as if something important had been agreed and walked away through the gap in the hedge.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
I waited in the summerhouse until I thought family and guests would be dressing for dinner, then slipped in at the side entrance and returned to my copying. Near midnight, Mrs Quivering found me there and insisted I must go to bed. Crotchets and quavers danced behind my eyes all night and by six o’clock in the morning I was back at work. Mrs Quivering rewarded me with a cup of chocolate and warm sweet rolls for breakfast.
‘Just like Lady Mandeville has. Shall we be ready in time? The musicians are supposed to be arriving by midday.’
Soon after midday, she put her head round the door.
‘They’ve arrived and they’re eating. Then they want to start rehearsing in the damask drawing room.’
‘I’m just finishing. I’ll take them in.’
There was still a page of the second trumpet part to do, but in my experience, musicians were not readily torn away from free food. I finished the page, blotted it and carried the whole pile of parts to the damask drawing room. It was one of the largest and most pleasant rooms in the house, with wide windows looking on to the terrace, white-painted wall panels, blue damask curtains and upholstery and a beautiful plaster ceiling with a design of musical instruments and swags of olive leaves against a pale blue background. When I arrived servants were putting out rows of chairs on the blue-and-gold carpet and the musicians were trickling in with music stands and cases. I asked a flautist where I might find their director.
‘Just coming in, ma’am.’
A dapper little figure came through the doorway, dark hair shining in the sun like a cap of patent leather.
‘Mr Suter,’ the flautist started saying, ‘there’s a lady –’
But he got no further