Living With Adam. Anne MatherЧитать онлайн книгу.
awoke with a start, and lay for a while wondering why there were no lace curtains at her windows, and why the coverlet on her bed was not the handwoven one she had always been used to. Then realization of her surroundings came to her, and she moved pleasurably under the soft sheets, a smile curving her lips. Of course, she was no longer in Kilcarney, she was here in London, in Adam’s house.
Her gaze drifted round the room, and she noted with pleasure the lemon striped curtains that matched the lemon bedspread, and the light teak veneer of the furniture. There was a soft, fluffy cream carpet on the floor, into which her toes had curled the night before, which seemed so much more luxurious than the woven carpets they had at home. But then her father was not one for appreciating such things. He was a very practical man in most things, preferring serviceability to artistic merit. Only the advent of Geraldine Massey into their lives had softened his attitudes slightly, and Maria had reason to be grateful to her stepmother for providing her with an ally. Over the years, it had been Geraldine who had interceded with her father on her behalf, and brought some measure of tolerance into their lives. And in this business of Maria coming to England, to take a secretarial course, Geraldine had been the prime mover.
Naturally, Maria had wanted to come. For years she had longed to escape from the confined life in Kilcarney where her father was a pillar of the community, and as such, unable to view any of his daughter’s escapades with forbearance. But until now there had been no opportunity. She had been at the convent school, and surrounded by restrictions of one kind or another. But now she had left school and she was free to do as she wished, at least so long as her father was agreeable.
But it had been hard to convince him that no harm could come to her living with Adam, and she knew that if Adam should have shown any signs of misgivings regarding her proposed visit, her father would have overruled both Geraldine and herself and refused outright to allow her to come. That was why she had taken such a chance and deceived even her stepmother who might have felt it was her duty to inform her husband of what was going on.
Maria sighed and slid out of bed. Thankfully, she was here now, and if her father had sounded distrait on the telephone last evening at least he had not demanded that she should return immediately, and Maria knew that, given time, Geraldine would talk him round.
Now she padded to the window and looked out on to the small cul-de-sac below her windows. Unfastening the catch, she pushed up the window and leaned on the sill. The air was chill, and she shivered, but it was as much with anticipation as with the cold. Suddenly life was immensely exciting, and all sorts of possibilities were presenting themselves.
Suddenly she saw that an elderly woman across the Grove who had been on the point of gathering her milk bottles from her front step was regarding her disapprovingly and Maria glanced down at the scarcity of her attire hastily. She was merely dressed in the shortie nylon pyjamas she had worn to sleep in, and quickly she drew back and dropped the window, chuckling at her reflection in the mirror of the dressing table as she did so. It would never do to scandalize the neighbours on her first morning, and besides, no doubt they were all wondering who she was and why she was staying there. After all, Adam was a very eligible bachelor, and gossip was the breath of life to some people.
Shrugging, she went to wash in the huge bathroom that smelled pleasantly of shaving cream and aftershave lotion and then returned to fling open her suitcases which she had left on the floor the night before. She rummaged through them for something to wear. Later she would unpack, but right now she was hungry. It was after eight o’clock, and at home she was used to breakfasting with her father about seven.
As she dressed she hoped she would have a chance to talk to Adam today. Last night he had been aloof and non-committal, asking the usual polite questions about their parents, but seemingly disinterested in herself. Of course, the call to Kilcarney had annoyed him, but that was only to be expected. Then he had disappeared to take evening surgery at his clinic which Mrs Lacey had told her was in the East End of London, Maria couldn’t remember the name, and later when she had expected him back the housekeeper had informed her that he was dining out. Altogether it had been a most unsatisfactory evening, and she determined to change that today.
Now, dressed in close-fitting denim pants in a rather vivid shade of purple and a cream shirt that reached her hips and was belted at the waist, her straight hair swinging to her shoulders, she descended the staircase to the hall below. She wore no make-up, but her skin was naturally smooth anyway.
She hesitated in the hall, looking about her with interest. The carpet here, as on the stairs, was patterned in blues and greens, while all the doors were panelled in a light wood. There was a polished chest on which reposed a vase of tulips and narcissi, and their pale colours looked well against the darker wood.
As she stood there, speculating as to whether Adam breakfasted in the same room as she had dined the night before, Mrs Lacey emerged from the kitchen to regard her with some trepidation.
‘Oh—you’re up, miss,’ she said unnecessarily. ‘I—er—I was about to bring you up a tray. The doctor said you might be tired after your journey.’
Maria smiled charmingly. ‘I’m not tired, Mrs Lacey,’ she averred firmly, shaking her head. ‘I feel marvellous!’ She stretched her arms unselfconsciously above her head. ‘Tell me, Mrs Lacey, where is Adam?’
Mrs Lacey tried to hide her disapproval. She was obviously very much aware of the purple trousers, and Maria, sensing this, hid a smile. ‘Mr Adam is just finishing his breakfast, miss. In…in here.’
She moved forward to thrust open the door of the dining-room where Maria had eaten her solitary meal the evening before, and Maria nodded her thanks and entered the room quietly.
Adam was engrossed in his morning newspaper, and with his back to the door barely noticed anyone’s entrance. Obviously, he might expect Mrs Lacey to return to ascertain he had everything he needed, but no one else. Dressed in a dark suit, his linen immaculately white against the darker skin of his neck, Maria thought he looked very cool, and very dark and very businesslike, and a feeling of excitement rippled through her. With her usual lack of inhibition, she walked across the carpeted floor to him and bending, slid her arms round his neck from behind, kissing him warmly against the side of his neck as she sometimes did her father.
Adam jerked out of her grasp in a jack-knife movement to get to his feet and stare at her angrily. ‘Maria!’ he snapped shortly, thrusting his paper to one side and raking one hand through his thick hair.
She smiled enchantingly. ‘Good morning, Adam,’ she said, taking the vacant seat to one side of the chair he had been occupying. ‘I’m sorry I’m late for breakfast.’
Adam seemed to gather his composure, and breathing heavily, considered her impatiently. ‘You’re not late,’ he replied bleakly. ‘There’s absolutely no need for you to rise this early. But I have to be away to the surgery by eight-thirty.’
Maria shrugged and reaching for the coffee pot poured herself a cup of coffee with the ease of one used to the practice, and Adam felt the rising sense of frustration he had felt at her attitude the previous evening. ‘But I want to get up this early,’ she said, sipping her coffee. ‘Besides, it will be nice for you having company for a change. Your mother said she always breakfasted with you.’
‘That’s a little different,’ returned Adam dryly, lifting his coffee cup and finishing its contents with a gulp.
Maria raised her eyebrows. ‘I don’t see why it should be. I am your sister, after all.’
‘My stepsister!’ Adam corrected her harshly.
‘That’s splitting hairs!’ she observed lightly. ‘That’s your mother’s expression, by the way.’ She chuckled. ‘Hm, this coffee is quite good, but—ugh—do you eat a fried breakfast?’
Adam controlled his annoyance. ‘That’s my business.’
Maria shrugged. ‘I suppose it is. Do you think Mrs Lacey will expect me to do the same?’
‘Perhaps you should ask her that.’ Adam was abrupt.
Maria