An Old Fashioned Girl. Бетти НилсЧитать онлайн книгу.
worries for the time being.’
Patience, thinking of the small pile of bills waiting to be settled, sighed with relief. ‘When does the new tenant come?’
‘In four days’ time. A Mr van der Beek, a surgeon who needs time to write a book of reference. He emphasises that he must have complete quiet while he is working and has chosen your aunts’ house for that reason. He is bringing his housekeeper with him but he has asked Mr Tomkins to find help in the village for the household and, since he was so emphatic about being left undisturbed while he writes, Mr Tomkins suggested that he might like to employ someone to act as a buffer between him and any hindrances—the telephone, tradespeople, unwelcome callers and so forth. He agreed to this and Mr Tomkins told him that he knew of just such a person—yourself, Patience, although he made no mention of your name or of the fact that you had lived in the house. It is suggested that, if you are agreeable, you might call on the housekeeper and introduce yourself—I feel that her goodwill is important—so that you may allay any fears she may have concerning her position as head of the domestic staff. Presumably you will come under that category. Your working hours have yet to be arranged, also your pay, but, from what I hear, Mr van der Beek is not a mean man. I shall be seeing him when he comes for the keys and will make sure that you are fairly treated.’ Mr Bennett held his hands before him as if in prayer. ‘I do not need to advise you to keep a low profile, Patience—to be neither seen nor heard should be your aim.’
‘Well, I’ll do my best, Mr Bennett, and thank you and Mr Tomkins for all your kindness. I am most grateful and a paid job will be more than welcome—I must get some money saved to tide us over until we can let the house or sell it after this Mr van der Beek has gone.’ She smiled widely at him. ‘Would you like a cup of tea?’
‘No, my dear, I must get back and deal with various matters. I should like to call on your aunts tomorrow—there will be papers to sign—which is the best time of day?’
‘About eleven o’clock, if you can manage that? May I tell them what you have told me or should you wish to do that yourself tomorrow?’
‘Tell them by all means, my dear.’ He got to his feet and presently left the house and Patience skipped upstairs on light feet and put away the laundry, humming cheerfully. Now the small outstanding bills could be paid and she could order more coal. She fell to wondering how much money she could expect for her services and then sobered a little at the thought that the housekeeper might take a dislike to her.
She went to the kitchen presently and got a tea-tray ready and, when she heard her aunts’ slow progress down the stairs, made the tray ready and carried it in to the sitting-room.
The two old ladies were sitting one each side of the small fire, turning serene faces to her as she went in. They were a handsome pair, upright in their chairs, with identical hairstyles and dressed in similar dark brown dresses which conceded nothing to fashion. They were in fact Patience’s great-aunts and her only living relations and she loved them dearly. She poured tea, offered the scones they enjoyed with it and sat down between them. As they always did, they asked her if she had had a pleasant afternoon, the opening which she had been waiting for.
They received her news with dignified delight, although they were both doubtful as to her accepting the job Mr Bennett had offered.
‘It seems most unsuitable,’ observed Aunt Bessy, the elder of the two ladies. ‘Little better than domestic service.’
Patience hastened to reassure her. ‘More a secretarial post,’ she fibbed boldly, and Aunt Polly, a mere eighty years old and four years her sister’s junior, agreed with her in her gentle way.
‘It would be nice for Patience to have an outside interest,’ she pointed out, ‘and money of her own.’
Aunt Bessy, after due thought, conceded this, both old ladies happily unaware that any money their great-niece would earn would probably be swallowed up in the housekeeping purse. Over second cups of tea they pronounced themselves satisfied with the arrangements and willing to receive Mr Bennett when he called on the following day. This settled, they fell to speculating as to their tenant.
‘Oh, probably elderly and set in his ways,’ said Patience. ‘Mr Bennett said that he was very emphatic about having complete quiet in the house while he works. Probably an old despot,’ she added, ‘but who cares, since he’s paying quite a handsome rent and didn’t quibble at the idea of hiring me as well?’
Mr Bennett was closeted with her aunts when she got back from the shops on the following morning. She made coffee and was leaving the room when he asked her to stay for a moment …
‘I have been in touch with Mr van der Beek’s secretary,’ he told her, ‘concerning your employment. He has left the arrangements to her, it seems, and she suggests that you work from ten o’clock until four o’clock with Sundays free—the wages seem generous …’ He mentioned a sum which made Patience gasp.
‘Heavens, there must be some mistake …’
‘No, no. I assure you that it is a fair offer. Cooks earn a great deal nowadays, as do children’s nurses and home helps, added to which they have their keep. You will live out, of course, and she suggested that you have three-quarters of an hour for lunch.’
Patience was allowing several pleasant thoughts to race round her sensible head. With money like that she could get Mrs Dodge, who had worked at the house when she and her aunts lived there, to come in for a couple of hours each day and prepare a meal and start to cook it. There would be time enough to do the housework before she went up to the house in the mornings and the whole of a long evening to catch up on the washing and the ironing.
She heard Mr Bennett say, ‘I have been asked to telephone back and agree to these terms. References will be required. I will supply one and I will get the Reverend Mr Cuthbertson to supply a second letter. I will see that they are posted this evening and this secretary suggests that you should call and see the housekeeper on the afternoon of her employer’s arrival. She emphasises that it is the housekeeper you are to see; on no account is Mr van der Beek to be disturbed. She implied that his household runs on oiled wheels. His housekeeper is called Miss Murch. I have engaged two ladies from here to work daily and old Ned Groom is only too delighted to have work in the garden.’ He paused and cleared his throat. ‘You have no objection to returning to your old home as a member of the household staff?’ he asked delicately.
‘None whatever,’ declared Patience, a girl of common sense, not giving way to regrets over events which couldn’t have been helped anyway once they had occurred. Leaving the nice old house had been a bitter blow but she had never allowed the aunts to see how much she had minded that. They had been marvellous about it, adjusting with dignity to living in the small terraced house they had rented, never complaining. Their one worry had been Patience; they had left the house and their capital to her and now there was nothing. Much though they loved her, they had agreed privately that her chances of marrying were small. For one thing there were few eligible young men in the district, and since she seldom went further afield than Norwich, and that infrequently, there was small chance of there being an opportunity for her to meet a young man, eligible or otherwise. Besides, the dear girl had no looks to speak of; charm and a pretty voice and a nice little figure, if a trifle plump; but men, in the aunts’ opinion, liked beauty in a woman, and, failing that, prettiness. They shook their white heads sadly; the dear child tended to be a little too forthright in her talk sometimes, and gentlemen liked to be right about everything even if they weren’t, a supposition to which Patience had never subscribed. Her future was a constant worry to them. It was a constant worry to Patience too, although she never said so.
Patience, ready to leave the house for her interview with Miss Murch, stood before the pier-glass in Aunt Bessy’s bedroom and studied her reflection. She looked suitable, she considered, in a pleated tweed skirt, white blouse and her short woollen jacket, all garments she had worn for longer than she cared to remember although of excellent quality, well brushed and pressed. She never wore much make-up; her skin was creamy and as smooth as a child’s but she added discreet lipstick and smoothed her hair into even greater neatness. She had left the aunts dozing by the fire,