A Suitable Match. Betty NeelsЧитать онлайн книгу.
of someone to whom it was an unexpected luxury, put on her dressing-gown and went off to see if the boys were awake.
They were, sitting on top of their beds, oblivious to the cold, playing some mysterious game with what she took to be plastic creatures from outer space. Invited to join them, she did so and was rewarded by their loud-voiced opinions that for a girl she was quite bright, a compliment she accepted with modesty while at the same time suggesting that it might be an idea if they all had their breakfast.
She made sure that their clothes were to hand and went away to get herself dressed, and presently returned to cast an eye over hands and hair and retie shoelaces without fuss. They looked well enough, she decided, although they were both coughing. ‘I’d quite like to go for a walk after breakfast,’ she observed casually. ‘I mean a proper walk, not on the road.’
Breakfast was a cheerful meal, with Samways hovering with porridge, bacon and scrambled eggs, and her grandfather, after a good night’s sleep, willing to recount some of his youthful adventures. Eustacia left them presently, went upstairs and made their beds and tidied the rooms, did the same for her grandfather and then went to remind the boys that they were going to take her for a walk.
‘There’s a windmill,’ she reminded them. ‘It doesn’t look too far away—I’d love to see it.’
She had hit on something with which to interest them mightily. Had she seen the film Chitty Chitty Bang Bang? they wanted to know, because that was the very windmill in it. They walked there briskly and returned to the house for hot cocoa and an hour’s reading before lunch. The afternoon was spent with her grandfather and she was able to spend an hour on her own until Mrs Samways suggested that she might like to look round the house. It was quite large and rambled a good deal. ‘Rather a lot to look after,’ observed Eustacia, peering at family portraits in the library.
‘Ah, but there’s two good girls who come up from the village each day, and Sir Colin comes mostly at weekends and then not always… He brings a few guests from time to time and we have Christmas here, of course. He’s not all that keen on London. But there he’s a clever gentleman and that’s where he works. I dare say if he were to marry—and dear knows I hope and pray he does, for a nicer man never stepped—he’d live here most of the time. London isn’t a place for children.’
Eustacia murmured gently; she realised that Mrs Samways was doing her an honour by talking about her employer and she was glad that the housekeeper seemed to like her. It hadn’t entered her head that making the beds and tidying up after the boys had endeared her to Mrs Samways’ heart. ‘That’s a nice young lady,’ she had informed her husband. ‘What’s more she gets on with the boys and they listen to her, more than they ever did with me.’
They had their tea in a pleasant little room at the back of the house and gathered round the table afterwards to play cards until the boys’ supper and bedtime. Eustacia tucked them in finally, listening rather worriedly to their coughs, although neither of them were feverish. They had certainly eaten with youthful gusto and, by the time she had got out their clean clothes for the morning and gone to her own room to tidy herself, they were sound asleep, their nice, naughty-little-boy faces as peaceful as those of small angels.
After dinner she sat with her grandfather in the drawing-room, listening to his contented talk. He hadn’t been so happy for a long time, and it reminded her of his dull existence at their flat in London; this was like a new lease of life to him. Her thoughts flew ahead to the future when the boys’ parents would return and she would know that she was no longer needed. Well, she reflected, she would have to find another job similar somewhere in the country and never go back to London. She had said goodnight to her grandfather and had seen him to his room and was on the point of going upstairs when the phone rang as she was turning out the drawing-room lights.
She picked it up hesitantly, not sure if this was something the Samwayses would consider to be their prerogative, and indeed Mr Samways appeared just as she was lifting the receiver.
‘I’m sorry—I should have left it for you.’
He smiled at her in a fatherly fashion. ‘That’s all right, miss, I dare say it will be Sir Colin.’ He took the receiver from her and said in a different, impersonal voice, ‘Sir Colin Crichton’s residence,’ and then, ‘Good evening, sir. Yes, Miss Crump is here.’
He smiled again as he handed her the phone.
Sir Colin’s voice came very clearly over the line. ‘Eustacia? You don’t mind if I call you that? The day has gone well?’
‘Yes, thank you, sir. They have been very good and they went to bed and to sleep at once.’ She gave him a brief, businesslike resumé of their day. ‘They both cough a great deal…’
‘Don’t worry about that, that should clear up now they’re away from London. I’ll look them over when I come down. You and your grandfather have settled in?’
‘Yes, thank you. Grandfather has just gone to his room. I think that he is a very happy man, sir…’
‘And you, Eustacia?’
‘I’m happy too, thank you, sir.’
‘Good, and be kind enough to stop calling me sir with every breath.’
‘Oh, very well, Sir Colin. I’ll try and remember.’
He sounded as though he was laughing as he wished her goodnight and rang off.
The week went by, delightful days filled with walks, visits to the village shop, an hour or so of what Eustacia hoped was useful study with the boys and afternoons spent helping Mrs Samways with the flowers, the linen and such small tasks that the housekeeper didn’t allow the maids to do, while the boys spent a blissful hour with her grandfather.
It was, thought Eustacia, too good to be true. And she was right.
Sir Colin had phoned on the Saturday morning to say that since he had an evening engagement he wouldn’t be down until Sunday morning.
‘I expect he’s going to take Gloria out to dinner,’ said Oliver. ‘She’s keen on him…’
Eustacia suppressed a wish to know more about Gloria and said quellingly, ‘I don’t think we should discuss your uncle’s friends, my dear. You can stay up an hour later this evening because you always do, don’t you? But no later. I dare say he’ll be here quite soon after breakfast.’
The boys complained, but only mildly; she swept them upstairs to bed with only token arguments against the harshness of her edict and, with the promise that she would call them in good time in the morning just in case their uncle decided to come for breakfast, she left them to go to sleep. Her grandfather went to bed soon after them and, since there was no one to talk to and the Samwayses had gone out for the evening and wouldn’t be back until late, she locked up carefully, mindful of Mr Samways’ instructions about leaving the bolts undone on the garden door so that he could use his key to get in, and took herself off to bed.
She didn’t hurry over her bath, and finally when she was ready for bed she opened one of the books on her bedside table, got into bed, and settled down for an hour of reading. It was an exciting book, and she was still reading it an hour later when she heard the telephone ringing.
It was almost midnight and the Samwayses weren’t back yet; she bundled on her dressing-gown and went silently downstairs to the extension in the hall. She was in two minds as to whether to answer it—it was too late for a social call and it could be one of those heavy-breathing types… She lifted the receiver slowly and said austerely, ‘Yes?’
‘Got you out of bed?’ enquired Sir Colin. ‘Eustacia, I’m now on my way to Turville. I’ll be with you in half an hour. Are the Samwayses back?’
‘No.’ There had been something about his voice. ‘Is there something the matter? Is something wrong?’
‘Very wrong. I’ll tell you when I get home. If you have locked up I’ll come in through the garden door.’
He hung up before