Winterwood Read online

  “Eliza says she can’t get used to the bell not ringing in my lady’s room. I remember when my own grandma died, we cried because she lay so quiet. She never stopped scolding when she was alive, and it was awful queer seeing her mouth shut. It never was shut before. I wanted her to come back and start belting us again, even though it hurt something cruel.”

  “Did she leave you anything?” Flora asked.

  Mary stared, then gave a derisive laugh.

  “What had she got to leave except old clothes. There was her good buttoned boots that fitted Linda, and Ma had her Sunday bonnet.”

  “Great-aunt Tameson has left me her fortune,” Flora said with dignity. “I don’t really know what to do with it all. I expect there’s quite a hundred pounds. I intend to buy Christmas presents for everybody. Would you like to come to London with us to shop?”

  Mary’s diminutive figure stood arrested, the copper jug in her hands.

  “Me! Do you mean that, miss?”

  “Of course,” said Flora graciously. “Miss Hurst, we will take Mary to London with us, won’t we?”

  “Yes. Actually your Papa mentioned that we would,” Lavinia answered.

  “Lor!” Mary ejaculated, her face full of terror and excitement.

  Flora began to giggle.

  “It’s not that wonderful, you silly creature. It’s not like Paris or Geneva or Venice. But it’s well enough. We must make a list of suitable gifts. I intend to buy Simon a cricket bat, but what that spoiled Edward—”

  “Who is talking about Edward being spoiled?” came Charlotte’s warm gay voice. “Flora, dearest, how are you? Have those lazy toes moved again?”

  She came sweeping into the room dressed now in one of her graceful ruffled tea gowns, and smelling of some fragrant scent.

  “Oh, Mamma! You’re better!”

  “Much better, darling. I’ve been for a long ride and blown all the cobwebs away.”

  “Then you don’t still hate me?”

  “Hate you, beloved?”

  “For getting all Great-aunt Tameson’s money. You may have the jewels, Mamma. I don’t care much for diamond brooches. But I really do need a good deal of money for the gifts I want to buy.”

  “Sweetheart!” Charlotte laughed and held out her arms in an extravagant gesture of affection. “There will be plenty of money for several Christmases. And to tell the truth, I don’t care for diamond brooches either. They must be put in the bank until you are older. Papa will arrange it.”

  “Then I really am rich? Mr. Peate said I was.”

  A flicker crossed Charlotte’s face.

  “It’s none of Mr. Peate’s business, but yes, my funny little daughter, you are rich. And isn’t that a lucky thing, since—”

  The half-finished sentence took all the light out of Flora’s face. In one second it had lost its delight and grown shut-in, controlled.

  “You think Great-aunt Tameson only did this because I am a cripple. That’s what Mr. Peate said.”

  “I tell you, it’s none of Mr. Peate’s business.”

  “Then why must he stay here, Mamma? Why don’t you tell him he’s not wanted?”

  Charlotte’s gaiety was only on the surface after all. Underneath, the tensions were still there, making her frown, giving her voice a quick, brittle quality.

  “But he is wanted, darling. I want him to amuse me. Is that so strange? I can’t bear a quiet house, and since we’re in mourning we can’t have a large party. Don’t look so sulky. You know I can’t endure you to be in a pet. Silly child. As if you’re not thoroughly spoiled already—an heiress at your age! Why, you’ll be able to marry anybody—if you grow pretty and walk again.” Charlotte’s pitying gaze suggested that neither of these things would happen. She embraced Flora again, and said, as if generosity overcame her, “I’m going to spoil you even more. I’m going to give you Sylvie.”

  “Oh, Mamma!” Flora was incredulous. “But you love her!”

  “I shall still exercise her, of course. But she may spend the day in your room.”

  “Every day?”

  “Of course. Have I made you happy? Then I am glad. You see, everyone thinks of you, Papa, Mamma—Miss Hurst. Miss Hurst, I would like a word with you if you can spare a moment.”

  Lavinia followed Charlotte out. Charlotte walked to the window seat at the end of the corridor and, sitting down, pressed her hands to her face.

  “That poor creature! Helpless! Plain! Condemned to a wheelchair! And now she will be at the mercy of fortune hunters. Some man will marry her for her money and then persecute her, hope she will die.” Charlotte must have realized that those words might just possibly have described her own wishes. She said brusquely, “Don’t look so horrified, Miss Hurst. That is human nature. Why didn’t I have a normal daughter!”

  “Flora is normal!” Lavinia said emphatically.

  “Normal! That pathetic creature!” Charlotte gave a short laugh. “And now burdened by all that money. Three hundred thousand pounds or more. A great fortune. You may have meant well, Miss Hurst, but you did not do her a service when you encouraged my aunt to pity her.”

  “But, Mrs. Meryon, I did nothing of the kind. Pity is the last thing I have ever given Flora.”

  Charlotte made an impatient gesture.

  “Oh, spare me your protestations of innocence. Perhaps you meant well. My husband persuades me you did.”

  “Mrs. Meryon, I have said I had no influence—”

  “On the contrary, Miss Hurst, you have a great deal. Especially on the opposite sex. I am not permitted to malign you at all. In my own house! They say I wrong you—”

  “They?”

  “My husband and Mr. Peate. They won’t believe—”

  “Do you listen to Mr. Peate?” Lavinia interrupted, her voice tight with shock. How far did Jonathon Peate think he could interfere? Why was he listened to?

  “He is not an easy man to ignore, as you must admit. He is quite—persuasive. But let us keep to the point. Neither my husband nor Mr. Peate will believe that you bring disaster—”

  “Disaster!” Lavinia whispered.

  “Perhaps unintentionally. Some people have this aura of danger. I see it around you. I have an ability to sense things.”

  The curious cloud that oppressed Charlotte touched Lavinia, too. Charlotte was right. She did, unintentionally, bring danger. Justin had known that—briefly…

  “There, you look frightened too, Miss Hurst.”

  “I don’t understand what you are talking about, Mrs. Meryon.”

  Charlotte made an effort to be practical.

  “No, of course not. Daniel says I have fancies. I have always had a too vivid imagination. Flora takes after me in that way. You must control Flora’s hysterics, Miss Hurst. If mine had been controlled when I was young, I think I would have been stronger now, and perhaps not have these shattering headaches.” She pressed her fingers to her temples again, and Lavinia remembered, with a chill, Jonathon’s cruel words about Flora inheriting her mother’s madness.

  “That’s why a few drops of laudanum are to be recommended when Flora is overexcited. You will remember that, Miss Hurst, won’t you?”

  “They certainly did her good after the funeral,” Lavinia admitted.

  “That’s what I say.” Charlotte stood up, her animation returning. “And I will send Sylvie down. My adored little dog. Does that make me less of an unnatural mother?”

  Lavinia wished she could accept that gesture as a genuine one. But was Charlotte, too, thinking of her daughter as an heiress, someone who had, belatedly, to be loved?

  The uneasy conversation weighed on Lavinia as she returned to Flora’s room. Apart from her skepticism, in a strange way she had fancied Charlotte was appealing to her for help. She was frightened—perhaps only of the dark clouds in her head or of her unruly passionate love for Edward and the equally uncontrolled dislike for Flora. Flora was plain, crippled, offending to her fastidious eye, unmarriageable, but now had to be loved because of her
fortune.

  The tingle of apprehension Lavinia felt was not imaginary. She was privately resolving to keep a close watch over her charge. For as long as she was permitted to. After Christmas, if Jonathon Peate kept his threat, she would have to forget Winterwood and its inhabitants.

  “Miss Hurst, people who give you the thing they love best must really care about you, mustn’t they?” Flora was clamoring.

  “Yes, that’s true.”

  “Then Mamma’s giving me Sylvie must mean she really loves me, after all. I am so happy, because now I have a great many people to love me. You, Papa, Mamma, Great-aunt Tameson in heaven, perhaps even Edward. Miss Hurst, may I put up my hair for Christmas?”

  “What a frivolous idea! Who are you planning to impress?”

  “Well—Simon will be home. He imagines himself so grand. And”—Flora blushed violently, “I had thought Mr. Bush looked at me with a little admiration. If I could look older—” Flora saw Lavinia’s smile and finished in her old belligerent style, “Well, he is too young and bashful for you, but for me—he could be a beginning!”

  “Why, Flora, what secrets! By all means let us have Mr. Bush expiring of love for you. It will be good for you both.”

  “Miss Hurst! I only meant to practice on him. One must have some experience with the opposite sex.”

  “That is very true.”

  “He wanted to see my sketches. Perhaps tomorrow, if the sun is shining, we could go down to the lake with our sketchbooks.”

  “By all means. Let us plan how to ravish Mr. Bush!”

  Although Flora had not again had any movement in her toes, and no one was certain whether or not she had imagined it, her father still decided that she was to go and see the London specialists.

  The journey was made just three weeks before Christmas. Eliza came to give assistance in lifting Flora, and Mary because it pleased Flora to take her.

  Mary had never been on a train in her life. She squealed with apprehension and excitement. She thought she would be sick and then she thought she would not. Eliza scolded her, and Flora smiled indulgently, as if she were twenty years Mary’s senior.

  “You’ll be no use to me if you’re going to jump about like this all the time we’re in London,” she said severely.

  Mary subsided, trying to be meek.

  “Yes, miss. I’ll keep still.” She caught Daniel’s eye, was not sure whether he was angry or not, and whispered abashedly, “I do declare I never went so fast in my life.”

  Daniel had not caught the prevailing high spirits. He was aloof and unsmiling. Lavinia supposed he was thinking of Charlotte left behind, insisting that London tired her too much and she would be perfectly happy with Edward for company. Or perhaps he was thinking how sad it was that Mary, the daughter of one of his farm laborers, should be able to skip from window to window while his own daughter was a prisoner in her chair. Or was he wondering how often Jonathon Peate would call on his “dear cousin” while they were away?

  The visit to the doctor, an eminent bone specialist in Harley Street, was reasonably hopeful. He pronounced a great improvement in Flora’s general health and spirits, and was sure that this was the most important factor toward her recovery.

  Daniel insisted that Lavinia be there while the doctor gave his verdict since the care of Flora was hers.

  “She’s a different child, Mr. Meryon. I warned you that the shock of the accident, or perhaps the state of mind of the patient before she had the accident—I don’t pretend to know what that was—would take a long time to pass. But now that seems to have happened. I find your daughter much less nervous and much less inclined to hysterical behavior. I don’t know what has effected this change—time, her travels abroad, which must have proved an agreeable diversion, the right companionship. Whatever the reason, my prognostications for the future are hopeful. Keep her happy and calm, Mr. Meryon. The trauma will pass. I believe I can promise you that she will be leading an active life before too long.” His eyes twinkled kindly. “At least before the time comes for her to put her hair up and go to her first ball. Take a positive line with her, Mr. Meryon. Don’t allow her to believe anything but what I have said.”

  Daniel looked at Lavinia.

  “It is Miss Hurst who does that. I think there you find the reason for Flora’s improvement.”

  The doctor regarded Lavinia keenly.

  “Then you have been fortunate, Mr. Meryon. My advice would be to hold on to your good fortune.”

  “Thank you, doctor. But the advice is not needed.”

  Daniel had at last caught the high spirits of his little party, and insisted on a long shopping excursion that afternoon to the shops that had the most beguiling window displays. And that was when a highly embarrassing situation arose.

  It began with Flora insisting on buying Lavinia another gown as her Christmas present. It was no use for Lavinia to protest that she already had the one Eliza had made. Flora dismissed that with a shrug.

  “It is very well in its way, but still it is homemade. Things are different now that I have so much money. Besides, you must have more than one good gown. Mamma has more than she can count.”

  “I am not in your mamma’s position. When am I to wear such an elegant gown?”

  “If you have it, you will find opportunities to wear it. Please don’t argue with me, Miss Hurst. I find you very tiresome when you argue.”

  Daniel, with a sober face, said, “Remember what the doctor said, Miss Hurst. Flora is to be kept calm. So I think we must go on this shopping expedition. You look disturbed, Miss Hurst. Do you find it so hard to accept things?”

  “That is quite irrelevant, Mr. Meryon. The practical aspect is that it will be money wasted.”

  Flora continued to be infuriatingly smug. “Come, Miss Hurst. Mary is not complaining about having a new bonnet, nor Eliza a shawl. I even intend to take poor Mr. Bush a gift, so why must you be so stubborn and spoil my enjoyment?”

  So there was nothing to do but capitulate, with as much grace as possible. In the shop she allowed herself to be whisked away to a fitting room by a black-clad impressively busted shop woman while Daniel sat on a couch, his expression impassive, and Flora, in her chair, showed a tendency to giggle with pleasure and excitement.

  The sea-green or the brown velvet or the yellow taffeta? Lavinia let herself be laced into the different gowns, the efficient saleswoman prodding and twitching and coaxing the snug waists and full skirts into place. She made sounds of extravagant admiration; then, before Lavinia was aware what was happening, she had propelled Lavinia out into the little salon where Daniel and Flora sat.

  “Madam, let your husband decide. Now, sir! Have you ever seen your wife look more beautiful? Observe the way the lace falls here.” She flicked the fichu that delicately concealed the low-cut bodice. “Observe the tiny waist, the way the neckline is cut to display the shoulders to best advantage.”

  In her enthusiasm she failed to notice Lavinia’s embarrassment. She went on busily, “If I may take the liberty to express my opinion, your wife looks extremely well in everything she has tried on, but the yellow taffeta, which you have not yet seen, is the piece de resistance.” The woman’s French accent was peculiarly her own. “So few can wear that lovely color. But with a skin like madam’s, it is quite ravishing. Come and put it on, madam.”

  Lavinia had managed to find her voice.

  “No. This was not—You are making a mistake—”

  “Let me be the judge of that,” said Daniel with deliberate misunderstanding. “Pray put on the yellow taffeta, my dear.”

  “Yes, do, Mamma,” said Flora, eagerly playing the infuriating game.

  Lavinia could have slapped both their faces. Hopelessly caught in the misunderstanding, scarlet in the face, she had to submit to being hooked into the new dress.

  “Madam has such a sympathetic husband. You would scarcely believe how few of my customers have their husbands accompany them to buy a new gown.”

  “He is not—”
Lavinia began, stopped, and amended her remark, “often able to be with me.” Would she have this woman think Daniel her lover instead? And what was Daniel up to, encouraging her to be paraded in yet more gowns? It seemed to be amusing him. He knew she was trapped and must play this absurd charade to its end.

  Yet the yellow taffeta did look well. The shopwoman guided her into the salon like a sleepwalker.

  “That’s the one,” said Daniel in a sure voice. “Don’t you agree, Flora?”

  “Oh, yes, Papa!” Flora was proving to be a diabolically good actress. “Mamma looks quite exquisite in that. Really you do, Mamma. So make up your mind at once that it is to be the yellow.”

  Out in the street, walking beside Daniel as he pushed Flora’s chair, Lavinia exploded.

  “Of all the things to do! Did you enjoy embarrassing me?”

  “Oh, Miss Hurst!” Flora was still enjoying herself immensely. “If you could have seen your face! You were so angry. You looked as if you might catch fire. Didn’t she, Papa?”

  “And still does,” said Daniel with a sidelong glance. “Perhaps the situation didn’t amuse Miss Hurst as much as it did us, my pet.”

  “It certainly didn’t!” Lavinia exclaimed. “And when will I ever wear that most extravagant and beautiful gown? It’s quite nonsense spending your money like that, Flora. I am angry.” She was indeed brushing away tears. She almost collided with a stout gentleman, and felt Daniel’s steadying hand on her arm.

  “You will wear the gown this evening,” he said imperturbably. “If Flora isn’t too tired, we are going out to dinner and the theater. That was intended to be a surprise, but since your thrifty soul needs reassuring, Miss Hurst—” He was still laughing at her. Even in the murky light of a London street at dusk she could see how bright his eyes were. “Don’t tell me you’re not the kind of person who feels that a gown for one occasion only is well justified.”

  He must be thinking of that night at the opera in Venice. Then she had worn borrowed finery. Tonight she would wear what she was compelled to accept from charity. Yes, charity, even though it was Flora’s.