Caryl had no idea what she expected when she entered the large, sunlit room occupied by Brad's uncle. Emma had once described the old man as tall and aristocratic, with dark eyes and strong, noble features. The man sitting there in the tall, high-backed armchair seemed so small as to be almost shrivelled. His glazed eyes were light rather than dark; his face was lined like a detailed map of some intricate drainage pattern. His lips were blue and dry, and the strong chin Emma had mentioned had obviously receded.
Caryl was taken to him at a quarter past eleven, Brad having previously prepared him by explaining that although Emma had arrived the previous evening, it had been too late for her to come in for a chat. She had already been introduced to Robert, whom she took to on sight and who seemed to take to her. Tall and slim, with good-looking features and light brown hair, he gave the impression of being more at home in an office than in caring for an aged man who demanded every hour of his time. He left immediately after Brad brought Caryl in, and Brad himself soon left.
'So you took pity on an old man and came to see me.' The voice was thin, the pale eyes misted and staring, and it was as if their owner were desperately straining to see what she looked like. 'You're just a blur, dear, but I can imagine your lovely face, because you won't have changed much. Tell me, Emma, just what you've been doing with yourself all these years. Tell me why you haven't married before now.'
She hesitated, remembering Brad's warning to be on her guard the whole time. His uncle might be feeble in body, but he was certainly not feeble in mind.
'I haven't yet met the man I'd like to marry,' she offered, answering his second question while mentally studying the first. She and Emma had for the most part lived very similar lives, but for the first two years after the broken engagement Emma had moved around a good deal, and there had been a period of over a year when she worked as nanny to a family in Portugal. Caryl decided not to mention that; in fact, she decided to give Sir Geoffrey a résumé of her own life rather than that of her sister.
'You're thirty, Emma, dear, so it's time you settled down and raised a family. It can be a lonely life without children. I know, because I remained a bachelor, and if it hadn't been for Brad, where would I have been now? I'd have had no one of my very own.'
'One day, Sir Geoffrey, I shall meet the man whom I shall fall in love with and marry.'
'Brad was meant for you, child.'
She bit her lip. This was what Emma had feared. Caryl said gently, 'It wasn't as simple as you seemed to think. Two people must have a great deal in common for a marriage to succeed. At that time my—I felt unable to go through with the engagement—I didn't want to marry Brad, and I now believe he thanks me for what I did.'
'Why hasn't he married in all this time?' A petulant note had entered the feeble voice which brought it to a slightly higher pitch.
Caryl was frightened in case he excited himself and she injected a soothing tone into her words as she said, 'He, too, will meet the right one, Sir Geoffrey. You wouldn't want him to make a mistake and be unhappy, would you?'
'No, I'd not want that,' he admitted, 'but I had always hoped to see little ones running about here. Goudham is made for children, Emma. Wouldn't you have liked to be brought up in a wonderful place like this?' He was peering again, and even though Brad had assured her he could not see, she knew a tinge of fear that he would grasp the fact that he was being duped.
'Yes, I'd have been very happy if this had been my home as a child.'
'It could be the home of your children, Emma.'
Automatically she shook her head. 'Brad wouldn't want me now, Sir Geoffrey. As I have just said, I am sure he now thanks me for giving him up.'
'But it's very strange that neither of you has ever married.'
'Shall we talk of something else?' she asked with gentle persuasion. 'Tell me about the farm, and the kennels,' she added swiftly. 'Tell me what made you decide to establish a quarantine kennels here at Goudham.' She knew the story, of course, for Brad had told her, but she was hoping to divert him from the tricky subject of the broken engagement.
He began to talk, to tell her how the idea for the kennels came about. She listened attentively; then she talked about herself and what she had been doing for the past few years. Time passed quickly, and the earlier subject had not been reintroduced by the time Robert came to say that Sir Geoffrey's lunch was ready.
'I'm sorry to cut short your chat,' he said with a swift smile, 'but Sir Geoffrey's had enough excitement for the time being.' His voice was apologetic but firm; Caryl rose at once and held out her hand to Sir Geoffrey. His was icy cold, and on impulse she bent to kiss his cheek.
'Goodbye,' she said. 'Have a nice lunch.'
'What time are you going back home?'
'Five o'clock this afternoon. I'll be home at about half past eleven tonight.'
'Be careful, then, dear, and come in to see me before you leave.'
'If Robert says I can.' She looked questioningly at him, and he nodded his head. 'Just for a few minutes,' he agreed, then walked to the door to show her out. There was no nonsense about him, thought Caryl, and mentioned this to Brad over lunch half an hour later.
'He's a good man, very conscientious. He'd blame himself if he allowed you to stay longer and then Uncle was unwell.'
Brad drove her to the railway station later and waited until the train drew out before leaving. Caryl, relaxing in her first-class compartment, went over the details of her short stay at the manor. She could not help thinking that Emma had lost a great deal by breaking the engagement, yet at the same time she felt, as Emma did, that Brad's rather dictatorial personality would very soon have clashed with Emma's. And inevitably she remembered her own feelings for Brad at that time and wondered how she would have fared if Brad had asked her to marry him instead of asking Emma. The way she had felt, there would have been only one answer. She would have married Brad like a shot without a care for the future and what it might bring in the way of disillusionments.
She was glad he had not asked her, because the 'love' she had had for him would have died by now, seeing that it was only the immature imaginings of a young girl dazzled by the sheer magnificence of the man.
Emma was at the station with the car when the train got into Chester station, and no sooner was Caryl seated beside her than she wanted a full report of all that had transpired. Emma was sad on hearing of Sir Geoffrey's condition, but, like Brad, she felt he had been fortunate in having had a good, healthy life, and a long one.
'So he was really upset by what happened six years ago?'
'He was, Emma. He wondered why I—you weren't married. I felt as if he were hoping, even at this stage, that you and Brad would get together. He certainly thought the world of you.'
'I know, and I felt terrible at disappointing him.'
'You'd have had a good life.'
'But not a happy one. Money isn't everything, Caryl.'
Caryl agreed, and when Emma said she had made up her mind to go out to Patrick, she knew that her sister was doing the right thing.
'When are you thinking of going?' she asked later as they sat over the light supper Emma had prepared before setting out for the station.
'As soon as possible after you leave. I'm so glad you got the job at Goudham Kennels and can take Sandy. However, you'll have to be on your guard, Caryl. It would be awful if Sir Geoffrey were ever to find out he'd been deceived.'
'Brad assured me that there's no possible chance of his uncle's knowing I'm working on the estate.'
'This man Robert—he'll have to be taken into Brad's confidence, obviously.'
'Of course, but he can be trusted, as you have gathered from what I've been saying about him.'
'And there's no one else who might inadvertently give the game away?'
Caryl shook her head confidently. 'Robert's the only one who looks after Sir Geoffrey. None of the servants go into his rooms, other than to clean, of course, and I expect Robert is always about. In any case, the servants wouldn't be talking to Sir Geoffrey. No, I can't see any risk at all.'
'If you're perfectly satisfied, then, that's fine.'
'You sound troubled.'
'Not really, but I do feel that care is needed.'
'I'll be living at the dower house, so I'm not envisaging being anywhere near the actual manor house.'
'So I was right in thinking that Brad's not married.' Emma changed the subject abruptly. 'He's thirty-two now, so he ought to be looking around.'
'He might have a girl friend, for all we know.'
'But you said he dines alone every night.'
'Which doesn't prove anything,' returned Caryl logically. Suddenly she was recalling that strange look on Louisa's face when Brad had brought her along to show her her bedroom. Why this should come to mind just now Caryl was at a loss to understand for there seemed no reason why it should.
The meal finished, Emma and Caryl both agreed to leave the supper table as it was and go to bed.
'I expect you'll just flake out the moment you touch the pillow,' said Emma understandingly as she watched her sister lift a hand to smother a yawn. 'Sleep well, love—and I'm thrilled that you've managed to get yourself fixed up in a job where Sandy can be with you.'
***
Caryl was so deeply touched by Miss Haldene's letter of gratitude that tears gathered in her eyes. The elderly invalid lady had expressed thanks over and over again for Caryl's action in saving her dog from being moved to a place where, separated from Caryl, he would surely have died of a broken heart.
It was Friday, and Caryl had been settled in her comfortable little flat for just over a week. She had initially telephoned Miss Haldene outlining the situation and had asked if she would be agreeable for Sandy to be moved to the kennels at Goudham where she, Caryl, would be working. Miss Haldene had agreed at once, and now this letter had arrived—a grateful acknowledgement of what she termed a debt she could never repay.
Slowly Caryl folded the letter and laid it aside. Breakfast was always a hurried meal, and soon she was stepping out into the sunshine, on her way to the kennel block where Sandy was housed. She was met by Avice, one of the maids, who wasted no time in telling her that Sandy was not well.
'What's wrong with him?' Caryl had gone pale, her thoughts quite naturally flying to Miss Haldene and the letter which had arrived from her this morning. 'Have you phoned for the vet?'
'I'm just about to.'
'I'll go and see him,' said Caryl hastily. 'Tell Dr. Keswick it's urgent; he must come over right away.'
'I will,' promised Avice, and sped away in one direction while Caryl ran in another. Sandy was lying in his basket, scarcely breathing, it seemed to Caryl, and her heart gave a great lurch as fear spread over her.
'Sandy…' Gently she took him in her arms, pressing his head against her breast. 'You poor little thing. What's happened to you? You were doing so well….' Her voice trailed to silence as she became aware of a shadow falling across the concrete of the cage. Her eyes were misted as she looked up into Brad's dark, enigmatical gaze.
'What's the matter? I saw Avice running to the office; she said she was phoning for the vet, as Sandy was ill.'
'I don't know what's wrong with him—' Suddenly the tears came, falling into Sandy's soft coat. 'If he should die it would be awful for Miss Haldene. I had a letter from her this morning to say how grateful she is—'
'Give him to me,' ordered Brad practically. 'Come, little chap, and let's see what's wrong with you.' With expert hands he examined the dog, pulling gently at his bottom lids, probing his fur to find out if he would cry out to reveal pain. 'I can't find anything. Perhaps it's something he's eaten?'
Caryl shook her head. 'Nothing which is different from his normal diet. I feed him myself, so I know.'
'And of course no one other than you and the other girls have access to the kennels.' He was thoughtful, and Caryl frowned at the idea that he was almost convinced that Sandy had eaten something that had disagreed with him.
'No, no one has access to the kennels—' She stopped abruptly, and Brad shot her a sharp, inquiring glance.
'Yes?' he said tersely, the dog still in his arms.
'It's nothing.' Caryl shook her head, but she was frowning in thought.
'Someone came to see their dog yesterday?'
'No, we didn't have any visitors—well, none who had a dog here.'
'But someone—Caryl, come on out with it,' he commanded. 'If one of you girls has been neglectful, then admit it!'
Caryl hesitated, thinking of the arrogant girl who had sauntered over to the kennels yesterday, the girl who had been over twice before. Marcia Boyle, Brad's girl friend. Supercilious and haughty for no reason at all, she had riled Caryl by asking questions as to how she had obtained a job when, she asserted, there was no vacancy.
'Mr. Craven's never employed more than two girls here. The size of these kennels doesn't warrant the employment of a third kennel-maid!'
'I suggest,' Caryl had said stiffly, 'that you talk to Mr. Craven about it.' At that time she had wondered who the girl was. Avice had soon enlightened her.
'The boss's girl friend. In fact, they're almost engaged. We're expecting the announcement any day. She was asking me about you—seemed exceptionally curious. I said I didn't know anything except that you'd brought Sandy.' Avice paused a moment. She was never very talkative, but her manner now was that of someone who felt it incumbent on her to complete what she had started. 'Marcia kept on asking questions, especially about Sandy's plight, and as she's going to be my employer's wife, I couldn't altogether snub her, but for all that I didn't tell her much—' Avice broke off and grimaced. 'I don't know very much, do I? Not that I want to, because I'm not the curious kind. I mind my own business and don't have the time to bother about anyone else's. However, I eventually told her all I knew about Sandy, and that he was the sole reason you came here. Then she said a very strange thing: she said that if Sandy died, then there'd be nothing for Mr. Craven to keep you on for. She said it so softly that I scarcely heard. It was as if she were speaking to herself.'
'That certainly was a strange thing to say,' Caryl had agreed, little knowing what was in Marcia's mind.
But she knew now! There was little doubt in her mind as she looked at Sandy, lying there in Brad's arms, not a whimper, not a movement in his body. How could Brad even think of marrying such a woman? It was inconceivable! Yet on the surface the girl was beautiful, with her vivid blue eyes and flawless skin, her full red mouth, her svelte figure that sent her glorious hair flying when she moved it in that particular way… all these compounded to create the kind of female who would attract any man who happened to set eyes on her.
And Brad was contemplating marriage to her….
'Caryl, I have asked you a question!' His firm, commanding voice recalled her with a start, and she heard herself say, slowly and reluctantly, 'Miss Boyle was here yesterday afternoon—' She paused, then felt obliged to add, even though she lacked sincerity, 'But she wouldn't give Sandy anything.'
'Certainly not. I'm surprised that she should come over, though,' he added with frowning puzzlement. 'What did she want?'
'She just strolled about, looking at the dogs.'
'Is that all?' Brad was still frowning, and suddenly Caryl felt the urge to say, 'She was interested in my being here. She seemed to think there wasn't enough work for three kennel-maids.'
Did his mouth tighten? wondered Caryl. If so it was a fleeting gesture which was certainly not in evidence now.
'She doesn't often come over here to the kennels….' He seemed to be speaking to himself, and Caryl gained the impression that Marcia did not like dogs.
'Avice was saying that Miss Boyle only lives just along the road, in the imposing white house called Haddon Grange.' Why she mentioned this Caryl could not have said. Brad looked at her, passed Sandy into her hands, then strode away through the grounds of the dower house towards the large field where several men were making hay, using all the most up-to-date machinery.
The vet arrived within twenty minutes and stated emphatically that Sandy had eaten something that had disagreed with him. He looked stern, because such things did not normally happen in any well-run kennels.
'I gave him only what I know agrees with him,' said Caryl defensively. 'Is he going to be all right?'
'I'll leave you some medicine and tablets. See that this doesn't occur again!'
'Well,' said Avice when he had gone, 'how did that happen? You're so careful with Sandy. He's the most coddled dog in the kennels!'
'As far as I know, he's had nothing different,' was all Caryl offered, but she had made up her mind to watch Marcia very carefully the next time she came over to the kennels.
That evening she took a stroll in the grounds of the dower house, then found herself walking along a field path which climbed gently, so that from the top of the rise the whole sweeping bay at Bridport was visible. It was late evening and the sun was descending behind the shadowed hills, flooding the sky with crimson and gold which were brilliantly reflected on the mirror-smooth sea, so that it appeared to be on fire. The wonder of it kept Caryl spellbound; she could not move, nor did she want to do so. And then she was aware of feathery ripples along her spine and swept around quickly. Relief brought a sigh to her lips, followed by a smile.
'Robert!' she exclaimed. 'You half frightened me. It's lonely here.'
'Sorry. I should have whistled or coughed or something.' He was beside her, tall and smart and nice to be with. Caryl had seen him a couple of times during the week she had been here, for he would take a stroll over to the kennels during the hour when his charge was sleeping after he had had his lunch. A quiet sort of friendliness had sprung up between them from the moment they had bumped into one another when she had come from one of the cages and seen him standing by the one next to it. He was interested in Sandy, even more interested in the story of Emma and Brad. He obviously felt honoured at being let into the secret and promised to make sure that Sir Geoffrey never had any inkling that he had been deceived. He agreed with Brad that it was impossible for the old man ever to find out that Caryl was working at the kennels.
'I've been watching the sunset—' Caryl made a comprehensive gesture, taking in sea and sky and the purple-sided hills. 'It's wonderful!'
'You've not lived by the sea before?'
She shook her head. 'No, but I think I always will from now on.' She told him about Emma, and the sailing she was looking forward to. 'Have you ever had a boat?' she asked, her eyes wandering back to the harbour and the numerous craft bobbing about in the golden sunset.
'No, but I'd like to have one someday.'
Caryl looked up into his face, saw the rather dreamy expression in his eyes. He seemed lost in thoughts not meant for revealing; Caryl wondered if there had been a tragedy in his life.
'Are you out walking, Robert?' She knew it was his evening off and so was able to add, 'Shall we stroll down to the harbour and have a bite to eat at one of the cafés there?'
'That would be nice,' he readily agreed. 'I feel like company tonight.' Low the voice and faintly sad. Caryl wanted to ask questions but did not quite know what the questions were.
They walked in companionable silence, and when the road leading down to the harbour became rocky, he took her hand in a protective way. It was his instinct to care for people, she realised, and her heart warmed to him.
The café was situated right at the eastern end of the waterfront. It was select and cosy, a little more expensive than the cafés in the more congested part and therefore it was not overcrowded. Candles flickered on the tables, which were tucked away behind tall-growing palms and other potted plants. On each table a rose in all its isolated beauty stood upright in a crystal holder which matched the luminous crystal wineglasses. Caryl and Robert were shown to a table in a corner, where they had a view of the sea. The menu was brought, and they ordered. Caryl had a martini as an aperitif, and Robert had half a pint of beer.
Right out of the blue he said, his eyes broodingly fixed on the froth topping his beer, 'I was feeling very low up there, Caryl, and it seemed like a miracle when you suggested we come here and have a meal. You see, it happens to be an anniversary… the anniversary of the death of my fiancée.' He lifted his eyes and saw that Caryl had closed hers under the pain she felt at his words.
'Oh… I'm so sorry.' Her voice caught; she wanted to say more, but what was there to say? In any case, a lump had settled in her throat and she was having difficulty removing it.
'It was a car accident. She was a passenger. She'd been offered a lift home and, as she was meeting me that evening, she accepted, even though she had told me the man was a bad driver. They were both killed instantly. She was a nurse. We were planning to marry just before Christmas….' His voice trailed to silence after the succession of relatively short sentences had revealed so much. 'It was a year ago tonight,' he added finally and lifted his glass.
'How—how old was she?' Caryl managed at last.
'Twenty-one,' he said, and again Caryl closed her eyes.
'You must have been devastated.'
He nodded slowly and stared into his glass again. 'I thought I'd never get over it—' He broke off, and a sad smile appeared for a moment. 'I haven't got over it, of course; it takes a long, long time. But at least the excruciating pain is lessening with every day that passes. I left the hospital where I worked in administration—it was the hospital where Mary had worked—because I felt so restless I couldn't do my job properly. Then this post was advertised, and it seemed to be what I needed. It takes up all my waking hours, so my mind's taken off my loss, to some extent.' He stopped, and she saw the hint of apology in his glance. 'I ought not to be telling you my troubles, Caryl. Forgive me—'
'It's good to unburden yourself,' she broke in to assure him. 'Especially tonight you need company and you need to be free to talk. And who else should you talk of than the girl you loved?'
He stared at her, shaking his head as if he were a trifle dazed. 'You're a wonderful person, Caryl,' he said at last. 'I have never met anyone as understanding as you.'
She picked up her martini and took a sip. 'I'm just an ordinary person, Robert. Anyone would be a sympathetic listener in a situation like this.'
Again he shook his head, but this time it was a negative gesture, and when he spoke his tone was bitter. 'My mother and sister both told me to snap out of it. Lots of people suffered tragedies, and if they all went under, where would we be?'
Caryl frowned at such callousness but made no comment. 'You didn't go under' was all she said.
'I almost did, Caryl. I—I tried to commit suicide.'
'But you were strong in the end.' Her smile was almost tender. 'You will get over it, Robert, because time is the infallible healer. But, meanwhile, give your thoughts to Mary, and talk about her just as much as you like.'
'Thank you, Caryl,' he returned simply, but for a while he did not talk at all, simply sat there lost in memories. Caryl listened to the music and enjoyed her food. She was ready to listen when at last Robert broke the long silence to tell her about the girl he had loved. During the conversation later she learned to her surprise that he was twenty-nine years of age. She would have guessed his age at no more than twenty-five at the most.
They walked home in the moonlight, with the sky a deep purple canopy studded with a myriad of diamond sequins. The sea was indigo below the mysterious shades which formed the hills, the stony shoreline an argent sweep of vague, unfathomable contours—the product of nature in its most mysterious workings over eons of time before man even trod the earth. And the silence around them was so complete that Caryl felt urged to break it.
'What a wonderful night, Robert. I know you are feeling sad, but don't you sometimes feel that the beauties of nature are a compensation, however small?'
Robert turned his head to glance down at her. 'You're an exceptional girl' was all he said, and as Caryl made no comment, another silence fell until they reached the front entrance to the dower house. 'Good night, Caryl,' he said, and before she realised what he intended she felt his cool lips pressed against her cheek.
'Good night, Robert.' Her voice was not quite steady, and in her eyes there shone the brightness of unshed tears.
Once in her sitting room the silence of tragedy seemed to close around her, and she moved instinctively to the window and drew aside the drapes. The hills and fields were sleeping, but the sea was moving now, and she stood a long while watching the continuous changing of its face as wispy cirrus clouds swirled across the moon, then floated away again. A deep sadness was holding her spirits down; she knew she would not sleep and decided to go out again, into the breeze and the scents of the gardens surrounding the dower house.
'Caryl!' She stiffened, then relaxed. She had walked much farther than she intended, and it startled her to know she was in the grounds of the manor.
'Brad… I'm sorry. I didn't intend to come this far.' She spoke swiftly to hide her embarrassment. 'Sorry,' she said again and would have turned, but to her surprise Brad caught her by the arm and turned her towards him.
'What on earth are you doing wandering about in the dark?' he demanded. 'Nine times out of ten it might be safe, but we do have suspicious characters lurking about at times, just like anyplace else!' He was angry, but it was his imperiousness to which Caryl took exception, his air of mastery, his admonishing attitude.
'I didn't intend to come this far. I've already told you that.'
His eyes glinted at her tone, and her nerves seemed to go tight. For there was an arrogance about him, and a reserve bordering on austerity, which made her feel she had to treat him with deference. And after all, he was her employer. She had almost forgotten!
'But you did come this far,' he snapped. 'Don't do it again—at least, not at this time of night. I'll see you back to the dower house.'
He let go of her arm, and to her surprise she missed the warmth, the strength, and even the slight pain which his grip had inflicted.
'Sandy is improving.' She just had to speak, and nothing else came to mind. 'I wonder how it happened.' She was being specious, because she was almost sure that Marcia had a hand in it. 'The vet was angry, which was only to be expected.'
'You must have overfed the dog.'
'I gave him his usual ration.'
'I feel you'll have to be extremely careful with him,' mused Brad. 'Although he's got to know you and you're a comfort to him, he's still fretting for his mistress, and this could affect his whole nervous system, and, in turn, his stomach.'
'I'll be careful,' returned Caryl grimly, her thoughts flying to Marcia. 'Yes, I shall be very careful.'
'I wonder if you'd care to come up for dinner on Thursday.' The invitation was so unexpected that Caryl actually gave a little start of surprise. 'I'm having a small dinner party and would like to invite Robert, just to give him a break. I require a lady to match up the number.'
Marcia would be there, decided Caryl, and she was about to refuse when she thought of Robert. If she turned down Brad's invitation, then Brad might not invite him.
'Thank you,' she returned soberly, 'I'd love to come.'
'I shall expect you about half past seven. We shall dine at eight or just after.' So formal now, just as if they had never known one another in the past, just as if he had never been engaged to her sister… just as if he had completely erased from his mind the fact that she had once had a crush on him.
At the door he watched her insert the key and turn it before he bade her good night, then strode away into the moonlit gardens through which he must pass in order to enter the grounds of the manor proper. He was taking a different path from the one she had used a few minutes ago, a path which led to a dark, wooded section of the grounds. Caryl thought she would explore it one day, but not in the dark!