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He looked doubtful and her heart sank. ‘Proper rooms?’ he wanted to know, telling Celine what they had paid at their previous night’s hotel.
‘We aren’t a hotel. But the rooms are—are quite proper and our cook is excellent. Perhaps you would like to see a room before you decide?’
Celine led the way upstairs, past the family bedrooms and those with the fourposters and the lovely views, and showed him three rooms in the east wing, all charming, although she very much doubted if he would appreciate them.
‘Old house, isn’t it, love?’ he enquired. ‘Can’t see any washbasins.’
‘It’s Tudor, and we don’t have washbasins, I’m afraid, but there is a bathroom here.’ She opened a door and let him look in.
‘Looks all right,’ he said. ‘OK, we’ll sleep the night. And have a meal—we’re pretty peckish—How long will we have to wait?’
‘Less than an hour. If you like to settle in and then come downstairs…’
‘No chance of a beer, I suppose?’
‘I’ll ask my Father to fetch some up. Lager or ale?’
‘A pint of mild and bitter’ll suit me, Grandpa the same, I daresay—the ladies will want a drop of port, I daresay.’
They went downstairs again and Celine pulled the embroidered bell rope by the front door for Barney—’Some luggage to take up to the east wing, please, Barney’—and he followed her out to the cars. There were several small cases; she hoped they would tip him, she must remember to ask him.
They were a noisy lot and the children, eight or nine years old, were whining that they wanted ices. Sharp slaps from their mother, a high-complexioned young woman in tight jeans, stopped them whining and started them crying instead. Grandpa and Grandma, bringing up the rear, had little to say, only stared around. Celine left them thankfully and shut the doors on them all while she went to find her mother and father.
‘I’ve put them in those rooms in the east wing,’ she explained. ‘They look—well, I wouldn’t like them to damage anything…’
‘Should we use the silver?’ asked Mrs Baylis.
‘If they’re paying what we ask, they’re entitled to the best treatment,’ pronounced the Colonel sternly.
But it was hard to give the best treatment to people who didn’t really mind if they got it or not. They ate a delicious dinner and pronounced it nice enough, but regretted loudly that there were no chips. They also commented upon the dreary paintings on the walls, and long-dead Baylises stared back at them haughtily. They wanted sauce with almost everything they ate and spilt things on the tablecloths. All the same, Celine rather liked them. They would have been much happier at Mrs Ham’s down the lane, for to them, the house was just a tumbledown place, too dark and furnished with out-of-date stuff they didn’t fancy. She made a point of asking them what they would like for breakfast and got up very early to cycle down to the village to get the cornflakes they fancied and the kipper fillets Grandma hankered after.
They ate a huge breakfast, and now that it was a bright morning and the house was alight with sunshine, they were more at ease. ‘Haunted, are you?’ asked Grandpa.
Celine shook her head. ‘No—everyone who’s lived here has been happy, you see.’
‘Pity for a pretty girl like you to be stuck in the country,’ he observed.
Celine smiled at him. ‘Ah, but I’m a country girl,’ she told him.
It took a little time to get them away. Barney, looking every inch the English butler, carried down the luggage, helped stow it and received a tip with dignity. Celine was tipped too; she detected uncertainty in the man’s manner as he pushed it into her hand, so her smile was charming as she thanked him. ‘That’s very kind of you,’ she said. ‘I hope you all enjoyed your short stay.’
‘Not ‘arf,’ said Grandpa. ‘It’s a sight better than Butlins.’
The two cars disappeared through the gate, and Celine went to the sitting-room where her mother was counting money.
‘My dear!’ she exclaimed, looking quite excited. ‘All that money—and all for nothing, as it were!’
Celine didn’t correct her. There was the little matter of four beds to strip and make up, three rooms to clean and the dining-room to put in order.
‘It’s a good start, darling. Let’s have coffee. Do go and tell Father and I’ll go to the kitchen.’
Barney met her with a grin. ‘Five pounds, Miss Celine—not bad, eh?’
‘Super, Barney. Angela, they gave me five pounds for the cook.’ She handed over her own tip and made her way upstairs.
It was a lovely day. By lunchtime everything was just as it should be once more, and the three of them had their meal on the covered verandah at the side of the house, and afterwards Celine wandered into the garden and sat down under the mulberry tree. She was half asleep where she sat when she heard a car coming up the lane, she was strolling towards the front door when a Rover turned in at the gate.
There were three people in it, but only the driver got out. Celine stood still, her lovely mouth very slightly open, her breath stilled. Here was the man she had always dreamed about, tall, dark, handsome in the best tradition of romance and smiling at her as though she was the answer to his dreams too.
‘Hullo,’ he said. ‘You look like a fairytale princess. We saw your notice at the gate—any chance of putting the three of us up for a few days?’
A few days! She couldn’t believe it: all these years, waiting for him, and here he was. She smiled and looked so breathtakingly beautiful that he blinked.
‘Yes, of course. How many—how many rooms would you need?’
‘One for my parents, one for me. Come and meet them.’ He put a hand on her arm. ‘The name is Seymour—Nicky. What’s yours?’
‘Celine Baylis.’ She stole a glance at him and found him smiling.
‘What a lovely name—it suits you.’
His parents had got out of the car and were looking round them, the man elderly, upright and grey-haired, his wife almost as tall, very slim and well dressed. The best bedrooms, Celine decided as they shook hands.
They were delighted with their rooms and the tea which Celine served in the garden under the trees. She longed to stay and talk to Nicky Seymour, but her mother had asked her to make a special effort with dinner. ‘They might stay a few days if they like the food,’ she said, ‘and they seem such nice people—your father and Mr Seymour seem to have a lot in common.’ She added: ‘I like his wife too, and their son seems a nice young man.’ She sat quietly for a moment, adding up the charges. ‘That’s quite a lot, and they’ve had tea and I heard him asking about wines with their dinner.’ She beamed at Celine. ‘I put a bowl of anemones in their room.’
Celine bent and kissed her mother’s still pretty cheek. ‘You’re a wizard with flowers,’ she told her, and sped to the kitchen where she and Angela between them conjured up homemade soup, trout with almonds, lamb cutlets with spinach from the garden and a rhubarb crumble with cream. It was after they had eaten these that Mr Seymour declared himself willing to remain for at least three days, especially as the Colonel had offered him a rod on the stretch of river running through his fields.
‘And I shall just sit,’ declared his wife. As for Nicky, he said nothing, but he had smiled at Celine in a way to make her heart beat very fast indeed.
The next two days passed delightfully. Mrs Baylis was happy, doing little sums on the backs of envelopes, the Colonel was happy because he had congenial guests who appreciated the wines he had to offer them, Mr and Mrs Seymour were content to relax and Celine and Nicky spent a good deal of time together; every moment that she could spare, in fact. The mornings were busy enough, what with beds to make and rooms to tidy, but lunch was cold and salads took no time to make, so that after she had served their meal, cleared away and had hers with her mother and father, there was a good deal of the afternoon left. Her one secret dread had been that other people might arrive and want rooms too, but this didn’t happen, so she was free to stroll in the gardens or walk down to the village with Nicky, who proved to be a delightful companion and a very attentive one; the world had suddenly become a splendid place in which to live and the future full of vague but delightful promise.
It was on the third day, as they strolled back from a walk beside the stream, that Nicky caught her by the arm and turned her round to face him.
‘I can’t believe my luck,’ he told her, ‘finding you here. I didn’t know there were girls like you left in the world. We shall be going in a day or two, we’ve a family to visit in Wales, but when we get home, you’re coming to stay with me.’
Celine was too honest to pretend that she wasn’t delighted. ‘Oh, Nicky, that would be super! Don’t you work, though? What do you do?’
He kissed her before he answered. ‘Oh, I’m learning to step into Father’s shoes, I suppose.’ He shrugged his shoulders. ‘Working in London is boring, but of course we spend a good deal of time in Berkshire.’ He smiled at her. ‘London will be fun if you’re there—we’ll dine and dance and go to a few shows…’
She drew a little way away from him. ‘It sounds heavenly, but I couldn’t possibly come until the autumn—we might be very busy until then.’
He said carelessly: ‘Can’t you leave that to someone else? Hire someone from the village?’
‘No. I started it, you see, so I must see it through, but no one comes this way once the summer’s over.’
He shrugged impatiently. ‘Oh, well, we’ll have to see, won’t we?’ He sounded so offhand that she had a mind to say that she would go to London just whenever he wanted her to, indeed her mouth was open to utter the words when she heard her mother calling her, and something urgent in the sound of it sent her flying up to the house.
They were all in the hall; Colonel and Mrs Baylis, Barney, Angela, Mrs Seymour and Mr Seymour, who was lying on the floor unconscious.
‘Celine…’ begged her mother in a wispy voice. Celine knelt down beside the elderly man and took a good look. He was breathing, but in a heavy stertorous way and he made no response to her urgent voice.
‘Barney, telephone Dr Grady—ask him to come at once. Mother, turn back the bed in the dressing room by Mrs Seymour’s room. We’ve got to get him upstairs.’
She looked around her and her father nodded. ‘Right—but we’ll need more help…’
Nicky had been standing well back, but now he came forward and said reluctantly: ‘You’ll need a hand. What’s the matter with him?’
Celine was too anxious to do more than feel momentary surprise at his words, but perhaps he was so shocked… They picked Mr Seymour up carefully, the three of them, and got him upstairs and on to the bed. Celine took off his shoes and covered him with a blanket and undid his tie. ‘We’d better not do anything else until Dr Grady comes. I’ll stay here with him, if you like, Mother, I’m sure Mrs Seymour would like a cup of tea…’
She had expected Nicky to stay too, but he didn’t, she found herself alone with the quiet figure on the bed, trying to think sensibly. Would Mr Seymour go to hospital—and the nearest one was at Dorchester, quite a way away—or would he have to stay where he was, in which case it wouldn’t be practical to have any one else in the house. She went to the bed and stood looking down at the nice elderly face, flushed now and somehow one-sided. As she looked, the lids lifted and the faded blue eyes stared back at her. She bent down and caught one of his hands in hers. ‘Mr Seymour, it’s all right. You’re in bed, the doctor is coming…’
He tried to speak and she bent lower to hear him. After several attempts he whispered thickly: ‘Oliver—send for Oliver.’
She murmured soothingly. Who in the world was Oliver?
The hand in hers stirred urgently. ‘Oliver…’ He was lapsing into unconsciousness again and remained so until Dr Grady came into the room.
‘Good girl,’ he said softly. ‘Stay here, will you? In case—In case I need anything—his wife is too upset. Has he roused?’
‘Yes, he managed to say something. Send for Oliver—I expect Mrs Seymour will know who that is.’
‘We can ask presently.’ He began his examination and presently straightened. ‘A stroke, but not too severe. A week’s rest—he’ll have to stay here. I’ll get hold of a nurse, then as soon as he’s fit enough he can go home by ambulance.’ He grinned at her. ‘I’m being hopeful, mind you.’
‘Yes, well, that’s all right, we’ll manage. I suppose we’d better not have any other people while he’s here? I mean, bed and breakfast people.’
‘I heard about that in the village. Well, there’s no reason why you shouldn’t. Heaven knows the place is large enough to swallow a dozen just as long as they’re not too noisy. Extra work for you, though.’
There was a movement at the door and Nicky came in. He said shortly: ‘Well, what’s the damage?’
Dr Grady glanced at him with shrewd eyes. ‘A slight stroke; nothing too worrying, I hope, a week’s rest should make it possible for your father to return home. He’ll need a nurse, I’ll see about that. Celine tells me he was asking for someone…’
‘He wants me to send for Oliver.’
Nicky frowned. ‘Oh, good old Oliver, everyone’s mainstay and prop,’ and at her enquiring look: ‘My cousin—he’s a doctor, worthy and dull. I suppose if Father wants him he’ll have to be sent for.’
‘I’ll stay here while you telephone,’ said Celine, ‘and would you ask Barney to come up and we’ll get your father into bed.’
‘OK, I suppose we’d better send for him. Let’s hope he can tear himself away from his precious patients.’
He went out of the room, leaving Celine vaguely unhappy.
‘Not much love lost there, presumably,’ said Dr Grady, and watched the ready colour creep into her cheeks.
‘He’s upset,’ she said softly, she didn’t meet his eyes. ‘Perhaps this cousin’s what he says—he sounds tiresome.’
CHAPTER TWO
DR GRADY came back that evening, bringing Nurse Stevens with him—a severe, stout lady, bordering on middle age, but reluctantly, if tinted hair and elaborate make-up were anything to go by. Celine relinquished her patient thankfully, showed Nurse Stevens to her room and offered a meal. ‘If you’ll just say when you would like your meals, I’ll come and sit with Mr Seymour,’ she offered. ‘Did you have to come far?’
‘Yeovil. I’ve told Dr Grady that he must find a nurse to do night duty; I’m prepared to sit with the patient tonight, but I can’t work all day and all night too.’
‘No, of course not. I’m sure he’ll get someone to share your duties. Until then, I’ll help all I can, and I’m sure Mrs Seymour will sit with him to give you a break.’
Nurse Stevens spoke bitingly. ‘I’ll decide for myself, thank you, Miss Baylis. In the meanwhile, perhaps I could have something on a tray later on—about nine o’clock will do. And something left out for the night, of course.’ She cast a disapproving eye on the faded wallpaper. ‘You have servants, I suppose?’
‘Two. But this is a difficult house to run; I’ll look after you, Nurse Stevens.’
Celine made her escape and met Dr Grady coming out of the drawing-room, where he had been talking to Mrs Seymour. ‘What in heaven’s name have you brought us?’ she demanded in a fierce soft voice. ‘She wants trays of food and wanted to know if we had servants. I didn’t know there were people like her left!’
He grinned at her. ‘All I could get at short notice. But if it makes you feel better, Mrs Seymour is quite prepared to sit with him for as long as needed, and Oliver is on his way.’
‘And if he’s anything like Nurse Stevens I shall crown him,’ said Celine crossly.
She was perched on the kitchen steps, slapping paint on to a worn out drainpipe when she heard the car coming. ‘If that’s Oliver,’ she muttered, ‘let him ring the bell—Barney can let him in.’ She had had a rotten morning after a short night, what with carrying up trays and answering frequent bells from the sickroom—besides, she had seen almost nothing of Nicky. It had been a relief when Mrs Seymour pronounced herself quite capable of sitting with her still unconscious husband while Nurse Stevens took some exercise, which left Celine free for an hour before seeing to the tea. She hadn’t bothered to pretty herself up, indeed, she had got on an old pair of jeans, paint-stained and none too clean, and a cotton sweater which had once been expensive, but now was a much washed pale blue. All the same, she looked quite beautiful on her stepladder, and the man who got out of the Aston Martin paused to look at her before strolling across the gravel towards her.
‘If you ring the bell, Barney will let you in,’ said Celine tartly, and added: ‘Good afternoon.’ She glanced down at him and saw that he was a large man, with wide shoulders and rugged good looks. His hair was fair going grey at the temples, and his eyes were very bright blue.
He looked up at her and smiled slowly. ‘Miss Celine Baylis, the daughter of the house,’ he observed placidly. ‘How do you do? I’m Oliver Seymour.’
Celine dipped her brush in the paint. It was a pity that she couldn’t quite reach the end of the drainpipe, but she went busily over a bit she’d already done till he reached up and took the brush from her. ‘If you’ll come down, I’ll just do that end bit for you.’
And she found herself doing just that, standing ungraciously while he finished her work, put the brush tidily in the jamjar on top of the steps and the lid on the paint. ‘Could we go into the house?’ he suggested gently, just as though she should have suggested that minutes earlier.
Worse than Nurse Stevens! she decided silently, marching him briskly towards the front door; he was going to be one of those infuriating people who took charge the moment they poked their noses into anything.
She flung the door wide. ‘Do come in,’ she said haughtily. ‘Mrs Seymour’s sitting with Mr Seymour—the nurse is taking some exercise, but I’ll find Nicky.’
His eyes searched her face. ‘Ah, yes, Nicky—of course.’
He had a pleasant voice, deep and rather slow, but something in its tone made her glance at him. He returned the look with a gentle smile.
Lazy, she thought, and a bit dim—knows everything better than anyone else but can’t be bothered. Why on earth is he here?
She left him in the sitting-room and went in search of Nicky, whom she found asleep in the drawing-room. The look of irritability on his face when she wakened him rather took her aback, but it was replaced so quickly by a charming smile that she imagined that she had fancied it.
‘Your cousin has just arrived,’ she told him, and was disconcerted to hear the deep voice just behind her.
‘Ah, Nick—a pity to have disturbed you. I’ll go straight up to Uncle James, if I may, and see the nurse later. Is Aunt Mary there too?’
Nicky had sat up, but not got off the sofa. He stared up at the big man, leaning against a chair with his hands in his pockets. ‘As far as I know,’ he said ungraciously. ‘It’s all such a nuisance…’ He caught Celine’s surprised look and went on smoothly: ‘It’s been a terrible shock.’
‘I can see that,’ said his cousin, his voice very even. He turned on his heel and Celine perforce followed him out of the room; she would rather have stayed with Nick, but someone had to show this tiresome man where his uncle was.
Half way up the stairs he asked: ‘I see you do bed and breakfast. Have you a bed for me?’
She said stiffly: ‘There is a room, yes. Have you come far?’
‘Edinburgh.’
