All Else Confusion Page 6

  It would have been hard to have refused, and anyway, her mother liked him. She said now: ‘Well, of course, Jake, if Annis doesn’t mind. I’m glad she can be of help at such a difficult time. And you’ll bring her back?’

  ‘With pleasure, and many thanks.’ He glanced at Annis. ‘You won’t mind, darling?’ he asked deliberately.

  Annis felt her cheeks glowing like hot coals. The wretch, with his beastly little mocking smile! She didn’t love him at all, she hated him. She said coldly: ‘If I can help, I’ll stay,’ and sailed through the door with her tray.

  When she got back, her cheeks cool once more, everyone was getting ready to leave. She kissed Mrs Avery’s cross face, dutifully hugged her mother and father, said goodbye to Matt and the Colonel, and waved them away from the doorstep, with Jake standing beside her for all the world as though he owned the place.

  Which, she was to discover, he did. She hadn’t been present at the reading of the will, nor was she particularly interested. From the remarks she had overheard from various members of the family, Mrs Duvant had been more than generous. It was only as they stood in the hall once more that she asked, anxious to fill the silence between them: ‘Do you have to put the house up for sale? Do you want an inventory made?’

  ‘Lord, no. I’ve no intention of selling it, I like it too much. I shall keep the Bates’s on, of course, and come down whenever I can.’

  Annis stopped her walk to the drawing-room and turned to look at him. ‘You mean it’s yours? This house?’

  ‘Don’t look so shocked! Don’t you think I’ll look nice living in it? Conjure up a picture in your romantic mind of me, surrounded by the wife of my choice and an assortment of kids.’

  He leaned against a console table, his hands in his pockets, smiling at her, and because she had a vivid imagination anyway, she did just that to such good purpose that she felt tears filling her eyes and with a quite unintelligible mutter she turned and ran upstairs to her room.

  She stayed there, pleading a severe headache, and although she was famished, made do with a tray of thin soup which Mrs Bates brought up during the evening. What with hunger and misery, she had a poor night.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  THERE HAD BEEN TIME, during the hours she had lain awake, for Annis to pull herself together. By the time she went downstairs to breakfast the following morning, she felt able to cope with any situation which might arise, so it was with a distinct feeling of being let down that she sat down to table, for Jake greeted her in a casual manner which put her strongly in mind of her brothers and beyond a few brief observations about the weather and the news, had nothing much to say to her.

  She ate dreamily, imagining what it would be like to be married to Jake and eat breakfast with him every morning of her life, only he’d have to talk to her, not sit buried behind the Financial Times. But dreaming was a waste of time, especially about him. She said loudly: ‘What would you like me to do? You said yesterday that there was still some clearing up to be done.’

  He lowered the paper and studied her. ‘Now I wonder what I’ve done—or not done. You look as though your hair is going to burst into flames at any minute. Did I really say that? I couldn’t have been thinking. Half an hour’s telephoning should see the finish of our day’s chores. I thought we might take a run into the country.’

  Annis was quite unable to stop the smile spreading across her pretty face. ‘Oh, that would be super!’ She didn’t dare say any more or he might be put off by too much enthusiasm. ‘Are you quite sure there’s nothing more to do?’ she wanted to know.

  ‘Quite sure. I’ll go and do my phoning now and you can tell Mrs Bates that we won’t be back until the evening, ask her to arrange a dinner which won’t spoil if we’re a bit late.’

  ‘Where on earth are we going?’ She looked down at her tweed skirt and sweater. ‘Will I do as I am?’

  Jake said gravely, his eyes dancing, ‘You’ll do very nicely, Annis,’ and went away, leaving her to drink her last cup of coffee and hurry along to the kitchen to see Mrs Bates.

  It wasn’t until they were leaving Bath behind that Annis asked: ‘Where are we going?’

  ‘Oxfordshire, on the edge of the Cotswolds—a village called Minster Lovell.’ She waited for him to say more, but he didn’t, so she asked: ‘Why?’

  ‘It’s my home—I have a family, you know.’ He shot her a sideways glance. ‘Why do you look surprised?’

  ‘Well, you—that is, you don’t seem the kind of man to have a family.’ She went a little pink. ‘I don’t mean to be rude, but it’s hard to explain.’

  ‘Ah, you mean a lone wolf with no one to cut him down to size and only himself to bother about.’

  ‘No, I didn’t mean that at all.’ She didn’t know what she meant. She longed to be able to put into words what she felt about him. ‘I can’t explain, I don’t know how.’

  He went on talking just as though she hadn’t spoken. ‘Minster Lovell is a charming place, I think you’ll like it. Not quite Cotswolds but near enough, I’ve always thought. We’ll stop in Cirencester for coffee.’

  He stopped at the King’s Head in Market Place and kept up a casual flow of amusing small talk while they had their coffee before going on again. The day was fine and clear and the country around them delightful in the thin sunshine; Annis began to enjoy herself. She had expected to feel awkward in Jake’s company now that she knew that she loved him, but she felt no such thing—indeed, she was dreading the moment when he and she would part company.

  He had taken the road through Burford and before they got to Witney turned off to the north to where Minster Lovell lay, nicely hidden from the rest of the world with the river Windrush woven into its heart.

  Jake drove over the bridge at the beginning of the village, along its street and up the slight incline at the farther end. Here the houses were rather grand, their walls of Burford stone, and stone-tiled too. He turned in at the gates of one of these houses, standing solitary overlooking the village, and stopped the car in the small semi-circular drive. In summer it would be pretty with roses and Virginia creeper and clematis. Now it was rather bare, with a few early daffodils poking up reluctant heads. The house was of Burford stone, like the others, with a steep pitched roof and a great many gables and small casement windows. It had a sturdy front door that was opened as they got out of the car.

  The woman standing there was elderly, tall and boney and fierce-looking, and when Jake called out: ‘Hullo, Poppy, lovely to see you,’ Annis thought what a very inappropriate name she had.

  The rather craggy face softened as Poppy opened the door wider. ‘Well, it’s nice to see you, Mr Jake.’ Her eyes slid past him to Annis. ‘And the young lady.’

  ‘Miss Annis Fothergill—meet Poppy, family friend and general mainstay.’ He kissed Poppy and then kissed Annis, and at her look and heightened colour, ‘Just to even things up,’ he explained.

  There was a narrow hall that widened into a square room which had several doors in its walls as well as two passages leading from it and a carved wood staircase, it was furnished simply with wall tables, upon which were bowls laden with spring flowers, a pair of carved wooden chairs, and a Gothic oak chest, worn smooth with age. The floor was gleaming oak too, half covered by a faded but still beautiful needlework carpet.

  One of the doors was partly open. Jake pushed it wider and propelled Annis gently through it, into a low-ceilinged room, light and airy and agreeably furnished with chintz-covered chairs, several small tables, a mahogany break-fronted bookcase with glazed doors, and a large velvet-covered sofa. The sash window was curtained with mushroom velvet, and the carpet was the same colour; a restful room as well as being very pretty.

  The same adjectives could be applied to the lady who got out of one of the chairs and came towards them. She was small and plump, her grey hair elegantly dressed, her round, merry face nicely made up. Her eyes were blue and twinkly and she was smiling widely. Hard on her heels came an elderly man who could have been no one else but Jake’s father. Annis thought with a little flair of temper, Jake could have told me… But the thought was swallowed up in the little lady’s warm greeting. She was made to feel at home instantly, kissed heartily first by Jake’s mother, then his father, and then finally and for no apparent reason by Jake. Twice in ten minutes, she thought, and blushed, because she had liked it.

  ‘Well, isn’t this nice?’ Mrs Royle wanted to know of no one in particular, and tucked an arm through Annis’s. ‘You come and sit with me, dear—there’s time for a drink before lunch and I want to hear all about you.’

  ‘But there isn’t anything to tell,’ protested Annis, and then found herself, a glass of sherry in one hand, answering the questions her companion lost no time in putting to her. By the time Poppy came to the door to tell them that lunch was ready, she reckoned that Mrs Royle had a very good idea of her family and background and, strangely, she didn’t mind: the questions had been put so kindly.

  Jake had got to his feet and gone out of the room behind Poppy, to return within a minute or two, his arm tucked into that of a very old, very small lady, dressed with great elegance in black, her white hair waved in the style of the thirties: she looked frail, but there was nothing frail about her voice.

  ‘Ah, there she is, and just as pretty as you said: quite a beauty, in fact. I hope she likes children?’ She had come to a standstill and Annis realised that she was waiting for her to go to her. She advanced willingly, quite composed though a trifle bewildered by the old lady’s remarks. Was she being vetted for a governess’s post? she wondered. Jake might have thought she would welcome a job after working for Mrs Duvant. She shook the small bony hand carefully and smiled down at the old lady.

  ‘I’m Jake’s grandmother. I seldom come down to
lunch, but I wanted to meet you. I like your name and I like you, my dear—there’s plenty of you and you look healthy.’

  Annis pinkened slightly, aware of Jake’s dark eyes on her face. She said a little breathlessly: ‘Yes, I’m always very well, thank you.’

  The old lady nodded to herself and then looked up at her grandson.

  ‘Well, you took your time,’ she told him, ‘and a good thing too as far as I can see.’ She added with a faintly peevish air: ‘Where’s lunch? I’m hungry.’

  Her son and daughter-in-law had listened to her without comment, now they assured her soothingly that lunch was on the table and there was no reason to wait a minute longer. They all crossed the hall into a smaller room with a round table at its centre, a thick brown carpet and apricot-coloured curtains, adding a splash of colour to the cream walls. A restful room, thought Annis, and sat herself down where she was bidden—opposite Jake. She would have preferred another place, away from his frequent dark glance, but she was a sensible girl and she was hungry. She ate a delicious meal, taking care not to catch his eye. Not too difficult as it turned out, for the conversation was general with old Mrs Royle taking more than her share of it. But she made no more reference to Annis, only showing a lively interest in her grandson and his work.

  ‘Made your million yet?’ she wanted to know with a chuckle. ‘How’s that factory in New Zealand?’

  ‘Coming along nicely, Grandmother.’ Jake’s saturnine face broke into a smile. ‘How about coming with me next time I visit it?’

  ‘Take care I don’t,’ she answered. ‘You’ll have other company with you, I’ve no doubt, and I’ve no wish to play gooseberry.’

  Did that mean, thought Annis bleakly, that he had a girl-friend, that he was going to marry? She turned a polite ear to Mrs Royle’s gentle chat about the garden while she pondered the matter, and came to the conclusion that probably he had.

  They went back to the drawing-room for their coffee and old Mrs Royle was led back again upstairs where she had her own rooms. Annis found herself sitting beside Mrs Royle while that lady rambled pleasantly from fashion to housekeeping and back again. But not for long. Jake came back, refused coffee and pulled her to her feet. ‘Come and see the garden,’ he suggested. ‘Father’s already asleep and Mother always has a nap after lunch.’

  True, Mr Royle was sitting back in his chair, his mouth slightly open, his eyes shut. Any moment now he was going to snore. But Mrs Royle didn’t look in the least sleepy, although she laughed and nodded at Jake. ‘And get a wrap for Annis,’ she begged. ‘It’s cold outside.’

  They went out through a small side door, Annis swathed in an old Burberry from a miscellaneous collection of coats hanging in the passage; they reminded her of home, and made her feel a little homesick until Jake took her arm and walked briskly down a brick path towards a shrubbery at the far end.

  He said unexpectedly: ‘I’ll take you home tomorrow.’

  ‘Oh—yes, of course. Thank you very much.’ The words sounded silly, but she had been taken by surprise.

  He spoke again and now his voice was very smooth and faintly amused. ‘Grandmother approves of you, isn’t that nice? She longs to be a great-granny.’

  Annis gave him a puzzled look and stopped walking. ‘Whatever has that got to do with me?’ she wanted to know.

  ‘I told her that I was going to marry you.’ He sounded so casual that she could only gape at him. ‘You what?’ she managed.

  ‘Told her that I was going to marry you,’ he repeated patiently. ‘I daresay,’ he went on thoughtfully, ‘I might not have mentioned it for a few days, but she rather precipitated things.’

  ‘But I don’t…you don’t…we don’t know each other, we’re not even friends.’

  ‘No? I thought we were. Granted, initially we may not have taken to each other, but having got to know you, I fancy that you’re just the wife I’m looking for.’ He went on deliberately: ‘Notice that I don’t mention the word love. I think I’ve become a little cynical about that, Annis, I’m not even sure that I believe in it any more.’ Her ear caught the bitterness in his voice and she wondered what had happened to put it there: a girl who’d rejected him? Someone he couldn’t have? Someone who’d died? She was sure that he would never tell her, and she wanted to know…

  ‘I need a wife, someone to make a home, someone to come back to, someone to entertain my friends, someone I can talk to. You happen to fit the bill.’

  Surely no girl had ever had such a cold-blooded proposal? She said roundly: ‘I’ve never heard such nonsense! There’s only one good reason for getting married to someone, and that’s because you love them.’ She went scarlet then because she had that reason, didn’t she, but Jake apparently did not.

  ‘I hope to prove you wrong, darling. Suppose we give it a try? Six months if you like. See how we get on, getting to know each other, becoming friends, nothing more if you don’t want that.’ He gave her a long austere look. ‘That’s a promise, Annis.’ And when she didn’t answer him: ‘That’s why I’m taking you home tomorrow, so that you can have time to think about it.’ He tucked a hand under her arm and began to walk on. ‘And don’t say no without considering first. You’re a sensible girl, and practical, and your head isn’t cluttered up with romantic ideas.’

  It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him how mistaken he was but that would never do. She said rather primly: ‘Very well, I’ll think about it.’

  ‘Good. If we go down this path there’s a nice little herb garden at its end. Mother started it when she was first married and it’s her pride and joy.’

  ‘Oh, is it?’ answered Annis blankly: apparently they weren’t to mention the subject of their future again.

  And indeed, she was right. The rest of the day was spent in the company of Jake’s parents. They had tea together and then she was taken upstairs to say goodbye to his grandmother, who lifted a cheek for her to kiss while at the same time observing that she hoped the wedding would be a quiet one, since she couldn’t abide too much fuss at her age. Apparently here was the one person sure of their future. The thought was followed by another one: old Mrs Royle wasn’t the only one, Annis herself was quite sure, even without pondering the matter too deeply, that she would marry Jake because she loved him, that he was arrogant and far too self-assured and wrapped up in a successful business were things she would have to live with. And she could see no reason why she couldn’t make him love her, given time. He had mentioned six months to see how it all worked out, if she couldn’t get him interested, to say the least, in that time, then she would have to think again. She bade his parents goodbye with composure and got into the car beside him, answering his small talk on their way to Bath with an equal composure.

  They had dinner together later and over it Jake began to tell her something of his work. He was highly successful, but he didn’t stress the fact, merely mentioning that he had to travel a good deal. ‘You like flying?’ he asked her casually.

  ‘I’ve never been in a plane.’ Probably, thought Annis, she was the only girl in the country who hadn’t. She added by way of an explanation: ‘There are too many of us, you see. The children have heaps of friends and go away in their school holidays, but we don’t all go away together.’

  She started to work out what a holiday—say, in Italy—would cost if the eight of them went for two weeks and her mind boggled.

  ‘Just so,’ observed Jake, watching her face with amusement. ‘But you live in a beautiful part of the country, don’t you?’

  ‘Oh, yes, and there’s always such a lot to do…’ A look of unease came over her face. She had remembered that if she married Jake there would be no one to help her father. Mary wasn’t home and it wasn’t likely that she would be, and Emma was barely twelve and her mother had far too much to do around the house. She lifted a troubled face to his. ‘I’d forgotten,’ she said simply, and didn’t have to go on because he had understood at once.

  ‘Naturally if you were to—er—leave home, I would take steps to see that there was someone to fill your shoes. That’s a small matter, Annis, easily dealt with.’