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‘I am sure they do, love, but for now let us forget this plan of yours and look forward to this evening. Major Coale is coming to dinner, had you forgotten?’
Zelah had not forgotten, but for some reason she did not want to admit it and she was glad when her sister continued.
‘What will you wear, Zelah, the green robe you had made up last summer?’
‘I thought I might put on my grey gown.’
‘What?’ Maria sat up, scandalised. ‘That gown has done service for several years now and is very severe. You should save it to wear when you are interviewed by a prospective employer. No,’ she said decisively, ‘you will wear the green and I shall fetch out my Norwich shawl for you to drape over your arms, should the evening turn chilly.’ Maria sighed loudly. ‘There is certainly no reason for you to save your best silk any longer. If you are set upon finding work, then it is not at all suitable for a governess.’
Zelah hugged her.
‘Pray do not be sad for me, dearest sister. I think it is quite exciting, and if I find the children are just too abominable, I shall give it all up and come running home to you!’
When the dinner hour approached, Zelah ran lightly down to the drawing room, her silk skirts whispering as she moved. She had to admit there was something very uplifting about putting on a pretty dress. Maria had even sent her own maid to put up Zelah’s hair, restraining it by a matching green bandeau and leaving just a few loose curls tumbling artlessly to her shoulders. To complete the picture Zelah threaded a small jade cross on a green ribbon and tied it around her neck.
‘There,’ she told her reflection, ‘a picture of simple elegance. What does one need with diamonds and emeralds?’
The approving looks of her sister and brother-in-law raised her spirits even more and when Major Coale arrived she turned towards the door, her eyes sparkling and a smile of genuine welcome parting her lips.
Dominic entered the room ready to bow and say all that duty required, but when his eyes alighted upon Zelah Pentewan he stopped, his brain refusing to function. In a matter of seconds he regained his composure, bowing to his host and greeting Mrs Buckland with the usual polite phrases, but all the time his brain was in turmoil.
He had not been looking forward to the evening. He remembered his first meeting with his hostess, recalled her hesitation and the way her eyes travelled everywhere save to his face. He hoped she would soon recover from the habit, but it did not surprise him. It was always thus with a new acquaintance.
Except Zelah, who had never shown any reluctance to look at him, save when he teased her or paid her compliments and made her blush. Gazing at her now, he wanted to shower her with compliments, for she looked quite charming. Her gown, which was the colour of new leaves, brought out the green flecks in those expressive eyes that now met his own and a delicate flush mantled her cheeks. She looked genuinely pleased to see him and for a moment his spirits soared.
It had been a long time since any young woman had smiled at him in quite such a welcoming way, save those he had paid on rare occasions to spend the evening with him in a vain attempt to relieve his loneliness. Dominic quickly damped down his pleasure. Her smiles were nothing more than natural friendliness. No woman could ever be attracted to him now.
So he retreated into the safety of his perfect society manners and quelled the impulse to hold her fingers an instant longer than was required, or even—as he really wanted—to kiss her hand.
Dinner should have been a relaxed affair. Maria and Reginald were at pains to put their guest at ease and the major responded with perfect civility. There was very little for Zelah to do other than eat her food and enjoy the sound of his deep, well-modulated voice, yet she could not be easy. Every nerve end ached, her skin was so sensitive she wondered if it was perhaps some kind of fever, but when she touched her own cheek the skin was not unnaturally warm. Zelah wondered at her reaction and finally concluded she had lived retired for too long and had forgotten how to behave amongst strangers.
At last Maria gave the signal to withdraw and the ladies left the men to their brandy.
‘I think it is going exceedingly well,’ said Maria, sinking into a chair and disposing her skirts elegantly around her. ‘Major Coale is very well read and Reginald was right, now that we have been in his company for a while I hardly notice his poor face at all. But you have been very quiet, Zelah my love. I would have thought the major’s knowledge of art and literature would have made him an interesting guest for you.’
‘He is—that is, the conversation was flowing so well I didn’t like to—I mean, I could find nothing to add.’
‘That is most unlike you, little sister.’ Maria patted her cheek. ‘I do believe you are a little shy of the major, but there is no need. Indeed, you should know him better than any of us. You must try to be a little more sociable. I assure you, Zelah, you have nothing to fear. He is perfectly harmless.’
But Major Coale did not feel perfectly harmless. Zelah could not explain it. Part of her wanted to stay near him, to engage him in conversation and at the same time she wanted to run away. It was most confusing.
When the gentlemen came in she was prepared to make an effort to join in, but they were getting on so well that the conversation flowed quite easily without any contribution from herself and she remained beside her sister, a relieved and silent observer. Maria, however, was determined that she should participate more and when the tea tray was brought in she handed two cups to Zelah, instructing her to carry one to their guest.
Bracing herself, Zelah moved across the room. Major Coale accepted the cup with a word of thanks, adding, as Reginald lounged away and they were left alone, ‘Buckland tells me Nicky is to go to school.’
‘Yes. Mr Netherby teaches a small group of boys for a few hours each day and he has agreed to take him. It is as much for the company as anything.’
‘And when does he start?’
‘As soon as he is walking again, which should not be long now, he is making good progress.’
She sipped at her tea, trying to think of something to say. She wanted to tell him how handsome he looked, but that would be most improper, and unfortunately, everything else that came to mind was connected to their having dined together, a fact that must remain secret.
‘You are very quiet this evening, Miss Pentewan. Why is that? I know you are not afraid of me.’
The glinting smile in his eyes drew an answering gleam from her.
‘Not when I was on your land, certainly. But here …’ she glanced around ‘… I fear I am less at ease with you in these more formal surroundings.’
‘That is singular—if anything you should feel safer here, with your family.’
She smiled. ‘You must think me very foolish.’
‘Not at all. Have you found a suitable post yet, as a governess?’
‘No, and it is very lowering. Maria ascribes it to my lack of experience.’
‘She may well be right.’
‘But I am very well qualified! Papa himself took charge of my education. He taught me French and mathematics and the use of globes—and he allowed me free access to his extensive library.’ She sighed. ‘But of course, apart from my nephew I have little experience of children.’ She turned her eyes upon him as a thought occurred to her. ‘I wonder perhaps if you have a young relative in need of a governess?’
He threw back his head and laughed at that. Zelah smiled, surprised at the little curl of pleasure it gave her, to have amused him so.
‘No, Miss Pentewan, I do not. I have only one sister, you saw her portrait. She is now married, but when she was younger she was such a minx that I have the greatest sympathy with every one of the poor ladies employed to instruct her.’
‘Oh dear, was she so bad?’
‘A perfect hoyden. She ran through at least a dozen governesses. Do not look so dismayed, ma’am, the Coales are renowned for being wild to a fault. Not all families will be as bad.’
‘No-o.’ Zelah was not convinced. She gave herself a little shake. ‘I have not given up hope, Major. I have already sent off more advertisements. I am sure something will turn up.’
‘Of course it will.’ He put down his cup. ‘It is growing late and I must get back.’
He rose and crossed the room to take his leave of his hostess. Zelah felt a deep sense of disappointment that he was going so soon, which was irrational, since she had avoided his company most of the evening.
Nicky was making good progress. By the end of the week he was hobbling around the garden, showing off his heavily bandaged leg to all the servants.
Zelah watched him from her bedroom window. He was in the garden, talking to the aged retainer employed to cut the lawn. She was too far away to hear what was being said, but she could imagine him recounting the tale of how he hurt his leg. The old man was leaning on his scythe and giving the boy his full attention, even though she was sure he would have heard the story several times over. She put her chin on her hands, smiling. Nicky had such a natural charm, no wonder everyone loved him. Reginald was taking him to join the vicar’s little school next week and she hoped the other boys would take to him.
There was a knock at the door.
‘If you please, miss, Major Coale is here to see you.’
‘Is my sister not available?’
The maid bobbed another curtsy. ‘He asked to speak to you, ma’am.’
‘Oh.’
She turned to the mirror and picked up her brush, then put it down again. Without removing all the pins, brushing out her curls and pinning it all back up again, which would take far too long, there was not really much improvement she could make, save to tuck an escaping tendril behind her ear.
Zelah pulled the neckline of her gown a little straighter, smoothed out her skirts and, after a final look in the mirror, made her way downstairs to the morning room.
The major was standing by the window, his back to the room and his hands clasped behind him.
‘Good morning, Major Coale.’ He turned to face her, but with his back to the light Zelah could not read his expression. She said quickly, ‘Nicky is in the garden, sir, if you wish to see—’
‘No, it is you I came to see,’ he interrupted her, his tone more clipped and curt than ever.
She sank on to a chair. He ignored her invitation to sit down and took a turn about the room. Zelah waited in silence, watching him. His right leg was dragging and he was frowning, the crease of his brow making the scar running down his face even more noticeable. Zelah clasped her hands tightly together and waited.
‘Miss Pentewan.’ His shadow enveloped her as he stopped before her chair. Then, with a slight shake of his head, he took another turn about the room, saying as he walked, ‘You may think I should have spoken first to Buckland or perhaps to your sister, to sound them out on the matter, but you are of age, and knowing how you value your independence I decided to address you directly.’
Zelah dropped her gaze. There was a slight crease in her own brow now. Her heart was hammering so hard against her ribs she thought it might burst free at any moment. She hoped he would not expect her to speak, for her throat felt so tight she could hardly breathe. He approached, his steps thudding a soft, uneven tattoo on the carpet and soon she was staring at the highly polished toes of his topboots, yet still she could not look up.
He cleared his throat again. ‘Miss Pentewan, I have a proposal for you.’
Chapter Four
Zelah closed her eyes, waiting for the world to stop spinning. After a few deep breaths she opened her eyes, but could not bring herself to look up into the major’s face. Instead she fixed her gaze on the rather poor landscape painting on the wall.
‘A p-proposal, sir?’ Her voice was little more than a croak.
‘Yes.’
She jumped up and went to the window, her hands on her burning cheeks. What was she to say? Could this really be happening? She kept her back to him as he began to speak again.
‘You have honoured me with your confidence and informed me that you are seeking employment as a governess. I want to ask—that is, would you consider a rather … different form of employment?’
The heat and colour fled from her cheeks as swiftly as it had come. She wheeled around, this time firmly fixing her eyes upon his face. Her heart was still hammering but there was such a confusion of thoughts in her head that she felt sick. She swallowed, hard.
‘Just what are you offering me, Major?’
He looked uncomfortable. She found herself praying.
Please do not let him say it. I cannot bear to think he would even ask …
‘Miss Pentewan, you will know I am alone at Rooks Tower.’ Her heart sank even lower. She clenched her hands together, closed her eyes and prepared her answer even as he continued. ‘I have been struggling for some weeks now but—madam, would you consider working as my archivist?’
‘Sir, thank you, but I could not possibly—what?’
He shrugged. ‘Archivist, librarian, I am not sure what title you would use, but I need someone to put my books in order. Rooks Tower has a large library and I intend to make use of it. I have had the room decorated, but have done nothing about unpacking the books I brought with me from Markham. I have collected a great number of volumes over the years and transported them all here, but they are in no particular order. It is the devil of a job and with the summer coming on I need to be supervising the work outside as much as possible. I just haven’t the time …’
She blinked at him.
‘You … you want me to, to arrange your books?’
‘Yes. Oh, I know it is not the type of work you were looking for, but from our discussions I received the impression that you were intent upon becoming a governess because that is the only respectable occupation available to a young woman.’
‘Respectable, yes, and … I know nothing about organising a library!’
A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
‘You told me you knew nothing about children, but that has not stopped you advertising yourself as a governess. I need someone to sort out all those damn—dashed volumes.’
‘But surely you should employ a scholar to do this, someone who understands the value of your collection—’
Again that grimace distorted his features.
‘I am not interested in its value, only that the books are recorded in some sort of order and that they are on the shelves and to hand when I want them. They are, in the main, useful books that I have collected.’ He took a turn about the room. ‘Besides, I do not wish to have a stranger in my house. No, madam, I want the library organised and all the books catalogued during the next few months. I see no reason why you could not walk over there every day and continue to live with your brother and sister.’
‘I—I am not sure …’
He waved an impatient hand.
‘You need fear no impropriety. Mrs Graddon and the housemaids will be present and I spend most of my time out of doors. I am willing to pay you a total of fifty guineas for the work: twenty-five when you begin, and the rest once the library is complete. It should not take too long, two months, perhaps three at the most.’
‘Then the remuneration you offer is far too generous.’
He shrugged. ‘I want it to be done, and soon. The cost is not important.’
Zelah shook her head, trying to think clearly. In the space of a few minutes her spirits had experienced ecstatic heights, deep despair and a fury of indignation, and all for nothing. He was offering her nothing more or less than a job of work.
The major picked up his hat.
‘Perhaps you would like to consider it. Talk it over with your sister.’
‘No,’ she answered him quickly. ‘No, I have made my decision.’
If she discussed this with Maria or Reginald they might well try to dissuade her, but here was an opportunity to earn her keep, albeit for a short time, and remain with her family. She squared her shoulders, raised her head and met his gaze.
‘I accept your offer, Major Coale.’
For a long, breath-stopping moment his eyes searched her face, then he smiled and she found herself responding, until he looked away from her.
‘Thank you, that is excellent news,’ he said crisply. ‘I see no reason for delay. Report to Rooks Tower on Monday morning!’
‘My dear sister, have you lost your wits?’
Zelah gazed up at her brother-in-law, a laugh hovering on her lips. ‘Why should you think that? I have merely accepted a very lucrative engagement.’
She had kept the news of the major’s proposal until they were sitting together in the drawing room after dinner. She had hoped that a good meal would put Reginald in a more mellow mood, but her announcement was still met with a mixture of indignation and amazement.
‘You cannot accept,’ declared Maria. ‘It would be most improper.’
‘But I have accepted and there will be nothing improper about the arrangement. Major Coale has already informed me that he spends his days out of doors.’
‘For an unmarried lady to be alone in his house—’
‘I shall not be alone, Reginald, I shall be surrounded by servants. Besides, who will know of it?’
‘The whole of Lesserton by the end of the week,’ replied Reginald drily.
‘But it is a job of work. I shall continue to advertise for a position as a governess, but until then it will give me a measure of independence, and if the task takes only three months then I should be able to save a good proportion of my money against hard times.’ Zelah looked at her sister, begging her to understand. ‘I have been here long enough, Maria. I told you when I came I would not be your pensioner. Major Coale has promised to give me half my fee in advance. I intend to give some of it to you, to pay Nicky’s school fees.’
‘But there is no need of that, Reginald and I have already agreed—’
‘To sell the seven-acre field, I know.’ Zelah interrupted her. ‘I would much rather you took my money.’
‘Never,’ cried Maria, pulling out her handkerchief. ‘I would not dream of taking your wages—’
Reginald held up his hand.
‘I think Zelah has a point,’ he said slowly. ‘To sell off the field would mean less return at harvest. If we keep it, we may well be able to repay your sister by the end of the year.’
Maria did not look convinced. She reached across and took Zelah’s hands.
‘Oh, my dear, for any young lady to take such a position, in the house of a man like Major Coale, would be to risk her reputation, but in your case—’
‘In my case I have no reputation to risk.’
An uncomfortable silence followed Zelah’s bald statement. She withdrew her hands from her sister’s grasp and rose.
‘I made up my mind when I left Cardinham that I would support myself. I have caused my family enough sorrow and will not compound my guilt by allowing you to keep me.’
‘But you might marry—’
‘You know I have set my mind against marriage.’
‘Oh, sister, pray do not say that—’
Reginald put up his hand to silence his wife’s protest.
‘My dear, Zelah is right,’ he said heavily. ‘Any man who formed an attachment would have to be told of her … unfortunate past.’
Zelah winced.
‘But if a man truly loved her—’ cried Maria, looking beseechingly at her husband.
Zelah shook her head.
‘Of all the requirements a man may have when looking for a wife three things are paramount: good birth, good fortune and a spotless character. I am afraid I have only the first of those requirements. So you see, it is much better that I should learn to make my own way in the world.’ She smiled at them, knowing tears were not far away. ‘If you will only allow me to continue living here while I work at Rooks Tower, then I shall consider myself truly blessed.’
‘Of course you may.’ Reginald came forwards to kiss her cheek. ‘We could not countenance you living anywhere else.’
‘Good day to you, Miss Pentewan. The master said you was coming. I am to show you to the library.’
Despite having told herself that she did not expect the major to be at Rooks Tower to greet her, Zelah was disappointed. She followed the housekeeper through the hall, heading away from the main staircase and towards a pair of ornate double doors. Zelah expected to pass through into a grand reception chamber, but she was surprised to find herself enveloped in shadows. When her eyes grew accustomed to the gloom she could see that it was indeed a large room with a magnificent marble fireplace and intricate linenfold panelling on the walls, but each of the long windows was shuttered to within a few inches of the top, allowing in only enough light to see one’s way between the furniture.
‘The master instructed that these shutters should remain closed,’ explained the housekeeper. ‘This is the yellow salon and everything here is just as it was when Major Coale bought it, but he never uses it. One soon gets used to walking through the gloom.’ There was a tiny note of regret in the older woman’s voice. She had reached the far end of the room and threw open the doors. ‘This is where you will be working.’
The library was identical in size to the yellow salon, but here the morning light shone in through a series of long windows that filled one wall. The other three walls were lined with open bookcases in rich mahogany, their ranks broken only by the doors and the ornate chimney breast. A large desk and chair stood at one end of the room and a wing chair had been placed near the hearth, but the remaining floor space was taken up with a multitude of crates and boxes.
‘Goodness,’ murmured Zelah, her eyes widening. She felt a little tremor of excitement as she thought of all the books packed in the boxes. Who knew what treasures lay in store!
‘It is indeed a sorry mess,’ said Mrs Graddon, misinterpreting her reaction. ‘I’m sure you’ll soon begin to set it all in order. The master has left you new ledgers in the desk drawer and there’s pens, paper and ink, too. Graddon will send someone to help you with the boxes.’
She went away and Zelah stood for a few moments, wondering just where to start.
She began by exploring the room, running her fingers along the smooth polished wood of the empty shelves and then over the cold marble of the fireplace. She moved across the room. The long windows with their low sills looked out on to a wide terrace where little tufts of grass sprouted between the paving. Beyond the stone balustrade the grounds sloped down to the river before the land rose again, the park giving way to woodland that stretched away as far as the distant hills.
An idyllic setting, she thought, drinking in the peaceful tranquillity of the scene. Then setting her shoulders, she turned again to face the task ahead of her.
When the clock on the mantelpiece chimed four o’clock Zelah looked up, surprised. She had no idea where the day had gone. Books were piled haphazardly on the shelves and several opened crates littered the floor. The volumes had been packed in no particular order, novels and religious tracts jostling with books on wild flowers and a furniture directory. She would have to go through them all before she could begin to catalogue them. The room looked even more chaotic now than when she had started, but it could not be helped.
She tidied her desk and glanced around the room, mentally deciding just where she would begin tomorrow. Her eyes fell upon the small door in the far corner. The housekeeper had told her it led to the tower. Zelah stood for a moment, indecisive. Perhaps, while no one was about, she would take a quick peep at the tower.
The door opened on to a small lobby where a steep, wooden stairway wound its way upwards. There was an air of neglect about the plain painted walls and worn treads, but the banister was firm enough and Zelah began to climb the stairs. A door on the first landing opened on to a storage room which was filled with old furniture. Zelah gave it only a cursory glance before moving on to the second floor. She found herself at last on a small landing. The wooden stairs gave way to a narrow stone spiral staircase at the side of which was a single door. Grasping the door handle, Zelah turned it, half-expecting it to be locked. It opened easily and she stepped into a room filled with sunlight. At first glance it seemed there were no walls, only windows from breast-height to ceiling, the leaded lights divided by thin stone mullions and giving an extensive view of the country in all directions.