Kitabı oku: «Eleanor», sayfa 4

Chapter Four

Eleanor could never afterwards remember what she did for most of that day. For the first time in many years she had no thought for her mother, nor for the duties which needed her attention. She wandered through fields and woods, over stiles and ditches, unseeing and deaf. It was a miracle that she ended the day unscathed. She finally came to herself on the top of the hill which overlooked Stanyards, and stood there for a long time staring down at her home. At one point she imagined she might take hold of it, and she stretched out towards it, but then she let her arms drop hopelessly to her sides. Stanyards was lost, and she felt as if a stone had settled on her heart. She stood there for a little while longer and then stirred and turned away. Old habits reasserted themselves—she must go back—her mother would be worried about her. Slowly she set off down the hill.

But Eleanor could not bring herself to talk about the coming move, and spent a great deal of the next day going about her ordinary duties in silence. Finally her mother sought her out and took her firmly to task.

‘We have much to do, and I cannot do it alone, Eleanor. I know you feel strongly—’

‘You are wrong, Mama. I do not feel anything.’

‘What nonsense!’ Mrs Southeran looked at her daughter’s wan cheeks and heavy eyes and said more gently, ‘You have suffered a great shock, I know that. But do you think it is easy for me to leave my home?’

‘I would not have thought so.’

‘Eleanor, my dear, you must know in your heart that we could not have continued as we were!’ Mrs Southeran paused, but when Eleanor merely turned away and looked out of the window she sighed. ‘Perhaps I should have said that I could not have continued as I was? Perhaps I have made you pay too great a price for my own selfish comfort?’

Eleanor could not hold out against the note of uncertainty in her mother’s voice. She ran to her and held her tight. ‘Forgive me, Mama! I don’t wish to hurt or worry you. It was a shock…but I will honestly try to understand your reasons, and of course I will help. How could I possibly do otherwise?’

‘Believe me, Nell, I would not have done it if I had thought for one moment that it was not better for both of us.’

‘Yes, yes. Anyway, it is all finished now.’ Eleanor paused, and then said more cheerfully, ‘I haven’t yet asked you where we are going to live. Somewhere near?’

‘Somewhere very near,’ said her mother with a smile. ‘In the Dower House.’

‘But that is part of the Stanyards estate!’

‘We have a lease on it. It was agreed in the sale.’

Eleanor got up and walked about the room. She was not sure what to think about this. On the one hand she would still be part of Stanyards, still have her friends and the countryside she loved so much within easy reach. On the other, how could she bear to be part of Stanyards and yet not part? She continued to pace the room, conscious of her mother’s anxious gaze. The Dower House. Compared with the main house, it was modern and well-equipped—her mother could be very comfortably established there, with her friends also close at hand. She wondered about its state of repair—it had been empty for years. And, though no expense had been spared in building it, its rooms were pretty rather than large. ‘What would we do with Father’s books? There isn’t a room that would hold them in the Dower House.’

‘They…they are included in the sale. I expect the new owner will keep them where they are.’ Her mother sounded apprehensive, but Eleanor could see the force of this. Her father, and his father and grandfather before him, had all been keen book collectors and one of Stanyard’s largest rooms had been made into a handsome library some sixty years before.

‘Shall I tell you about Stanyards’ new owner?’

‘No!’ said Eleanor violently. In reply to her mother’s look of astonishment, she went on, ‘Thank you, but I do not wish to know anything about the man, not even his name. I cannot at the moment tolerate the thought of strangers in what was my home, Mama.’

‘But, Nell, you will have to know more! Or are you going to refuse to meet him? That would be extremely difficult—the two houses are within a stone’s throw of each other. I assure you he is a man of honour and integrity—he will do well by Stanyards—’

‘No, Mama!’

‘I cannot allow you to bury your head like this…’

‘I know,’ said Eleanor nervously, but with determination. ‘Please be patient with me. I will come round, you’ll see, but I need time. Give me a day or two, then you may tell me all you wish about the usurper!’ Eleanor gave a slightly tremulous smile as she said this. Only she knew how much the effort she was making was costing her. Only for her mother would Eleanor have made this attempt to reconcile herself to losing Stanyards.

The Dower House lay a short distance from Stan-yards itself, at the end of a branch from the main drive. It had been built about a hundred years before for the widow of an earlier and more prosperous Southeran. It was on a small scale but very pretty, built of brick, which was a rare luxury in this stone-based countryside, with a miniature pediment and sash windows. Behind was a small stable block and a path, decorated with ornamental urns and benches, which connected it with the main house. Here Eleanor and her mother were to live.

Having promised to do all she could, Eleanor threw herself into preparations for the move. She would normally have been out and about the estate, catching up with all the tasks which had fallen to her since the two men in the family had died. But now she stayed at home and directed the servants, supervised the packing of china and linen, consulted her mother on what should go and what should stay, all without once displaying the slightest interest in Stanyards’ new owner.

Apart from her mother, no one seemed to know very much about him anyway. The negotiations had been concluded surprisingly swiftly—few had even caught a glimpse of the mysterious stranger who had apparently won Mrs Southeran’s trust so easily.

One thing Eleanor could not help noticing. The Dower House was being given a thorough renovation, and its garden, which had become a wilderness, was being restored to flowerbeds and lawns. Even the small stable block, which had been out of use for years, was being made ready for occupation. She could not help knowing that a vast amount of money was being spent on all this refurbishment, and asked her mother about it.

‘I cannot tell you!’ said her mother with a small twinkle in her eye. ‘The new owner is doing it all, and you do not wish to know about him!’

Eleanor was obstinate enough not to ask further. Later, of course, she wished she had.

A day or two before the Southeran’s move to the Dower House, Eleanor, who had been inspecting yet more cupboards there, was making her way towards the path back to Stanyards. A large black dog, hardly more than a puppy, bounded round the corner from the stables and greeted her with all the warmth of an old friend. The dog was a complete stranger.

‘Down, Becky! Down, I say! You must forgive her, Miss Southeran. She has yet to learn her proper place in life, I’m afraid. Did she frighten you?’

Eleanor had recognised the voice at once, of course. Who could mistake those deep, resonant tones? But she still stared at Mr Guthrie as if he had been conjured up by the devil himself.

‘Miss Southeran? Are you all right? Becky hasn’t an ounce of harm in her, I assure you.’ He sounded concerned, and Eleanor made an effort to find her voice.

‘It’s not the dog! Why are you here?’ she croaked.

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘Why are you here?’ she repeated in a stronger voice.

‘No, no, Miss Southeran! Even in the Colonies we know better than that. You must bid me “Good morning”, say that it is pleasant to see me and then ask if I had a comfortable journey from London. Only then do you work round, by devious methods, to finding out why I am here. However, I should have thought you would know that.’

Eleanor still had no idea. The thought that Mr Guthrie had sought her out here in Somerset seemed ridiculous—but what else could it be? She must make the position quite clear. Curiously enough, it was his incivility at their last meeting, not his perfidy, which came first to mind.

‘Your final words to me when we last met were un-pardonably rude. I believe I have already told you once—I have no wish to continue our acquaintance, Mr Guthrie. If you are here to see me, you have wasted your journey.’ She started off towards the main house, her dignity somewhat hampered by the dog, who danced around her feet as she went.

He strode after her and caught her arm. ‘I suppose you think your lack of civility to me is allowable. That I don’t merit any consideration? But that’s neither here nor there—what I’d like to know is what the devil you’re talking about—coming to see you indeed! As you very well know, I’ve come down here to take over the estate!’

‘Take…?’ Eleanor sat down rather suddenly on an ornamental bench. ‘Take over the estate?’ she said slowly. ‘Oh, God! You’re the one who has bought Stanyards?’

He looked at her white face. ‘You didn’t know, did you?’ He sat down beside her and would have taken her hand, but she snatched it away. He sat for a moment watching her as she struggled with this new blow. ‘I’m sorry if I gave you a shock,’ he said, more gently. ‘The negotiations for the house were conducted discreetly—for reasons of my own, I didn’t wish the world to know where I was about to live—but why on earth hasn’t your mother told you since you came back from London?’

‘I wouldn’t let her,’ said Eleanor, her mind still reeling at the identity of the new owner. ‘I didn’t wish to know anything about the man who was taking Stan-yards away from us.’

Mr Guthrie sighed and stood up again. ‘Purchasing it, Miss Southeran. For a fair price. A more than fair price, considering the state it is in.’

Eleanor fired up at this criticism. ‘Stanyards is a jewel! More than you could ever have hoped to aspire to!’

‘Too good for me, eh?’ This time his voice was full of mockery. ‘Well, we shall see. Now, since I cannot see this conversation serving any useful purpose, and as I have a thousand other things to do, I hope you will excuse me. Or—would you like me to escort you to the house? I thought not. Your servant, Miss Southeran.’ He turned to go.

‘Wait!’ cried Eleanor. ‘These negotiations—did my mother take any advice before selling Stanyards to you?’

‘Now what are you suggesting? That I cheated her?’

‘She is under one misapprehension at least, Mr Guthrie. She assured me that the new owner of Stan-yards was a man of integrity and honour!’

Mr Guthrie stood quite still for a moment. Then he took a deep breath and said softly, ‘And you think you can prove differently? Prove, mind you! I warn you, Miss Southeran, if I find you are repeating here in the country the kind of scurrilous gossip which made London happy, I shall take steps to silence you. Good day, ma’am!’ He turned swiftly and walked away. After looking doubtfully at Eleanor, Becky trotted after her master.

Eleanor sat looking at his retreating back in a daze. How could it have happened? She had been truly glad to have seen the last of Mr Guthrie in London, for she had not enjoyed the confusion of feeling he had caused her. Now, it seemed, she was to see him every day, to be reminded every day of the unpleasant revelations in the interview with Mrs Anstey. And this was the man her mother trusted absolutely! What was she to do? She was desperate to talk to her mother, but waited until she saw Mr Guthrie’s carriage go down the drive towards the village before hurrying up to the main house.

‘You should have told me, Mama!’ she cried. ‘You should have told me that Guthrie was the man who had bought Stanyards!’

‘My dear child,’ said Mrs Southeran, justifiably perplexed. ‘You said quite categorically that you did not wish to know anything about Mr Guthrie! How was I to know that you did not mean it?’

‘I did mean it! That is to say, I meant it at the time, but if had known that this man Guthrie was the new owner I would have wanted to know!’

‘Eleanor, I am not sure I perfectly understand you. Did you or did you not say that you wished to hear nothing about the new owner, not even his name? Oh…I see! You met Mr Guthrie in London? Is that what you are trying to tell me? You have never mentioned him to me, surely?’

‘Yes, I…I met him in London. Oh, he’s a deceitful wretch! He knew all the time we were talking that he had bought my home, he even asked me about it, yet he never said a word! Why did you sell our home to such a man, Mama?’

‘I am convinced he will be good for Stanyards. Nothing you have so far said has changed that opinion.’

‘How can you be so blind? He is far from being the honourable man you think him!’

‘My dear child, it was perhaps not well done to conceal from you the fact that he had purchased Stanyards, but it was not dishonourable! Mr Guthrie has very good reason to keep his future home a secret from all but a small number of people.’

‘But how can you be so sure? Surely this passion for secrecy is, to say the least, suspicious? How long have you known him? A few weeks!’

‘I have known Mr Guthrie for most of his life.’

‘I beg your pardon, Mama?’

‘Perhaps I exaggerate a little. I knew Jonas when he was a boy. Our families lived quite close. I have heard from him occasionally—he wrote when your father died, and then again when Tom was killed. And then, just after you had left for London, he visited me here and made an offer for Stanyards. In all that followed he has behaved impeccably. Oh, he has no time for compliments and courtesies—but he has been very generous. You will not easily persuade me to change my opinion of him, Eleanor!’

Eleanor was in a dilemma, and left her mother without saying any more. For the rest of that day and through much of the night that followed she debated what she ought to do. Finally, though she was desperate to tell her mother the story concerning the Ansteys, she decided for a number of reasons to remain silent. She paid no heed to Guthrie’s threat—that alone would not have deterred her. But she had given her word that she would not betray the most damning aspects of the Anstey affair to anyone. And, most important of all, she concluded that, for the moment, no useful purpose could be achieved by revealing the true nature of Stanyards’ new owner. The deed was done, Stanyards was sold, and it could only distress and worry her mother to know how grossly she had been deceived, how sadly the boy she had known in her youth had changed.

So she resolved to say nothing, but to keep a close watch on Mr Jonas Guthrie and all his activities in this part of Somerset. She was no timid widow, no delicate eighteen-year-old to be used and brushed aside. Mr Guthrie would find her, Eleanor Southeran, a foe to be reckoned with! And woe betide him if he caused her mother the slightest, the minutest difficulty!

But, far from causing difficulties, Mr Guthrie seemed to be exhibiting every desire to help in any way he could in the weeks that followed. He treated Eleanor with careful courtesy, but he had a special manner, an unceremonious friendliness, for Mrs Southeran, which delighted that lady. It was not long before the Southerans, together with Betty and Daniel, were established in the Dower House, and Mr Guthrie was a frequent visitor. Eleanor made sure she was present whenever anything remotely like business was discussed, but she found little to satisfy her suspicions. And she had to admit that life was very much easier than it had been for years. The Dower House had been built for comfort, and its light, airy rooms were a refreshing change from the dim dampness of Stanyards. As for Mrs Southeran, she seemed to flourish in the new regime, and spent hours at the little desk in her pretty sitting-room composing some very fine poetry.

Eleanor, however, was far from happy. At first there had been plenty to occupy her, for any move involved a great deal of work in the weeks following. But after a while time began to drag. She went for long rides, she visited friends, she invited visitors to call. After years of hard, satisfying work on the estate it all seemed rather trivial. Besides, the ladies of the village, the occupants of the large houses in the neighbourhood—all were unanimous in their praise of Mr Guthrie. Her only allies, if they could be so termed, were the farmers and their wives on the Stanyards estate. These good people rapidly developed a dislike of their new landlord.

Eleanor acted very properly. She listened to what they had to say when they came to see her, or stopped her on her outings, but she refused to comment on what was no longer her business, and advised them to take their complaints to the new master of Stanyards. But in her soul she rejoiced. Here were some people who were not deceived by Mr Guthrie’s apparent benevolence. And, though she was careful not to say anything, she was in truth shocked at the ruthlessness he was showing in his dealings with the farmers. They were being subjected to a vigorous inspection of how they ran their farms, to largely unfavourable criticism of their practices, and were made to listen to blistering comments on the state of their farm buildings. This last was so patently unfair that Eleanor felt she had to intervene.

When Mr Guthrie next called, Eleanor met him in the hall and asked him if she might have a private word with him afterwards. He raised one eyebrow and asked mockingly, ‘Are you sure that is wise, Miss Southeran? Are you not afraid to be private with such a dishonourable man as myself?’

‘I can be brave when the need arises, sir.’

‘You have the light of battle in your eye. Something tells me that, whatever it is, it is not to my advantage. Very well, I, too, can be brave when the need arises. Will you walk up the drive with me? There’s something I wish you to see.’

Eleanor agreed stiffly, and they went into Mrs Southeran’s sitting-room together.

‘Good afternoon, Jonas! How very nice to see you and Eleanor talking to each other at last! Is your feud over, then?’

‘Feud, Mama? Whatever do you mean?’

‘I may be elderly and infirm, Nell, but I am not yet in my dotage. It has been quite obvious to me that you and Mr Guthrie have hardly exchanged two words in all the times you have met here.’

‘But your daughter has not missed a word of our conversations, Mrs Southeran, especially when we talk of Stanyards and its affairs. She is the most attentive listener of my acquaintance. How do you go on? You are looking well.’

Eleanor grew pink with confusion. So he had noticed her silent watchfulness?

‘I have often thought you would do well to consult Eleanor more often, Jonas. She more than anyone knows about the running of Stanyards. She could be a great help to you.’

Mr Guthrie looked sceptical. ‘Perhaps she could,’ he said dismissively. ‘If she wished. But I prefer to see things as they are, ma’am, and as far as the estate is concerned your daughter wears rose-coloured spectacles.’

‘Come, come, Jonas! If you are going to be unkind about Nell, then I shall not invite you here again.’

Eleanor could not keep silent. ‘If seeing things as they are means that you threaten to evict people who through no fault of their own are unable to meet your high standards, then I prefer to keep my “rose-coloured spectacles”, Mr Guthrie!’ she said before she could stop herself.

‘Ah! Now we have it! I thought as much—you’ve been gossiping with Threlfall and the others.’

Eleanor said scornfully, ‘I do not “gossip”. Nor did I seek them out.’

‘But you have been talking to them?’

‘And why shouldn’t I? I have known them all my life. They appear to need someone to defend them, Mr Guthrie.’

‘Miss Southeran,’ said Mr Guthrie in biting tones, ‘when I need help in dealing with my tenants, my labourers and my affairs I shall ask for it. Stanyards is no longer your concern. Meanwhile—’

‘Stanyards is my concern!’ There was sudden silence. Eleanor turned away and went to look out of the window. ‘Was my concern,’ she said bitterly. ‘Oh, why did you have to come here?’

‘Eleanor! Jonas! Stop this at once! I will not allow you to talk to each other like this—not in my sitting-room at least. Jonas, I should like you to apologise to Eleanor for your harsh words to her. It was cruel to bait her with talk of Stanyards.’

Guthrie said stiffly, ‘I did not intentionally bait her, ma’am.’

‘You have upset her, however.’

‘I think my very existence upsets your daughter, ma’am, not anything I say.’

‘Jonas,’ said Mrs Southeran in a warning tone.

They both looked at Eleanor’s unreceptive back, then Guthrie gave Mrs Southeran a wry smile and went to the window. He said, ‘Miss Southeran, I beg pardon for my harsh words. My only excuse is that I have had a hard time of it since I took over the running of the estate. Country folk are very resistant to change.’

Eleanor turned round on him.

‘But you—’

‘Eleanor! Mr Guthrie has apologised handsomely. Now it is your turn.’

‘But—’

Mrs Southeran continued firmly, ‘If you have been responding to Threlfall’s complaints, then Mr Guthrie has good reason to be annoyed. You must not stand between master and man, my dear, however hard it may seem. It is your turn to excuse yourself.’

Eleanor could see that her mother meant what she said.

‘It is true that I listened to Threlfall. But I have always—always, Mr Guthrie—told him and the others to speak to you, not to me, about their grievances.’

‘This is an explanation, not an apology, Eleanor. You were very rude to Mr Guthrie.’

Eleanor said carefully, ‘I am sorry, Mr Guthrie, for…saying that I wished you had not come here.’ She looked up at him to see how he would take this somewhat double-edged remark and then wished she hadn’t. To her annoyance, the quizzical expression on his face once again made her want to laugh.

‘Now come and have some tea, both of you,’ said Mrs Southeran with a sigh of relief. She had been no more deceived than Guthrie by Eleanor’s ‘apology’, but thought it better to ignore its deliberate ambiguity.

By accident or design, Eleanor was not quite sure which, Mr Guthrie entertained the two ladies over tea with talk of India and his travels there. Eleanor almost forgot her antagonism towards him as she lost herself in the exotic world of the East India Company and the Raj, and her eager questions kept him talking until it was time for him to leave. Her mother watched them both with a small smile on her face.

When Mr Guthrie got up to go Eleanor rose, too. ‘Will you excuse me, Mama? Mr Guthrie has something to show me, I believe. Is that so, Mr Guthrie?’

‘Er…quite so. I shall be delighted.’

‘I shan’t be long, Mama. Do you need anything before I leave you?’

‘No, no, my dear! You go with Jonas.’ As they reached the door she added with amusement, ‘And try not to quarrel with each other!’