Authors: Susan Barrie
Gates of Dawn (6 page)
Melanie felt herself flushing a little as a result of this praise.
“
I
’
m afraid Mr. Trenchard didn
’
t know quite what to do, or whom to ask to look after Noel, and I—well, Mrs.
Duplessis consented to release me
—”
“
Release you?
”
Great-Aunt Amelia almost snorted.
“
She had no alternative! Because she hadn
’
t the common decency to offer the child a home herself she knew there could be no choice in the matter where you were concerned. She did it to save her skin, as you might say—her comfort-loving, luxury-loving skin! I
’
ve always thought Eve a despic
a
ble kind of sister for Richard, and goodness knows he
’
s arrogant enough—but he
’
s not selfish! Whatever else Richard is, his heart
’
s in the right place—once you
’
ve discovered it
’
s there at all! Believe me, I know Richard, and I know what I
’
m talking about. The tragedy with Richard is that he hasn
’
t got a wife—and it doesn
’
t look to me as if he ever will have now!
”
Her old eyes grew thoughtful and reflective and vaguely unhappy as she stared into the fire, and she seemed to shake her head almost mournfully as she muttered to herself:
“
Of course, he should have married Elaine!—
b
ut Elaine married Andrew! And what happened to them both? They went and got themselves killed! And now Richard
’
s saddled with that child Noel
...
”
She sighed suddenly, deeply.
“
Ah, well
...
”
She looked again, keenly, at Melanie.
“
Don
’
t let Richard down, young woman—he depends on you. He may seem to take a lot for granted, but you won
’
t regret it. I know my great-nephew—and I tell you you won
’
t regret it!
”
CHAPTER SIX
IT was almost a week before Melanie found herself in Richard Trenchard
’
s flat, with Noel seated rather sulkily beside her on the dark, leather-covered couch. For the discussion concerning Noel
’
s immediate future which was to have taken place the day after Melanie
’
s arrival in Hill Street had had to be postponed because of Noel
’
s persistent cold.
But now she looked as well as one of her natural fragility, coupled with a lack of stamina and vitality which secretly concerned Melanie, could hope to look after being confined to the house for so many days. She had a dry little cough which escaped her at times, and there w
ere
shadowy half
circles beneath her eyes which made them look large, sullen and brooding. But she was interested at finding herself in fresh surroundings once again, even if it was only the flat of her Uncle Richard; and Melanie had not needed to spend many hours in her company before finding out that his niece had little or no liking for her legal guardian. In her insignificant bosom a kind of dull resentment had been allowed to grow, and take determined hold, because, during her school years, she had been so often left lonely and neglected, especially in school holidays. And this neglect—whether unavoidable or not—would take some living down, as Melanie realized.
She was a little surprised because the flat of the well-known playwright—or, at any rate, the room in which he worked—was without any of the trimmings she had somehow imagined a man of his eminence and creative ability would consider essential in his surroundings. There was a vase of flowers on his desk, which indicated that he liked exotic and out-of-season blooms, and the desk itself was a handsome piece, if a trifle disordere
d at the moment; but otherwise the
same severely simple furnishing prevailed which had caused Eve to sneer a little at the Wold House.
Richard himself was lying back in his chair and regarding them both with interest. As usual he was impeccably dressed, and he seemed to fit very well into his chair upholstered in steel-grey leather. He had been working on their arrival, but now, with one of his special blend of turkish and Virginian cigarettes smouldering away between his long fingers, he studied his visitors under apparently languid lids and very dark eyelashes which had the effect of darkening the eyes themselves so that the irises, at least in the tranquil firelight in his room, seemed black, or nearly so. And observing the clumsy outfit of his niece and comparing it with the leaf-green perfection of Melanie
’
s tailored suit—like a whispered hint of spring on that murky afternoon—and her head like a shining, polished chestnut, attracting so much of the fireglow, the merest suspicion of a thoughtful frown appeared between his brows.
“I’
ll ring for Mrs. Abbie to bring you some tea,
”
he said, when the conversation, unassisted by Noel, appeared to be in danger of dying away altogether.
“
She
’
s my housekeeper, and an absolute gem amongst housekeepers, and for that reason I
’
ve decided that she
’
d better go with you two to the Wold House and look after you.
”
“
Oh, of course.
”
But somehow Melanie could not see him there, in that lonely house on the edge of the moor, cut off from all the things he himself had admitted he found so important to his physical well-being, especially in the winter time.
“
Naturally, it will be your home.
”
“
But first we will find out just how much of a home it can be turned into! It takes rather more
than a
carte-blanche
order to a firm of house-fu
rn
ishers and decorators and so forth to create an atmosphere in which it is possible to live even amongst period bricks and panelling.
”
Melanie nodded her head.
“
I agree,
”
she said, and added, without pausing to measure her words:
“
Home is where the heart is!
”
“
Exactly!
”
he replied, smiling at her curiously, a tiny twinkle invading his eyes.
“
And the heart does not always behave as one would expect, attaching itself to the oddest corners, places and people. But the essence of what you say is correct.
‘
Such is the patriot
’
s boast, where
’
er we roam, His first, best country ever is at home
!’ ”
Melanie felt a faint color begin to rise up in her cheeks as he continued to study her as if he was amused, and she was glad when the door opened to admit Mrs. Abbie with the tea-tray. Mrs. Abbie was buxom and smiling in a black dress, with a most housekeeperly-looking bunch of keys dangling at her waist, and she looked at the two girls with friendly eyes. She had evidently attempted to do their visit justice, for amongst the edibles on the tray there was a large fruit cake, as well as scones, sandwiches, and chocolate biscuits.
“
There!
”
she exclaimed, as she set down the tray on a little table beside Melanie
’
s elbow.
“
I expect the young lady will like to pour out.
”
“
So long as you don
’
t expect me to, Abbie,
”
Richard Trenchard exclaimed, with a faint shudder, and an amused glance at her as she passed his chair.
“
I haven
’
t yet sunk to the level of afternoon tea—not willingly,
”
he added, meeting the sudden, quick smile in Melanie
’
s eyes as she recalled the afternoon of her arrival in London, and Great-Aunt Amelia
’
s neat method of pinning him to the side of her chair.
“
My great-aunt is a woman of enormous strength of character,
”
he observed, an unwilling smile appearing in his own eyes,
“
as no doubt you have discovered for yourself, Miss Brooks?
”
“
I think she
’
s a very wonderful old lady,
”
Melanie told him truthfully.
“
Do you?
”
He looked at her keenly.
“
And she hasn
’
t succeeded in, intimidating you yet?
”
“
No.
”
She appeared surprised.
“
I don
’
t think she has even tried to do so.
”
“
Perhaps not,
”
he agreed, watching her neat method of handling fragile porcelain cups, as well as a squat silver teapot of William and Mary pattern.
“
As a matter of fact I think she approves of you.
”
“
Does she?
”
Her brown eyes were lifted quickly to his face, and he detected a shy, pleased look in them.
“
In that case I
’
m glad, for she
’
s so extraordinarily well preserved—in every way!—that one can
’
t help but admire her enormously. I don
’
t imagine I shall be so well-preserved when—if ever!—I reach her age.
”
“
You
’
ve a very long way to go yet,
”
he told her, switching on the reading-lamp beside his chair so that she could see now that his eyes were grey and sparkling, and with a look of something not altogether unlike admiration in their cool depths as they took in the youthful perfection of her cheek and chin and brow.
He endeavored suddenly to include Noel in the conversation, and leaned a little towards them.
“
Is there anything you two girls would like to do before you leave London?
”
he asked.
Melanie hesitated.
“
It
’
s Noel
’
s birthday next week. She will be sixteen,
”
she added.
“
Great Scot!
”
he exclaimed, looking at the small, shrinking figure of Noel.
“
Almost completely grown-up! Then we must celebrate, of course.
”
Melanie hesitated again.
“
But first,
”
she said—paused, and then rushed, on determin
ed
ly—
“
first I think Noel would like to acquire a few more clothes—some things she can really wear. At the moment she is rather sadly reduced, with little or nothing that fits.
”
“
Good heavens!
”
He looked shocked.
“
Is that really so? Then I must give you a cheque and you must take her shopping. I can
’
t allow myself to be disgraced by the possession of a shabby niece!
”
He was teasing her, but the painful self-conscious color which rolled up over her face and neck disturbed him a little. He said more gently: And what about a cinema or a show of some sort on the great day? There
’
s a very good film on at the Orion, and we could have tea afterwards at the Savoy, or somewhere like that—since you both appear t
o
be very fond of tea!
”
Melanie thought his eyes had quite the nicest expression she had seen in them yet as they rested on his niece, and even Noel roused herself from her welter of shyness and uncertainty to thank him in trembling tones.
“
That would be lovely,
”
she said.
“
I
’
ve hardly ever been to a cinema,
”
she confessed.
“
Too bad. Then it
’
s high time we did something about it.
”
On their way home in a taxi Melanie was pleased to observe that there was quite an animated color in Noel
’
s cheeks, and her eyes were bright. But whether her animation was due to the prospect of a shopping expedition, a visit to the cinema or her uncle
’
s unusual condescension she could only guess.
As they passed the Orion she glanced at the huge letters above it which announced that
Morning in Spring
had been running for several weeks, and was apparently an unqualified success. It also proclaimed the name of the star to be Sylvia Gaythorpe!
“
She
’
s pretty, isn
’
t she?
”
Noel murmured, leaning forward to gaze at an outsize portrait of the titian-haired attraction which was placed prominently beside the entrance.
“
She
’
s some sort of connection of my mother
’
s family, you know, and very like my mother—in fact, much more like her than I am!
”
“
Really? I didn
’
t know.
”
Melanie stared at her thoughtfully. So that, no doubt, explained the reason why Richard Trenchard, who had probably already seen the film, felt capable of gazing at it again and again—or gazing at Sylvia Gaythorpe! For had he not once been in love with Elaine
...
?
“
I didn
’
t know,
”
she repeated.