“Really?”
“Most certainly.”
“My nose is big.”
“I like a nose to be a nose … not like a bit of putty that’s just been stuck on.”
I couldn’t help laughing and she went on: “Big noses have character.
Give me a big nose any day! “
I said: “Yours isn’t very big. Aunt Sophie.”
“You take after your father. He had a good nose. He was one of the most handsome men I ever saw. You’ve got good eyes. Expressive.
Bright. They show your feelings. That’s what eyes are for-and to see through, of course. Now, don’t you fret. People say things like that when they’re not thinking much. He was in a hurry, that was what it was, and he didn’t look properly. “
“He just glanced at me and that was all.”
“There you are. He’d say that about anyone. If you’re plain, then I’m Napoleon Bonaparte. So there!”
I could not help laughing. Dear Aunt Sophie! She had rescued me once more.
So from Monday to Friday I went regularly to St. Aubyn’s. I used to meet Rachel at the gate of the Bell House and we would walk to the house and go up the drive together. We formed an alliance against Tamarisk and I became a kind of champion to Rachel.
But I never forgot Crispin St. Aubyn’s comment. It had made a difference to me. I was not plain. Aunt Sophie had made that clear. I had good hair, she insisted. It was fine but abundant. I brushed it until it shone. I often wore it loose about my shoulders instead of in the severe-looking plaits. I made sure my clothes were never crumpled. Tamarisk was aware of this. She did not comment, but she smiled secretively.
She was friendly towards me. Sometimes I think she tried to woo me from my alliance with Rachel. I was pleased and rather flattered.
I saw Crispin St. Aubyn only rarely and usually from a distance. He was clearly not interested in his young sister and her companions.
Aunt Sophie had said he was ‘a cad’, and he was, I assured myself. He was trying to impress everybody with his importance. He was not going to impress Aunt Sophie or me.
One day when I went to meet Rachel, she was not there. I was a little early. The gate to the Bell House was open so I went into the front garden. There was a seat there and I sat down to wait for her.
I gazed at the house. It was indeed gracious, more charming, I decided, than St. Aubyn’s Park. It ought to be a happy house, a cosy house, yet I was sure it was not. Tamarisk might be neglected by her family and have been brought up by nurses, but perhaps there could be something to be said for that after all. Rachel was not carefree as she was. Rachel was timid . afraid of something. I felt it might be something in that house.
Perhaps I was a romancer. Meg said I was a dreamer with my fancies, making up stories about people . and half of them without a trace of truth in them.
I heard a voice behind me.
“Good morning, my dear.”
It was Mr. Dorian, Rachel’s uncle, and I felt that urge to get up and run away from him as fast as I could. Why? His voice was very kind.
“So you are waiting for Rachel?”
“Yes,” I said, getting up, for he was preparing to sit down beside me.
He laid a hand on my arm and drew me back on to the seat.
He was looking at me intently.
“You like your lessons with Miss Lloyd?”
“Yes, thank you.”
“That is good … that is very good.”
He was sitting very close to me.
“We shall have to go,” I said.
“We shall be late.”
Then I saw, with relief, that Rachel was coming out of the house.
“I’m sorry I’m late,” began Rachel. Then she saw her uncle.
“You have kept Frederica waiting,” said her uncle with gentle reproach.
“Yes, I’m sorry.”
“Come on then,” I said, eager to get away.
“Be good girls,” said Mr. Dorian.
“The Lord bless you both.”
As we went I saw him looking after us. I could not think why but he made me shiver.
Rachel did not say anything, but she was often quiet. Yet somehow I believed she knew how I was feeling.
The memory of Mr. Dorian lingered for a while. It was faintly unpleasant so I tried to forget it; but when I next called for Rachel I did not go into the garden but waited outside.
Miss Lloyd and I got on very well together and it was gratifying to be aware that I was her favourite pupil. She said I was responsive. We shared a love of poetry and often we analysed it together while Rachel looked bewildered and Tamarisk bored, as though what we discussed was beneath her notice.
Miss Lloyd said it would be pleasant if Rachel and I were asked to have tea with Tamarisk.
“Don’t you agree. Tamarisk?” she asked.
“I don’t mind,” said Tamarisk ungraciously.
“Very well. We’ll have a little tea-party.”
Aunt Sophie was amused when I told her.
“You ought to see something more of the house than that old schoolroom,” she commented.
“It’s worth a bit of attention. I’m glad you and Miss Lloyd are friends. Sensible woman. She realizes how much cleverer you are than the others.”
“Perhaps I’m not so handsome but I learn more quickly.”
“Nonsense. I mean nonsense to the first and true to the second. Hold your head high, my dear. Think well of yourself and others will too.”
So I went to the tea-party. There were dainty sandwiches and delicious cherry cake; and Miss Lloyd said that, as the hostess, Tamarisk should entertain us.
Tamarisk made a familiar gesture of indifference and behaved just as usual.
Miss Lloyd had apparently asked Mrs. St. Aubyn, who, it transpired.
Tamarisk visited at four-thirty on those days when her mother was well enough to see her, if she would like to meet the girls who shared her daughter’s lessons. To Miss Lloyd’s surprise, she had agreed to do this, providing that, when the time came, she felt well enough and they did not stay too long.
Thus it was that I met the lady of the house the mother of Tamarisk and Crispin.
Miss Lloyd ushered us in and we hovered.
Mrs. St. Aubyn was clad in a negligee of mauve chiffon with lace and ribbons decorating it. She was lying on a sofa with a table beside it on which was a box of fondants. She was rather plump but seemed very beautiful with her golden hair the same colour as Tamarisk’s piled high on her head. There was a diamond pendant about her throat and the same gems glittered on her fingers.
She looked languidly at us and her eyes alighted on me.
“This is Frederica, Mrs. St. Aubyn,” said Miss Lloyd.
“Miss Cardingham’s niece.”
She signed for me to come closer.
“Your mother is an invalid, I heard,” she said.
“Yes.”
She nodded: “I understand … I understand full well. She is in a nursing home, I believe.”
I said she was.
She sighed.
“That is sad, poor child. You must tell me about it.”
I was about to speak when she added: “One day … when I feel stronger.”
Miss Lloyd laid her hand on my shoulder and drew me away, and I realized that Mrs. St. Aubyn’s interest had been in my mother’s illness rather than in me.
I wanted then to get out of the room and so it seemed did Miss Lloyd, for she said: “You must not tire yourself, Mrs. St. Aubyn.”
And Mrs. St. Aubyn nodded with an air of resignation.
“This is Rachel,” said Miss Lloyd, ‘and she and Frederica are very good friends. “
“How nice.”
“They are good girls. Tamarisk, say goodbye to your mother … and you, girls.”