thought she was an exceptionally attractive governess; but Edwina instantly thought up an excuse that left him with no option but to shrug his shapely masculine shoulders and say, resignedly:
“Oh, well, another time!”
Jervis Errol spoke decisively.
“The nursery quarters are out of bounds to guests ... and at the moment you are a guest at Melincourt,” he reminded his half-brother.
The latter looked wryly amused.
“I’ve just been telling Miss Sands I used to live here,” he explained. “I wanted to show her the ink stains on the schoolroom table for which I was responsible, and which no amount of effort could ever remove.”
“I’m sure Miss Sands has already discovered the ink stains,” the senior Errol remarked crisply, “and the knowledge which she now has that it is you who was responsible for them can hardly be expected to either make or mar her day. If you wish to show anyone anything I think you ought to show Miss Shaw the hole you made in the gunroom panelling when you mistook it for an intruder after a New Year’s Eve dance.”
Edwina gathered that he was anxious to have the room cleared in order that he and Miss Fleming could bury the hatchet and restore friendly relations, and she urged Tina to make for the hall and the main staircase ahead of her; and Jeremy also appeared to comprehend without difficulty what was expected of him, and offered Miss Shaw the choice of seeing the gunroom panelling or going for a brief walk with him before they need change for dinner.
She elected to take the walk with him, and as, despite her elegance and her careful poise, there was something open-air and athletic about her, Edwina decided that she probably enjoyed walking.
Unlike, almost certainly, Marsha Fleming, who would probably look quite horrified if someone suggested a walk to her, and for that very reason stuck to stiletto heels when they were no longer strictly in fashion.
Edwina was not given any directive about the manner in which she and her charge were to comport themselves while the guests remained at Melincourt, but she felt reasonably certain her employer did not expect her to join them at dinner. And as Tina was not in the least anxious to do so without her, Mrs. Blythe agreed to serve them their usual supper upstairs.
But Tina was restless, resentful. She said that for the first time her uncle had not remembered to bring her a present after absenting himself for several days; and as for Miss Fleming ... well, she made no comment at all about her, but from her pursed lips and the hurt look in her eyes Edwina gathered that she was finding it difficult to keep alive the same enthusiasm for her and her arrival that had animated her immature breast the day before.
She went to bed at her normal hour, and she didn’t even seem to expect her uncle to find his way to the nursery quarters and say his usual good-night to her.
Edwina tucked her up, opened her window at the top and drew aside her curtains so that she could see the stars, and then prepared to leave her. But a small hand came out and caught at her arm and sought to cling on to her sleeve.
“You won’t tell my uncle what—what I did to you the other night, will you ? ” she said.
Edwina reminded her that she had given her word that she would not.
Tina looked slightly sceptical.
“Sometimes I give my word but I do things just the same,” she remarked.
“Well, I don’t.”
Tina lay looking up at her in the warm glow that streamed from her bedside lamp.
“You know,” she observed, as if she had been deliberating on the matter for some time, “I think I like you after all. I think I like you very much.”
Edwina cautioned her a little dryly:
“If I were you I wouldn’t ma k e rash statements of that sort just because one of your idols has toppled sideways on her pedestal. Miss Fleming was possibly not feeling quite herself to-day, and that’s why she developed a few prickles. To-morrow—the day after — she’ll be
“Oh, well, another time!”
Jervis Errol spoke decisively.
“The nursery quarters are out of bounds to guests ... and at the moment you are a guest at Melincourt,” he reminded his half-brother.
The latter looked wryly amused.
“I’ve just been telling Miss Sands I used to live here,” he explained. “I wanted to show her the ink stains on the schoolroom table for which I was responsible, and which no amount of effort could ever remove.”
“I’m sure Miss Sands has already discovered the ink stains,” the senior Errol remarked crisply, “and the knowledge which she now has that it is you who was responsible for them can hardly be expected to either make or mar her day. If you wish to show anyone anything I think you ought to show Miss Shaw the hole you made in the gunroom panelling when you mistook it for an intruder after a New Year’s Eve dance.”
Edwina gathered that he was anxious to have the room cleared in order that he and Miss Fleming could bury the hatchet and restore friendly relations, and she urged Tina to make for the hall and the main staircase ahead of her; and Jeremy also appeared to comprehend without difficulty what was expected of him, and offered Miss Shaw the choice of seeing the gunroom panelling or going for a brief walk with him before they need change for dinner.
She elected to take the walk with him, and as, despite her elegance and her careful poise, there was something open-air and athletic about her, Edwina decided that she probably enjoyed walking.
Unlike, almost certainly, Marsha Fleming, who would probably look quite horrified if someone suggested a walk to her, and for that very reason stuck to stiletto heels when they were no longer strictly in fashion.
Edwina was not given any directive about the manner in which she and her charge were to comport themselves while the guests remained at Melincourt, but she felt reasonably certain her employer did not expect her to join them at dinner. And as Tina was not in the least anxious to do so without her, Mrs. Blythe agreed to serve them their usual supper upstairs.
But Tina was restless, resentful. She said that for the first time her uncle had not remembered to bring her a present after absenting himself for several days; and as for Miss Fleming ... well, she made no comment at all about her, but from her pursed lips and the hurt look in her eyes Edwina gathered that she was finding it difficult to keep alive the same enthusiasm for her and her arrival that had animated her immature breast the day before.
She went to bed at her normal hour, and she didn’t even seem to expect her uncle to find his way to the nursery quarters and say his usual good-night to her.
Edwina tucked her up, opened her window at the top and drew aside her curtains so that she could see the stars, and then prepared to leave her. But a small hand came out and caught at her arm and sought to cling on to her sleeve.
“You won’t tell my uncle what—what I did to you the other night, will you ? ” she said.
Edwina reminded her that she had given her word that she would not.
Tina looked slightly sceptical.
“Sometimes I give my word but I do things just the same,” she remarked.
“Well, I don’t.”
Tina lay looking up at her in the warm glow that streamed from her bedside lamp.
“You know,” she observed, as if she had been deliberating on the matter for some time, “I think I like you after all. I think I like you very much.”
Edwina cautioned her a little dryly:
“If I were you I wouldn’t ma k e rash statements of that sort just because one of your idols has toppled sideways on her pedestal. Miss Fleming was possibly not feeling quite herself to-day, and that’s why she developed a few prickles. To-morrow—the day after — she’ll be
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