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she said quietly, although she was seething with rage inside. ‘The difficulties between you and your father have nothing whatever to do with me. I’m here to help Melanie and to teach her what I can, and this I shall do to the best of my ability as long as I am required here.’ She went out, not waiting for him to reply, closing the door carefully behind her. At least now she knew exactly where she stood 'with Richard Duncan. Not only was she in the lowly position of being a governess to his child, but an unwelcome one at that. Could there be anything more degrading?
    Back in her room she undressed, climbed into the four-poster bed and on her first night under the roof of Kilfinan House cried herself to sleep.
     

CHAPTER FIVE
    The next morning Rachel woke early. The day was fine and the trees, saturated after the previous night’s rain, seemed to drip diamonds in the bright sunlight. She got up and dressed herself in a blue gingham dress and went to rouse Melanie. The little girl was already awake and out of bed sitting on the window seat and staring out of the window.
    ‘Time to get dressed, Melanie,' Rachel greeted her. Melanie responded by turning her head and gazing at Rachel. Then she studied her shorts and T-shirt, neatly folded on the chair by her bed.
    ‘Come along, now. We haven’t all day to waste,' Rachel spoke kindly but firmly.
    Melanie slid from her perch and went to the chest of drawers beside her bed, where she rummaged for a few moments before selecting a dress of identical gingham to Rachel’s.
    ‘That’s nice,' Rachel commented. ‘It’s just like mine.'
    A pleased expression crossed Melanie’s face—it could hardly be called a smile—and she smoothed the dress carefully as she put it on.
    They spent the morning at the playroom table, where Rachel tried to assess the little girl’s capabilities. She had decided that mornings should be set aside for ‘school’ at first, gradually increasing the time as Melanie progressed. It was hard work. Melanie refused to draw, refused even to hold a pencil, and at last Rachel resorted to a bag of old building bricks she found in a cupboard, counting them into piles and labelling them with the appropriate numbers. By the end of the morning she was more exhausted than she would have thought possible and depressed because she had failed to make any headway at all. It was like trying to teach a brick wall, she reflected, packing the building bricks back into their bag while Melanie looked on, not even offering to hold the bag open for her.
    Before going in to lunch Rachel slipped outside for a breath of fresh air. Ben was just on his way back to the barn.
    ‘It’s my afternoon off today,' he said. ‘And a lovely day at that. Would you and Melanie like to come with me for a picnic at Eilean Dorcha?’
    Rachel frowned, puzzled. ‘Eilean Dorcha?’ she repeated.
    ‘The little island by the lighthouse that I showed you the other day. Don’t you remember?’
    ‘Oh, yes. But I didn’t know that was what it was called. At least, if you told me I’d forgotten.’ Rachel smiled. ‘I’d love to go there for a picnic.’
    ‘Good. I'll see you about two o’clock, then.’
    After lunch Rachel packed a picnic, changed into jeans and a check shirt and made sure Melanie did the same. She was just stowing the picnic in the Mini when Ben arrived and they set off.
    It was a glorious day. The sun was brilliant and there was not a cloud to be seen. The mountains all around stood green and brown, sharply contoured against the bright blue sky. Here and there a waterfall on the mountainside glistened in the brightness, for all the world like a giant snail tracking down the mountainside.
    Rachel drove, at Ben’s insistence, and he sat beside her, with Melanie bouncing in the back, excited to be going out with her beloved Ben. They drove straight through Ardenbeg and took the road to Dunglevin, Ben telling her that the road to the lighthouse would branch off this road