Free The House at Bell Orchard by Sylvia Thorpe

dead, rested with her alone. Her present situation offered no encouragement to such thoughts, and she began to sense a devious purpose behind the suggestion that she should visit Bell Orchard. She felt herself isolated there, cut off from the few friends she had. She had written to Mrs. Brownhill soon after her arrival in Sussex, but had received no reply; now it was plain that Lavinia was averse to her striking up a friendship with the Wychwoods, and that knowledge fostered in Charmian a desperate determination to pursue the acquaintance at all costs. She was growing increasingly certain that danger of some kind lurked at Bell Orchard, and she must have friends to turn to in case of need.
    The day chosen for their visit to Wychwood Chase was warm and bright, thus depriving Lavinia of any excuse not to go, and this put her into an ill-humour at the outset. She complained incessantly as they drove along the dusty road, past farm and cottage and into Wychwood End. Crossing the old stone bridge that here spanned the sleepy river, they left the village behind them and presently passed into the shade of the woods. Here the road began its gradual ascent of the hill, and soon they were passing the scene of the accident and entering the avenue of chestnut trees. Charmian’s thoughts went back to the last time she had seen this place, and she found herself wondering whether Sir Piers would be at home that day. Apparently Lavinia’s thoughts had been led along similar lines, for she remarked peevishly:
    “Heaven grant we are spared young Wychwood’s company this afternoon, for though I can occasionally tolerate his mother and sister, him I find unendurable at any time! I do not know why I allowed myself to be persuaded into this visit at all!”
    “Why do you dislike him so?” Charmian asked curiously. “I thought he was most kind.”
    “Kind?” Lavinia gave a short, angry laugh. “What kindness is to be found in that sort of patronizing civility? The trouble with Sir Piers, my dear Charmian, is that he can never forget for an instant that he is Wychwood of Wychwood, the great man of these parts. He fancies that gives him the right to ride rough-shod over everyone, and has the impertinence to look down upon any who do not conform to his narrow, countrified standards of behaviour. Oh, I detest the man, and there’s an end to it!”
    Charmian said no more, but she thought she now had the answer to the puzzle of Mrs. Fenshawe’s dislike of Sir Piers. It had its roots in jealousy and resentment. The Wychwoods were undoubtedly the most important local family, and that was galling to anyone who, like Lavinia, must always hold the centre of the stage. Even more galling must be Sir Piers’ very evident lack of interest in her as a woman. In London she was always surrounded by admirers; she thrived on masculine admiration, and it must be infuriating that the only personable young man within reach, outside her own family, should remain unmoved by her charms.
    When they reached the house and were conducted to the drawing-room, they found only Lady Wychwood and her daughter awaiting them. Mrs. Fenshawe was clearly relieved, but Charmian, responding to her ladyship’s warm welcome and Dorothy’s eager greeting, was conscious of a feeling of disappointment. She overcame it, and forced herself to take part in the somewhat stilted flow of conversation, but Dorothy soon began to show signs of restlessness. Presently, when Charmian commented politely upon the exceptionally fine views afforded by the elevated position of the house, she jumped to her feet and said impetuously:
    “Yes, but they are much finer from the terraces! Come outside with me, Miss Tarrant, and I will show you.” Charmian accepted this invitation eagerly, paying no heed to Lavinia’s look of disapproval, and followed Dorothy out into the sunshine. There were three terraces upon either side of the house, and Dorothy, choosing those which looked towards the coast, led