Rachel Lindsay - Love in Disguise Read online

  She sighed and pushed back the heavy strands of hair that fell across her forehead. It was a graceful gesture, though she was unaware of it. 'I don't need an allowance from my father. He has already been more than generous to me.'

  'He's an extremely generous man,' Maude said graciously. 'I'm glad you're not the kind of girl to take advantage of him.'

  'I hope you will be the same kind of wife.'

  Maude's face went a mottled red. 'Are you being rude to me, Anthea?'

  'No more rude than you were being to me. But you like to speak your mind and I'm doing the same. I want you to know I have no intention of being a burden on my father, I'm twenty-one and capable of looking after myself. I would have had my degree already if I hadn't lost a year by leaving university to look after him.'

  'You've been a wonderful daughter,' Maude said hastily. 'I'm not trying to push you out, but '

  'But is the operative word,' Anthea smiled, her temper evaporating. 'Don't worry, Maude, you'll soon be left in sole charge.'

  'You have a strange way of putting things.'

  'I see things differently from you.'

  'Ah yes, the generation gap!'

  Pleased that she had found a satisfactory explanation for the friction, Maude sailed out, leaving Anthea uncertain as to who had won the victory.

  Disconsolately she went into the kitchen to fill a thermos flask of coffee. Since her father's marriage she had got into the habit of taking it up with her to her room and remaining there for most of the evening. Maude was right up to a point. She wasn't going out enough. But all the friends she had made at university had now left, degrees achieved, while the ones with whom she had grown up had, for the most part, elected to go to universities in other towns in order to move away from their parents. She had been the only one who had wanted to stay at home, preferring the proximity of her father's company to the ephemeral freedom which living in lodgings would have given her. In this respect her decision had not been wise, and it would be as well to rectify it as soon as she could.

  'You look full of dismal thoughts,' Chrissy said, putting away the last of the dishes.

  'I'm wondering what job I can get until October.'

  'I thought you were helping your father with his book?'

  'I've done most of the research necessary. All he needs now is a secretary.'

  'Then give yourself a holiday. You deserve one.'

  'I don't need a holiday. I need a job. I have to be self- supporting, Chrissy. I can't go on sponging on my father.'

  Chrissy opened her mouth to reply, but thought better of it. 'You aren't trained for anything yet,' she muttered.

  'Only helping around the house,' Anthea grinned, picking up a tea-cloth to dry some dishes on the draining board.

  'That would be one way of getting my board and keep. Do you fancy me as a housekeeper to some dear old man?'

  'If I were a dear old man I'd fancy you very much,' Chrissy grunted. 'But you'd be more likely to end up working for some dear old woman who'd have you at her beck and call night and day.'

  'I'm sure I could find something fairly decent,' Anthea glanced curiously at Chrissy. 'How have you felt about working here all these years? I shouldn't think it's much fun to take care of somebody else's home all your life.'

  'It's better than not having a home at all.' Chrissy clattered the cutlery back into the drawer. 'I was never the type to attract a man and I must confess it never worried me very much either. It might have done if I hadn't been happy here, but I've enjoyed every minute of my time with your mother and the Professor. I'm not sure how I feel now,' she said darkly. 'I'll have to wait and see.'

  She took off her apron and hung it on a hook on the door. Visible in a brown flowered dress, she looked more homely and older, her brisk efficiency removed with the white overall.

  'I'm popping out to see my friend Betsy Evans,' she added. 'I've already taken the Professor his coffee.'

  Anthea glanced at her watch. 'It's nine o'clock. Isn't it late for you to go gallivanting?'

  'It is—and I'm tired too—but I promised Betsy I'd look in for a chat.'

  'Let me drive you,' Anthea volunteered.

  'It won't take me long on a bus.'

  'It will take you even less by car! Father hasn't put it in the garage yet, so it's no trouble.'

  Pleased by the offer, Chrissy accepted. There was not much traffic on the road and they made good time as they skirted the grey stone colleges to reach the council estate that bordered the east side of the town.

  'If you can give me an idea how long you'll be,' Anthea said, drawing the car to a stop outside a white-painted gate, 'I'll pop off somewhere for a coffee and come back for you.'

  'Why not come in?' Chrissy suggested. 'Betsy would love to see you.'

  Anthea smiled and complied. She had known Betsy almost as long as she had known Chrissy, and as a child had enjoyed her visits to this house where she had always been given home-made orangeade and delicious cakes. Betsy had been taking care of her mother then, and selling the vegetables from the large garden at the back of the cottage. But on her mother's death she had taken a job as housekeeper in London. A couple of months ago her employer had died and she had returned to the cottage while looking around for other employment.

  Anthea had not seen Betsy for a year and was dismayed by the way she had aged. But she was as agile as ever as she bustled between table and refrigerator, getting out the famous orangeade as she told them of the new post she had just obtained.

  'It's with Mr. Allen,' she said, her tone indicating that she expected them to know who he was.

  'Is he famous?' Anthea asked.

  'He's the financier. I'd have thought you would have heard of him. It's Mark Allen Securities.'

  Anthea's brow cleared. She had indeed heard of him. His wizardry with money had reputedly made him one of the wealthiest men in the country.

  'It sounds an important job,' Chrissy said. 'Do you think you'll be able to cope?'

  'It will be the easiest job I've ever had. More like that of an overseer than a housekeeper. He has a big staff and he employs someone to make sure he always has them! It's my job to see he has no domestic worries. If anyone leaves I have to step in and do their job until I find someone to replace them.'

  "The duties of a wife without the pleasures,' Anthea grinned.

  'Or the problems,' Betsy chuckled.

  'When are you starting with Mr. Allen?' Chrissy asked.

  'Next Monday. Not in his London house, though, in his country one near Maidenhead. Bartham Manor it's called.'

  'What happened to the woman you're replacing?' Anthea asked.

  'She's going to Canada. Her daughter emigrated there a few years ago and is now expecting twins. So Mrs. Good- body feels obliged to go out and help her. She'd never be leaving Mr. Allen otherwise. She'll be staying another fortnight—to show me all my duties—and then she'll be off.'

  'I shouldn't think anyone would need to show you what to do,' Anthea smiled. 'You're as capable as Chrissy.'

  'Mr. Allen likes things done in a particular way. When Mrs. Goodbody came to him years ago he made her promise that if she left she'd always train the next housekeeper first. I've had to make the same promise too. The one thing he can't abide is to have his routine upset; everything has to be just so.'

  'He's lucky if he can get it,' Anthea replied. 'Still, with all his money I suppose it isn't difficult.'

  'He works hard enough to deserve his comforts,' Betsy said, and gave a husky cough and a gasp. 'My chest,' she explained, seeing their startled looks. 'It's been very painful lately.'

  'You should have a check-up,' said Chrissy.

  'I will once I've settled in at the Manor. But Mrs. Goodbody has been looking for the right person for months and I don't want to let her down. Very particular she was about choosing someone to take her place.'

  Driving away from the cottage a little later, Anthea remarked on Betsy's appearance and found that Chrissy had also been disturbed b
y it. Unaccountably they both felt uneasy, and this feeling persisted even when they reached home.

  The ringing of the telephone as they entered the hall made Chrissy pause at the kitchen door as Anthea spoke into the receiver, and it only needed Anthea's frightened look to bring her hurrying forward.

  'It's Betsy, isn't it?'

  Anthea nodded. 'She collapsed soon after we left. She managed to bang on the dividing wall to attract her neighbour and they called an ambulance.'

  'Where has she been taken?'

  'The County Hospital. I'll take you there.'

  Once again Anthea and Chrissy set off in the car. It was strange that she had chosen tonight of all nights to go with the housekeeper to see her friend. Had she not done so she would not have been involved in this latest drama.

  'It's a coronary,' the young house doctor informed them, when they arrived and sought him out. 'Luckily it's a slight one, but she'll have to stay in bed for three weeks and then convalesce for another six.'

  'What about her job?' Chrissy asked. 'She's going to a new one on Monday.'

  'Not this Monday.' The young doctor was positive. 'She shouldn't start work for at least three months.'

  'I thought you said it was only a slight attack?' Anthea queried.

  'So it is. But the longer she rests, the better. Will you be able to inform her employers?'

  'Certainly. But we'd like to see Miss Evans if we may.'

  The doctor nodded and escorted them to a ward on the first floor. At the far end a bed had been screened off, and here they found Betsy propped up by pillows, a nurse at her side.

  'You shouldn't have bothered to come,' she whispered. 'I feel fine.'

  'Don't talk,' the doctor said cheerfully. 'Your friends can only stay a minute.'

  'I just wanted to tell you not to worry about your job,' Anthea said quickly. 'I'll telephone Mrs. Goodbody myself and tell her what's happened.'

  'She won't be able to wait for me.' Betsy looked unaccountably distressed and Anthea sought for a way of reassuring her.

  'I'm sure you'll find another job that's just as good.'

  'No, I won't. It's such a beautiful house, and I would have had my own kitchen garden too.'

  The thought of Betsy not being able to grow the vegetables she loved so dearly moved Anthea to tears. 'I'll go and see Mrs. Goodbody myself. If I explain that———-'

  'It won't help. She's booked to go to Canada and she can't change the date. The twins are due in a month.'

  'I'm sure she won't leave Mr. Allen in the lurch. You said yourself she promised not to do so.'

  'She won't need to leave him in the lurch. There were lots of other applicants. She took me because we got on so well together.'

  'You mustn't worry about it,' Anthea reiterated. 'I'll go and see her first thing in the morning and come back and let you know the news.'

  'It won't be good news.'

  'Yes, it will,' Anthea promised, 'because I intend to stand in for you until you're well again.'

  Betsy and Chrissy gaped at her and Chrissy recovered her composure first.

  'Don't be silly, Miss Anthea. You can't do a thing like that!'

  'Why not? I've learned all about housekeeping from you, so I couldn't have had a better teacher!’

  'What will your father say?'

  'He won't know. In any case, why should he object? You know I've been looking for somewhere to live and this will get me out of the house at once. While I'm looking after Mr. Allen I'll have a chance to find a flat. It's an ideal solution. Mrs. Goodbody can tell me all the things she wants Betsy to know and I'll be able to pass them on.'

  'Oh dear,' Betsy gulped. 'You're ever so good. I don't know what to say.'

  'Say nothing,' Anthea said firmly. 'My mind is made up.'

  CHAPTER THREE

  Bartham Manor was, in the terms of any estate agent, a gentleman's residence. It was set in rolling countryside, bordered on the west by a river and on its other three sides by arable farms.

  Anthea had made an appointment to see Mrs. Goodbody, and parking her car in the wide sweeping drive, was at once overwhelmed by the beauty of the house. It had a charm that came from the elegant proportions of its facade, and this was further enhanced by the beautifully kept flowerbeds and sweep of emerald lawn that lay around it like a lush carpet.

  Immediately she envisaged Mrs. Goodbody as a black- robed chatelaine carrying a massive bunch of keys at her waist, and knew a momentary trepidation as she rang the bell.

  A middle-aged butler opened the door and led her across a panelled hall and through another door into a smaller hall. Here stood the housekeeper. True, there was a bunch of keys at her waist, but in every other respect she was a replica of Betsy Evans.

  'You should have come to the staff entrance,' the woman said as she motioned Anthea into a small, well-furnished sitting-room. 'Luckily Mr. Allen is abroad, so no harm has been done.'

  Anthea failed to see what harm could have been done if Mr. Allen had not been abroad, but she knew better than to say this.

  'Now then, Miss Wilmot,' the woman went on, settling herself in an easy chair and indicating her visitor to do the same. 'What's this about Miss Evans being ill?'

  Quickly Anthea explained the situation and offered her own services until Betsy had recovered.

  'I could never take you in place of Miss Evans,' came the shocked response. 'You're far too young to have had any experience.'

  'I've kept house for my father for several years,' Anthea said firmly, 'and we've always done a great deal of entertaining. He's a Professor at the university.'

  'Why do you want a job like this?'

  'Because he has recently remarried and I want to move out. I need somewhere to stay until October and if I can work here for the next few months it would be ideal. You can show me everything that has to be done and then I'll be able to show Betsy.'

  'It's out of the question. You aren't old enough to take charge of all the servants.'

  'Are there so many?' Anthea asked faintly.

  'The butler and his wife—she's the cook when Mr. Allen is here on his own, though he brings his French chef from London when he does any special entertaining. Then there's a kitchenmaid, a pantry boy and four other indoor staff, as well as four who work outdoors. I really don't feel you could cope, Miss Wilmot. I appreciate you want to keep the job open for Miss Evans, but '

  'Give me a try,' Anthea pleaded. 'You wouldn't need to pay me. I'd be happy to accept my board and keep.'

  'Mr. Allen would never approve of that. If you come here it would have to be on a proper basis.'

  'I'm sure I can manage the staff. After all, it's only a question of getting on with people. And if one can do so with two or three, one can do it with twenty!'

  'It isn't as easy as that. Everyone here has their own duties and they guard their responsibilities carefully. You need to be a diplomat sometimes to keep the peace.'

  'At least give me a trial for a week,' Anthea reiterated, 'It will take you as long as that to arrange for one of the other housekeepers to come.'

  'If any of them are still free,' Mrs. Goodbody replied, and eyed Anthea carefully.

  Anticipating that everything would depend on the impression she made, Anthea had chosen the most sober clothes she possessed, and had covered her glossy hair with a hat she had unearthed from Chrissy's cupboard.

  'Well,' Mrs. Goodbody sighed, staring at her resignedly, 'if I'm to get to Canada on the day I said, I have no choice but to take you. But it's only until Miss Evans can come here herself. I hope that's clearly understood?'

  'Certainly.' Anthea hid her elation. 'When do you want me to start?'

  'On Monday—the same as I arranged with Miss Evans.' Mrs. Goodbody stood up. 'Would you like a cup of tea?'

  Seeing the offer as a further gesture of acceptance, Anthea nodded and watched as the housekeeper made a pot of China tea and cut several liberal slices from a delicious- looking fruit cake.

  'All the food is cooked here
,' the woman said as Anthea took a bite and murmured appreciatively. 'Mr. Allen won't have ready-cooked food under any circumstances. The vegetables and dairy produce come from his own farm— and the meat too.'

  'Grouse from his own moors, no doubt,' Anthea added.

  'Yes indeed. And fish from his own river.'

  Hiding a smile, Anthea sipped her tea.

  'You will wear black, of course,' the housekeeper continued. 'Never any other colour. A black dress with long sleeves.'

  'Long sleeves?'

  'It gives you more authority. And being young as well…'

  'Of course,' Anthea said hastily, and made a mental note to go into town that afternoon and buy something suitable.

  Being a housekeeper here—even on a temporary basis— would require several additions to her wardrobe. It was money she could ill afford to spend, for she was anxious to save as much as she could while she was here. She sighed. Her father's new life had certainly put a strain on her own.

  'Mr. Allen gives his staff a generous allowance for clothes.' Mrs. Goodbody stood up to indicate that the meeting was over. 'But as you will only be here for a couple of months you should be able to manage with two dresses.'

  'I don't want to touch the allowance,' said Anthea. 'That belongs to Betsy.'

  'I'm sure she won't mind you using some of it. After all, your coming here is keeping the job open for her!'

  The housekeeper led Anthea along the servants' hall to a side door. It opened on to a courtyard and through a stone archway she glimpsed part of the main drive.

  'Go through the arch and turn right,' Mrs. Goodbody told her. 'It will take you back to the road.'

  Demurely Anthea did as she was told, but as soon as the housekeeper had disappeared through the side door she retraced her steps towards the front of the house where she had parked her car. She must learn to behave more circumspectly in future, she thought as she climbed in and drove away. In Mrs. Goodbody's mind, black-garbed house- j keepers did not drive scarlet Minis.

  That night at dinner Anthea told her father she had found herself a job and would be moving the following Monday.