The Chain of Destiny. Бетти Нилс
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local bus going to Avebury several times a day and she caught it without trouble, arriving at Ramsbourne St Michael with time enough to enquire where Ramsbourne House was and then walk for ten minutes or so to the big gates at the end of a country lane.
The drive was a short one, running in a semicircle between shrubs, and it opened out before a pleasant Regency house, painted white and with wide sash-windows. The drive disappeared round one side, but Suzannah went to the canopied porch and rang the bell.
An elderly maid opened the door and Suzannah said, ‘Perhaps I shouldn’t have come to this door—I’ve come for an appointment about a job…’
The woman smiled and ushered her inside. ‘That’s right, miss, I’ll show you where you can wait.’
She opened a door to one side of the entrance hall and Suzannah went past her into a pleasant room with wide windows overlooking the side of the house. She paused only for a moment, and then sat down in the nearest chair.
She hoped that her surprise hadn’t shown too clearly upon her face; it had been foolish of her to suppose that she would be the only person after the job. She murmured a rather belated good afternoon and took a surreptitious stock of the other occupants of the room. There were four of them, and each of them had the look of a woman who was skilled at her work and knew it. One of them said loudly now, ‘There is no mention of shorthand and typing, but I imagine it will be an absolute must for this kind of job.’ The others agreed and Suzannah’s heart sank into her shoes. Her journey was a waste of time; she could have put her advertisement in the paper three days ago and perhaps by now she would have had some replies; time was running out… She checked her thoughts; fussing wasn’t going to help. She watched the other young women go in one after another until she sat alone, and presently the last one came out and gave her a cursory nod. ‘You can go in.’
So Suzannah knocked on the door at the end of the room and went in. The room was large, opulently furnished in an old-fashioned style and very warm. Two old ladies sat on either side of a bright fire and neither spoke as she crossed the room over the polished wood floor towards them. When she was near enough she wished them a good afternoon in her quiet voice and stood patiently while they took a good look at her.
One of the old ladies took up her letter and read it. ‘Suzannah Lightfoot? A pretty name. What do you know about cataloguing and indexing documents?’
‘Nothing—that is, I have never done it before, but I think it must be largely a matter of common sense and patience. I’m interested in old books and papers, and I know I would very much like the work, but I can’t do shorthand nor can I type.’
The second old lady said thoughtfully. ‘From your references I see that you had a place offered you at Bristol University reading English Literature. You didn’t mention that in your reply to my advertisement.’ And when Suzannah didn’t answer, ‘Modesty is always refreshing. We think that you will be very suitable for the post. The salary we offer is by no means large; indeed, we were left with the impression that it is quite inadequate when it was mentioned to our other applicants. But there is a small flatlet where you may live while you are here.’
‘I have a well-behaved cat,’ said Suzannah.
‘We have no objection to your pet, but perhaps you may object to the salary we offer.’ She mentioned a sum which, while modest, was a good deal more than Suzannah had hoped for.
She said quickly, ‘I’m quite satisfied with that, thank you, Miss Manbrook.’
‘Then we shall expect you—let me see—in four days’time? I think it best if we send the car for you, since you will have luggage and your cat. We have your address, have we not?’ She glanced at the other lady. ‘You agree, Amelia?’ and when that lady nodded, ‘Then you will be good enough to press the bell; you will wish to see the flat.’
The same elderly maid answered it and led Suzannah away, back across the hall down a passage and out of a side door. The small courtyard outside was encircled with outbuildings: a garage with a flat above it, storerooms and what could have been a stable, now empty. At the end of these there was a small door which her companion opened. There was a tiny hall leading to a quite large room with a cooking alcove in one corner and an open door leading to a small bathroom. There were windows back and front and a small Victorian fireplace. It was nicely furnished and carpeted and, although the front window looked out upon the courtyard and the side of the house, the view from the back window was delightful.
‘Oh, how very nice,’ said Suzannah, and beamed at her companion. ‘Would you tell me your name?’
‘Parsons, miss. And you’ve no call to be nervous; there’s the cook’s flat over the garage and the rest of us have got rooms on this side of the house.’
Her rather severe face broke into a smile. ‘I was hoping it would be you, miss—didn’t take a fancy to any of the other young women.’
‘Why, thank you, Parsons. I’m quite sure I’m going to be very happy here. When I come in four days’time will you tell me where to go for meals and at what time?’
‘It’ll be Mr Snow to tell you that, miss—the butler, it’s his day off but he’ll be here when you come.’
‘You’ve been very kind. Now I must go back and pack my things. Miss Manbrook…’
‘Lady Manbrook, Miss.’
‘Oh, I didn’t know. She didn’t mention when I would be fetched.’
‘Mr Snow will let you know.’
‘Oh, good.’ At the door, on the point of leaving, she asked, ‘And the other lady?’
‘That’s Lady Manbrook’s sister, miss, Mrs van Beuck; they’re both widowed.’
‘Thank you, Parsons.’ Suzannah glanced at her watch. ‘I must catch my bus.’ They wished each other goodbye and she went off down the drive and along the lane and found that she would have to wait ten minutes or so for a bus, which gave her the chance to think over her afternoon and dwell on the delights of the little flat.
Her friends in the village were glad when she told them her news. Mrs Coffin gave her an old cat basket for Horace, Dr Warren and his wife gave her a pretty eiderdown, and Miss Smythe presented her with a red geranium in a pot. Suzannah bade them all goodbye, cleaned the lodge ready for its new occupant, packed the last of her possessions and, obedient to Mr Snow’s letter, stood ready and waiting by ten o’clock in the morning, Horace restless but resigned beside her in his basket.
It was a pity there was no one to see her leave, thought Suzannah, for the car which arrived was an elderly, beautifully maintained Daimler. The driver was a short, thick-set man, with grey hair, very smart in his dark grey uniform.
He replied in a friendly way to her good morning and added, ‘Croft’s the name, miss. I’ll just put everything in the boot.’ He eyed Horace, peering at him through the little window of his basket. ‘You’ve got a cat there? He can go on the back seat.’
His wife was housekeeper for Lady Manbrook, he informed Suzannah as they drove; they had been there for twenty-five years and most of the staff had been there almost as long. ‘I hope you like a quiet life, miss,’ he observed, ‘for there’s nothing to do of an evening. Got a telly, have you?’
‘No, I haven’t, but I have got a little radio and I like reading. I’ll be quite happy; I’ve lived in the country for some time and I like it.’
‘Of course, there’s guests from time to time, but mostly it’s just the two ladies.’
She had been a little nervous of meeting Mr Snow, but she need not have been. True, he was very dignified and smiled seldom, but she felt that he approved of her. She was handed the key of her new home, her luggage and Horace were deposited in it and she was requested to present herself in half an hour in the front hall, when she would be taken to Lady Manbrook.
Half an hour wasn’t long in which to get settled in; Horace, set free and allowed to roam round