Mistress of Elvan Hall by Mary Cummins Page B

panelling, I mean.”
    “I’m glad to hear it!”
    She bit her lip at the granite-like expression on his face. How could she talk to him when he was so hard in his anger that his ears were closed to reasons and explanations? Besides, how could she blame it on Mrs. Wyatt, when she had been left in charge?
    “Obviously whatever I say won’t make any difference, Francis,” she said quietly. “You aren’t in the mood to listen to reason.”
    “Beautiful panelling spoilt and you expect me to listen to reason! I left you here in charge as my wife. I thought I could trust you to carry out my wishes because they were your wishes, too, but instead ... instead...”
    He choked on his anger, and she felt waves of sickness pass over her as she tried to keep her wits about her. She couldn’t blame him for his rage. Her own feelings had been almost as intense, though her natural desire to seek for explanations had made her understand, and had tempered her own anger and disappointment. Francis had nothing with which to lessen his.
    “I can only say I stopped the work immediately I found out, and the men are going to clean off what has already been done.”
    “They will not lay a finger on it!” shouted Francis. “They could cause as much ruin undoing their charming handiwork as they’ve caused in the first place. No, I shall have someone who knows something about it here as soon as possible. It will probably cost me a fortune!”
    Her legs were trembling, and he pushed forward a chair, saying rather more gently: “Sit down, Anne. And Caroline Cook? Why is she here?”
    “To mend the tapestries and chair-covers, of course. All the old embroidered items such as pictures, panels, bedspreads. Didn’t you know she had qualified in embroidery at university, and she’s about to do a post-graduate course?”
    He nodded. “Of course I knew. If I’d wanted Caroline to do work, I’d have asked her myself.”
    “Then why didn’t you?” she asked, slow anger beginning to burn. He had been away for several weeks, but instead of being pleased to see her, he was giving her nothing but censure. Maybe she hadn’t got his love, but she was his wife and surely entitled to some sort of affection. Instead, all he could do was criticise, without even trying to find out how far responsible she was for these mistakes.
    “Why... ?”
    “Didn’t you? You must have known this work had to be done. It seems eminently sensible to me to ask this girl to do this work, when she lives nearby and is a friend of Helen’s. I’ve seen samples of her work, and she’s well qualified to do it. Surely it’s perfectly natural for me to ask her, and I’m at a loss to understand your anger.”
    “You know nothing about it,” he told her, his eyes flashing.
    “Obviously. Do you want to tell me or shall I guess? Can it be that you’re in love with her? Can it be that you regret not having her here permanently, instead of me?”
    She stood up and faced him, her chin high and her eyes flashing as angrily as his own. For a long moment their eyes met, and she saw him struggling with some sort of strong emotion as he gripped her hands, then pulled her into his arms and kissed her fiercely, almost bruising her in his arms.
    “There! Is that how I should welcome you?” he asked.. “Is that better?”
    Again Anne felt a wave of sickness pass over her as she fought against the threatening tears.
    “No, Francis,” she said quietly. “No, that isn’t the welcome I expected. I shall instruct Mrs. Hansett to prepare something for you if you need a meal, then ... then I shall unpack for you. I’ll see that Caroline leaves in the morning.”
    “Oh, don’t trouble,” he told her wearily. “It doesn’t matter now, anyway. She can stay and finish the job. You undertook to engage her, so we’ll both honour that contract. As for a meal, I need none. I have work to do here at the desk.”
    “Very well. I’ll leave you to get on with it. Perhaps we can