Love in Disguise Part 3

She had become so accustomed to seeing herself swathed from head to mid-calf in black that it was a pleasure to undress and see her creamy arms and legs. It was a good thing she was not going to be here in the summer, for nothing would have induced her to go around looking like a mourner at a wake when the sun was shining. How typical of Mr. Allen to insist on his housekeeper wearing such a miserable uniform! He seemed a typical old bachelor. It was a pity he hadn't married. A wife might have made him less of a curmudgeon. She tried to envisage the sort of woman who might have married him, but she could only conjure up a picture of Maude. Hastily she put the thought aside, for Maude was her reason for being here.

Yet in an odd sort of way Anthea was enjoying her charade and daily drew more proficient at playing it. Only at night, alone in her room, did she relax from her role and settle in bed with one or other of the books she had borrowed from Mr. Allen's room. They all bore his name on the fly-leaf; a firm signature with a curving "A" and well looped "Ps" unlike the narrow, rigid man she considered him to be.

On Saturday she went home for the day. Mrs. Goodbody was flying to Canada the following weekend and she suggested Anthea might like to have a complete break before commencing her duties.

'It's pointless for us both to be here twiddling our thumbs, and I'm sure you'd like to go and see Miss Evans as well as your parents.'

'I certainly would,' Anthea said warmly, and was so delighted at the prospect of a weekend away, with the chance of putting on her own clothes, that she almost hugged the plump little woman.

Her week's absence from home had further increased her stepmother's friendliness and she greeted Anthea like a long- lost daughter, bombarding her with questions about her work and her employer.

Unwilling to fabricate any more lies about him or the research work she was supposed to be doing, Anthea said he had gone abroad and that she had spent the week procuring the reference books he had asked her to get for him.

'If he's still away next weekend, you must come over again,' Maude said.

'I don't see what his being away has to do with it,' Professor- Wilmot intervened, glancing at his daughter. 'You don't work a seven-day week, do you?'

'Of course not,' Anthea said hastily. 'But Mr. Allen likes to work whenever the mood takes him. And weekends are his best times.'

To forestall further questioning she complimented her stepmother on the lunch: a delicious home-made pate followed by a creamy chicken and mushroom pie and crisply cooked vegetables.

'Maude is an excellent cook,' her father beamed. 'I told you she was.'

'I'd substitute the word fabulous,' Anthea enthused.

'I enjoy cooking,' Maude confessed, 'especially cakes and pastries. If you give me warning next time you're coming home, I'll make you a gateau St. Honore. It's a speciality of mine.'

Deciding that in every person there was a talent waiting to bloom, Anthea went to see Betsy Evans in hospital.

She was making good progress and was delighted to know her job was safe for her. 'At least there's no chance of you wanting to make it a permanent takeover,' she twinkled.

'No indeed,' Anthea grinned. 'But it's come at just the right time for me.'

'Every cloud has a silver lining.'

'I'm sure your cloud has gone for good,' Anthea gave the bony shoulder a gentle squeeze. 'You're looking heaps better after your rest.'

'I think my last job was a bit strenuous,' Betsy admitted.

'You'll find your new one a piece of cake. Honestly, it's money for jam! The house practically runs itself.'

'Emergencies always come when you least expect them,' Betsy replied, and Anthea hid a smile at the gloomy tone.

'Well, I'm helping you to cope with this particular emergency,' she said breezily, 'and once you're at Bartham Manor your worries will be over.'

'I can't thank you for what you're doing for me.'

'It's my pleasure. It's given me a place to stay until I can find a fiat.'

This knowledge was with her when she returned to the Manor late on Sunday afternoon. The front of the house was already in shadow, but as she walked round the side to the servants' entrance-she had learned her lesson and never used the main door-she was unexpectedly warmed by the last rays of the sunset.

She stopped and raised her head to the sky, experiencing a sudden rush of pleasure as she felt the warmth on her face. Though her skin was masked by beige powder it had a glow about it, and the man coming out of the large four-car garage paused to stare at her with a look of mingled surprise and pleasure. With her old-fashioned clothes and unstylish plait, she looked as if she had stepped out of an ancient woodcut.

Hearing footsteps, Anthea turned and saw a tall, dark- haired man watching her. He wore black slacks and a sweater which in no way relieved his taciturn air. Heavy- rimmed glasses added a further look of severity to his appearance as well as masked his expression, though his thin mouth and clenched jaw was indicative of either tension or bad temper. But when he spoke his voice was mild, and she wondered if his air of strain was an integral part of his character.

'Are you looking for someone?' he asked.

'I'm on my way to the house. I work here.'

Narrow dark brows rose. 'As what?'

'The housekeeper. At least I will be once Mrs. Goodbody leaves.'

'You!' This time his surprise was evident. 'Mrs. Good- body said she'd engaged a middle-aged woman. You can't be more than thirty-five.'

She hid her delight that her disguise was so successful. 'I don't see that my age is any business of yours.'

'Mrs. Goodbody must be mad!' He spoke as if he had not heard Anthea's comment. The mildness had gone from his voice and it was as astringent as antiseptic. 'What happened to the other person she engaged?'

'Miss Evans was taken ill and I'm standing in for her. She should be well enough to start in three months.'

'The whole thing's crazy!' He ran a hand through his hair, ruffling the top of it.

It made him look younger and she guessed him to be in his early thirties; the thirty-five he had assumed her to be. He stooped to pick up the wash leather he had dropped at his feet and continued to stare at her in an exasperated fashion.

'Mrs. Goodbody had no business taking you. She should have engaged someone else.'

'I don't see why. I'm perfectly capable of managing this house, and before I leave I'll show Miss Evans exactly what she has to do.' Annoyed that she was explaining herself, Anthea added: 'I still don't see that it's any business of yours.'

'I like to know what's going on.'

'How would you like it if I told you how to keep your cars clean?'

'I beg your pardon?'

'Well, you wouldn't, would you?' she persisted. 'So I suggest you look after your job and leave me to look after mine.'

'I at least know how a car works,' he said sharply.

'And I know how to manage a house!'

'Where did you work before you came here?' he demanded.

'I took care of my father.'

His look of astonishment surprised her until she remembered she was supposed to be thirty-five, and she lowered her head to hide a smile. 'He liked to have me stay at home,' she murmured. 'He's very old-fashioned.' She felt his eyes on her ancient black dress and coat-a bargain she had picked up in a jumble sale yesterday afternoon- and again she bit back a smile. 'It was quite a large house, you see.'

'Large enough to equip you with the knowledge of how to run this one?'

'This place practically runs itself,' she said airily. 'After all, if a pack of servants can't manage to look after one old man, then----'

'He's not so old!' the chauffeur interrupted, and Anthea coloured. What was she thinking of to gossip to this man about their employer?

'You talk as if you know him well,' he went on.

'You know I don't,' she retorted. 'Though when you've done nothing for a fortnight except learn about one man's eccentricities, you feel as if you've known him for years!'

'I don't consider him eccentric,' the chauffeur said.

'Perhaps you've been with him too long to notice any more.'

He pushed his lower lip forward. It was a full and sensual one. 'Why do you call him eccentric?'

Her shoulders straightened. 'I have no wish to gossip with you about Mr. Allen.'

'A highly commendable trait. I hope you'll go on maintaining it.'

'Mrs. Goodbody has already informed me that reporters often come here prying.' Her eyes narrowed, accentuating their sloe shape. 'You aren't a reporter pretending to be a chauffeur, are you?'

For the first time he smiled, showing even white teeth that made her aware of his bronze skin. Even with his black- rimmed glasses he was extremely good-looking, with a sharp, masculine virility that made her notice his height and the unexpected breadth of his shoulders.

'Well?' she said sharply. 'You haven't answered me.'

'I'm not a reporter. You don't need to worry about that.'

With a shrug she moved towards the side entrance. He did not follow her, but as she unlocked the door she glanced over her shoulder and saw him watching her.

Upstairs in her room, unpacking her weekend case, she wondered whether he came down from London every time Mr. Allen did. It seemed logical to assume he did, though if Mr. Allen spent several days in the country he might not want his chauffeur lounging around doing nothing. The thought made her smile. The house was big enough for a regiment to be usefully employed here.

Tweaking her skirt into position, she went in search of Mrs. Goodbody, whom she found sipping the inevitable cup of tea in her sitting-room.

'I didn't expect you back until later,' she smiled. 'But I'm glad you're here. I've got used to your company.'

Anthea acknowledged the compliment with a modest nod. 'I see Mr. Allen is home. When did he arrive?'

'Early this afternoon-and without any warning. It's most unlike him to do a thing like that. But apparently he finished his trip a day earlier than he had expected and flew home without telling anyone. He didn't even telephone from the airport, just drove up without a word.'

'Perhaps he wanted to catch you out eating his caviar and using the best silver!'

In shocked tones Mrs. Goodbody asserted that her employer would never stoop to snooping. 'That's one reason he's so particular about the people he employs,' she concluded. 'Once you have his trust, you're left to get on with the job.'

This didn't go with the fussiness with which Anthea had invested him, but she decided it was wiser to change the subject.

'Does the chauffeur always come down with him?'

'Sometimes Mr. Allen likes to drive himself. He says it relaxes him. But you don't have to worry about Mr. Herbert. He has his quarters above the garage and he rarely comes to the house. If he's here for any length of time his wife comes from London with him.'

Anthea was dismayed at her disappointment. 1 didn't know he was married.'

'Has been for five years. Very pretty she is, too.' Mrs. Goodbody glanced at the clock on the mantelshelf. 'Which reminds me, I want to introduce you to Mr. Allen. He'll be going up to London first thing in the morning and I'll have left by the time he comes down next weekend.'

The thought of being in sole charge of the Manor suddenly assumed gigantic proportions, and Anthea wondered what she had let herself in for. But to think this way was playing into Mr. Herbert's hands. She pulled a face. What an unromantic name for such a good-looking man I 'Come along,' said Mrs. Goodbody. 'IH take you to Mr. Allen before dinner. He's usually in a good mood then.'

'Wouldn't he be in a better one after he's eaten?'

'He likes to listen to music afterwards and he hates being disturbed.'

'Bach and Purcell,' Anthea murmured as she followed the housekeeper into the hall.

'Lots more besides that. He has hundreds of tapes in the library. The; one thing you must never do is to interrupt him when he's listening to them. He really does get cross then.'

'I'll make a note of it.'

Anthea took a small diary from her pocket and scribbled in it. Here she had jotted down all her employer's foibles, and intended to type them out for Miss Evans, together with any additional peculiarities which she discovered for herself. It seemed she was learning more new ones about him every day. Yet Mrs. Goodbody seemed fond of him and spoke of him in an almost maternal way. Perhaps elderly bachelors brought out the mother in her. She looked up and saw that the woman was already opening the library door.

'I'd like to introduce Miss Wilmot to you, sir. She'll be running the house for you until Miss Evans is able to take over.'

Bending to replace a smouldering log on the fire, the tall man in a maroon velvet smoking jacket straightened and, poker in hand, swivelled round to regard Anthea. The light of a standard lamp sharpened the planes of his face, highlighting the shadows beneath the cheekbones and making the eyes behind the glinting lenses even more inscrutable.

'Good evening,' he said in a mild voice, and then looked at Mrs. Goodbody. 'You can leave us, thank you. I'd like to talk to Miss Wilmot alone.'

The housekeeper withdrew and Anthea clasped her hands together and waited.

'Don't look so apprehensive, Miss Wilmot,' he said in a tone as dry as the Sahara. 'I don't make a habit of shooting clay pigeons!'

'That's very kind of you,' she said aloofly, and then added hurriedly: 'Sir.'

He put down the poker and rubbed his fingers on his handkerchief. 'Mind you, I don't usually get mistaken for my chauffeur.'

'You wanted me to think you were,' she said before she could stop herself.

'On the contrary, Miss Wilmot. You assumed it without any need for me to pretend. Mind you, it was an understandable mistake.'

'And you let me go on thinking it.'

'It had its amusing side.'

'Mrs. Goodbody said you never snooped.'

'I beg your pardon?' He was no longer amused and she felt her heart beat faster.

'Well, that's what it seemed to me,' she said defensively.

'I can assure you I wasn't. I have neither the time nor the inclination to-er-snoop, as you call it.'

She knew he was speaking the truth, but her irritation remained, caused more by the knowledge that she had made a fool of herself rather than of his having done so.

'Actually,' he went on, 'I'm curious to know why you assumed I would be in my dotage. Surely my business reputation alone doesn't warrant that description? You do know who I am, of course?'