Love in Disguise Part 5

The Godericks had not yet arrived and it was Leggat who told her they usually drove down with Mr. Allen in his Rolls.

'There's talk of Mr. Goderick merging his business with Mr. Allen,' he added, 'and they've certainly been spending a lot of time together in the last few months.'

There were many questions Anthea would have liked to ask, but she had made a vow not to show any curiosity over her employer's behaviour, and she quickly changed the subject. However, it didn't stop her from remaining within earshot as his car glided to a stop in the drive at six-thirty that evening.

The other guests were in the drawing-room and she stood in the well of the stairs, ready to assign the Godericks to their respective suite.

Jasper Goderick came in first, a wizened man of indeterminate age with a wrinkled brown face and sparse hair. He had bright brown eyes that darted curiously around like a bird's, and a birdlike way of walking: quick jerky steps. But his voice was deep and booming, as if he had a built-in microphone in his throat.

Expecting his wife to be his contemporary, her appearance was a shock, for she was considerably younger and extremely beautiful: so beautiful that she took Anthea's breath away. Short black hair-as black as Mark Allen's own-curled riotously around her head, wisping on her forehead and over her shell-like ears. She had a small, full mouth, a delicate, straight nose and huge blue eyes. She looked as French as her christian name implied, though she was much taller than Frenchwomen normally were, and walked with an easy loping grace which wasn't French at all. A sensuously beautiful woman who also looked as though she enjoyed the outdoor life, Anthea thought with an inward frown. It seemed as if Claudine Goderick had everything. Not quite everything, Anthea amended as she saw the look that flashed on the girl's face as her husband's hand clutched possessively at her arm.

'Would you like to go upstairs?' Mark Allen was asking his guests. 'Or do you want to come in and meet the Frankenheims first? My aunt you already know.'

'I'd like to meet the Frankenheims.' Jasper spoke before his wife could do so. 'That's the whole purpose of the weekend, isn't it?'

'You know it is,' Claudine said, only just managing to rob her words of sarcasm.

Her husband tilted his head and looked at her. She was several inches taller than he was but made no concession to this, for her heels were as high as fashion allowed. Lovely legs too, Anthea noted, and wished she could find something about Claudine that wasn't eye-catching.

'I think I'll go to my room anyway,' Claudine said, and glanced at the black-clad figure standing by the stairs.

'My new housekeeper,' Mark Allen said, intercepting her glance and moving over with Claudine as she approached Anthea. 'Good evening, Miss Wilmot. Is everything all right?'

'Yes, thank you, Mr. Allen.'

Holding herself stiffly, Anthea led the way up the stairs. Mrs. Goderick obviously knew which room she had, for she walked directly to it as they reached the corridor.

'So Mrs. Goodbody has finally left?' she remarked.

'Only because her daughter needed her.'

'How boring to be a housekeeper all your life.' Blue eyes glanced curiously at Anthea. 'Are you Austrian, Miss Wilmot?'

'No,' Anthea said in surprise. 'Why do you ask?'

'You look it. I suppose it's because of your plaits and dirndl dress.'

Anthea tugged at her bunchy skirt and hid a smile. 'I wear what's practical, Mrs. Goderick. I have no time for fashion.'

'How wise of you. Life is so much easier if you don't.' She glanced at two large pigskin cases which Elsie, the maid, was at that moment unpacking. 'What has Mr. Allen arranged for the weekend?' she asked casually.

'I don't know,' said Anthea, and remembered just in time to add the word "Madam". 'I believe Mr. Frankenheim will be going riding tomorrow, but----'

'Oh, I always do that when I'm here,' Claudine interrupted. 'I just wondered if anything else had been laid on- apart from Lady Wittle trying to enveigle me into one of her endless bridge games.'

Anthea chuckled, but as she saw the blue eyes widen, she set her lips together and put a forbidding frown on her face.

'Lady Wittle did mention something about bridge,' she said lugubriously, and went to the door. 'If there's anything else you require, Mrs. Goderick, please ask Elsie.'

A casual wave of the hand was her only reply, for the girl was busy examining her face in the dressing-table mirror. 'Run my bath,' she ordered Elsie, 'and then get out my black chiffon.'

Feeling like one of the Ugly Sisters, Anthea went down to the kitchen. It was amusing to play the part of a frump in front of an unsuspecting man but not quite so amusing to maintain the disguise when faced with a beautiful woman of her own age. But age was the only thing she and Claudine Goderick had in common. In every other respect they were worlds apart.

CHAPTER FIVE.

Anxious for nothing to spoil the weekend, Anthea personally supervised everything. She knew she was being unnecessarily fussy but was determined not to give her employer any cause to complain about the way she carried out her duties. It was not so much because she wanted to keep the job for Betsy as a determination not to give him the satisfaction of being able to tell her she was no good, which she suspected he would dearly like to do.

Her disguise might have added tea years to her age, but in his eyes she was still too inexperienced for this job, and occasionally during the weekend she saw him watching her, a curious expression in his eyes as though he found her puzzling but did not know why.

She gave him full marks for perspicacity, realising somewhat wryly that his business success was based on his judgment. It was a good thing he only stayed at Bartham Manor for the weekends. If he were here the whole time she had a nervous suspicion he would quickly see through her.

On Sunday afternoon Mr. and Mrs. Frankenheim left, soon followed by Lady Wittle, who brusquely announced that her nephew did not need her to act as hostess for such good friends as the Godericks.

'It's unnecessary of Mark to bother you at all,' Anthea, who was hovering in the hall, heard Claudine say. 'He knows very well I'd be delighted to act as his hostess.'

'Mark doesn't feel it would be right to impose on another man's wife.'

'He's too old-fashioned,' Claudine retorted.

'You'd do well to remember that, my dear.' There was a glint in Lady Wittle's eye; a glint that was still there as she sought Anthea out in the housekeeper's sitting-room before she finally left.

'You did very well, Miss Wilmot. I thought you'd like to know that my nephew is delighted.'

'It's Monsieur Marcel and Leggat who deserve the credit,' Anthea replied.

'Don't be so modest! You arranged the flowers beautifully, and Mark said it was particularly clever of you to have changed Saturday's menu.'

'I was a bit worried about that,' Anthea admitted. 'But the head gardener's brother came down from Scotland with a fresh salmon and it seemed a shame to put it in the deep freeze. So we put the fillet steaks in there instead!'

'The salmon was superb,' Lady Wittle enthused, 'and the sauce was out of this world.'

'So it should have been. It was made with champagne.'

'Don't tell me Marcel is giving you his secrets?'

'It's my secret, actually,' Anthea grinned. 'I gave him the recipe!'

Lady Wittle registered astonishment. 'Don't tell me cooking is yet another of your virtues?'

'Another?' Anthea smiled.

'I'm sure you have many!' The woman held out her hand. 'Goodbye, Miss Wilmot. I know we'll be meeting again.'

No sooner had she gone when Leggat came in to say the Godericks had also decided to leave.

'Mr. Goderick is another one for early morning meetings,' the butler explained, 'and as his wife doesn't like getting up at the crack of dawn, they're going tonight. Quite put out she was at having to go.'

'Won't they be staying for dinner, then?' Anthea asked, cutting short the gossip, and as Leggat shook his head, she added: 'In that case you can put back the bottles of claret.'

'I've already decanted one.'

'What a waste!'

'Mr. Allen will kill the best part of it,' the butler replied, 'and I'll see there's a glass left for you!'

'Don't corrupt me,' Anthea smiled, and wondered whether Mrs. Goderick would come and say goodbye to her.

But she and her husband left without a word to the staff, though when Leggat came into the sitting-room again he was holding a ten-pound note.

'For all of us,' he said, waving it in the air. 'Mrs. Good- body used to put all the tips in the cash box and divide it at the end of each month.'

'Then I'll do the same,' said Anthea, and locked it away. She had no intention of accepting anything for herself from Mr. Allen's guests, but would put the money aside for Betsy.

'Is Monsieur Marcel leaving for London tonight as well?' she asked.

Leggat nodded and grinned. 'He's packing his knives now! I thought of going into the village myself, once Mr. Allen has had supper.'

'You might as well go now,' said Anthea. 'You've been run off your feet the whole weekend.'

'This weekend is nothing compared with what it sometimes is. I think I'll stay and serve Mr. Allen first.'

'There's no need. It's all cold, so he'll probably help himself. Do go off for a few hours. If Mr. Allen requires anything, I can always see to it.'

Smiling his thanks, the butler went away, and Anthea wandered into the kitchen to say goodbye to the chef. In the short space of a couple of days she and the Frenchman had become firm friends, and she had enjoyed watching him work, learning more from his preparation of a couple of meals than she had learned from watching Chrissy for years.

'If you ever wish to train as a cook,' he said as he left, 'let me know and I will train you myself!'

'I may take you up on that one day,' she grinned, and thought it could well prove more rewarding than trying to teach history to uninterested youngsters.

By the time she returned to her sitting-room she was glad of a chance to sit down and relax. She would take the day off tomorrow and go and see her father. During the months of his illness they had grown very close and she still missed not seeing him every day. It was a closeness which might never be re-established and the knowledge depressed her. He had Maude for companionship now and did not need his daughter. Anthea sighed. Never in a million years would she have imagined her father falling in love with someone like Maude. Love must be blind, she decided, and suddenly saw an image of Claudine and Jasper Goderick. He certainly loved his beautiful wife; it was obvious from the way his eyes followed her everywhere she went; the way his hands reached out to touch her whenever she came near him. But the motive that had prompted Claudine to marry him had not stemmed from a similar emotion. Money seemed the obvious reason. Money to buy the expensive clothes that adorned her body and the magnificent jewellery that clasped her beautiful throat and arms. Yet Mr. Goderick, clever and astute though he was, still loved her.

The sharp buzz of a bell startled Anthea out of her reverie. It was the first time Mr. Allen had rung for her, and sticking a stray hairpin into her plaits she hurried to answer him.

He was in the small dining-room, looking at the laden table with acute dislike.

'The one thing Mrs. Goodbody forgot to tell , you,' he said as she came in, 'is that I hate being fattened up like a calf for Christmas! For heaven's sake, have half that food taken away.'

Quickly Anthea went to do as he said and he gave an exclamation of annoyance.

'Not you, Miss Wilmot. It's Leggat's job. Anyway, why didn't he come when I rang?'

'He's off for the evening.'

'He has no business to go out while I'm still here. Damn it all, he does nothing all week when I'm in town 1'

'It's my fault, sir,' Anthea said quickly. 'He didn't want to go, but I told him he could.' 'He should have known better than to listen to you. He's been with me long enough to know the service I expect.'

The comment was justified though the criticism was not, for Anthea felt she was solely to blame for the butler's absence. But when she tried to say so, Mark Allen cut her short.

'You've already made that point,' he said irritably, and watched as she started to remove some of the food.

'I suppose it will be thrown out,' he continued abrupdy. 'I hate having food wasted.'

'It won't be wasted with all the staff we have,' she assured him, and went to the door with the tray. 'I'll come back for the rest in a moment, sir.'

'No, put it back!' As she stared at him he came over and took the tray from her. 'It's as heavy as lead,' he muttered, and banged it down on the table. 'You have no business lifting this.'

'I wanted to get it out of your way.'

'Are you as scared of me as you sound, Miss Wilmot?' His irritability had vanished and there was amusement in his soft voice.

'There's a difference between being scared of one's employer and wishing to please him,' she said coldly.

'Well, you will please me very much by sitting down and sharing my supper with me.'

Unsure that she had heard him correctly, she remained standing.

'Sit down,' he said testily. 'Or do you want me to hold the chair out for you?'

Scarlet-faced, she collapsed into a chair, and he immediately sat down opposite her.

'Help yourself to some meat, Miss Wilmot. I'm sure you don't need me to sell you the food? You probably prepared it yourself.'

'Monsieur Marcel did it.'

'Good for him,' came the sarcastic rejoinder. 1 was afraid you'd sent him off for a rest too. One day I anticipate coming down here to find everyone off on an extended holiday!'

'Leggat has only gone to the village to collect his wife,' she retorted. 'You make it sound as if he's gone on a world cruise!'

'I'm trying to make you realise that when I pay people to do a job, I expect them here to do it. I've never been accused of turning my servants into slaves-which your care for their wellbeing seems to indicate!'

'Oh no!' Anthea was horrified that her actions had been misjudged. 'It's just that it's such a waste of time for lots of people to hang around waiting on one man.' Colour swept into her face again. 'Oh dear,' she cried, 'now I really have put my foot in it.'

'Both of them,' he replied. 'You wouldn't be a communist, by any chance?'

'Certainly not! I just don't like to see people wasting their time.'

'My staff don't think they waste their time. They believe they have well paid jobs that aren't too difficult. If they didn't like it here, they wouldn't stay.' He helped himself to some cold meat and salad. 'Does your concern for my employees' waste of time extend to yourself?'

'No, sir. I have many things to keep me occupied.'