The House of the Laird (5 page)

“
He could,
”
Iain agreed,
“
but he would probably think it strange to be requested to do that when I
’
ve already told him you
’
re my
fiancée
, and Craigie has any number of empty bedrooms!
”

After that he was almost shocked by the sudden whiteness of her face, the bewildered look in her eyes, and he paused and bent over her and put his hand on her shoulder for a moment.

“
Look,
”
he said gently,
“
you don
’
t have to make any decision about this today. But have you told Mrs. Burns anything at all about yourself?
”

“
Only that I expected to stay with Nannie McBain.
”

“
Well, that
’
s perfectly all right. She knows Nannie McBain, and you would probably have preferred to stay with her. Mrs. Burns will understand that. It
’
s perfectly natural.
”

“
But you
must
n
’t
even think about leaving your own home just because of me! It would be dreadful
if you had to do that
—”
with an appalled quiver
in her voice.

“
Don
’
t worry about that.
”
He patted her shoulder lightly, and Karen was amazed at
the sudden softening of his face, the compassion in the grey eyes.
“
I
’
m
not
proposing to leave it today, anyway, and the important thing at the moment is to get you back
to bed. I
’
m going to call Mrs. Bu
rn
s, and tomorrow, if you feel like it, we
’
ll have another talk. But in the meantime don
’
t worry about anything.
”

Before the next day dawned, however, the cold brilliance of the weather had passed, and by evening there were leaden skies and a bleak north wind was blowing. Before Karen opened her eyes in the morning the soft, feathery flakes were fluttering down, and by the time she was sitting up in bed with a breakfast tray resting comfortably on her lap it was a white world outside. It was also a grey and ominous world, with the howling of the blizzard making a constant noise in her chimney. And when the wind dropped the snow simply continued to fall until every sound outside the windows was muffled by it.

Mrs. Bu
rn
was almost triumphant when she drew back Karen
’
s curtains and let her see what was happening, and had happened, outside.

“
I told you, didn
’
t I?
”
she said.
“
And I
’
m never wrong! The snow
’
s late this year, but it means business unless I
’
m no a weather prophet at all!
”

Karen, from amidst her piled-up, lace-trimmed, feather pillows, gazed fascinatedly out the whirlwind of drifting white particles, and hardly knew whether to be concerned by what she saw or not.
If this weather continued there was certainly no hope of her getting away from Craigie—there was no hope of anyone
’
s getting away from Craigie!— and the situation inside the house would be extremely odd. She and her host would be pinned here together for weeks perhaps, and Mrs. Burns and the household staff already believed that they were contemplating marrying one another!

What an altogether absurd thought, Karen decided but she toyed with it for a moment as if it fascinated her. Two people who had not even known of one another
’
s existence a week ago talking of becoming
husband
an
d wife, and pretending to
be engaged for the sake of satisfying the proprieties.

But evidently Iain Mackenzie had firmly made up his mind that the proprieties would have to be satisfied—and he had done that before there had been any danger of being snowed up! How would he feel about the necessity for such a pretence after they had been cooped
up
together for weeks?

CHAPTER FIVE

It was once more a m
orning when the sky was blue and the sun shone, but the atmosphere was no longer freezingly cold, and there was even,
a
certain softness—like
a
far-away breath of spring—in the air.

Most of the snow had vanished, save where the drifts had been tremendously deep, and where it still clung to the roofs of outhouses and stable buildings, and lay powdered and unbroken in the deep shade of the woods. But the roads were free and open once more, and Craigie House was no longer an entity entirely separate and cut off from the village of Craigie.

In the drawing-room of Craigie House Karen watched from the window a robin adventuring along the window sill outside, and she was certain the starry cluster of aconites in the bed outside the window had not been lifting up their faces to the friendly kiss of the sunshine the day before. There were some snowdrops in a vase near to her, too, which gave off a delicate fragrance, and these had been brought in from the shrubbery by Mrs. Burns, who had declared that they were actually forcing their way through what remained of the snow.

Karen lifted the window and scattered a few crumbs on the ledge for the robin, who had the courage to remain where he was and not to fly off while operation was in progress, and then as she
cl
osed the window again she heard the door behind her open.

It was her host who had come into the room, and as always he seemed to bring a breath of the out-of
-
doors with him. Karen, as she turned back to the fire and met his eyes, had the feeling she so often had nowadays, and against which she was beginning to rebel, that she had become a kind of hot-house plant ridiculously guarded against the rigors of the outer air, and as she met those cool, alert eyes of Iain Mackenzie
’
s, and saw the healthy glow which exercise had brought to his bronzed skin, a faint feeling of envy stirred in her, and the rebellion grew.

He had been walking down beside the lake, which he said was now free from ice, and he went to a cabinet, brought out a decanter and glasses and poured her a glass of sherry which he handed to her.

“
Your very good health!
”
he said, a trifle mockingly she thought, as he raised his own glass.
“
If this weather continues you should be able to put your nose out of doors before very long, and then no doubt we shall see you begin to look positively robust. At the moment you certainly haven
’
t enough color!
”

She moved nearer to the fireplace and stood looking down into the glowing coals. She looked very slender as she stood there in her dress of fine grey wool, with a neat white collar and cuffs which lent it rather a Puritan touch. Her fair hair had grown a little longer, and was turning softly upwards on her neck like the petals of a flower, and her skin looked peculiarly flawless. Her mouth drooped a little despondently, but it was a very lovely mouth, especially as it was lightly lipsticked. She had a faint upward tilt to her small nose, too, which was also flower-like, and her long eyelashes fluttered noticeably as she stared at the fire.

“
You know,
”
she said suddenly, her untouched glass of sherry gripped tightly in one hand,
“
this is all quite ridiculous!
”

“
Oh!
”
Iain exclaimed. He flung himself comfortably into his favorite ch
a
ir, and started to feel in all his pockets for his always elusive pipe and box of matches.
“
What is quite ridiculous?
”

“
Keeping me shut up like this, as if I were a—a precious plant, or something!
”
She flung back her head and looked at him, and her eyes were both hostile and accusing.
“
You know very well that it
’
s got to end sometime and as I
’
ve already been here several weeks the sooner it ends the better! I can
’
t go on living like this—accepting your charity—your—your goodness! You
’
ve been very kind, but
—”

“
Doctor
’
s orders,
”
he murmured imperturbably, as he started to stuff tobacco into the bowl of the pipe.

“
Nonsense!
”
she exclaimed impatiently.
“
If Dr. Moffat knew the truth I
’
m quite sure he
’
d think you were eccentric!
”

“
Instead of which he thinks I
’
m contemplating marrying you and living happily ever after!
”

There was so much faintly derisive amusement in his grey eyes as he looked up at her that she felt that revealing color, over which she had so little control, sting her cheeks, and for an instant she could not meet his eyes.

“
If he thinks that it
’
s simply because you—because we had to practice a deception. But I hate deception, and I hate deceiving anyone like Dr. Moffat. He
’
s so kind, and so nice. And I don
’
t like deceiving Mrs.
Burns
, either, or all the other people in this house.
”

“
There
’
s only the cook, and Annie.
”
he reminded her.
“
Oh, and Prout, the parlormaid, and George, who drives my car. I shouldn
’
t think the news has got as far as the village yet, as we
’
ve been cut off for so long. But Annie may carry it there when she goes in to change her library book at the village stores. They
’
re served by a kind of travelling library service there, and—
”

She gave a kind of exasperated sigh which caused his eyes to twinkle under his long and very thick
black eyelashes as he bent over the bowl of his pipe.

“
I don
’
t really believe you mind
,”
she said, staring at him in perplexity.

“
Quite honestly, I don
’
t,
”
he answered, and having got the pipe to work satisfactorily lay back and sent
a
cloud of the fragrant tobacco smoke moving stealthily in her direction.

Karen gazed at him with her large eyes—still too large for her small, wan face—trying to solve the enigma of his bland, untroubled countenance. And as she gazed at him she could hardly believe that for nearly a month now they had been almost constant companions, sharing the faded splendors of this quiet room, with its pale green panelled walls and its gilded cornices, its mixture of period furniture and the portraits looking at them from the walls.

This room had been untouched for many years because, it was lovely enough as it was, and there were no
modern
improvements that could make it more restful, or give it a greater charm. Karen had grown so accustomed to spending her evenings sitting on one side of the wide hearth while her host lounged on the other that she knew it was going to take a considerable effort to free her mind of the clinging memory of it. The memory of the damask-covered settees, and the long curtains falling before the windows, a rather deeper green than the walls, and of heavy brocade. The memory of the harp standing a little forlornly in one
corner
, and the piano at which Iain Mackenzie sometimes sat and amused himself—and her—with light syncopation, while the firelight played on the panelled walls, and the dusk deepened around them. The memory of a beautiful set of carved ivory chessmen, and an elegant chess board, which he brought out sometimes and set up on a small table between them; and the way in which, while he painstakingly taught her, who had never played chess before, to beat him at the game, the light from the standard lamp at his elbow discovering burnished gleams in his surprisingly black hair, while outside the snow lay hard and cold under a hard, cold moon.

When she left Craigie House she would have many memories to
take away with her, and so many of them would be pleasant memories. But in the case of Iain Mackenzie these weeks of close confinement to the house and the society of a sickly young woman who had foisted herself upon him must have been weeks of pure, unalloyed boredom. Caught up in a ridiculous situation which, while it might sometimes have amused him a little, must at other times have irked
him
extremely, she could not understand how he so successfully turned to her an undisturbed front whenever she challenged him on the subject
of their extraordinary intimacy.

For it was one thing to pretend to having acquired a
fiancée
in front of servants, but to
have to keep up that pretence while day after day the snow fell steadily, the drifts which blocked the roads grew deeper, and the wireless was their only contact with the outer world, had aroused her own sympathy to such an extent that she was amazed that he did not seem either
t
o require or desire to have it poured out over him.

Day after day his attitude towards her had remained the same—polite, attentive, considerate, even friendly. They had had many conversations, discussed all sorts of subjects, books, plays, even politics, but at the end of four weeks she was quite certain that neither of them really knew anything more of the other than when they first met. Perhaps it was because she was always on the defensive, while in
him
she always sensed, or imagined, that faint feeling of amusement—or derision, almost—which never allowed her to be quite at her ease (a
thing
which, under the circumstances, she could scarcely expect to be, as she realized) and which baffled her so much that he remained a stranger to her, in spite of the fact that the little world inside
Craigie House accepted him as the man she was going to marry. Whatever the reason, she felt that the four weeks had got them nowhere as regards looking into one another’s minds.

And now he calmly informed her that he quite honestly didn’t mind this situation, which she knew would have to end soon
unless
it was to become quite intolerable.

“Perhaps you’d like to read this,” he said, removing an envelope from his pocket and tossing it lightly across to her. “It might provide you with a few ideas.”

Karen seated herself in her customary armchair, and drew out the thick sheet of notepaper the envelope contained. She was so surprised that he had
asked
her to read part of his correspondence that she
h
esitated before attempting to peruse the bold and yet rather spidery handwriting. It was a woman’s writing, and the notepaper was that of a well-known and very exclusive London hotel. The letter, short and to the point, ran:

“Dear Nephew,

Delighted, to hear your news, and anxious meet
girl. Shall be returning Craigie the instant the
s
now clears, and then you’ll be seeing me. Fiona
has agreed to stay with me for a while—met her
in Italy.