Stormy Springtime. Betty Neels
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Название: Stormy Springtime
Автор: Betty Neels
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Короткие любовные романы
Серия: Mills & Boon M&B
isbn: 9781408982761
isbn:
‘We leave it to you.’ He smiled his charming smile once more. ‘Enjoy your afternoon, Meg.’
Meg, indeed! she thought indignantly, though of course she was employed by his mother and he had every right to address her in such a fashion. Perhaps he thought it might keep her in her place. She went indoors and made up the fire in the sitting-room, gave the dog a meal, took him for a short run in the garden, and went along to the kitchen. She and Betsy had their afternoon planned; lunch on a tray for Meg and a peaceful hour or so for Betsy in her chair by the Aga. They would have an early tea too, and there might even be time to potter in the garden. It was a miserably grey day, but Meg never let the weather bother her.
The afternoon was all that she had hoped for; accompanied by the now devoted animal, she repaired to the potting shed and, tied in her sacking apron, pricked out seedlings and transplanted wallflowers. Then she went to her tea, sitting at the kitchen table with Betsy opposite her and Silky and the dog sitting in a guarded friendship on the rug before the Aga. Betsy had made a cake that morning; the mixture had been too much for the cake tin, she explained guilelessly, so that there was a plate of little cakes as well as hot buttered toast and Meg’s strawberry jam and strong tea in the brown earthenware pot which Betsy favoured.
They cleared away together; Meg fed the animals and then got into her old duffle coat and took the dog for a gentle walk. ‘You’ll have to have a name,’ she told him, suiting her pace to his still painful paws. ‘How about Lucky? Because that’s what you are, you know!’
Then she stopped to rub the rough fur on the top of his head, and he gave her a devoted look. He was beginning to look happy and he had stopped cringing. Back in the house, she settled him in the kitchen with a bone and went to tidy herself. It was time to be the housekeeper again.
The sitting-room looked charming as she went into it; she had made a good fire, there were flowers and pot plants scattered around the tables, and shaded lamps. She began to draw the curtains and saw the lights of the Rolls-Royce sweep up the drive, and she went into the hall and opened the door.
‘Oh, how nice it all looks!’ declared Mrs Culver. ‘Meg, you have no idea how happy I am to be living here—to have found such a delightful home, and you with it, too!’
She slid off her fur coat and Meg took it from her, thinking that she had done just that so many times for her mother when she had been alive and well. She glanced up and found Professor Culver’s dark eyes on her, his thoughtful look disturbing. She turned away and suggested coffee, and, ‘There’s a fire in the sitting-room,’ she pointed out.
‘No coffee, Meg—we’ll have a drink. You’ll stay a few minutes, Ralph?’
He had taken off his car coat and thrown it on to the oak settle against a wall. ‘Yes, of course.’ His eyes were still on Meg. He asked, ‘Have you named the dog?’
‘Yes, I’d like to call him Lucky. It was lucky for him when you met him…’
‘An appropriate name. I’ve never believed in luck, but I think that perhaps I have been mistaken about that. You’ve had a pleasant afternoon?’
She looked surprised. ‘Yes, thank you.’ She sought feverishly for an excuse to get away from his stare. ‘I must take Lucky out… Unless you need me for anything, Mrs Culver?’
‘No, my dear, off you go. Wrap up warmly; it’s a chilly evening.’
Meg nipped off to the kitchen, thinking that sometimes her employer talked to her as though she were her daughter. She put on the duffle coat again and encountered Betsy’s surprised look. ‘You’ve just been out with the beast,’ she pointed out, ‘’ad yer forgotten, Miss Meg?’
Meg opened the kitchen door and started off down the stone passage leading to the garden. Lucky, anxious to please, even if reluctant, trotted beside her.
‘No—it’s all right, Betsy, it’s only until the Professor’s gone.’
The remark puzzled Betsy; it puzzled Meg too. Just because one didn’t like a person it didn’t mean to say that one had to run away from them, and wasn’t she being a bit silly, trudging round the garden on such a beastly evening just because Professor Culver was ill-mannered enough to stare so?
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