Bond of Fate Read online

  Only when the smooth car swept out of the college gates did it occur to Melanie that she could have changed into more presentable clothes, for she did own a nice lightweight jersey wool suit of a deep rust that suited her colouring. It wasn't new, but it always looked fresh. She hadn't been able to afford much in the way of clothes, so what she did have had to last a long time, and was chosen with this in mind. But that suit had stayed nicely packed at the bottom of her case, and what with writing to Jane and making sure that she had everything, clothes had been the last thing on her mind. Considering that she hadn't really

  come out of her dream state, it wasn't really surprising.

  Soon they were back at the Savoy, and Mr Cridell, complete with briefcase, stood waiting to be picked up. Then they were off to Oaklands, wherever that was, but at this stage reaction was setting in in Melanie's mind, and she was doing her best to quell a rush of panic. She didn't know where she was going. No one knew where she was. She had calmly accepted this stranger who sat beside her on the well-upholstered interior of the car and who was whisking her off to goodness knew what destination, and again she wondered if she had been wise to tell him her circumstances.

  She cast a quick, apprehensive glance at the silent man beside her who seemed lost in a world of his own, his strong, well-moulded features gazing out at the passing scenery. He was an exceedingly handsome man, Melanie conceded, making herself stay calm while her mind kept trying to present her with scary notions of what she might be letting herself in for. Panic got no one anywhere; she despised any show of emotional hysteria in women, and she certainly wasn't about to become hysterical now.

  So she concentrated on the man beside her. At least, he would be handsome if his features weren't so hard. Perhaps it was his eyes, she thought, recalling their grey, steely colour, and the no-nonsense set of his mouth. She wondered what he would be like when he smiled, if he ever did.

  As this thought entered her mind. Melanie felt a spurt of surprise. She hadn't realised that she had made such a complete study of the man at the time. She had been so bowled over by the ensuing events that her impression of him had been pushed to the

  back of her thoughts.

  By the road signs, Melanie saw that they were heading out of London and towards Guildford, and she wished that the silent man beside her would talk to her, if only to quell her uneasiness. But she could sense that he was tired, and when she recalled the bevy of women that he had interviewed that afternoon, she wasn't surprised. She did wonder if he had had enough when it came to her turn and had decided to plump for the next applicant, no matter what!

  At last they reached journey's end; after skirting along country lanes the car swept into a long drive bordered with rhododendrons. The entrance proclaimed that this was private property; it was marked by two huge stone pillars that flanked wide ornamental gates.

  When the house appeared in view, Melanie's eyes widened, for it was more in the nature of a small mansion, and looked so respectable that she almost gave a sigh of relief. She hadn't known what to expect, but there was something so comforting in that old stone structure that any thought of malpractice was a slur on its authenticity.

  As the car came to a smooth halt below the stone steps that led to the entrance of the house. Mr Cridell broke his silence and spoke to Melanie.

  `I expect you'd like to get settled in first. You can meet my daughter at dinner, which we usually have around six-thirty.'

  This was said as they got out of the car, and Melanie gave a nod of thanks at this thoughtful kindness on his part, for it allowed her a good hour to get her breath back.

  As they entered the spacious hall, a plump, rosy-faced woman in a neat navy-blue dress stood waiting

  for her employer's orders, casting a quick, not uncurious look at Melanie, and then back at Jenks who was carrying her luggage.

  `This is Miss Greensmith, Mrs Soames,' said Julian Cridell. 'Put her in the blue room, will you. Where's Celia?' he queried.

  `Down by the lake, if I'm any judge,' replied Mrs Soames, with a twinkle in her eyes. 'She thought she saw that pike yesterday.'

  `I suppose I'd better check on my fishing gear,' Julian Cridell said with a hint of amusement in his voice, then frowned, as if he had forgotten something. `Oh, could you let Miss Greensmith have some tea? No doubt she'll be glad of some refreshment.'

  Melanie was whisked away up an imposing stairway carpeted in deep maroon, along a corridor to the right of the staircase, and through a short gallery hung with interesting-looking portraits. Another turn to the right brought her finally to her destination as Mrs Soames opened a door to let Jenks go ahead of them with the luggage.

  `I'll send you a tray up,' promised Mrs Soames and, casting a last, almost proprietorial look around the room to assure herself that all was in order, she left.

  Melanie, now blissfully alone, wandered around her domain. A small bathroom adjoined the bedroom that had once, she presumed, been a dressing-room, for the house was very old, and such refinements wouldn't have existed in the original building.

  The bedroom was large and airy and, as its name proclaimed, its predominating colours were blues of different hues, all softly intermingling, making Melanie feel that she had landed in Wonderland. From her unpromising start that morning, when she

  had sat in the café wondering how on earth she was going to find work and somewhere to live in the space of a week, she had not only landed a job but living-in quarters as well, in surroundings of a luxury that she had never before experienced.

  As she unpacked her few belongings, her mind, now gradually settling down to the salient fact that she was now employed, lingered on the child she had been engaged to look after, and she wondered what she would be like. A small cloud appeared on her blue horizon as it occurred to her that she might well be one of those awful brats who made life almost impossible for their luckless guardians—and perhaps there had been a steady flow of them in the past!

  The more she thought of this likelihood, the more certain she became that this was the case. Mrs Soames, apart from showing a natural curiosity at her appearance, didn't seem in any way put out, which she wouldn't if it was a regular occurrence, a natural turnover of staff in that particular employment. They were probably taking bets below stairs right at this moment on how long she would last the course !

  Melanie wandered to the window, and gazed out on immaculate lawns flanked by flower borders, and beyond that to woodland. She was not going to look a gift horse in the mouth, she told herself firmly in an attempt to quell these unsettling thoughts, but nevertheless, she did have a little niggling feeling that it was all a little too good to be true, and there must be a catch in it somewhere.

  Perhaps the child was ailing, and needed constant vigilance? But as soon as the thought was there she had to throw it out again. She would surely not be allowed to dawdle around a lake by herself without causing some anxiety to the household?

  Melanie gave it up. She would have to wait and see, and there was no sense in worrying over something until you knew where you were. She was meeting her fences before she came to them, she told herself sternly.

  Her tea-tray then arrived, brought in by a young housemaid in a coffee-coloured dress that was obviously a uniform of sorts, although the material, of a nylon lightness, took away any pretensions of regalia.

  Melanie, who had never been waited on during her whole life except for her occasional visits to a restaurant, felt slightly embarrassed by this attention, and thanked the girl profusely; she was rewarded with a large welcoming grin from the girl, who then said that her name was Amy and that she would be looking after her.

  This simple statement hardly helped to alleviate Melanie's embarrassment. She was just as much an employee of the family as the maid, but as she felt that time would soon make this clear, she contented herself with 'That's nice,' an inane remark, but one which apparently gratified Amy.

  On the tray was a plate of thinly cut salmon and cucumber sandwiches w
hich a by now ravenous Melanie, who remembered that she had not had any lunch, soon demolished ; fully replete, she sat back to enjoy her second cup of tea.

  After a quick shower she changed into her russet-coloured suit, and, feeling more able to cope with whatever fate offered her, sat down to do her hair, debating whether to leave it loose. However, because of its wilful habit of looking like a bird's nest even though she had brushed it, she pulled it back off her face again and into its familiar bunched arrangement,

  muttering, 'That's better,' as she surveyed the result in the mirror.

  Once she was ready, she anxiously watched the clock. Her settling-in period seemed to have flown; she was due to go down to meet her charge, and she did not feel at all up to the occasion. There were collywobbles in her stomach, and she wasn't at all sure that she wouldn't lose herself in that big house before she eventually discovered where the dining-room was; in her mind's eye she went over the direction they had taken when she had been shown to her room.

  In the event she need not have worried. There was a discreet tap on her door as she was preparing to leave, and on answering it Melanie found Amy smiling at her. 'Mrs Soames thought you might want some help in finding your way around,' she said. 'Mr Cridell and Miss Celia are in the lounge,' she added, as she led Melanie back down the corridor and towards the main staircase, chatting brightly about how she never thought she would find her way around when she first came there, but it was easy when you had your bearings.

  Melanie really didn't hear much of this. All she knew was that she was dreading meeting the child, who was, she was now convinced, a real little horror who got through the appointed guardians like a scythe cutting grass. Feeling like an offering about to be placed on the sacrificial altar, she reluctantly followed Amy's confident stride towards their destination.

  CHAPTER TWO

  ON entering the lounge, it seemed to Melanie that she was confronted not by one stranger, but by two, until she realised that the man standing beside the slim fair-haired girl with unusual black eyebrows and black eyes who was now frankly surveying her was, in fact, Julian Cridell. The fact that he had changed from his sombre city suit into a grey turtle-necked sweater with light grey trousers had so altered his appearance that Melanie hadn't recognised him.

  `Celia, this is Miss Greensmith. I think you'll get along together. Miss Greensmith doesn't stand on ceremony either,' he remarked drily, as his daughter held out her hand to Melanie.

  `How do you do?' said Celia politely, but there was an imp of mischief lurking in her dark eyes that belied her demure greeting.

  Melanie took due note of this, but her mind was occupied by Mr Cridell's remarks about her not standing on ceremony, and she felt a slight flush stain her cheeks as she suddenly got his meaning, particularly when she recalled the ultra-smart appearance of the other applicants for the job. Had she been chosen because she hadn't bothered to dress up for the interview? she wondered, for that was what it must have looked like. He did not, of course, know that she had only seen the advertisement less than thirty minutes before she had applied for the job !

  `Dad says you're a teacher,' Celia said. 'I could do with some coaching, you know.'

  `Celia's set on entering the medical profession,' Julian Cridell remarked, with a fond look at his daughter.

  Dinner was then announced, cutting short the rest of this discussion, but Melanie was relieved that the first hurdle had been so easily met. Whatever Celia Cridell was, she certainly was not a pert miss out to make trouble for her companion.

  During dinner, while thoroughly enjoying the good food in front of her in spite of her late tea, Melanie had ample opportunity to study her charge. The first acknowledged fact was that she was a lovely child, and would soon grow into a beautiful woman. Her dark winged brows, and wide dark eyes fringed by long black eyelashes, that were nature's gift and owed nothing to artifice, contrasted vividly with her blonde hair, and would, no doubt, cause a flutter of interest from men whatever profession she took on.

  Melanie also noticed the close bond between father and daughter, and wondered when Celia had lost her mother. It was a bad time to be without a mother, Melanie thought : a girl needed a mother's guidance in her early teens.

  She was particularly grateful for the way that both father and daughter didn't attempt to ply her with questions but included her in the conversation on topics that were not personal but general.

  Tomorrow, Celia told her, she would take her down to the lake. Then she turned to her father. 'I'm sure I saw that pike, Dad.'

  Mr Cridell lifted an eyebrow at this. 'Pikes usually keep to lurking under a bank,' he said.

  `That's just where I saw it!' cried Celia. 'Old John swears it's along where those rushes are.'

  `Yes, and if old John hasn't been able to land him, I

  don't think you've much chance,' her father commented with a smile. 'He's the finest fisherman for miles, If anyone's going to get him, it will be him, and I don't think he'll take too kindly if you beat him to it.'

  Celia grinned back at her father. 'No, I don't suppose he will, but wouldn't it be fabulous if I did? Are you going to town tomorrow?' she asked, suddenly changing the subject.

  `Afraid so,' Julian Cridell replied as he finished the gorgeous sorbet sweet. 'I ought to be through by three though.'

  `Oh, good,' said Celia. 'Only Jim Enson's got a pony he thinks might be my size.'

  `Well, in that case I'll make a point of getting back early,' her father commented. 'Where is it?'

  `At the farm,' Celia told him. 'He's only just got it.' She turned to Melanie. 'Do you ride, Miss Greensmith?' she asked.

  Melanie shook her head. 'I'm afraid not,' she said, `and to tell the truth, I've never wanted to, even if I could have afforded it.'

  `You don't know what you're missing,' said the girl. `I've been really miserable since I lost my old Poll. I had her for years, didn't I, Dad?'

  Her father nodded. 'Since you were two, if I recall,' he answered.

  For a moment, it occurred to Melanie that if Celia was that fond of riding, her father ought to have got someone who could have accompanied her, but as if Mr Cridell sensed her thoughts, he said abruptly, `Celia only rides around the paddock, and has the occasional trot out with the Pony Club perhaps once a week. You can no doubt use that time for a break yourself,' he added kindly.

  Celia hastily endorsed this. 'Good gracious, yes! I

  wouldn't expect you to trot behind me, you know.'

  The thought that this picture conjured up struck all three of them as comical, and somehow from that moment, Melanie felt part of the family. Early in their acquaintance as it was, she knew that everything was going to be all right, and that her previous fears had been groundless.

  It also occurred to her that where Julian Cridell's daughter's happiness was concerned, no holds were barred. Anything, it seemed, was hers, just for the asking, and again she wondered how long ago Celia had lost her mother, for, to Melanie's way of thinking, she was a most sensible girl for her age, and somewhat frighteningly grown up for a thirteen-year-old. She could now understand why her father had sought an older person as a companion for his daughter.

  By the time a week had passed, Melanie had settled down with an ease she wouldn't have thought possible considering the luxury of her surroundings.

  Everything, from her point of view, was wonderful. The salary was more than she would have earned if she had carried out her chosen profession, but in a way she was teaching, by helping Celia in her studies. The girl's wish to become a doctor was no idle whim on her part. Her mind was made up to a degree that proved this beyond all doubt to Melanie.

  As far as Melanie could ascertain, there had been no previous companion, and this puzzled her a little, particularly as no mention had been made of Celia's mother. That suggested that whatever had happened had happened a long time ago. She also sensed a reserve in Celia on the subject, which, considering her natural openness about everything else, was strange, but this
convinced Melanie that Celia had no past recollections to recall.

  At this time, Celia was on her summer vacation from school, a high-class establishment only a mile away from Oaklands where she was a day pupil—as most of the other girls were boarders this put her apart from the rest of her class.

  However, as Melanie came to know her better she realised that this wasn't the only gap between Celia and her class. It was on a much wider spectrum than that. At thirteen she had the outlook of a girl at least five years older, and there were times when even Melanie felt that she was the pupil, and not her charge!

  A fortnight after Melanie's arrival something occurred that revived her earlier reservations about everything being too good to be true. Somewhere there had to be a snag, she used to tell herself in her early days at Oaklands, and in an interview with Mr Cridell she discovered precisely what that snag was.

  When Julian Cridell invited her into his study for what he called a 'Little talk on how she was settling down', Melanie had no warning of what was to come, and there was no suggestion of anything out of the ordinary in his opening, 'Well, you appear to have found your feet,' remark as soon as they were alone.

  Melanie was only too happy to confirm this statement, adding honestly that she considered that she had been extremely fortunate in obtaining such a position with as pleasant a charge as Celia.

  Julian Cridell listened politely, but his eyes were enigmatic as he heard Melanie's earnest answer to his question. Then walking over to his desk, he sat down and indicated that she take the chair in front of the desk. Melanie, a little surprised by the formality, wondered if her trial period was over and he was going to dismiss her—for what, she had no idea, for to all

  intents and purposes things had worked out very well. He could, of course, have had a change of mind about employing a companion for his daughter, and her spirits dropped at the thought. It meant starting the dreary business of finding another job.