Summer Of The Raven. Sara Craven
The door on the right that the elderly woman had referred to was standing ajar, and feeling rather selfconscious, Rowan walked across and pushed it open. Again, her most immediate impression was one of space and light. One entire wall of the drawing room was glass—enormous sliding doors giving way to the terrace. The floor was covered by a magnificent Persian rug, and seating was provided by three luxuriously padded tweed-covered sofas in shades of cream and oatmeal and placed to form a large square with the fireplace. A small table had been set in front of one of them and a tray with a teapot and delicate-looking cups and saucers had been placed on it. Antonia was lounging on one of the adjoining sofas, her face set in discontented lines.
‘Oh, there you are,’ she said ungraciously. ‘I hope you want some of this tea. I’m already in Sybilla’s black books because I asked for a gin and tonic instead.’
‘She walks very badly.’ Rowan came forward and sat down wearily. ‘Couldn’t you have fetched it yourself?’
Antonia gave her a surprised look as she lit another cigarette. ‘Yes—if I knew where dear Cousin Carne kept his booze. I did enquire, as a matter of fact, but it appears to be a closely guarded secret. One of a number as far as I can gather.’
‘What do you mean?’ Rowan lifted the teapot and poured herself some of the fragrant brew, adding a slice of lemon.
Antonia gave a slight shrug. ‘Sybilla’s being very odd—although heaven knows I should have expected that. But when I asked her about staff—because no one will ever convince me that she’s solely responsible for all this spit and polish—she became extremely cagey and pretended that she didn’t know what I meant.’ She leaned forward and irritably tapped a breath of ash from her cigarette into the enormous carved stone ashtray on the table. ‘I only hope she means to be co-operative. This whole business is quite hellish enough without having to battle with her all the time.’
‘Oh, do hush!’ Rowan felt most uncomfortable. ‘She’ll hear you.’
‘Probably. But I can assure you that nothing I’ve said will come as any great surprise to her. We never got on, not even when I was a child.’ Antonia gave a faintly satisfied smile. ‘Frankly, she’s never approved of me wholly.’
The sound of Sybilla’s stick tapping on the parquet was clearly heard and Antonia relapsed into silence. Rowan jumped up as the older woman entered.
‘Let me take that for you.’ She reached for the tray that Sybilla was carrying with some difficulty.
‘Thank you, child.’ Sybilla looked quite through her. ‘But I’m not yet in my dotage.’ She set the tray down in front of Antonia and directed a quelling glance at her. ‘When you’ve finished your refreshment, I’ll show you the house.’
Rowan sat down again, feeling rather limp. It was clear that as far as Sybilla was concerned, they were not welcome. Could it be that she felt they were depriving her of a home, she wondered?
Yet Sybilla’s own words soon disabused her of this notion. ‘No doubt it will take you a day or two to become familiar with the layout of the house,’ she was saying. ‘You’ll find it’s been designed to take advantage of the light wherever possible. On the first floor there’s a central gallery and two wings opening from it. You and Rowan will occupy rooms in the East Wing, and share a bathroom. Carne’s rooms are in the West Wing, and his studio is directly above them. That’s one area where your services are not required. Carne looks after the studio himself, and no one else enters it without his express invitation. When he’s not here, it’s kept locked.’
‘And the remaining rooms?’ Antonia drew deeply on her cigarette.
‘Guest rooms and bathrooms. Carne entertains widely, as I expect he has mentioned to you.’
‘He hasn’t mentioned very much at all. And while we’re on the subject of Carne, where is he? I was expecting him to be here to meet us.’
‘Carne is in Barbados,’ Sybilla said blightingly. ‘And even if he were not, I doubt very much whether he would concern himself in staffing matters. I understood the position had been made clear to you.’
There were two bright spots of colour glowing in Antonia’s face. ‘Oh, it’s clear enough,’ she said. ‘You may choose to consider yourself as staff here, Sybilla, but I don’t. I’ve come here because it happens to suit us both for the time being. If it amuses Carne to pretend to you that I’m only the housekeeper, then I’ll play along for a while. Why not? But please don’t imagine you have to remain to oversee my efforts. I’m sure that’s the last thing either of us want.’
‘I have no intention of being any kind of overseer,’ Sybilla said. ‘But I’m afraid you’ve been misled about my continuing presence in this house. I have a small self-contained flat at the rear of the ground floor. This is my home and will always remain so. But you need have no fears—I value my privacy and have no intention of undertaking any supervisory role where you are concerned.’
Antonia ground her cigarette butt savagely into the ashtray. ‘How utterly delightful.’ Her voice was brittle. ‘It’s a deal, then, Sybilla. You keep out of my way, and I promise to keep out of yours.’
‘Just as you wish.’ Sybilla turned to Rowan. ‘Would you like some tea, child? I’m afraid this hasn’t been much of a welcome for you, after your long journey. There are some freshly baked scones in the kitchen if you would like to fetch them.’
Rowan moistened dry lips with the tip of her tongue. ‘I’m not hungry, thank you, but another cup of tea would be lovely.’ As Sybilla poured the tea, she searched frantically for another topic of conversation. ‘We—we came through the village. It’s very pretty.’
‘It is,’ Sybilla agreed as she handed her the cup. ‘It’s also very quiet, and this house is very remote. What will you find to do with yourself all day long? I understand you’re sixteen. Should arrangements be made for you to continue your schooling?’
Rowan felt herself crimson, and managed to stop herself shooting a recriminatory glance at Antonia.
‘I’m nearly seventeen, actually,’ she said improvising desperately, ‘I’ve left school.’
‘Did you sit the public examination?’
‘Yes. I passed in nine subjects.’
‘I see. Yet you didn’t feel it was worthwhile continuing with some form of further education. That seems a pity.’ There was a reproving note in Sybilla’s voice. She turned to Antonia. ‘Could you not have persuaded the child to continue with her training.’
‘Oh, Rowan does as she wants. She was never terribly devoted to school, were you, sweetie?’ Antonia lit another cigarette, her face bland as she looked at Rowan.
Rowan said grimly, ‘No, never,’ and took another sip of tea to fortify herself.
‘But you really don’t have to worry about her, either, Sybilla. She’ll keep herself occupied somehow. Youngsters these days always seem to be busy doing comparatively nothing.’
‘Hmm.’ Sybilla’s back was rigid with disapproval. ‘Then I daresay she’ll be able to help you with the housework. I presume she’s capable of that at least. Now, I’d better show you to your rooms.’
Rowan hastily swallowed the remainder of her tea and rose as Sybilla struggled to her feet. She would have liked to have proffered some assistance, but realised the kind of rebuff she was risking.
The rooms turned out to be the best part of the day. Rowan found hers quite charming with its green and white sprigged wallpaper, and the plain dark green cover on the continental quilt. Curtains in paler green hung at the window, which looked out over the valley, and the glint of water in the distance. With its white-painted furniture, it was very much a young girl’s room, not unlike the one she had occupied in Surrey, and Rowan felt a pang of nostalgia as she looked around her.
Antonia’s room was an altogether more