A Dream from the Night Read online

  “I think I have some silks in the right colours,” Olinda said, “but I shall need a great many more.”

  “I was expecting that, Miss Selwyn,” Mrs. Kingston replied, “and, if you will write down exactly what you want, a groom can be despatched immediately to Derby to see if the silks are obtainable in the town. If not, they will have to come from London.”

  Again Olinda thanked her.

  “This is really the most urgent repair, Miss Selwyn,” Mrs. Kingston went on, “so I will not show you the other items for restoration until these are finished”

  “That is a good idea,” Olinda smiled. “I would not wish to feel overwhelmed at the start with what a lot of work there is for me to do.”

  “That is exactly what I feel when I am starting the spring cleaning,” Mrs. Kingston replied. “So I take a room at a time and somehow they all get done.”

  “I am sure they do.”

  Olinda looked at the tear in the side curtain and thought that it was not as bad as it had appeared at first.

  “Someone, perhaps by catching their foot in the fringe, had split the velvet up the side of the curtain for nearly six inches.

  Some of the embroidery was damaged, some only frayed and it would be easy to embroider over it and perhaps patch it at the back so that it would not be likely to tear again.

  Mrs. Kingston looked at the watch that she wore pinned on her breast and which was surmounted by the initials V.R.

  Olinda knew that it must have been given to her after a visit from Queen Victoria to Kelvedon House.

  “It’s your luncheon time, Miss Selwyn. I suggest that I take you back to your sitting room and that you return here after the meal and match your embroidery silks.”

  “I will do that,” Olinda agreed.

  “You will be able to find your own way?”

  “I am sure I can. It’s all on the same floor, although I can see that it’s a long walk.”

  “It certainly is. I often think that if I measured the miles I walk every day in this house, no one would believe me!” Mrs. Kingston said.

  “You have been very kind in showing me everything.”

  “Everything!” Mrs. Kingston laughed. “I certainly have not done that yet! There is the Orangery, the Armoury, the North Gallery and a dozen other places there has been no time to visit this morning.”

  “But I hope you will be kind enough to show them to me another day,” Olinda said.

  “I shall look forward to it and I am speaking the truth, Miss Selwyn,” Mrs. Kingston answered. “It is not often I take anyone as appreciative as you round the house which, as I think you have guessed, is very close to my heart.”

  “Yes, I can see that,” Olinda said, “and I think anyone who lived here would consider themselves very lucky.”

  She wondered as she spoke how the Earl could stay away for so long from the possession that must be almost unique in the whole world.

  The article she had read about Kelvedon House had been right.

  It was undoubtedly one of the greatest houses in England. There could be few Noblemen whose ancestral homes could even begin to compete with it.

  As Mrs. Kingston rustled ahead of her, Olinda found herself thinking that whatever happened she would never regret coming here.

  The thought brought her back to Mr. Felix Hanson and she knew that he had been in her mind a great deal since the moment that she had met him in the salon.

  At first she had only been angry at his familiarity when he had squeezed her fingers and whispered to her beneath his breath, then she began to think that there was something about him which made her feel afraid.

  It was quite obvious that he was the admirer and intimate friend of the Dowager Countess.

  There had been a note in her voice when she spoke to him and an expression in her eyes that even Olinda, innocent though she was, could not fail to notice.

  She thought now that nothing could be more uncomfortable than if Mr. Felix Hanson should choose to pursue her and make the Dowager Countess annoyed in consequence.

  She could not imagine such a thing happening and yet there had been no mistaking the pressure of his fingers.

  ‘I suppose this is what young women who are not ranked as ‘Society’ must expect,’ Olinda told herself.

  She began to understand why her mother had been so nervous at the thought of her staying away alone.

  She made quite sure of locking her bedroom door when she retired. At the same time she could not really believe that any man, if he was a gentleman, would approach a strange young girl in the house where he was an honoured guest.

  Equally her reading had told her that such things did happen and that unprotected women must expect men to behave dishonourably and in a manner which could, if it were discovered, quickly ruin their reputation.

  ‘I will not be driven out of this house by Mr. Hanson, or by anyone else!’ Olinda told herself bravely.

  At the same time she felt a little tremor of fear, because she would not know how to cope with such a situation if in fact it arose.

  *

  Her first visitor, as she was finishing her breakfast in the sitting room, had been Mr. James Lanceworth, the Dowager Countess’s secretary, who had written to her.

  He was an elderly man with a rather precise manner and glasses through which Olinda thought he looked at her critically.

  “I hope, Miss Selwyn, that you will be competent to carry out the task that awaits you,” he said somewhat pompously. “I thought it only right that if Mrs. Kingston and, of course, her Ladyship, approve of your work, you would wish to know what remuneration you will receive.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Lanceworth. I should like to know that,” Olinda said.

  “I have made enquiries as to what is the usual payment to embroiderers and I must say that I find it extremely high, especially for someone as young as yourself.”

  “I would not wish to argue, Mr. Lanceworth,” Olinda said, “but I cannot really see that the age of an embroiderer matters as long as the work she does is good. A woman of fifty may be just as incompetent at coping with the intricacies of the art as she was at twenty.”

  Mr. Lanceworth considered this for a moment before he replied,

  “I concede that point, Miss Selwyn, and therefore I am empowered by the Dowager Countess to tell you the accepted rate of payment which I understand for the particularly fine and exceptional work we require is five shillings an hour.”

  It was with difficulty that Olinda prevented herself from giving a startled exclamation.

  She had never in her wildest dreams thought to have been paid so highly and only the self-control that was part of her upbringing made her say in a calm quiet voice,

  “That will be quite acceptable, Mr. Lanceworth, providing that my embroidery is to her Ladyship’s satisfaction.”

  “That, of course, is the ultimate criterion,” Mr. Lanceworth agreed.

  He had then given her a brief bow and left the room while Olinda stood staring after him as if she still could not believe that she had heard him aright.

  Five shillings an hour! Provided she worked for six hours a day or perhaps more if the daylight lasted, it would mean that by the end of the week she would have earned enough money for all the little luxuries her mother needed.

  ‘We are rich,’ she told herself with a smile.

  Then she remembered Mr. Felix Hanson and felt as if a shadow crossed her path.

  *

  When she had finished her luncheon, Olinda collected her embroidery silks and went along to the Duchesse de Mazarin’s room.

  It was with difficulty that she prevented herself from stopping every few minutes to look at an exquisite picture, a fine piece of furniture or a fascinating suit of armour.

  She wondered if the people like the Dowager Countess, who lived in the house, really appreciated and looked at their treasures as they passed by them.

  Perhaps they were so used to the beauty of them or their minds were so preoccupied
with other matters that the less important treasures in the corridors, on the stairs and in the galleries escaped their notice.

  Finally she reached the Duchesse’s room and looked round her, entranced by the French furniture that had been added at a later date, but which toned with the bed.

  The covers for the chairs had been copied, Olinda thought, about the reign of Queen Anne.

  There were delightful inlaid commodes and a chest of drawers on which stood a mirror decorated with cupids in the Charles II manner. And there was a gilt stool supported by cupids, like the dressing table.

  Hortense and the King must have been very happy in this room, Olinda told herself and perhaps their happiness remained in the atmosphere.

  She wanted to daydream about Hortense and the handsome cynical Charles to whom she had brought so much happiness. But Olinda told herself severely that she must get down to work.

  The bed was set to the left of the door that led off the corridor and there were three windows opening out on to the rose garden below.

  There was a scent of flowers coming in through the windows and the sunshine made a golden pattern on the carpet.

  Olinda sat down on the floor and spread out her embroidery silks beside her.

  Now she actually had the embroidered curtain in her hand, she saw that she had been rather optimistic in thinking that she had enough silks with her to repair even a few inches of the intricate pattern.

  She would want, she knew, many more skeins of silk and, while she had some of the necessary colours, she would require many more and a great deal of gold and silver thread.

  As Mrs. Kingston had instructed her, she had brought a small notebook with her and now she began to write down exactly what she would want. Afterwards she could copy it out neatly.

  She must have been sitting on the floor for nearly half an hour when the door opened and she heard a voice speaking excitedly.

  “I’ve been a-lookin’ for you everywhere, Mrs. Kingston. His Lordship’s arrived!”

  “His Lordship?” Mrs. Kingston queried. “Lord who?”

  “The Earl, Mrs. Kingston! The Earl! He’s just stepped into the house! He’s with her Ladyship now and, if you asks me, fur’s a-goin’ to fly!”

  “I did not ask you, James, and you can keep your thoughts to yourself. But his Lordship never let us know that he was returnin’.”

  “No, Mrs. Kingston, he didn’t, did he, and he has brought a lady with him too. Someone, I don’t mind tellin’ you, who’ll be a big surprise to her Ladyship!”

  “I’ll go downstairs at once,” Mrs. Kingston said in a tone of voice that by its very intonation rebuked the footman for gossiping.

  “Perhaps she won’t be wantin’ you now, just at the moment,” the footman said tantalisingly. “Her Ladyship had sent for you before his Lordship arrived. But, after I showed him into the salon with the person as is accompanyin’ him, I came upstairs to find you, as were my previous instructions.”

  “Really, James, I don’t know whether I’m on my head or my heels! Stop natterin’ and get out of my way. I’ll go down stairs and see if her Ladyship wants me. If she doesn’t, I’ll wait until she does. Is that clear?”

  “Very clear, Mrs. Kingston,” the footman agreed.

  Olinda heard Mrs. Kingston rustle away and the heavy steps of the footman followed her.

  She could not help feeling that this was most exciting!

  The Earl of Kelvedon who had not been home for two years had suddenly returned and she had not missed the footman’s reference to the lady with him, speaking of her at first in a disparaging tone and then referring to her as ‘a person’.

  She knew only too well what that meant in the servant’s vocabulary.

  Nanny and old Mrs. Hodges at home had varying descriptions of people who came to see her mother.

  “There’s a lady to see you, my Lady.”

  “There’s a woman asking to see your Ladyship.”

  “There’s a person at the back door.”

  How well she knew the way the caller had been summed up and Nanny and Mrs. Hodges were seldom at fault.

  What could be happening, she wondered, and thought it rather fascinating.

  The portrait of the young Earl in his mother’s bedroom had certainly been good-looking.

  At the same time there had been a dark, almost Byronical expression in his dark eyes and the manner in which his hair fell against the side of his square forehead.

  She wished now that she had had time to look at the portrait a little longer, but, of course, with any luck she would soon see him in the flesh.

  Because she so seldom had anyone of her own age to talk to, Olinda had always told herself stories and invented fantasies which often became as real to her as reality.

  Now she began to dream a tale in which the Earl came home and took over the great house and the running of his estate and he brought with him an attractive and alluring woman.

  Perhaps, like Hortense de Mazarin, she would give him happiness and they would fill the house with their children.

  And so the saga of the Kelvedons would go on as it had in the past, descending from generation to generation and becoming in itself more and more a part of the history of England,

  It is all so intriguing, Olinda thought, and wondered if the woman the Earl had brought with him was Italian or French.

  If she was a foreigner, she would undoubtedly be disparaged by the servants, but that was not to mean that she was not in fact noble and perhaps even Royal.

  ‘There should be a Princess living in this house,’ Olinda told herself romantically.

  Then with a little smile she thought that she was getting herself bemused with Fairy stories.

  Yet after all, what more fitting background than Kelvedon House for a Fairy story?

  She went back to her room and wrote down in her neat elegant hand a list of all the skeins of silks she thought that she would require, then rang the bell for a housemaid to take it to Mrs. Kingston.

  One of the young housemaids came hurrying in looking most excited. She had already waited on Olinda at breakfast and her name was Lucy.

  “Oh, miss, such a to-do!” she exclaimed. “His Lordship’s arrived and the whole place is in a twitter!”

  “I can understand that,” Olinda answered, “because no one was expecting him.”

  “They weren’t indeed,” Lucy said. “And now Mr. Hanson’ll find his nose out of joint and a good thing too if you ask me!”

  Olinda did not know what to reply to this, so she said nothing.

  “I’ve only seen his Lordship once,” Lucy went on. “The day I came to work he left. But I’ve heard how fond everyone is of him on the estate. Mr. Burrows, the butler, will be like a cat with two tails now his Master’s returned.”

  “His Lordship has been away a long time,” Olinda remarked.

  “They thought he would never come back, miss, and that’s the truth,” Lucy said, “especially after what he said before he left!”

  Although she knew that she ought not to gossip with the servants and that her mother would be ashamed of her, Olinda’s curiosity could not prevent her from asking,

  “What did he say?”

  “He said, miss,” Lucy replied lowering her voice, “ – and as he was in the hall we could all hear it, ‘I am damned if I will stay here under the circumstances and I will come back only when you come to your senses – if you ever do!’”

  Lucy drew in her breath.

  “And then, miss, he stamps down the steps, gets into his chaise and drives off as if the Devil himself were at his heels.”

  Olinda laughed, she could not help it.

  “Oh, Lucy you make it all sound very dramatic,” she said. “Who was he speaking to?”

  “Her Ladyship, of course!” Lucy replied.

  She spoke as if she thought that Olinda was being extremely obtuse not to understand what was happening.

  “She comes out of the drawin’ room just as his Lordship was a-lea
vin’ the house. ‘Don’t go, Roque,’ she says, putting out her hand. We were all a-peepin’ over the banisters to see his Lordship go and she says it almost pleadin’-like and that’s what he answered her.”

  With an effort Olinda realised that she should not encourage Lucy.

  “It is all very interesting,” she said coldly, “and now his Lordship must have changed his mind as he has come back. Would you be kind enough to give this list to Mrs. Kingston and ask her if I can have the silks as quickly as possible. It is really difficult for me to work without them.”

  “I will give it to her, miss,” Lucy said blithely. “But I doubt if she’ll pay attention to you at the moment. She’s runnin’ round in circles after his Lordship! But I’ll do my best.”

  “Thank you, Lucy,” Olinda said.

  She took up her embroidery silks and went back along the corridors to the Duchesse’s room.

  She would have liked to go out into the garden, but she told herself severely that she had wasted many precious hours in the morning going round the house, when she might have been working.

  Now if she was to earn money, she must settle down to work and remember that every five shillings was going to help her mother to regain her health.

  The windows in the Duchesse’s room faced South and had now lost the sun which was gradually moving round to the side of the great building.

  It was cooler and, as Olinda sat down again on the floor and took up the torn curtain, she could hear the birds singing outside and smell the scent of the roses coming through the window.

  ‘Could anyone have a more perfect place to work in?’ she asked herself.

  She started to mend first the black velvet, darning it with tiny stitches so small they could hardly be seen.

  As always when Olinda was concentrating on her work, she forgot her surroundings and everything except her own special inner world into which she could escape with her thoughts and still work with her fingers.

  She was thinking about Hortense de Mazarin and remembered that a contemporary had described her eyes as neither blue nor grey nor altogether black. They bore ‘the sweetness of blue, the gaiety of grey and above all the fire of black’.

  Charles II had found in them the secrets he had been seeking all his life, Olinda knew, and she wondered if any man would ever find the secrets he sought in her eyes.