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  On that dreary morning in early November, she plodded along the road to the school, with no thought that before she had returned to her room a whole new horizon would have opened before her. There would be a crack in the magic door that would lead eventually to the hill.

  Chapter Two

  Baron deVigne sat in the morning parlor at the Hall in a deep concentration, staring with unseeing eyes through the French doors to the autumnal remains of a rose garden, with an occasional glance beyond to see if Lady Jane was approaching yet. He had a fair idea why she wanted to see him. After a little while he saw her tall, gaunt figure, wrapped up in a huge cape of gentian violet, trundling along the footpath from the Dower House, her head bent. Poor old girl, she’s getting on, he thought. It was with solicitude that he welcomed her, took her shawl, and ordered her a glass of sherry.

  Her sagging cheeks waggled in pleasure as she took the glass. She had gray hair, a beaklike nose that always turned red in the cold, and a pair of mischievous blue eyes that lent an air of youth to her lined face. “Just what I need,” she told him in her deep voice, and knocked the sherry off at a gulp, holding out her glass for a refill. “Good stuff. Now, down to business. Tell me, Max, what is to be done about it?”

  This cryptic question was apparently clear to deVigne. “Something must be done at once. He was foxed again last night. That Miss Milne you hired to look after Roberta came dashing over here at nine o’clock close to hysterics, and the silly chit hadn’t even the sense to bring Robbie with her. She left the child there, in the house with a drunken father. I went over and got her, of course. They are here now in the schoolroom, the pair of them. I don’t mean to let Roberta go back to that house. With Grayshott drunk three-quarters of the time, it is no place for his daughter. God only knows what he might do—set the place ablaze one night and have them all burned to a crisp. Miss Milne, too, has begun dropping hints she means to leave, and who shall blame her?”

  “Dear me, what a fix. It begins to look as though we must have him put away at last, He has become a confirmed alcoholic. The courts surely will support our claim.”

  “They will agree to remove her from his charge, but it is his uncle, you know, who will be her guardian. I cannot like to see my sister’s daughter remove to Clancy Grayshott’s establishment, where she will be exposed to horse dealers, smugglers, and worse. That is no place for a deVigne to be raised, when there are our two houses eager to have her.”

  “It would be no worse than staying with her father, at least.”

  “It would be better, but not good enough. A dirty set of dishes we have got connected with through Louise’s marriage. When I helped Samson put Grayshott to bed last night, I was appalled at his condition. A room full of medication. I spoke to Samson about him, and he feels, from what the doctor says, that Grayshott hasn’t long to live. In his will, you know, he puts Roberta in Clancy’s charge. Spite. All spite because of the way Louise’s marriage portion was tied up in the child. He wants to get his hands on it and squander it as he did his own money. Ran through a handsome fortune in the space of three years. And because I refuse to comply, he has made Clancy the guardian in spite. Clancy has hated us forever. We’ll never be allowed to even see Roberta. I am at my wits’ end trying to sort this muddle out.”

  “Poor Louise. If only she had lived, things would have been fine. Grayshott only became a loony after her death. He was crazy about her. He has those uncontrollable emotions. The right woman could have done anything with him. It’s a great pity that young schoolteacher could not have seen her way clear to accepting him.”

  “Do you think he actually offered for her? I remember he used to run on about her soulful eyes.”

  “According to local gossip, he offered more than once and was roundly snubbed both times. I was sorry to hear at the time that he was interested in her, but I have often regretted since that time that she refused. One cannot but wonder why she did. Scratching for a living. You’d think even Grayshott would be better than teaching at the parish school. And she is the soul of propriety—would have kept him in line, or I miss my bet.”

  “Yes, it is a pity, but what is to be done?”

  “Do you think it is too late for her to have him yet? She’s had a year of pitting herself against those rowdy students. I wonder if she wouldn’t take him now, where she turned him off before.”

  “He’s gone straight downhill the last year. If she refused him when he was relatively sober, I cannot think she’ll marry a drunkard.”

  “If he hasn’t long to live, as the doctor thinks... And really, you know, he is as well as bedridden. It would be a marriage in name only. She would be more nurse than wife. She might be happy to exchange six months’ work as a nurse, followed by a life as a respectable widow in fairly easy circumstances, for the future she now has, eking out a living as a teacher. She’d be a good mother for Roberta. If Grayshott married her, he would make her the child’s guardian, one must suppose. Roberta would live with her and not Clancy. It might be worth putting it to her in that light, Max. It would save a long and costly court battle for Roberta. There is no saying we’d ever win the case either. Clancy is a ramshackle old fellow, but he wouldn’t beat the child, or anything of that sort. It is only that she would grow up unmannered, in an extremely second-rate household, and marry some scoundrel...”

  “Would she be better off with the schoolteacher in that respect? That woman might be anyone, for all we know. She is hand in glove with Miss Frisk and that set. A third-rate household, if ever there was one.”

  “Good gracious, I didn’t mean Bobbie would go to live with her at Miss Frisk’s place. They’d both stay at Andrew’s cottage, right under our noses, and we would see to the hiring of help for the teacher and so on. In any case, from what I hear, the Sommers girl is from a good family. A connection of Strothingham on the mother’s side.”

  “She cannot be connected to Strothingham or she would not be living as she does, in rented rooms, and teaching school. She’s invented the story to try to nab herself a genteel husband.”

  “I don’t know about that. She was in no hurry to nab Andrew, was she? The connection cannot be close, I suppose, but she is at least a gentlewoman. Miss Frisk tells me she attended a seminary, and can speak French and play the pianoforte—has all the accomplishments of a lady.”

  “Miss Frisk, of course, would be an excellent judge of such matters!” deVigne said with a sardonic curl of his lips.

  “She knows the girl is above herself, at least. You cannot deny the influence would be morally good. One never sees Miss Sommers anywhere except at church and the lending library.”

  Driven to despair, deVigne allowed, with great reluctance, “It might be worth a try. But are we able to get Andrew sobered up and made presentable to go calling on her? For that matter, is he out of his bed at all these days? I haven’t seen him outside the cottage for weeks.”

  “Lord, I hadn’t thought of Andrew going in person to court her. His looks would be enough to disgust her, to see him run completely to seed.”

  “She’s bound to see him if she agrees to marry him.”

  “You go and put it to her. Explain the situation. He is ill, dying in fact. Fill my glass, will you, Max? I come to rival Andrew in my drinking, but at my age it can hardly matter. Delicious sherry.” She sipped carefully, then settled back to continue the discussion. “Miss Sommers will tend to his deathbed, then be Roberta’s stepmother, living at the Cottage. Much better than wearing herself to a thread at the school. We would have to make some settlement on her as an added bribe—a few thousand pounds would be enough.”

  “I’ve never even met the girl. How could I put such a proposition to her? She looks a perfect little nun, mincing up the aisle on Sunday in those black gowns and plain round bonnets. You would be the more proper person to approach her, Jane. The nature of the arrangements would come more easily from a woman—the fact that it would be a marriage in name only, and so on.”

  “Use your h
ead, Max! Your position as lord of the village must exert some influence. People are accustomed to doing as you wish.”

  “Miss Sommers is not. I’ve never had a thing to do with her.”

  “Still, your reputation—the very fact of your calling in person—would speak for the plan. You could use a little charm too, you know. It wouldn’t kill you to smile at her, for instance.”

  “What, lead her to believe I have an eye on her myself? Nothing would be more likely to horrify a prude.”

  “Why do you say so? You ain’t quite such an antidote as that.”

  “If she feels there is a position as my mistress as well as Andrew’s wife in the bargain, she will view the scheme askance, I think.”

  “Oh, it won’t be the position of mistress that pops into her head. You have very little notion of how a young lady’s mind works. Just because she wears dark gowns and plain bonnets don’t mean she isn’t a romantic. All those trips to the lending library—it is always the romances she takes out. I know because she generally beats me to a new one. I wonder if she has returned Evelina yet. I am eager to read it. Why, I daresay she’s been dreaming of nabbing you for years.”

  “Widgeon!” deVigne replied, dismayed at the charge.

  “Ah, you’ve never been a girl, there’s the problem. They always pick out the richest, handsomest gentleman within their view and dream about him. The more impossible it is they’ll ever land him, the harder they dream. Smile, and tell her you would consider it a great personal favor, and you’ll bring her around your thumb. See if you don’t.”

  “Rather a shabby trick to play on the schoolteacher, don’t you think?”

  “Who are we interested in, the schoolteacher or Roberta? Besides, when she sees what a grouch and dictator you are, she won’t be long in giving up on you.”

  “Thank you, love. I wondered how long your praise of my charms would go on before turning to its more customary abuse. Do you really think this plan has any chance of succeeding? I would happily play the fool for half an hour to secure Roberta’s future.”

  “What have you got to lose?”

  “Half an hour,” he replied, and finished off his drink. “What time does the school close? I’ll catch her there before she leaves.”

  “At three-thirty in the fall, when the days are short. Wear your new bluejacket and drive the crested carriage. Give her the full treatment, and remember to smile.”

  “No, I don’t plan to lead her on, but I’ll outline the advantages to herself, and if she is sensible, as one hears she is, she may at least consider the offer. And then, of course, I shall have the delightful task of approaching Grayshott and seeing if he still favors the girl. I haven’t heard him rant on about the soulful eyes for a year or so.”

  “I’ll do that much for you. I’ll do it now, before you go to the school, and before he has time to get drunk.” She arose and was helped into her violet cape. “I’ll stop back here on my way to the Dower House,” she advised him, then was off through the park to tackle Grayshott.

  The summer home built for Louise and Grayshott at the time of their marriage was a pleasant half-timbered cottage, hewn out of a corner of the deVigne holdings. It had deteriorated badly since Louise’s death. The garden was overgrown; what had once been a lawn was now a pasture. The place needed paint, and the windows were dirty. Like its master, the place had been allowed to run to seed. Lady Jane’s nose revolted at the dust and dirt within, but despite the unpleasantness of the surroundings in which the meeting took place, it was a success.

  Grayshott continued insanely infatuated with Miss Sommers. As he stumbled about the house in an alcoholic stupor, he thought often of her and Louise, who had blended into one ideal woman in his disordered brain. They were rather alike in their general appearance, both dark, handsome women. It was this which had first attracted him to her. He was not alert enough to realize he was past reclaiming, and still harbored the hope that he would win Miss Sommers. He assured Lady Jane in a weak voice that he would adopt a life of sobriety if the girl would have him. Yes, yes, he would be delighted to make her Roberta’s guardian, in the unlikely event anything should happen to himself before his daughter was full grown. This he considered a very unlikely contingency. He never liked Clancy above half, and was only making him Bobbie’s guardian to spite that stiff-rumped deVigne.

  She darted back to the Hall. “Success! It is done. He still wants the girl. Mercy, but I doubt she’ll have him if she gets a look at him. Hair flying down to his shoulders like a madman. You must get a firm promise from her, Max, or she’ll bolt at the first glimpse of him. But he cannot last long. He’s skin and bones. Go at once, and be sure you drop by and let me know what she said, hear?”

  Chapter Three

  DeVigne had no alternative but to press on with his half of the bargain. At three o’clock he had his crested carriage harnessed up, two liveried footmen standing behind to lend him consequence, his new blue superfine jacket on his shoulders, and a wary expression on his face. His timing was perfect. Out of the door of the schoolhouse erupted a stream of screaming students just as he drew up. Every one of them had to come and admire his carriage and horses before dashing off home to tell the parents deVigne was at the school.

  It was Mr. Umpton who first saw him and ran out to make him welcome, but within three minutes he was in Miss Sommers’s room, sitting atop a student’s desk with his curled beaver in his hands and feeling more foolish than he had ever felt in his life, to put his preposterous scheme to this dignified gray-eyed woman who was looking at him in astonishment, and not friendly astonishment either. She appeared hostile, and he scarcely knew where to begin.

  “How do you like teaching here?” he asked, to play for time.

  “Fine. I like it very much,” she answered calmly, wondering why he had come, and fearing Umpton had at last arranged to be rid of her. She had had words with Umpton only recently about her seeing some of his students after school. Lord deVigne was going to fire her!

  “That’s nice,” he said, though it was not what he had hoped to hear. If she liked it, she would not be eager to leave. “Still, it must be a difficult life for a young lady.” He didn’t hesitate, even mentally, over the word lady. He had been pleasantly surprised to see that Miss Sommers was just that. Well-spoken, dignified, even pretty, with an elegance unrelated to her toilette but inherent in her bearing.

  “The hours are long and work demanding, but I enjoy it. Why is it you have come to see me?” she asked immediately, when he had planned to broach the matter by degrees. Her eyes took in every detail of his splendor. A coat that seemed poured on his back, so well did it fit. An immaculate and intricate tie, above which his well-shaped head sat at a proud angle. Dark eyes, an aquiline nose, a lean face, with a touch of arrogance that was caused more by the arrangement of features than by his expression. Through the window she saw the impressive carriage, the footmen, and wondered at all this display, only to fire her.

  “It is a family matter,” he told her, after clearing his throat. “My brother-in-law, Mr. Grayshott...” He noticed her face took on a wary look at the name. “You are acquainted with him, I believe?” His dark brows rose in a question.

  She realized this was not mere chitchat. The visit had to do with Mr. Grayshott. “I know him very slightly,” she allowed.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “I have met him twice, very briefly.”

  “But I understood—I thought you were better acquainted than that!”

  “No, I was only speaking to him twice in my life.”

  “I see.” He came to a standstill. The eyebrows settled down, and he blinked twice in surprise. She hardly knew Andrew, and here he thought there had been some romance between them. His proposition was clearly ineligible. A fool’s errand, “I understood there was more to your relationship than that. I thought he had offered for you.”

  “He did. Twice.”

  DeVigne stared hard at her, out of penetrating, dark eyes. “He met you
twice, and twice offered marriage to you? To a virtual stranger, in fact?”

  “Yes, it was very strange,” she agreed. “The first time ever I met him, he asked me to marry him. He was—he had been drinking, I believe, which would account for it.”

  “Very likely,” he murmured, rapidly considering what to say next.

  “What about Mr. Grayshott? Has your coming something to do with him?” she pressed on.

  He was favorably impressed with her and, though he was pretty sure she would not accept the plan, he decided to put it forward, having come this far. Indeed, he could think of no other way of extricating himself from the classroom. “He is not well, you know,” he said.

  “I haven’t seen him about the village for some months now.”

  “No, he is ill. Very ill.”

  “I am sorry to hear it.”

  “Dying, in fact,”

  “Ah, that is too bad. It will leave his daughter an orphan.” That’s why he is come, she thought, her spirits lifting. I am at last to be offered the post of her governess, and I shall accept this time, if Grayshott is indeed dying.

  “Yes, the reason I am come has to do with his daughter, Roberta.” She smiled a little in anticipation. “She will be left under the guardianship of her uncle, Clancy Grayshott, when her father dies. It is not what we wish for her.”

  “Would you not be a more proper guardian, milord, being also an uncle?”

  “I think I would, but there is some—disagreement between Grayshott and myself. We have not got along for years, since his wife’s death. A family matter. So Roberta will leave the area and go to Clancy Grayshott, which the family is anxious to prevent.”