CHAPTER TWO  (Part Two)

Cedric Trevellian entered his father’s study, carrying a sheaf of documents, and walked swiftly to the big mahogany desk, where Sir Leopold sat in a pool of light from the oil lamp.

     ‘I need your signature on these, Father,’ he said briskly.

     Sir Leopold glanced up, removing his pince-nez. ‘I’ve been reading the reports from the Neath mines,’ he began tersely. ‘Production has dropped over the last month. What is the meaning of that, Cedric?’

     ‘There was a bad fall earlier, if you remember,’ Cedric said. ‘Miners were killed. Some of the tunnels are still blocked and the men are reluctant to risk more lives to clear them.’

     Sir Leopold brought his fist down on the desk with a crash. ‘Must I deal with every last detail? See to it at once. Offer incentives if you must, but get results.’

     ‘Yes, Father.’ He stood hesitating.

     ‘Well? What is it?’

     ‘I thought you should know that the girl has arrived, so Mrs Gilbert informs me.’

     ‘Girl?

     ‘Edward Trevellian’s daughter.’

     ‘Eh?’

     ‘You agreed to take her in as Pricilla’s companion on her father’s death.’

     ‘What of it?’

     ‘I thought you might want to see her.’

     ‘Is she pretty?’

     Cedric swallowed. ‘I’ve no idea, Father. I’ve not seen her myself yet.’

     Sir Leopold pushed the papers away from him and leaned back in his chair. ‘I’m in need of a diversion,’ he said. ‘Have her brought down to the study straight away.’

     ‘It’s very late, Father,’ Cedric said. ‘She’ll be in her bed now.’

     ‘Being interviewed in her night attire will put her at a disadvantage, I think,’ Sir Leopold said, sharp amusement in his voice which made Cedric wince. ‘Let’s see what she’s made of.’

     ‘Father, she is a simple parson’s daughter and not used to such indignities.’

     ‘Have her brought down I say!’

     ‘All the servants are in their bed, too.’

     ‘Then fetch her yourself, man! Since I’m paying for her keep I’ve a right to inspect the goods.’

Rosalind lay in the large four-poster, wide awake, finding it impossible to sleep. Her room was at the front of the house, her window overlooking the cliffs, and she could hear the sea bounding relentlessly on the rocks below.

     Despite all the luxury about her she longed for her narrow bed in the safety of Mrs Dutton’s lodging house. But it was no good dwelling on that, she told herself sternly. Fate had brought her to Cliff House and so she must try to make the best of things.

     Restless, she turned over in the bed and then was startled by a tap at the door. She had no time-piece with her and could not even guess at the hour, but thought it unlikely that anyone would be about at this time.

     When the tapping came again Rosalind got out of bed and reaching for her wrap padded on bare feet to the door, but she hesitated to open it.

     ‘Who is it?’ she called timorously.

     ‘Cedric Trevellian.’

     Rosalind felt confused. ‘Mr Trevellian!’ What could he want with her at this time of might?

     ‘I’m abed, Mr Trevellian,’ she said through the door.

     ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘But my father is demanding to see you now.’

     Sir Leopold wanted to see her at the dead of night? Rosalind was somewhat scandalised and annoyed too. How inconsiderate!

     ‘Can it not wait until morning?’

     ‘Miss Trevellian, my father’s whims are not to be questioned,’ Cedric said flat. ‘He demands you present yourself immediately.’

     Rosalind was nonplussed. ‘Please wait until I dress.’

     ‘No!’ Cedric called. ‘Come down to his study now, as you are. Those are his instructions. Open the door, please.’

     Rosalind secured her wrap more securely and with a shaking hand unlocked the door and opened it.

     A man of medium height and broad of shoulder in his late thirties stood outside. He was holding high an oil lamp and by its light Rosalind took in his unremarkable features.

     ‘I regret waking you, Miss Trevellian,’ he said. ‘But no one gainsays my father, not even his sons.’

     Rosalind felt it prudent to say nothing.

     ‘This way,’ he said and strode off along the darkened corridor, Rosalind at his heels.

They descended two flights of main staircase and Rosalind then found herself in the main hall with its great glass domed ceiling. Moonlight danced through the glass panels making patterns on the cold marble floor.

Cedric Trevellian led her to a door on the right, tapping lightly before walking in. Rosalind followed, clutching anxiously at the edges of her wrap.

‘Miss Trevellian, Father,’ Cedric said. ‘As you wished.’

Rosalind stared nervously at the man seated behind the desk. He had stronger features than his son, with a prominent nose and a flowing moustache. His dark eyes glittered in the lamp light as he looked her up and down.

‘So, you are Edward’s child,’ he said. ‘Handsome for a mere parson’s daughter, I must say.’

Rosalind resented being appraised like a prize cow, and she could not refrain from commenting strongly.

‘A mere parson would have more courtesy than to drag a guest from bed in the middle of the night, just to inspect them.’

Sir Leopold gave a grunt of surprise. ‘Spirited, by Jove!’ he said. ‘You have the impertinence to flash your eyes at me, young woman!’

Rosalind lowered her gaze. She was angered at his description of her father as a mere parson, as though Edward Trevellian had been of little consequence.

‘I would remind you that you are not guest in this house, Miss Trevellian,’ Sir Leopold continued sharply. ‘You are here to work, if you can call being a companion to my granddaughter work.’

     ‘I will give a good return for my keep,’ Rosalind retorted. ‘I want no charity.’

     ‘You’ll get none,’ Sir Leopold grunted. ‘I warn you, Miss Trevellian, Priscilla is a young girl of tender mind. I want no outlandish ideas put into her head.’

     ‘I don’t know what you mean, Sir Leopold.’

     ‘You strike me already as an outspoken young woman of strong notions,’ he said. ‘Gentlemen do not like such qualities in their wives, and Pricilla is destined to make a good marriage.’

     Rosalind was about to speak but he lifted a hand to silence her.

‘I’ve taken you in out of the kindness of my heart, but I can just as easily turn you out.’

     Rosalind bit back a retort, sensing that silence was the best response. She would never have been so outspoken normally but Sir Leopold’s cavalier attitude in summoning her from her bed and then belittling her father angered her greatly.

     ‘You may return to your room now,’ Sir Leopold said. ‘But I wish to see you in this room at nine o’clock tomorrow. Do you understand?’

     ‘Yes, sir.’

     ‘Good. Now leave us.’

     Holding on tightly to her anger Rosalind turned to leave when Sir Leopold spoke again.

‘Heed my warning!’ he said gruffly. ‘I shall be watching your influence on my granddaughter very closely. One hint that you are encouraging her in outlandish notions and you will be summarily dismissed from this household. Do you understand?’

‘Yes, sir.’

Sir Leopold returned to his papers, dismissing her. Rosalind glanced at Cedric Trevellian, but his gaze was averted.

She left the room, closing the door quietly behind her. She was angered that Cedric Trevellian had said not one word in her defence. What kind of a man was he that he would allow his father to dominate him when it came to is daughter’s welfare?

     Rosalind climbed the staircases, her feet now icy cold. She hoped that she would be able to find her room again with no light to guide her.

     She was walking hesitantly along the darkened corridor, looking for the door of her room, when suddenly a door opened beside her and lamplight flooded the corridor.

     Mrs Gilbert stepped out enveloped in a gaudy silken wrap, her hair loose to her shoulders.

     ‘What are you doing abroad at this hour?’ the housekeeper demanded to know in a querulous tone. ‘I think you are up to no good, Miss.’

     Rosalind was cold, angry and near exhaustion, and so this latest attack was too much.

     ‘What I’m about is none of your business, I think,’ she said. ‘I am not under your jurisdiction, Mrs Gilbert.’

     ‘I think you are, and I demand to know what mischief you have been up to.’

     ‘Sir Leopold sent for me, if you must know.’

     Mrs Gilbert drew back a step, her hand going to her breast.

‘What? You went to him in dishabille, attempting to inflame his senses, no doubt. You brazen hussy!’

     Rosalind was taken back at the accusation. ‘How dare you suggest such a scandalous thing,’ she said outraged. ‘I was abed, but Mr Cedric demanded I attend his father in the study at a moment’s notice. He remained at the interview throughout.’

     Mrs Gilbert’s face appeared darkly red in the lamplight.

     ‘Do not think to throw your cap at Sir Leopold,’ she warned. ‘His affections lie elsewhere.’

     ‘I’m not in the least interested,’ Rosalind said sharply. ‘Now, I’ve been kept from my rest far too long. Goodnight to you!’

     Leaving the housekeeper standing there Rosalind strode off and by the aid of the light behind her found her room. She went in thankfully, taking a moment to turn the key in the lock.

     Climbing up onto the bed she sank immediately into the immense feather mattress and drew the covers up around her ears. Near exhaustion though she was she doubted sleep would come easily. She was still half awake some time later when heavy footsteps come along the corridor. A door opened somewhere and she heard raised voices. It sounded like Sir Leopold’s weighty tones and Mrs Gilbert’s shill voice. Then the door was shut and silence reigned.

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