All the Long Summer Read online

  "I'd still like to work for your grandmother, Mr. Carmichael," she said with a quiet confidence she was far from feeling.

  Her answer seemed to satisfy him, for he nodded his head firmly, then got up from the desk again and stood with his hands on the back of the chair, looking across at her for a moment before he spoke,,

  a scrutiny that Isa found infinitely disturbing. Then he glanced at his wristwatch and nodded. "I have one more appointment this afternoon," he told her. "If you'd like to wait in the outer office or look around the town for an hour, I can run you out to Trent House when I finish for the day—O.K.?"

  Isa licked her lips anxiously. "Yes, thank you."

  "Better still," he went on, "we can drive over and get your things, then go straight out to the house. You've told your landlady you'll be leaving, haven't you?"

  "Well—no," Isa said, anxious not to put obstacles in the way but worried about Mrs. Garfield's reactions to seeing her new lodger moving out so soon, without even a week's rent due. "I—I didn't expect to move so soon, and Mrs. Garfield—" She bit her lip when she thought of Mrs. Garfield's opinion of self-confident young solicitors who bowled up and whisked away her paying guests. "Mrs. Garfield—"

  "Has already got you firmly under her thumb," Toby Carmichael guessed with a hint of derision in his. smile. "Well, you leave Mrs. Whateverhernameis to me, Miss McLean. We'll pick up your things first, then drive out to Trent House, O.K.?"

  "Yes, Mr. Carmichael, if you think—"

  "I think," he assured her briskly. "Now, if you'll go and amuse yourself for an hour or so and be back here at, say—five-fifteen, hmm?"

  "Yes. Thank you."

  Feeling as she was moving in a dream, Isa got up and walked across the office with her legs weak and trembly and a curious sense of unreality making her

  eyes wide and unseeing. She was not normally a meek and pliable character, although Aunt Carrie had done her best to quell her natural rebelliousness over the years, but everything had happened so quickly and with such unexpected ease that she had difficulty in grasping the fact that it had happened at all.

  "Oh, Miss McLean!" She turned again swiftly and found him still standing behind his desk, his tall figure outlined against the window and half blocking the light from it. The door was open behind her and she knew quite well that the inquisitive young man at the desk in the outer office would be listening to every word, but she hesitated to go back and close the door again. "I hope your Mrs. Whoever is a lot more of a tyrant than my grandmother," Toby Carmichael told her with a smile, "or you're going to be sunk without trace when Grandmama gets her teeth into your

  Isa felt those curious eyes watching her from the outer office, sensed the surprise and probably amusement too, and flushed a bright, betraying pink as she looked at her new employer with eyes that were suddenly bright and resentful. "I can cope perfectly well, Mr. Carmichael, thank you," she told him in a voice that shook only a little. "You don't even have to bother picking up my things, I can get a taxi while I'm waiting for you."

  For a moment he did not answer, then he shook his head and laughed, a soft, deep sound that brought more colour to her cheeks. "O.K.," he said. "You fight your own dragons, Miss McLean, if

  that's the way you want it, but have the taxi bring you back here, don't go straight out to the house, there's no need to go to all that expense just to prove your independence !"

  The reference to her financial state, however well meant, she found mean and uncalled-for, but it was true and there was no use denying it. She stuck out her chin and looked at him steadily. "If you prefer it that way, Mr. Carmichael," she said.

  "I do," he said quietly. "And if you're not back here by five-fifteen I'll come and pick up the pieces!"

  Stiff-backed and with her chip in the air, Isa walked across to the door, closing it without turning round again and making sure she did not slam it hard as she felt like doing. As an interview the last few minutes could hardly have been more eventful or less reassuring, but she had the job she had come for, that was the most important thing.

  It was so much more than she had anticipated, and as she went down the narrow dark staircase to the street again she laughed suddenly and hugged herself in sudden excitement. Mr. Toby Carmichael aside, she looked forward to her first real job, and no old lady could possibly be more demanding or critical than Aunt Carrie had been.

  Mrs. Garfield, as Isa expected, was scathing in her

  comments on guests who stayed only a day or two

  and then packed up and moved out in what Mrs.

  Garfield called 'highly suspicious circumstances'.

  She was only thankful that she had not followed

  Toby Carmichael's suggestion and let him bring her to fetch her things, or heaven knew what interpretation Mrs. Garfield would have put on that.

  She had driven in the taxi back to his chambers and sat in that same small waiting-room again until he came and found her just after half past five. The young man in the corner had departed promptly at five-fifteen and she had sat in solitary state for the last fifteen minutes, then Toby Carmichael came out of his office in a rush, smiling but unapologetic.

  Driving along with him in a sleek black sports car that was more suitable for Monte Carlo than the quiet lanes of Surrey, sometime later, Isa glanced at him from the corners of her eyes. In the deepness of the evening sunlight his features looked even more dark and she noticed with some surprise that he had eyelashes that would have been the envy of many women.

  The strong chin was suggestive of stubbornness as well as arrogance, and there was a hint of sensuality in the lower lip that probably explained both the anger and appeal of his female visitor. He would not be an easy man to know or to understand, but —She bit her lip hastily when he turned his head suddenly and cocked a curious brow.

  "You're very quiet, Miss McLean," he said in that cool, quiet voice. "Are you always so reticent?"

  "Not always," Isa said, taken by surprise and feeling quite unaccountably guilty.

  "You're nervous," he guessed, and laughed softly as if he rather liked the idea, a suggestion of cruelty

  that Isa resented and looked at him reproachfully.

  "I'm nervous," she agreed in a small voice, "because this is my first job, Mr. Carmichael, and I don't find the prospect exactly reassuring."

  "Your first job?" He glanced at her briefly over one shoulder and she wondered if he was going to have second thoughts about employing her, although it was a little late now. "I didn't realise that." He pulled a face, then shrugged, his long hands guiding the car expertly round 'another corner. "I should have realised, of course," he said. "You're too young to have done anything else if you nursed your aunt for five and a half years."

  "I'm quite capable," Isa assured him hastily, lest he should consider turning back and dumping her on Mrs. Garfield's inhospitable doorstep. "Even Aunt Carrie had no complaints about the way I looked after her."

  "Well, I won't guarantee that Grandmama will be as satisfied," he told her with a smile. "But if you're ready to take it on then you deserve your salary."

  Her salary, the salary mentioned in her letter he had sent to her, was quite beyond anything she had expected and she still did not quite believe it could be true. It had not been mentioned at the interview, and she found it difficult to bring up the subject now, but she must have the right figure, judging by his remark

  "I—I don't know your—my employer's name," she ventured, and he smiled at her again over his shoulder.

  "I'm your employer," he informed her. "Grand-

  mama's got through five housekeepers in the past two years and I want someone to give their whole time to her and keep her from upsetting Mrs. Grayle, the current one. She'll probably have you on the hop from morning till night, but if you can stand the pace you might even get to like the old darling!"

  "I think I might," Isa agreed, and genuinely believed it.

  "Here we are!" He turned the car into a long straight drive t
hat ran between two rows of tall beeches and gave glimpses of green parkland spread out on both sides seemingly endlessly.

  It was a huge acreage and for the first time Isa began to wonder whether Toby Carmichael was entirely dependent upon his fees as a solicitor. The house when it came into view was beautifully elegant and graceful in the best Georgian manner and must surely be worth far more than any young solicitor could afford.

  "This—this is it?" she asked cautiously, and he nodded.

  "This, as they say, is it." He glanced at her again over his shoulder and one dark brow questioned her opinion. "Do you like it?" he asked, as if her opinion mattered.

  "it's beautiful!" Her response was unhesitating, and he smiled.

  "We like it!"

  They drew up in front of a slim-columned portico and barely had the car stopped before a woman came out of the front door, her plain face breaking

  into a half smile when she saw Toby Carmichael. "I'm glad you're here, Mr. Carmichael," she told him, quietly, so that Isa was not supposed to hear. "Madame's been asking for you and I had a job to convince her that you hadn't come home yet."

  "Leave it to me!" He seemed unperturbed by the news and turned to Isa, putting the fingers of one long hand under her arm and drawing her to the four wide steps that led to the front door. "Come on, Miss McLean, you might as well plunge in at the deep end!"

  Isa caught the expression on the woman's face as she turned to follow him, and her heart was hammering fast at her side as she climbed the steps beside him. Whatever she had let herself in for would soon become apparent, if she had read the signs correctly.

  She had little time to appreciate the cool elegance of the hall they walked into, only to register its lush deep carpet and the slender gilt furniture that enhanced its elegance. Toby Carmichael opened a door at the far end and led her into a big sunny room that opened on to a garden, a beautiful bright room where a tall straight figure sat alone, down near the open windows.

  It was like something from a dream as far as Isa was concerned and she stared as she walked with her employer down its length towards the solitary occupant. Paintings on the walls had a faintly familiar look about them and she realised that she had seen copies of them in art shops, only these would undoubtedly be the originals, she had no doubt at all.

  The figure in the armchair turned as they approached and Isa felt the hard scrutiny of a pair of bright dark eyes. The features were strong and almost more masculine than feminine, although she must once have been a very handsome woman, and the body tall and thin in a dark red silk dress that must surely have been conceived in a Paris work—

  room.

  Toby Carmichael went alone the last few feet and bent his head to kiss the stern face gently. "Hello, you old curmudgeon," he said affectionately. "Have you been playing up poor Grayle again? You know I have to go down on my knees to keep a housekeeper, darling, why do you make life so difficult for me?"

  "The woman's a fool!" his grandmother retorted, and again fixed her shrewd bright gaze on Isa. "Who's this? Not one of your girl-friends?"

  He straightened up and looked over his shoulder at Isa who tried hard to control the sudden flush of colour in her face at the blunt question, "Miss McLean is going to look after you, darling," he told the old lady with a smile. "Miss Isabella McLean is going to be your companion, and if you don't treat her right you'll have to answer to me!" He reached out with one hand and drew Isa close to the chair where the old lady sat, his eyes watching her closely, watching to see if she shrank from the meeting, Isa guessed ruefully, and determinedly faced the old lady with a smile. "Miss McLean, this is my grandmother, Lady Carmichael."

  The title was unexpected, and so was the sudden

  look of gentleness that came over the lined face and made it look somehow younger. She stretched out a hand and Isa came closer, her heart thudding anxiously against her ribs as she bore the scrutiny of two pairs of eyes.

  "You brought a child like this to cope with an old woman like me?" Lady Carmichael asked. "How could you, Toby?"

  Her reproach seemed neither to worry him nor surprise him, and he smiled at Isa, one eyelid lowered briefly in a broad wink that was probably meant to reassure her. "I thought you might think twice about bullying anyone so small and sweet," he told his grandmother blandly, while Isa hastily looked down at the old lady rather than at him. "Well?" he asked after a second's silence, during which Lady Carmichael studied her shrewdly. "Do I leave her here with you or take her back to the cold, cold world and let her find some other elderly lady to cosset?"

  "You leave her here, of course," Lady Carmichael told, him with certainty. She looked up at Isa again and frowned. "Are you used to putting up with an old woman's bad temper, child?" she asked, and Isa smiled warily,

  "I looked after my aunt for five and a half years, Lady Carmichael," she said in as steady a voice as she could manage, "I'd—I'd like to stay if you'll let me."

  "Good!" The old lady nodded as if well satisfied. "I'm glad you've got the spunk to try at least !"

  The bright dark eyes looked at her steadily for a

  moment and Isa found herself seeing something other than harshness and bad temper in the wrinkled face. There was a gentleness too that she had glimpsed at briefly in those first few minutes, and surely anyone was better than Mrs. Garfield and her interminable regulations. Also, of course, when she really faced the facts--she had very little choice, her boats were burned, and there was no going back.

  CHAPTER TWO

  AFTER four days at Trent House Isa was finding it much less awesome than she had feared. Lady, Carmichael was short-tempered and could be unbelievably difficult at times, but she could also show a softer, gentler side to her nature that Isa found quite endearing. The old lady's eyesight was failing and she liked Isa to read to her, but on the whole she required very little physical help.

  She found walking rather difficult at times because of arthritis, but she used a stick to assist her as well as Isa's ever ready arm, and could on occasion manage alone. She had informed. Isa at the outset that she was ninety-seven years old and meant to reach one hundred, an achievement she would no doubt accomplish if it depended on mere strength of 'Will.

  She plainly adored her grandson, despite their frequent verbal exchanges, and so far as Isa could gather the old lady had been responsible for his upbringing. No reference had been made so far of his parents, so she assumed that they were either dead or had parted during his childhood.

  The afternoon was bright and sunny and Isa had read two whole chapters of a crime novel to the old lady; now she sat on the window, seat looking out at

  the gardens and the lawns as they stretched, lush and green, down to the river. The old lady was asleep in her chair and Isa wished she could take advantage of the fact and go for a walk in the sunshine, but years with Aunt Carrie had taught her that sometimes old ladies are not always as fast asleep as they appear to be. If she attempted to steal away for a few moments Lady Carmichael would no doubt wake up and demand to know where she was going.

  In sleep the long thin hands had a frail, gentle look and the features too relaxed into a softness they rarely attained in consciousness. She was, Isa had decided from her first day, much better to work for than poor Aunt Carrie had been. Aunt Carrie had seen her autocracy as strength, whereas Lady Carmichael was wise enough to realise that gentleness could have its own strength.

  Some small unconscious movement of hers must have woken the old lady, for she stirred briefly and opened her eyes, then almost immediately closed them again. -"Why don't you go out into the sunshine for a bit?" she asked, and Isa blinked at her, momentarily startled.

  "I'm all right, Lady Carmichael," she said. "Really I—"

  "You're as pale as cream," the old lady retorted swiftly, still without opening her eyes. "You need more sunshine and fresh air—it isn't good for a young girl to spend all her time indoors. In the four days you've been here you've never left the house!"

  Isa shook
her head, startled by the new experience.

  Such a thing would never have occurred to Aunt Carrie and she was unused to coping with such thoughtfulness, however forcefully put. "I really don't mind staying with you, Lady Carmichael," she assured her, and smiled when the old lady opened her bright, shrewd eyes at last and frowned at her.

  "Nonsense, child!" she said briskly. "It isn't natural for you not to want to go out. If you don't go out you'll stay pale and pasty all your life, and no man likes that!"

  The frank opinion startled her further and Isa stared. "But, Lady Carmichael," she objected, "I don't—"

  "You don't even go anywhere in the evenings," the old lady went on indomitably. "A young girl like you should be dancing and going to theatres, not sitting in her room reading or watching television with an old woman!" The shrewd eyes fixed themselves on her steadily. "If you don't like going anywhere alone or if you haven't a young man, then I'll instruct Toby to take you somewhere!"

  oh no, my lady!" Isa gazed at her in horror. her face warmly pink when she thought what Toby Carmichael's reaction would' be to such a direction.

  "Then at least take yourself off for a walk while the sun lasts," Lady Carmichael commanded relentlessly. "I hate pale-faced little creatures about me—and so does my grandson!"

  Why she should consider Toby's opinion was of any consequence to her, Isa did not stop to wonder; she got to her feet, only too anxious to have her wish to be out into the sunshine made a reality. She

  looked at the old lady curiously for a moment, a half smile on her lips, for she had little doubt that the threat to delegate Toby as her escort was quite seriously meant.

  "I hope you won't think of saying anything to Mr. Carmichael about taking me—" she began, and a thin hand waved the suggestion aside impatiently.

  "I won't, I won't, you silly child!" Lady Carmichael said. "Now off with you for a walk or whatever it is you want to do!"