All the Long Summer Read online

  "I think I'll walk as far as the river," Isa decided, looking at her wristwatch. "It looks nice down there, and I won't be very long, Lady Carmichael—I'll be back in plenty of time for dinner."

  "Be as long as you like," the old lady told her grandly. "I shan't rim away !"

  It was lovely walking on the cool green turf down to the river and Isa revelled in the sense of freedom it gave her. Aunt Carrie had given her little free time and had always demanded to know where she went and with whom- - -it would take time to adjust to the idea of being able to do as she liked with her free time.

  She had never walked as far as the river before, although she had caught glimpses of it from her bedroom window, glinting in the sun, beyond the fringe of trees that lined its banks. There were rose gardens and formal flower beds near the house, but after a while a curving spinney of trees neatly dissected the formal from the natural and from there on open, sweeping parkland ran smoothly as far as

  the river, sloping gently downwards and giving a vista of distant countryside, hazy in the summer sunlight.

  To Isa, town born and bred, it was unbelievably beautiful, and she felt a sudden surge of incredible happiness and excitement as she looked up at the clear blue of the sky, only lightly flecked with cottonwool clouds, and without quite knowing what prompted her, she started to run.

  Down the gentle slope, her feet seeming almost not to touch the ground and a smile of sheer pleasure on her face when the wind she created lifted her hair and tossed it out behind her. Her momentum took her without stopping right to the bottom of the incline and into the fringe of trees that bordered the river.

  Out of breath and going too fast to stop of her own accord, she caught at one of the trees as she passed and brought herself to a standstill. But the rough bark was less harmless than she had anticipated and she cried out, putting her stinging palm instinctively to her mouth.

  "Are you hurt?"

  The voice came from immediately behind her and Isa swung round swiftly, her eyes wide and startled, breathing heavily after the unaccustomed exertion, shaking her head to deny any injury. A man stood a few feet behind her, looking at her enquiringly, and impulsively she smiled.

  "No, I'm not hurt," she said. "Just scratched." She extended her left hand to show the grazed palm and smiled again ruefully. "It was my own fault for

  being such an idiot—I was going so fast I couldn't stop!"

  "Let me see." He came forward, a rather gaunt figure of medium height dressed in shabby grey trousers with the legs tucked into short boots, and a checked shirt open at the neck and with the sleeves rolled up above the elbows. He took her hand in his and looked at the palm for a second before letting it go again and shaking his head. "Nothing serious," he said, and looked at her again, his gaze curious. "Do you know this is private land?" he asked with a faint smile. "I don't mind for myself, but my employer—"

  "Oh, but I work for Mr, Carmichael too," Isa informed him hastily. "That is, I'm Lady Carmichael's companion."

  "Oh, I see!" He was obviously embarrassed at having taken her for a trespasser, for he ran one hand through his light brown hair nervously, smiling an apology. "I'm sorry," he said, "I didn't know her ladyship had a companion."

  Anxious to reassure him, Isa smiled. "There's no reason why you should" she told him. "I've only been here for four days and I've scarcely left the house in that time." She was curious about him and suspected he was about her too, so she extended her right hand and smiled. "I'm Isa McLean," she said.

  It was obvious that he was favourably impressed, for his eyes showed a definite glow of appreciation, though a much more restrained appreciation than Toby Carmichael's bold appraisal. He took her hand in a firm grasp and shook it briefly, but retained his

  hold for rather longer than was necessary. "Chris Burrows," he said. "I'm her ladyship's gamekeeper."

  "Oh !" His identity came as something of a surprise to Isa in two ways. For one thing it hadn't occurred to her that the estate employed a gamekeeper, and for another he spoke as if his employer was Lady Carmichael, not Toby, and that confused her. "I didn't know there was a gamekeeper," she confessed. "And I didn't know—I mean, I thought Mr. Carmichael was the owner of the estate. I only assumed it, of course," she added hastily, and Chris Burrows' gauntly handsome face grimaced bitterly.

  "So he is in law," he said, his opinion of the situation in no doubt. "Her ladyship made it over to him some years ago now, but I still don't see him as my boss."

  see..,

  Isa thought she did see, all too clearly. It was obvious that there was bitterness and resentment between the man beside her and Toby Carmichael, although she could not imagine why. Their life styles must surely be worlds apart, and to be fair, Toby was no more autocratic than his grandmother, so there must be some other reason behind it. Meanwhile, apart from his obvious dislike of Toby Carmichael, she found Chris Burrows pleasant enough, and he was quite evidently anxious to strike up an acquaintance.

  He was smiling again, seeking to restore a lighter atmosphere, and he leaned with one hand against a tall oak beside him, looking at her with frank ap-

  proval. "I hope you're going to like it here," he said. "I'd hate to think of you going away before I have a chance to get to know you."

  Isa laughed, her former light heartedness restored. "I don't think I'll do that," she told him. "I like Lady Carmichael very much, and I'm sure I'll be quite happy with her."

  "I hope so!" The rather earnest grey eyes looked at her hopefully for a moment, then down at the shabby boots he wore, and he kicked up fallen leaves into a damp pile at his feet. "I've got a little cottage just along here," he said, pointing along the river bank to his right. "Any time you feel like visiting, you'll be welcome."

  "Thank you, Mr. Burrows, keep it in mind."

  Isa did not see herself having very much time to spare for visiting, but she would not be averse to paying a call when she was free, providing there was a Mrs. Burrows who was agreeable too. She looked up at him enquiringly, trying to discover if there was. "Does your wife work at the house too?" she asked, and he looked momentarily startled.

  "I'm not married," he said after a moment's hesitation, then pulled a face. "I suppose that makes a difference, doesn't it?" he asked. "I honestly hadn't thought about that when I suggested you come to the cottage, Miss McLean, I'm sorry."

  "Oh, please don't apologise !" She smiled reassuringly, touched by his genuine concern not to be misunderstood. "I assure you I didn't automatically suspect the worst !"

  She had tried to dismiss it lightly, but a hint of

  hardness showed for a moment in his eyes and he shook his head. '"You might not," he told her, "but Mr. Carmichael would, and he'd be down on me like a ton of bricks if he thought I was—well, leading you into anything."

  Isa felt the warmth of colour in her cheeks and was ready to deny any likelihood of Toby Carmichael even being interested enough to object, but somehow, at the back of her mind, she thought Chris Burrows could possibly be right. "I—I don't quite see that it concerns Mr. Carmichael how I spend my own time," she said, "but if you think he'd object—"

  "He would," Chris Burrows insisted bitterly. "Our employer always judges others by his own standards and condemns accordingly!"

  Considering they had met only a few minutes ago, Isa felt that the conversation was getting much too personal and too involved, and she sought ways of bringing things round to less touchy subjects than Toby Carmichael and his ethics. "I really haven't been here long enough to comment on anything," she told him, and looked beyond him to the river glistening in the sunlight, becoming aware for the first time of how much cooler it was here under the trees. "There seems to be an awful lot to explore," she said with a laugh. "I shan't need to leave the estate to get in all the walks I want."

  Seemingly as ready to abandon the subject of Toby Carmichael as she was herself, Chris Burrows nodded. "It's a lovely place," he agreed, and as if by mutual consent, they walked through the. trees<
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  to the river bank and stood for a moment or two looking down at the deep, swift flowing water. Muddy brown below and a dark, greenish grey nearer the banks, it had a fascination of its own. Then he turned his head and looked at her for a moment, his eyes thoughtful and steady. "You fit in here," he said quietly. "You belong somehow; I hope you'll be happy here."

  "Oh, I'm sure I shall be !" Isa said, her eyes held by the swift, smooth flow of the water.

  The tips of his fingers touched her arm lightly and he nodded his head in the direction of a cluster of willows about a hundred yards to their left, the tips of their thick branches dipping into the running water, drawn into shiveringly graceful bows by its movement.

  "Shall we walk along a little way?" he suggested, and Isa nodded. Lady Carmichael had said there was no need for her to hurry back, and she found the idea of strolling along the river bank with Chris Burrows quite pleasurable.

  It seemed nothing like two hours since she had left Lady Carmichael, but a glance at her wristwatch confirmed that it was and Isa's heart gave a sudden leap of panic. By now not only would Lady Carmichael be wondering where she was, but what was more important, her grandson would very soon be home, if he wasn't already there, and he would surely not take kindly to the idea of Isa going off for more than two hours and leaving the old lady alone.

  She had discovered that Chris Burrows was very easy to talk to and that they had an interest in wild birds in common, so that the time had simply fled as they sat there on the river bank and talked. Now, she realised ruefully, she would have to take the consequences for her forgetfulness.

  She got hastily to her feet, assisted by Chris Burrows' willing hands, and brushed the dried grass from her dress in careless haste, her teeth biting into her lower lip as she mentally sifted through explanations she could make,

  "Doesn't her ladyship know you're out?" Chris Burrows asked, and Isa nodded.

  "Oh yes, it was her suggestion that I came, but I didn't mean to be so long. She's bound to be wondering where on earth I am, and Mr. Carmichael will be home too if I'm not quick," she added.

  "And that matters?" He frowned his dislike, and. she again wondered what it was about her employer that aroused his ire. "You've done nothing wrong in coming for a walk, surely?" he said.

  "No, no, of course I haven't!" It would be difficult trying to explain about Aunt Carrie and how she had always been more disagreeable when she had been away from her for any length of time. It was hard to break old habits and he might even have understood, but she simply hadn't the time to explain now. "I must go, Mr. Burrows," she insisted. "I'm late now and I have to get ready for dinner."

  "Chris!" She blinked at him for a moment uncomprehendingly. "My name's Chris," he reminded

  her with a smile, "and I'd like you to use it, if you will."

  "Oh yes—thank you." Isa glanced at her watch again and realised just how little time she had left herself before dinner. She started back along the river path and turned briefly to wave a hand.

  "Bye !

  It was only after she had gone some distance that she realised her parting words to him must have sounded quite abrupt, almost curt, considering the pleasant couple of hours they had just spent together, but she had thought about how far they had walked and her one idea was to get back in time to change and help Lady Carmichael upstairs.

  She hurried up the sloping turf from the river, but to her annoyance found she was well off course when she got high enough to see the house. It was still too far off to the right and much further off than she anticipated, and she frowned her frustration as she lengthened her stride even more. There was little hope of getting back before Toby Carmichael came home now, but no one could say she hadn't tried.

  Gaining level ground at last the going was easier, but by now she was too short of breath to hurry anymore and she expelled a long sigh of exasperation, using the back of her hand to brush the hair back from her damp forehead. There would never be time for her to get herself ready for dinner and give Lady Carmichael her attention as well, but she could not possibly appear at the dinner table looking as she did now. There was nothing for it but to explain,

  as she had so often done to Aunt Carrie, and let both her employer and the old lady do their worst. Years of Aunt Carrie had given her a kind of immunity to scoldings, so she was more resigned than fearful.

  She found the sitting-room, where she had left Lady Carmichael, empty of its lone occupant, and sighed resignedly. No doubt the old lady had made her own way upstairs to her room because Isa had not been on hand, and that would be another black mark against her. She was almost resigned to being not only reprimanded but perhaps even dismissed as she hurried across the hall towards the stairs.

  "Miss McLean!" The call startled her and she gave a gasp of surprise when her arm was clasped by strong fingers and she was brought to a standstill. "What in tarnation have you been up to?" Toby Carmichael demanded, and Isa blinked at him for a moment.

  Her hair was untidy from hurrying and she felt stickily hot and dirty. The simple cotton dress she wore was crumpled too and, although she did not realise it, a smudge of dirt from brushing fingers smeared the side of her neck. It was no wonder he looked surprised at her appearance, but Isa saw his calling her back simply as a prelude to an inevitable rebuke and sighed inwardly.

  "I know I've been a long time, Mr. Carmichael," she said without giving him time to accuse her. "But I went further than I anticipated and I should have left earlier—"

  "Left?"

  Isa nodded, her eyes curious. He was not nearly as angry as she expected and it puzzled her. "The river bank," she explained. "I've been down by the river and I forgot the time. I hurried back as fast as I could, but—" She stopped suddenly when she realised he was laughing, and looked at him in disbelief.

  It was tree, he was laughing, his deep blue eyes glittered with it, crinkling at their corners in the way she had noticed at their first meeting, and Isa felt more angry than apologetic suddenly. He looked at her warm cheeks and dishevelled hair and shook his head, as if he found the whole idea of her hurrying all the way back from the river, highly amusing.

  "What have you been up to?" he asked. "You look as if someone's chasing you!"

  "Of course no one's chasing me!" Isa denied hastily, her mind returning briefly to Chris Burrows. "I—I'm late and I've been hurrying, that's all!"

  The blue eyes speculated for a moment, then he reached out with one finger and lightly brushed a stray wisp of hair from her neck. "Puffing and blowing," he said with an amused smile. "Why the rush?"

  "Because I thought—" She bit back the explanation hastily. It would probably amuse him further to know that she had come scurrying back instinctively because she disliked having to explain herself like an errant schoolgirl, which was what Aunt Carrie had always expected of her. "It doesn't matter," she said.

  "Not important?" he suggested quietly, and Isa shrugged, refusing to be drawn.

  "I left Lady Carmichael alone," she said. "I've been away over two hours and I thought I—I might get back before you came home."

  Her reasons seemed to both puzzle and amuse him, and he laughed softly, shaking his head in disbelief. "I don't believe it " he said. "For heaven's sake, child, what did you expect me to do? Make you go without dinner or send you to your room in disgrace?" He was still laughing and shaking his head. "Did you really expect me to behave like a heavy Victorian just because you sneaked out for a couple of hours?"

  His amusement made her angry, but at the same time she was forced to realise how unlikely her instinctive reaction would seem to him. He would never have been dependent on someone as she had been on Aunt Carrie, or expected to account for his movements each time he went out, and for a few seconds she not only envied him but almost hated him -too, for his carefree existence.

  "I didn't know what you'd do," she said in a small cool voice, and angled her chin defensively. "It was quite likely that you'd sack me on the spot for—for deserting my po
st or something."

  She looked at him and saw that he was still smiling, her own eyes bright and resentful of the fact. "You think you deserve to be sacked on the spot?" he asked, and Isa shook her head.

  Seen in retrospect her hasty departure from the river bank might seem unreasonable, but years with

  Aunt Carrie had conditioned her to react in certain ways and it would take time to eradicate their effect. That was something he couldn't be expected to understand. "I suppose it was a bit silly of me to come dashing back the way I did," she admitted. "But if ever I left Aunt Carrie for very long she was always angry and I thought Lady Carmichael might be too."

  There was a bright glitter of laughter in his eyes again and he looked at her curiously. "Who were you most afraid of ?" he asked. "Grandmama or me?"

  The soft, quiet voice stirred unexpected responses in her and she looked at him for a second, then as hastily looked away again. "I don't know that I'm afraid of either of you, Mr. Carmichael," she said. "But I hate being—I hate doing something perfectly ordinary and then having to make excuses for myself."

  For a moment he said nothing, then he slid a hand gently under her chin and raised her face to him, studying her for a while as if be had never really seen her before. "Was she very awful?" he asked gently at last. "Your old aunt?"

  The touch of his hand on her face brought strange and exciting emotions into being suddenly and she was aware of a whole new range of sensations as she stood there close to him. The warm, exciting aura of his body, not quite touching her, and the firm, gentle, almost sensual curve of his fingers on her skin. It was all new and unfamiliar to her, and strangely disturbing, so that she struggled to retain

  control of her senses.

  "She—she wasn't awful at all," she denied throatily, suddenly deprived of her normal voice. "I —I loved her really."