âI have to go away for a couple of days, and I wanted to see you before I go,â Thomas said.
âMe? Why? Motherâs not ill, or George? Did they ask you to come?â Claudia asked.
âNo, they are both, as far as I know, in the best of middle-aged health.â
He smiled at herâa slow, warm smile. âClaudia, before I say anything more, will you answer me truthfully? Are you happy here? Will you tell me what you really wish for?â
âI suppose I wish for what every woman wantsâa home and a husband and children.â
âNot love?â Simon asked.
CLAUDIA leaned up, took another armful of books from the shelves lining the little room, put them on the table beside her and sneezed as a cloud of mummified dust rose from them. What had possessed her, she wondered, to take on the task of dusting her great-uncle Williamâs library when she could have been enjoying these few weeks at home doing as she pleased?
She picked up her duster, sneezed again, and bent to her task, a tall, slim but shapely girl with a lovely face and shining copper hair, which was piled untidily on top of her head and half covered by another duster, secured by a piece of string. Her shapely person was shrouded in a large print pinny several sizes too big, her face had a dusty smear on one cheek and her nose shone. Nevertheless she looked beautiful, and the man watching her from the half-open door smiled his appreciation before giving a little cough.
Claudia looked over her shoulder at him. There was nothing about him to make her feel uneasyâindeed, he was the epitome of understated elegance, with an air of assurance which was in itself reassuring. He was a big man, very tall and powerfully built, not so very young but with the kind of good looks which could only improve with age. His hair was pepper and salt, cut short. He might be in his late thirties. Claudia wondered who he was.
âHave you come to see Great-Uncle William or my mother? You came in through the wrong doorâbut of course you werenât to know that.â She smiled at him kindly, not wishing him to feel awkward. He showed no signs of discomfort. âColonel Ramsay.â His commanding nose twisted at the dust. âShould you not open a window? The dustâ¦â
âOh, they donât open. Theyâre frightfully oldâthe original ones from when the house was built. Why do you want to see Colonel Ramsay?â
He looked at her before he answered. âHe asked me to call.â
âNone of my business?â She clapped two aged tomes together and sent another cloud of dust across the room. âGo back the way you came,â she told him, âout of the side door and ring the front doorbell. Tombs will admit you.â
She gave him a nod and turned back to the shelves. Probably someone from Great-Uncle Williamâs solicitor.
âI donât think I like him much,â said Claudia to the silent room. All the same she had to admit that she would have liked to know more about him.
She saw him again, not half an hour later, when, the duster removed from her head and her hands washed, she went along to the kitchen for coffee.
The house was large and rambling, and now, on the edge of winter, with an antiquated heating system, several of its rooms were decidedly chilly. Only the kitchen was cosy, with the Aga warming it, and since there were only her mother, Mrs Pratt the housekeeper, Jennie the maid and, of course, Tombs, who seemed to Claudia to be as old as the house, if not older, it was here that they had their morning coffee.
If there were visitors Mrs Ramsay sat in chilly state in the drawing room and dispensed coffee from a Sèvres coffee pot arranged on a silver tray, but in the kitchen they all had their individual mugs. However, despite this democratic behaviour, no one would have dreamt of sitting down or drinking their coffee until Mrs Ramsay had taken her place at the head of the table and lifted her own special mug to her lips.
Claudia breezed into the kitchen with Rob the Labrador at her heels. Her mother was already there, and sitting beside her, looking as though it was something he had been doing all his life, was the strange man. He got to his feet as she went in, and so did Tombs, and Claudia stopped halfway to the table.