"That makes me very happy. I do not like to sew."
Caroline's smile was icy. "There will be sewing for the poor each day. My mother used to read aloud from a good book while I worked. Perhaps we may take it in turns to sew and read." She was implying that it was not for Melisande to say what she liked to do; if it was part of her duty to do such a thing she should do it.
Melisande looked at her pleadingly and pressed her lips tightly together to prevent her indiscreet comment. She wanted to say: "Please like me, because I cannot bear to be disliked. Please tell me what it is you do not like, and I will try to change it."
But she merely looked prettier than ever and that was exactly what irritated Caroline. If she had been ugly—forty, prim and grateful—Caroline would have thought of ways to be kind to her. Caroline did not want to be unkind; she was only unkind to those she feared; and she feared this girl for all her poverty and dependence.
She had spoken to her father that very morning, going to his study even though she knew he did not like to be disturbed there.
"Papa," she had said, "I cannot understand why you have
brought this girl here. I do not want a companion. I have plenty to do preparing for my wedding."
"I think you should have a companion for a year or so—until you are married,'* he had answered. "I wish you to perfect your knowledge of the French language. You need a young lady companion when you go visiting."
"People will not receive her."
''They will receive her as your companion. She is a gentlewoman and well educated—better educated, I fear, than you are. She is quiet and modest and would, I am sure, be received anywhere."
"Quiet! Modest! I would not describe her so!"
"You are extremely selfish, Caroline. This girl needs a post. Doesn't that mean anything to you?"
"I am sorry for anyone who has to work, but that does not mean I want a companion. Why not find someone who does . . . someone like Lady Gover?"
"Lady Gover is very well satisfied with the companion she has. When you no longer have need of Miss St. Martin's services, I shall be obliged to find her another situation. In the meantime I should be glad if you would accept her as your companion and act as a well-bred young lady is expected to act—thinking a little of others less fortunate than herself."
Fermor was equally unsympathetic. When he said that it was a shame the poor girl had to eat alone, Caroline had retorted sharply: "You seem very interested in her."
"Interested! Well, she's a bit of a character. It's the way she talks. I find that amusing."
"She would find it uncomfortable if she were expected to have her meals with us, and I have no doubt that she thinks herself too good for the servants' hall. They always do. I remember there was always embarrassment about the governesses. One is always in danger of offending their susceptibilities. I suppose companions are the same. Genteel poverty is such a bore."
"Why not ask her which she prefers?" suggested Fermor. "I'm sure her ideas on the matter would be original."
"You forget that she is only a servant—although she's supposed to be a superior one."
He shrugged his shoulders; she sensed that he would have pursued the matter, but he was aware that she had noticed his interest in the girl.
Caroline had said that there should be an hour in the morning which they would devote to conversation in French,
During the first hour when this was in progress Fermor came into the library.
"You wanted me?" asked Caroline.
"No. I thought Pd take advantage of a little instruction myself. That is if Mademoiselle has no objection."
Melisande smiled warmly. Very ready, thought Caroline, to accept admiration. "There is no objection!" she cried. "There is only great welcome."
"Sit down then," said Caroline. "But do remember that nothing but French is to be spoken during this hour."
"Mon Dieu!" cried Fermor, lifting his shoulders in an attempt at suitable gesticulation.
Melisande laughed in great amusement, and there followed a torrent of French asking him if he had been in France, if so in what part, and if he had found any difficulty in making himself understood.
"Have pity!" he cried. "Have pity on a poor Englishman."
Caroline said sharply: "Really, Fermor, this is not what Papa intended."
"A thousand apologies." He began to answer Melisande's questions in French, so slowly and laboriously and with such an appalling accent—which Caroline was sure was greatly exaggerated—that Melisande could not understand until he had repeated some words several times. Then she would teach him how to say those words, and they would both laugh outrageously at his efforts.
Caroline watching them was tense with jealousy. She thought: It will always be like that. I shall never be able to trust him with an attractive woman. He'll never be different. He would not have thought of me if our parents had not arranged the marriage. He would have preferred someone like this girl—as he is preferring her now.
"Monsieur speaks very bad French," Melisande was saying with mock severity.
"It is time you took me in hand," he said in English. "Mademoiselle, it must not be only for an hour a day. You must talk to me often, for clearly I cannot go about the world in such ignorance."
How dare he! thought Caroline. He knows that I am watching, but he does not care!
"But French, Monsieur!" cried Melisande. "You have forgotten."
"Monsieur is very bad scholar, yes?" he said in broken English. "He deserves much punishment?"
"Fermor," said Caroline sharply, "Papa would say you are wasting time. He is most anxious for me to have French lessons. That is why Mademoiselle was engaged."
"I'll be good," he said, smiling from Melisande to Caroline. "I'll
sit, meek and mild, and speak only when spoken to . . . and then it shall be in French ... if I can manage it."
"It is only by speaking that you can improve," said Melisande. "You are very very bad, it is true, but I think you are eager to learn, and that is a very good thing."
"I am very eager," he said, putting his hand on his heart. "I am very eager to please you."
The hour progressed—for Caroline most unhappily. She was glad when she could stop the lesson.
"Shall we go for a ride?" she asked Fermor.
"The very thing! After all that brain work I need a little exercise."
"Come on then."
"What about Mademoiselle St. Martin?"
Caroline was aghast. How could he suggest such a thing! He was not treating her as a servant; he was behaving as though she were a guest in the house.
Melisande said: "Alas, I do not ride a horse. It was not taught me in the Convent."
He laughed. "I suppose not. I can't help laughing. I just had a picture of nuns on horseback ... in full gallop, black wings flapping. They'd look like prehistoric animals, wouldn't they? But I say, Mademoiselle Melisande, we can't allow this, you know. You can't ride! That's impossible! I mean of course, that we must put that right. Hunting is the noblest sport. Didn't you know that? You must ride. I'll teach you. You are teaching me to speak French. I'll teach you how to manage a horse."
"But that would be wonderful. I should like to be a rider. You are very good. I am filled with happiness."