1

The schoolroom door burst open.

“Haven’t you finished mending my dress yet?” Charlotte enquired in a sharp voice.

Her cousin, Melinda, looked up from the window-seat where the sinking sun cast the last rays of light on the delicate pattern she was embroidering on a ballgown of pink taffeta.

“I’ve nearly finished, Charlotte,” she said in a soft voice. “I could not start until late.”

“You didn’t start because you were messing about at the stables with that horse of yours,” Charlotte retorted angrily. “Really, Melinda, if you go on like this I shall ask Papa if he will stop you from riding so that you will have more time to attend to your household duties.”

“Oh, Charlotte, you could not do anything so cruel!” Melinda cried.

“Cruel!” her cousin retorted. “You can hardly say we are cruel to you. Why, Sarah Ovington was telling me only this week how the poor relation who lives with them is never allowed downstairs to luncheon or dinner, and when they go driving, she always has to sit with her back to the horses. You know as well as I do, Melinda, that I let you sit beside me when we go out in the brougham.”

“You are very kind, Charlotte,” Melinda said quietly, “and I am sorry if I was delayed in mending your dress. It was only because Ned sent a message to say that Flash was off his food. Of course, when I went to feed him he ate his oats immediately.”

“You are quite nonsensical over that ridiculous horse,” Charlotte said crushingly.” I cannot think why Papa allows you the stable space when there is hardly enough room for our own horses.”

“Oh, please, Charlotte, please do not mention it to Uncle Hector,” Melinda begged. “I will do anything, anything you like – sit up all night to mend your gowns or embroider them from neck to hem. But do not put the idea into your father’s head that poor Flash is an encumbrance.”

There were tears in Melinda’s blue eyes and her voice broke a little with the passion of her feelings. For a moment her cousin stared at her in a hostile manner – then suddenly she relented.

“I’m sorry, Melinda. I’m being a beast to you. I didn’t mean it. Papa has been scolding me again.”

“What was it this time?” Melinda asked sympathetically.

“It was you,” Charlotte said.

“Me?” Melinda exclaimed.

“Yes, you!” her cousin repeated, and mimicking her father’s voice she asked “‘Why can’t you look neat and tidy like Melinda? Why does that dress fall so badly on you, while Melinda’s, old though it is, looks so elegant?’”

“I cannot believe Uncle Hector says things like that!” Melinda exclaimed.

“Indeed, he does,” Charlotte asserted. “And what is more, Mamma has been saying much the same. You know she dislikes you, Melinda.”

“Yes, I know,” Melinda agreed with a little sigh. “I have tried so hard to please Aunt Margaret, but everything I do seems to be wrong.”

“It is not what you do,” Charlotte said bluntly, “it is how you look. Oh, I’m not so stupid that I can’t understand why Mamma resents your being here. She wants me to get married, and if ever a gentleman comes to the house he has eyes only for you.”

Melinda laughed.

“That is the most foolish notion, Charlotte. You are imagining things. Why, Captain Parry was all attention to you last week. You said yourself that he never left your side at the garden party.”

“That was before he saw you,” Charlotte replied sulkily.

Quite suddenly she put out her hand and, taking hold of her cousin’s arm, pulled her to her feet.

“Come here and see what I mean,” she said.

“Whatever are you doing?” Melinda exclaimed. “Oh, do be careful of your gown! There will not be time to mend another tear.”

But the pink taffeta dress fell to the floor and Charlotte pulled her cousin across the room to a long mirror framed in heavy mahogany. Charlotte pushed Melinda in front of it and stood beside her.

“Now look!” she bade her. “Just look!”

Almost fearfully Melinda did as she was told. She would have been very stupid indeed if she had not realised the poignant difference between herself and her cousin.

Charlotte was big-boned and inclined on the large side. She had a sallow, spotty complexion due to the inordinate number of puddings and chocolates she consumed. Her hair was a mousy brown and so limp that even with the ceaseless ministrations of Lady Stanyon’s lady’s maid, it always looked an untidy mess. Charlotte had good features, but there was a frown of disagreeableness between her eyes and her mouth turned down at the corners because she was continually complaining. She was not a bad-humoured girl but she would, indeed, have been inhuman if she had not been jealous of her cousin.

Melinda was small, slender, with thin, white hands and long fingers. When she moved she had an innate grace that made her seem almost ethereal. There was, too, something spiritual about her tiny, heart-shaped face. She had huge, blue eyes fringed with dark lashes, a legacy from an Irish forbear, and her hair, the colour of ripened corn, fell in soft, natural curls on either side of her face.

“Do you see what I mean?” Charlotte asked harshly.

Melinda turned hastily away from the mirror because she could see all too clearly why, in a burst of temper, Charlotte had recently called her ‘the cuckoo in the nest’.

“My mother always said that comparisons were odious,” Melinda said in her gentle voice. “Everybody is different – everybody has her own particular good qualities. Look how well you speak foreign languages. And your watercolours are far better than mine.”

“Who wants a watercolour?” Charlotte asked bitterly.

Melinda went back to the window-seat and picked up the fallen gown.

“This will be finished in five minutes,” she said soothingly. “You will look charming tonight when you dine with Lady Withering. Perhaps Captain Parry will be there, and you know I am not included in the invitation.”

“You were,” Charlotte replied gruffly, “but Mamma said you would be away from home.”

For one moment Melinda’s soft lips tightened. Then she said,

“Aunt Margaret was quite right to refuse on my behalf. You know I have nothing to wear.”

“You could ask Papa to let you have a new evening gown.”

“I am still in mourning,” Melinda replied.

“That’s untrue and you know it,” Charlotte protested. “You have had to go on wearing your greys and mauves because Mamma is frightened that if you branch out into colours she will have to take you to the parties that I go to, and then no one will look at me.”

“Oh, Charlotte, dear, I am so sorry,” Melinda exclaimed. “You know I do not do anything intentionally to call attention to myself.”

“I know and that is what makes it worse,” Charlotte answered. She turned again to the mirror. “I ought to get thinner! But I hate giving up the delicious puddings that Chef makes and his crisp, newly-baked bread for breakfast. I sometimes wonder if it’s worth bothering so much to attract a man – and yet what else can we do but get married?”

“I do not suppose I shall ever find a husband,” Melinda smiled. “Who would want a poor relation without even a fourpenny piece to bless herself with? – as Aunt Margaret always reminds me!”

“I cannot think why your father was so extravagant,” Charlotte said. “What did you all live on anyway, before he and your mother were killed in the carriage accident?”

“There always seemed to be a little money,” Melinda answered. “And, of course, there was the house and the garden and the servants who had been with us for years. We never thought of ourselves as being poor – but then darling, careless Papa had never paid his bills.”

“I remember how shocked my Papa and Mamma were when they learned of the extent to which he was in debt,” Charlotte said frankly. “It was then they decided that you would have to come and live with us. ‘No one else will take her,’ Papa said, ‘without even a pittance.’”

“I should have been more independent,” Melinda sighed. “I should have insisted on taking a position as a governess or a companion.”

“Papa would never have let you do that!” Charlotte asserted. “The neighbours would think it stingy of him not to look after his only niece. Papa is very sensitive about what the County says about him. It is just a pity, Melinda, that you’re so pretty.”

“I do not think I am really pretty,” Melinda interposed quickly, “it is just that I am smaller than you, Charlotte.”

“You’re lovely!” Charlotte contradicted. “Do you know what I heard Lord Ovington say the other day?”

“No, what did he say?” Melinda asked, stitching away as she spoke, her fair head bent over her work.

“Of course, he didn’t know I was listening,” Charlotte explained, “but he said to Colonel Gillingham, ‘That niece of Hector’s is going to be a beauty. He’ll have a lot of trouble with her if he doesn’t look out.’”

“Did Lord Ovington really say that?” Melinda asked in an astonished voice.

“He did, and I wasn’t going to tell you,” Charlotte said, “but somehow you’ve wormed it out of me. I never can keep any secrets from you, Melinda.”

“What did Colonel Gillingham reply?” Melinda enquired. “There is something horrible about that man, Charlotte. Last time he dined here I saw him watching me. I do not know why, but it sent a cold shiver down my back. I think he is perhaps a devil in human guise.”

“Really, Melinda! How...