"I see." Nerys folded her arms, her fingers beating a silent tattoo against her sleeve. "And William? I believe you've become very friendly with him."

"I like him, yes."

"When all around you did not," misquoted Nerys dryly. "You realise he is a problem child? That he can summon these asthmatic attacks to suit himself?"

Here we go again, thought Julie; with resignation. But she could not allow Nerys to get away with that.

"I think any child who suffers from something as physically frightetiing as asthma deserves some sympathy, Mrs.-I mean, my lady."

"But William gets sympathy," snapped Nerys impatiently. "Too much sympathy, in my opinion. He's always been the same. He can't bear to be ignored, so he simulates these attacks to attract attention to himself."

Julie looked down at the typewriter. "I expect he misses having a mother," she volunteered quietly.

"A mother!" Nerys was scathing. "William's mother never cared a hang for him! She abandoned him on the steps of a children's home when he was barely five days old! That's how much she cared for him."

Julie's eyes were troubled as she listened to what Nerys was saying.

How could any woman do that to her child? Without even taking the trouble to ensure that he had been taken in?"

And why hadn't his father stopped her? How did William come to be living with Rhys now?.

So many questions, and she could not ask them. She saw- Nerys watching her, and realised she was probably having a struggle, too.

The desire to confide was irresistible, but satisfying Julie's curiosity was not.

"Where is your employer?" Nerys asked now, and Julie shook her head.

"I haven't seen him since before lunch."

"No." Nerys nodded, moving slowly towards the door again. "I expect he's gone to get some stores for Mrs. Evans." She broke off.

"I'll leave you to your labours, Miss Wood. Don't worry about joining us for dinner this evening. I expect after working all day, you'll be glad of some time on your own."

The door closed behind her before Julie could make any denial, but she wondered afterwards whether that was not a good thing. Did she want to join the members of the family for dinner, or would it not indeed be simpler to have her meal served in her room? She did deserve some free time, as Nerys had said, although her reasons for saying it might have undercurrents Julie did not want to consider.

There were things that bore consideration, though. William had been right about his aunt's interest in her brother-in-law. And if Nerys was used to living in London, as it appeared, Rhys must hold some strong attraction for her to bring her to the wilds of Wales in winter, to this house with its evident lack of amenities and decaying splendour.

It was still daylight, albeit the sun was rapidly losing its brilliance, when Julie finished the typescript, and on impulse, she collected her coat and waterproof boots from her room, and let herself out the front door.

The wind which had whistled gently round the house all day was rising, and she was glad of the long scarf she had wound round her neck. Her hair soon loosened itself from any confining influence, and blew about her face as she descended the stone steps and reached the gravelled sweep of the drive. Following the sound of the sea, she walked round the house, exhilarated by the buffeting of the wind and the clear sharp scent of the ocean.

She came, as she had expected she would, to the sweep of turf that inclined towards the cliffs, and thrusting her hands into the deep pockets of her tweed coat, she stood there watching the incoming breakers rolling sh.o.r.ewards.

But it was not enough. The actual sh.o.r.eline was hidden below the cliffs, and rather recklessly she approached the edge. The wind was much stronger here, and rather than risk being blown over, she got down on to her knees and peered down the cliff face.

A sharp incline gave on to a mossy shelf, and from the shelf she could see a rugged pathway leading down to the rocks below. Dangerous enough, in these conditions, but accessible on calm days. She and William could climb down there easily.

With the sun turning the sea to molten fire, the sky a blen- ding of orange through green to palest blue, the bend of the headland casting a darkening shadow over the cruel teeth of the rocks, it was a majestic sight, and she wondered at her own feeling of satisfaction in it. That she, a town girl born and bred, restless with the life she had been leading there, and in search of new excitement, should find so much fulfilment in the reality of being here, on this remote coastline, was rather startling. But it was more than this view, or the house, or even the grip of the work she was doing; it was the people in the house who provided the greatest challenge, and while she told herself it was hfcr sympathy for William which made her so aware of his father, she acknowledged, in a moment of absolute truthfulness, that it was more than that. And that was the excitement she had found...

CHAPTER SIX.

IN fact, Julie did have dinner with the family that evening, at the long table in the dining room, serving themselves from the sideboard which looked only slightly less dusty than it had done that morning.

But it was through no choice of her own. On the contrary, after those moments of self-enlightenment on the cliffs, she would have welcomed the solitude of her room, welcomed the time to collect and a.s.similate her thoughts before becoming involved with her employer again. But William had other ideas.

He was waiting for her when she came back from her walk. Perhaps he had seen her from his windows as he dressed. But now he was downstairs, and the colour in his usually pale cheeks bore witness to the fact that he was still far from well. He insisted that they had tea together, in the living room, where she had glimpsed him briefly the night before, and although she guessed this was something else of which Nerys would not approve, she hadn't the heart to refuse him.

The living room was quite a comfortable room, with inevitably shabby leather chairs, and an enormous chesterfield, upholstered in dark brown velvet, that was wearing thin in places. The square of carpet still maintained a certain softness underfoot, matching the long beige and brown patterned curtains that framed windows overlooking the cliffs on the opposite side of the house from those she had been exploring. After the coldness of the wind outside, the logs burning in the grate were very welcoming, and after removing her coat, Julie held her hands out to the blaze.

Then she noticed the tea trolley set to one side of the couch, but before she could say anything, William exclaimed: "You must be dying for a cup of tea after freezing out there."

"You were very sure I'd agree to join you, then?"

Julie's tone was dry, and he looked slightly shamefaced. "I hoped you would. I didn't see why you should object. After all, you have to eat, so why not with me?"

"After that enormous lunch, I could do without eating anything else today.'

William seated himself on the chesterfield, in front of the fire. "You didn't eat much," he protested.

"I'm not used to eating a meal at lunchtime. I was used to having a sandwich at a coffee bar, just round the corner from the office. My main meal was in the evening."

"Well, this is only afternoon tea. You'll be hungry again by dinnertime."

"Dinner time!" Julie shook her head, noticing the sandwiches and scones on the trolley, the cream cakes and chocolate biscuits, no doubt intended to stimulate William's appet.i.te. "Do you honestly expect me to eat dinner as well!"

"Oh, sit down." William patted the couch beside him, pulling the trolley nearer and starting to pour the tea from a chunky flowered teapot. "Do you take sugar?"

"No, thanks." Julie resigned herself to the situation and sank down beside him, unfastening her boots and taking them off, toasting her toes with a ridiculous sense of wellbeing. It was cosy there, in that firelit room, sharing tea with someone who - so eagerly desired her company, and she relaxed and began to enjoy herself.

They had almost finished the plate of scones when Dulcie erupted into the room. She bounced in, probably only expecting to find William in occupation, and stopped short at the sight of Julie.

"What do you want?"

William's immediate reaction was aggressive, and Dulcie stood on one leg at the end of the chesterfield, looking from one to the other of them with undisguised petulance.

"h.e.l.lo, Dulcie." Julie was in a mellow mood, and decided to let bygones be bygones. "What have you been doing with yourself all day?"

Dulcie sniffed. "You're not s'posed to be in here. You're only- staff."

It wasn't so much the words she used as the way she said them that made Julie's hackles rise. Before she could stop herself she said, equally rudely: "If you can't say anything pleasant, keep your mouth shut!"

Dulcie was obviously taken aback, but William uttered a sound of stifled, if malicious, amus.e.m.e.nt. "She has difficulty doing that," he remarked spitefully. "It must be because of its size."

At once, Julie regretted what she had started. "Be quiet, William," she said quickly, and then: "Why don't you like me, Dulcie? My being here isn't going to make any difference to you."

Dulcie had clenched her small fists, screwed up her face into a grimace, and was glaring at William with open hatred after his verbal attack. But at Julie's words, she turned her attention to her again.

"Mummy says you're a troublemaker!" she announced scathingly.

"She says you only came here because of Uncle Rhys."

"Well-I did." Julie was confused. "I am his secretary, after all-"

"That's not what Mummy means. She says you're going to try and take Uncle Rhys away from us."

"What?"

Julie was at once horrified at what she had heard, and alarmed to think that Nerys should discuss such things with the child.

"Don't be so stupid!" William had got to his feet and was advancing threateningly on his cousin. "Julie's only here because I wanted her to come. She came because of me. She and Da don't even like one anoth-"

"Now wait a minute ..." Julie couldn't let that go either, and she felt a reluctant sense of admiration for Dulcie who was standing her ground defiantly. "I'm here because there's a job of work to be done. All right, William-" She caught his arm, halting him. "Maybe you did influence ine. But I applied for the job of my own accord."

"But you wouldn't have taken it, would you?" William looked down at her.

"That's something we'll never know," remarked a deep masculine voice behind them, and Julie turned to find her employer leaning negligently against the door frame. She wondered how long he had been there, listening to their argument, and even William seemed disconcerted. Only Dulcie was pleased to see him, and went towards him eagerly, her disappointment of the morning forgotten.

"Where have you been, Uncle Rhys?" she demanded, leaning against him, hanging on his arm. "You've been away all afternoon."

"I had-a call to make," he replied evasively, his eyes lingering with annoying intent on Julie's flushed cheeks and windswept hair. Then his expression darkened. "You've been outside, Miss Wood?" His attention switched sharply to William. "I trust you haven't."

"No-"

"Of course he hasn't," Julie was impatient suddenly. But she was, still upset about Dulcie's insinuations. "I'm not a fool!"'

"I never for one moment thought you were," drawled Rhys, with deceptive mildness. He paused before adding: "Did you enjoy getting outdoors?"

Julie ran smoothing, almost defensive hands over her hair.

She was aware of the dishevelled state of her appearance, and wished she had delayed William long enough to' use a comb."I finished transcribing your dictation an hour ago."

"That's not what I asked.'

"I just-wanted some air, that's all."

He straightened away from the door, ignoring Dulcie's resentful pleas for attention, an expression of irritation marring his dark features.

"I'm not accusing you of anything, Miss Wood. I was simply curious to hear your reactions to your surroundings."

Julie hardly knew how to answer him. Her own feelings of wellbeing were dissolving beneath the strength of his personality, and the knowledge of this made her unnecessarily abrupt.

"I have no complaints, Mr. Edwards," she responded stiffly, and was immediately aware that she had not pleased him.

With a m.u.f.fled oath, he turned to leave, Dulcie clinging to his hand, but over his shoulder said briefly: "I'll see you both later-at dinner."

Julie squared her shoulders. "I'd prefer to have dinner in my room, Mr. Edwards," she said quietly.

Her words arrested him, but even as he swung round to look at her William made his objection. "You can't!" he exclaimed, in dismay.

"You can't spend the whole evening in your room!"

"Miss Wood is at liberty to make her own decisions, William,"

remarked his father, without expression. "A secretary doesn't expect to work all day and evening as well, am I not right, Miss Wood?"

Julie opened her mouth to speak again, wanting to defend her right to choose which Rhys was somehow using against her, but William forestalled her, the familiar signs of distress quickening his breathing.

"The evenings are the worst time!" he cried, tears of frus-nation only narrowly restrained. "I thought-I thought we could-talk-or-or play games-"

"William! William, stop it!"

His father was getting angry with him, and Dulcie began to chant: "Willie's going to cry... aye, Willie's going to cry... aye..!" at the top of her voice., Julie exchanged one glaring look of accusation with his father, and then put an arm about William's shaking shoulders. "It's all right, William, it's all right," she soothed. "Calm down. We can talk about this ..." But Dulcie's chanting was making talking impossible, and losing her temper, she looked up at Rhys, demanding angrily: "Can't you shut that child up?"

"I could say the same to you," he countered savagely, and Julie lost control.

"She wants putting over your knee, and giving a d.a.m.n good hiding!"

she declared hotly, and then felt horrified at her own audacity.

But just at that moment Nerys appeared in the open doorway, attracted, no doubt, by the noise, and the way her eyes went straight to Julie left the girl in no doubt that she had heard what had been said.

Her lips tightened into a thin line, and addressing herself to Julie she snapped: "You're over-reaching yourself, Miss Wood. Dulcie is my daughter, and I'll decide her punishment, if any punishment is necessary."

Dulcie, Sensing the increasing hostility, ran to her mother. "You won't let her hit me, will you, Mummy.?" she cried appealingjy, and watching her, Julie was sickened by the child's" duplicity. Old for her years, she had immediately grasped the implications of the situation, and was using them to her own ends.

"Of course no one's going to hit you, darling," Nerys comforted her daughter, and then turned on Julie again. "How dare you upset Dulcie like this? What's been going on here? What have you said to her?"

To Julie's astonishment, and William's, too, judging by the way his breathing became a little easier, Rhys intervened. "There was a misunderstanding, Nerys. Nothing to get alarmed about. But I'm afraid Miss Wood sees herself in the role of William's protector. In any event, Dulcie was not involved, only to the extent of making a nuisance of herself.'

Dulcie's face took on a sulky aspect. "Why is Uncle Rhys being horrid to me, Mummy? I didn't do anything."

Nerys controlled her own temper with obvious difficulty. Her eyes challenged those of her brother-in-law, but from Julie's point of view she could see no softening in his gaze. "I think it's a shame if a child can't behave as she likes in her own home," she said, with asperity, and Rhys inclined his head as if in agreement. "Perhaps I made a mistake, perhaps I didn't understand Miss Wood's position here. I thought she was your secretary, Rhys, not William's nursemaid."

"As you said, Nerys, it's a shame if a child can't behave as he likes in his own home," he conceded, and a faint smile began to lift the corners of her mouth. But it disappeared again as he continued: "And this is William's home, too, isn't it?"

There was absolute silence for several seconds, and then with an exclamation, Nerys swept out, taking Dulcie with her, leaving Julie feeling more embarra.s.sed than ever. Rhys, however, seemed unaware of her feelings. He looked at his son, and just for a moment there appeared to be a glimmer of communication between them.

Then he said quietly: "I suggest you let Miss Wood make up her own mind about dinner, William. Or she may decide to leave us altogether."

But after he had gone, Julie gave in.