The housekeeper spent a few more minutes extolling the way she had struggled to care for Ravengarth single- handed, how she was not as young as she used to be, and that she had never complained, but when she saw she was making no headway she resorted to cruder methods.

'Don't think I can't see what's going on here,' she declared, nodding unpleasantly. 'I can see the way the wind's blowing. You want me out of the way, so's you and 'er,' she flicked a thumb in Joanna's direction, 'won't have no supervision. That's it, isn't it?

As soon as I saw her I knew. You think with me out of the way you'll have a clear field. No one to spy on you, only a child, and 'er half wild as it is.' She sniffed expressively. 'Well, I'd not stand for that, if I was you, Miss Seton!' What had happened to improve her opinion of her suddenly? Joanna wondered in amazement. 'He's got a foul temper, he has. Specially when the weather's cold, and them scars start playing him up -'

'Mrs Harris -'

'Get out, Mrs Harris!'

Joanna's horrified exclamation was overidden by Jake's angry response. As he came round the desk, his manner was almost threatening and the housekeeper took a nervous backward step as she made her final attempt to dissuade him.

'You'l not get anyone else to come here and work for you,'

she warned shrilly. 'And you needn't expect that young madam to help you. She's leaving, she is-Anya told me. And in any case, you wouldn't expect the likes of 'er to go dirtying 'er hands in honest labour. Too stuck-up for that, she is, let me tell you!'

'Out,' said Jake uncompromisingly. 'Pack your belongings at once, and I'll drive you to your sister's at Lancaster. And if I hear that you've been spreading any gossip about me or Miss Seton, I'll make sure the authorities hear about it. A case for slander is not that difficult to prove, not when there are plenty of people hereabouts who remember the old days. Do I make myself understood?'

Mrs Harris stared at him a little apprehensively now, but she was not completely convinced. 'What do you mean -the old days?' she protested indignantly. 'I've always done my work to the best of my ability, and you can't prove otherwise. Why, Mrs Fawcett depended on me, she did -'

'That's not what I've heard,'. Jake informed her coldly. 'In fact, I'd go so far as to say that Mrs Fawcett would have liked to get rid of you herself, only she was too ill at the time.'

'That's-that's libel -'

'If it wasn't true, the word is slander, as I've just explained,'

Jake retorted bleakly. 'However, as I have every reason to believe it is true, and as I'm not likely to repeat it beyond these walls, I don't see what you can do about it.'

Mrs Harris's mouth pursed. 'Who's been saying such things?

It's that Matt Coulston, isn't it?'

Jake sighed then, and shook his head. 'You know Matt, Mrs Harris,'

he replied wearily. 'He's not the type to gossip about anyone.'

'I should think not! Not when he's little more than a -'

'That will do, Mrs Harris. I should go before you say something you regret.'

Her lip jutted. 'You're not frightening me!'

'Am I not?'

The woman's thin face suffused with colour. 'You'll regret this, just see if you don't. There's no decent person would put up with that besom upstairs --'

But this time she had gone too far, and she scuttled quickly out of the door as he approached her with clenched fists.

It took Jake a few minutes to recover his composure after this exchange, and Joanna turned awkwardly away, shifting from one foot to the other. She didn't honestly know what to expect after his unexpected dismissal of the housekeeper, and she wondered if he intended to drop her at Penrith station on his way to Lancaster. If would certainly be a clean sweep if he did, but what would happen to Anya then? Curiously enough, the thought disturbed her, and she squashed the awareness that it was Anya's father who aroused these feelings of responsibility inside her.

Presently he came back to the desk again, and she chanced a brief glance up at his bleak face as he positioned himself behind it. She didn't know why the weariness of his expression disturbed her, but it did, and she wished she had not spoken so recklessly earlier.

'Sit down,' he said, and in some relief she did as he asked. At least she was being offered the chance to take her punishment sitting down, she thought dejectedly, wondering what had happened to the anger that had given her such confidence in the car.

Jake took a long pull at his cigar, and then seated himself in the worn chair opposite, thick black lashes veiling the expression in his eyes as he shifted the papers on the desk, as if like herself he was searching for a suitable opening. Then, as if coming to a decision, he lifted his head and said: 'I have to ask you if you'll do something for me.'

His words were so unlike anything she had antic.i.p.ated that for a moment she didn't make any response, but when his mouth a.s.sumed a downward slant, she licked her lips and asked: 'What is it?' in faintly apprehensive tones.

He lay back in his chair then, surveying her through the haze of cigar smoke he had emitted. Like that, relaxed, his expression vaguely speculative, Joanna could quite see why women had found him so attractive, and Mrs Harris's accusations did not seem quite so outrageous suddenly.

But his next words dispelled any illusions she might have entertained. 'As you heard, I have to take Mrs Harris to Lancaster.

I'm asking you to remain at Ravengarth and take charge of Anya until I return.'

Joanna suppressed the disappointment his words engendered.

'Why can't you take her with you?' she exclaimed, in the heat of the implied rejection, and immediately he came upright in his chair.

'Because I would prefer Anya not to have to listen to any more of the woman's lies,' he retorted coldly. 'I realise I'm asking this favour from a position of weakness, but if you could oblige me in this way, I'm quite prepared to see you don't suffer by it.'

Joanna's lips pursed. 'You'll pay me, you mean?'

'I'll pay you,' he agreed dourly. 'Is it a deal?'

Joanna sighed. 'I don't know...'

'Oh, not more indecision, Miss Seton! Either you will or you won't.

It's as simple as that. I promise you, whatever Mrs Harris says, I have no ulterior designs on your virtue.'

Joanna flushed. 'I didn't expect you had, Mr Sheldon.'

'Good. So we understand one another.'

'Do we?'

He expelled his breath wearily. 'What's that supposed to mean? I'm sorry, I'm out of touch with these double- edged conversations.'

Joanna hesitated. 'Are you dismissing me, Mr Sheldon?'

'Am I dismissing you?' He stared at her blankly. 'Forgive me, but I understood it was your intention to leave!'

Joanna held up her head. 'It was you who said this wasn't a d.i.c.kensian establishment! It was you who suggested I should pack my bags!'

He propped one elbow on the desk and rested his head on his hand.

'Let's get this straight, shall we? You were arguing with Anya, like a pair of cats in a barn. What the h.e.l.l was I supposed to say?'

Joanna blinked. 'But what about Mrs Harris? What I said about her?

I mean, you've fired her, but... well...'

He lifted his head, and let his arm fall indifferently on to the desk.

'Do I take it she was being presumptuous? That you actually want to stay?

Joanna hunched her shoulders, moving her head a trifle bewilderedly, aware that her hair had come loose from its knot in places, and was falling about her ears in silken disorder. But she had other things to worry about at the moment, not least her own confusion at this unexpected reprieve.

'I thought you wanted me to leave,' she said at last, unwilling to commit herself, and he thrust back his chair and got to his feet.

'Look, Miss Seton,' he said heavily, 'I employed you to teach Anya, and for no other reason. But I also accept that since you came here the situation has been anything but stable.

Consequently I'm prepared to overlook any outburst which may or may not have been precipitated by tension. However, I should point out that as I now no longer have a housekeeper, it may not be in your best interests to remain. I shall certainly endeavour to find a replacement, but I have to tell you that the women in the village have already refused to work here.'

Joanna looked up at him. 'Why?'

His expression hardened, the ridges of scar tissue standing out clearly against his dark skin. 'Can't you guess?' he demanded harshly, long fingers probing the roughened flesh. 'Who would want to face this across the breakfast table every morning, unless you had no alternative?'

Joanna stood up. 'That's nonsense,' she declared fiercely.

'You've lived with it for too long, Mr Sheldon. Believe me, it's not half as bad as you imagine it to be. In fact -'

'Spare me the plat.i.tudes, Miss Seton. I've heard them all before.'

'But -'

'And besides, there are other reasons why the villagers wouldn't want to work at Ravengarth. It's generally believed in the village that I'm a little-eccentric, to say the least, and Anya's behaviour doesn't help. They know I couldn't cope with my work after the accident, and they a.s.sume that means-slightly r.e.t.a.r.ded, not quite compos mentis.'

'But that's ludicrous!' exclaimed Joanna incredulously, and he moved his shoulders in a dismissing gesture.

'How do you know? How can you be so sure? Perhaps they're right.

Perhaps I am a little-insane. G.o.d knows, I have reason to be, after living this kind of existence for the past two years.'

Joanna bent her head. 'Do you want me to stay?' she asked quietly.

'Aren't you afraid I might-disrupt your tranquillity?'

'Tranquillity?' He made a disbelieving sound. 'What tranquillity? I don't know what tranquillity is, Miss Seton.' He paused. 'But in answer to your question-yes, I want you to stay. Your-unusual approach may be exactly what's needed to get through to Anya.

Either way, it can be no harm for her to be given a taste of her own medicine for a change, providing you understand you are answerable to me in the final a.n.a.lysis.'

Joanna lifted her head. 'Very well.'

'Good.'

The tawny eyes held hers for a long moment, but although she was disturbed by that probing gaze, she could tell from his expression that his mind was already moving ahead to other things. Yet, for all that, when he looked away she felt a sense almost of fatigue, and she followed him out of the room with the uneasy suspicion that she might live to regret ever coming here.

CHAPTER FOUR.

JAKE left soon after eleven, with a sober-faced Mrs Harris beside him in the Range Rover. It had to be a sad day for the woman, thought Joanna, guiltily aware of her own part in her dismissal, but as she surveyed the empty hall, she had to concede that the decision had been long overdue. Maybe when Mrs Fawcett had been alive, she had worked satisfactorily under her supervision, but since that lady's death it seemed Mrs Harris had made little effort in any direction.

Realising that someone would have to take temporary charge of the household, Joanna walked down the pa.s.sage in search of the kitchen. She found the stone-flagged room at the back of the house, overlooking a vegetable garden, just as Mrs Harris had left it, with the remains of the morning's breakfast still clinging to the plates in the sink. It was a daunting sight, particularly to someone with Joanna's limited knowledge of domestic affairs, but in spite of the morning's upheavals she found she was hungry, and somehow she would have to produce a meal that she and Anya could share.

She knew Jake had spoken to his daughter before he left, but she didn't know what he had told her. He merely advised Joanna that Anya was drying her hair, and that she would come downstairs when she was finished.

The kitchen itself was no miracle of modern technology.

There was a white sink and a wooden draining board, an electric cooker that had probably been there since Mrs Fawcett's time, and a twin-tub electric washing machine, presently overflowing with dirty linen.

There was an ancient refrigerator, whose freezing compartment was not even enclosed, and several fitted cupboards to line the walls.

Meals were apparently taken on the wooden table that occupied the middle of the floor, and the room was heated by a blackened Aga boiler that probably heated the water and those elderly radiators upstairs. Luckily the boiler was going; Mrs Harris obviously liked her comforts, thought Joanna ruefully, remembering the chilly atmosphere of the rest of the house, but at least it meant that there was plenty of hot water, and she soon had the sink full of soapy suds.

With the dishes done, she turned attention to more immediate matters, like what food there was in the house, and where it was kept. She discovered a cool larder that opened off the kitchen, whose stone shelves would probably keep b.u.t.ter and milk as fresh as in the fridge, but at present there were only tinned foods stacked in rows, and half a loaf of stale bread lying on a wooden board.

There were plenty of eggs, she saw, probably gathered from the hens she had seen in the yard, but from the window the vegetable garden looked bare of any produce, and she guessed that what had been grown had been used.

She was studying the label on the back of a can of mixed vegetables when there was a tapping at the back door.

Immediately, her thoughts sprang to the awareness that she was alone in the house, apart from the child, and she peered anxiously through the window, trying to see who it was before she actually opened the door.

'Lily? Are you there, Lily?'

Joanna was still struggling to discover who it was, when the door opened behind her, and she swung round in alarm as a man came into the kitchen. His sharp eyes soon found her shrinking against the draining board, and while he exhibited almost as much surprise at finding her there, Joanna was able to identify him. He was the old man who had been leaning on the wall that morning, watching her and Jake depart in search of Anya. Matt Coulston; or at least that was her a.s.sumption, and obviously he didn't know yet that Mrs Harris had gone.

Recovering herself quickly, Joanna moved away from the sink.

'You're Mr Coulston, aren't you?' she asked, trying to keep her tone light and friendly. 'I'm afraid if you're looking for Mrs Harris, she's not here.'

'Not here?' he echoed, his greying brows beetling above a hooked nose. 'What do you mean, she's not here? Where is she?

Where's she gone?'

'She's left,' said Joanna firmly, waiting slightly apprehensively for his reaction. 'Mr-er-Mr Sheldon fired her. They left about half an hour ago.'

'Well, I'm d.a.m.ned!' The old man slapped his thigh with unexpected enthusiasm. 'Jake's done it at last! He's got rid of the old besom. I didn't think he had it in him.'

Joanna didn't know how to answer this, so instead she said: 'Is there something I can do for you, Mr Coulston? Until Mr Sheldon gets back, I'm looking after the place.'

'Oh, you are, are you?' This seemed to amuse him. 'Then you'll be wanting this, won't you? Seeing as how you're looking after things!'