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Authors: Victoria Holt
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scarlet with embarrassment to be seen with my hair down and in my nightgown thus.
He called jauntily : ” Good morning, Miss Leigh.”
In that moment I said to myself: So it was his horse I heard. And has he been riding in the early morning, or out all night? I imagined his
visiting one of the gay ladies of the neighbour y hood if such existed. That was my opinion of him. I was angry that he should be the one to show no embarrassment whatsoever while I was blushing certainly in every part that was visible.
” Good morning,” I said, and my voice sounded curt.
He was coming swiftly across the lawn, hoping, I was sure, to embarrass me further by a closer look at me in my night attire.
” A beautiful morning,” he cried.
” Extremely so,” I answered.
I withdrew into my room as I heard him shout: ” Hallo, Alvean! So you’re up too.”
I was standing well back from the window now and I heard Alvean cry: ” Hallo, Papa!” and her voice was soft and gentle with that wistful note which I had detected when she spoke of him on the previous day. I knew that she was delighted to have seen him, that she had been awake in her room when she had heard his voice, and had dashed to her window, and that it would make her extremely happy if he stopped awhile and chatted with her.
He did no such thing. He went into the house. Standing before my mirror, I looked at myself. Most unbecoming, I thought. And quite undignified. Myself in a pink flannelette nightdress buttoned high at the throat, with my hair down and my face even now the colour of flannelette!
I put on my dressing gown and on impulse crossed the schoolroom to Alvean’s room. I opened the door and went in. She was sitting astride a chair and talking to herself.
” There’s nothing to be afraid of really. All you have to do is hold tight and not be afraid … and you won’t fall off.”
She was so intent on what she was doing that she had not heard the door open, and I stood for a few seconds watching her, for she had her back to the schoolroom door.
I learnt a great deal in that moment. He was a great horse man, this father of hers; he wanted his daughter to be a good horsewoman, but Alvean, who desperately wanted to win his approval, was afraid of horses.
I started forward, my first impulse to talk to her, to tell her that I would teach her to ride. It was one thing I could do really well because we had always had horses in the country, and at five Phillida and I were competing in local shows.
But I hesitated because I was beginning to understand Alvean. She was an unhappy child. Tragedy had hit her in more ways than one. She had lost her mother, and that was the biggest tragedy which could befall any child; but when her father did not seem anything but indifferent to her, and she adored him, that was a double tragedy.
I quietly shut the door and went back to my room. I looked at the sunshine on the carpet and my elation returned. I was going to make a success of this job. I was going to fight Connan TreMellyn, if he wanted it that way. I was going to make him proud of his daughter; I was going to force him to give her that attention which was her right and which none but a brute would deny her.
Lessons were trying that morning. Alvean was late for them, having breakfasted with her father in accordance with the custom of the family. I pictured them at the big table in the room which I had discovered was used as a dining room when there were no guests. They called it the small dining room, but it was only small by Mount Mellyn standards.
He would be reading the paper, or looking through his letters, I imagined; Alvean would be at the other end of the table hoping for a word, which of course he would be too selfish to bestow.
I had to send for her to come to lessons; and that she deeply resented.
I tried to make lessons as interesting as I could, and I must have succeeded, for in spite of her resentment towards me she could not hide her interest in
He called jauntily : ” Good morning, Miss Leigh.”
In that moment I said to myself: So it was his horse I heard. And has he been riding in the early morning, or out all night? I imagined his
visiting one of the gay ladies of the neighbour y hood if such existed. That was my opinion of him. I was angry that he should be the one to show no embarrassment whatsoever while I was blushing certainly in every part that was visible.
” Good morning,” I said, and my voice sounded curt.
He was coming swiftly across the lawn, hoping, I was sure, to embarrass me further by a closer look at me in my night attire.
” A beautiful morning,” he cried.
” Extremely so,” I answered.
I withdrew into my room as I heard him shout: ” Hallo, Alvean! So you’re up too.”
I was standing well back from the window now and I heard Alvean cry: ” Hallo, Papa!” and her voice was soft and gentle with that wistful note which I had detected when she spoke of him on the previous day. I knew that she was delighted to have seen him, that she had been awake in her room when she had heard his voice, and had dashed to her window, and that it would make her extremely happy if he stopped awhile and chatted with her.
He did no such thing. He went into the house. Standing before my mirror, I looked at myself. Most unbecoming, I thought. And quite undignified. Myself in a pink flannelette nightdress buttoned high at the throat, with my hair down and my face even now the colour of flannelette!
I put on my dressing gown and on impulse crossed the schoolroom to Alvean’s room. I opened the door and went in. She was sitting astride a chair and talking to herself.
” There’s nothing to be afraid of really. All you have to do is hold tight and not be afraid … and you won’t fall off.”
She was so intent on what she was doing that she had not heard the door open, and I stood for a few seconds watching her, for she had her back to the schoolroom door.
I learnt a great deal in that moment. He was a great horse man, this father of hers; he wanted his daughter to be a good horsewoman, but Alvean, who desperately wanted to win his approval, was afraid of horses.
I started forward, my first impulse to talk to her, to tell her that I would teach her to ride. It was one thing I could do really well because we had always had horses in the country, and at five Phillida and I were competing in local shows.
But I hesitated because I was beginning to understand Alvean. She was an unhappy child. Tragedy had hit her in more ways than one. She had lost her mother, and that was the biggest tragedy which could befall any child; but when her father did not seem anything but indifferent to her, and she adored him, that was a double tragedy.
I quietly shut the door and went back to my room. I looked at the sunshine on the carpet and my elation returned. I was going to make a success of this job. I was going to fight Connan TreMellyn, if he wanted it that way. I was going to make him proud of his daughter; I was going to force him to give her that attention which was her right and which none but a brute would deny her.
Lessons were trying that morning. Alvean was late for them, having breakfasted with her father in accordance with the custom of the family. I pictured them at the big table in the room which I had discovered was used as a dining room when there were no guests. They called it the small dining room, but it was only small by Mount Mellyn standards.
He would be reading the paper, or looking through his letters, I imagined; Alvean would be at the other end of the table hoping for a word, which of course he would be too selfish to bestow.
I had to send for her to come to lessons; and that she deeply resented.
I tried to make lessons as interesting as I could, and I must have succeeded, for in spite of her resentment towards me she could not hide her interest in
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