Read Online My Sister Celia by Mary Burchell - Free Book Online Page B

very faintly spurious atmosphere of celebration was achieved. Freda was questioned, kindly but closely, by Mr. Vanner about her work and the way she lived, and he looked somewhat surprised when Celia interjected eagerly.
    “But she doesn ’ t only have a bed-sitting-room in Earl ’ s Court, do you, Freda? She owns a cottage in the country.”
    “A cottage in the country?” repeated Mr. Vanner in some surprise. “Where—and how?”
    So, a little more at ease now, Freda explained how she had come to own her little cottage in Crowmain.
    “And where does Laurence Clumber come in all this?” demanded Celia eagerly.
    “Laurence Clumber?” Mr. Vanner looked at Freda with some interest. “Do you know Laurence Clumber?”
    “Why, yes.” Freda turned to him in surprise. “Do you?”
    “I ’ ve met him. I wouldn ’ t describe myself as knowing him. But I know of him, of course. He ’ s one of the most brilliant chemists at the North Deeming Research Station. But I suppose you know that?”
    “N-no,” said Freda in a somewhat chastened tone. “I didn ’ t know that.” And she tried to remember just how sceptical and disparaging she had looked when Laurence Clumber had owned casually to being “a chemist, in a modest, experimental sort of way.”
    “But what has he to do with your cottage?” Celia wanted to know.
    “He owns the estate on which my cottage was built.”
    “Then he ’ s your landlord?”
    “Oh, dear no, he isn ’ t!” replied Freda, with an emphasis which seemed to surprise them all. “I own the little bit of land on which my cottage is built. Absolutely,” she added, as though challenging all comers.
    “And does he want to buy you out?” enquired Brian with a smile.
    “Yes. How did you guess?”
    “From your expression. That ‘ over-my-dead body ’ look could only mean that someone had tried to chivvy you into selling.”
    “Oh, he wouldn ’ t chivvy her, Brian,” Celia declared. “He ’ s too nice for that, isn ’ t he, Freda?”
    “He was very anxious to buy,” Freda stated, with an air of doing strict justice and no more. “I was not willing to sell.”
    “Good for you! And you ’ re going to have me down there, aren ’ t you?” Celia pressed eagerly.
    “Yes of cours e.”
    “When, Freda? When are you next going there?”
    “On Saturday. But —”
    “Can I come then?”
    “No, dear.” Freda spoke quickly. “There ’ s no furniture in the place, and the decorators will be in. It ’ s not fit to be seen yet.”
    But she knew—with a distinctness that surprised and faintly chagrined her—that, apart from anything to do with the state of the cottage, she did not want a third person on that drive down with Laurence Clumber. Not even Celia.
    No doubt this was simply due to the fact that she and he were still on equivocal, slightly embarrassing terms, and the presence of a third person would only make things more awkward. But the reaction had been instantaneous, even before she could explain the reasons to herself.
    “Very well,” Celia agreed good-humouredly. “But don ’ t keep me waiting too long. I ’ m dying to see the place.”
    “There ’ ll be plenty of opportunities later on,” Freda promised her with a smile. “I shall be going down there most weekends.”
    “I hope,” Mr. Vanner said gravely, “that you will also be coming to us for some weekends, Freda. If this isn ’ t exactly to become your home”—Freda was aware that Mrs. Vanner moved impatiently— “it is, at least, your sister ’ s home.”
    “Thank you.” Freda made a graceful pretence of including both the Vanners in her acknowledgement. “I—I do appreciate your ki n dness very much, and I shall love to come sometimes. But I don ’ t want you to feel that my relationship to Celia constitutes any claim on you personally. It ’ s enough happiness just to know that I have a sister, and that I can visit her sometimes.”
    “Very nicely put,” said Mr. Vanner with a