Read Online That Would Be a Fairy Tale by Amanda Grange - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Amanda Grange
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with it, but you’re right, I can’t. Not if I want to be accepted here. Which means I need someone to help me. And the only way of finding someone seemed to be to advertise. But the candidates I’ve seen so far know less about running a Manor than I do. Not the day to day running, of course, but making it work as a part of village life.’
Cicely wavered. The job he was outlining was tempting. Even so, working for Mr Evington . . . no, it did not bear thinking about. It was not just that she resented him for having bought the Manor, and it was not just the way he laughed at her almost every time they met. Nor was it the fact that she did not like city dwellers, who came into the country with their noise and their pollution and their flashy way of living, making themselves a nuisance to everybody else.
No. It was because of the way his eyes flashed when he smiled, and the way it made her feel. Why it should make her feel that way - why indeed it should make her feel anything - she did not know, but she did not want the feeling. It made matters too confusing.
Mr Evington as a bad-mannered man, whom she disliked, she could cope with. Mr Evington who had a sense of the ridiculous and a lively sense of humour - attributes which, in normal circumstances, Cicely both enjoyed and shared - and whose eyes flashed wickedly when he smiled, was something else.
To say nothing of the way he made her feel when he touched her. He seemed to have the power to turn her world upside down and she was not sure she liked the feeling. It made her feel vulnerable, out of control.
‘And then there is the inventory,’ he said, thrusting his hands deep in his trouser pockets. ‘I mean to catalogue the contents of the Manor,’ he explained. ‘As I bought it partly furnished I would like to know exactly what there is, in case anything goes missing or there is ever a fire, and to do so I need a full inventory. And who better than you to help me make one? You know the house and its contents better than anyone else - if you could put your dislike of me aside enough to come and work for me, that is.’
She wavered even more. On the one hand, she thought the task of making an inventory of the Manor might be a sad one for her, as her beautiful family heirlooms belonged to her no more, but on the other hand she could not bear the thought of a stranger doing it. At least if she made the inventory she would be able to treat the house and its contents with the love and respect they deserved.
‘Well, Miss Haringay. Will you accept the post?’
Cicely hesitated for a minute, but the job appealed to her and besides, without any qualifications or experience she knew that it was the only offer of employment she was likely to receive. ‘I . . . ’ she said. Before asking herself if she was being wise. But wise or not it was the only way forward. ‘I will.’
‘A truce, then?’ he asked, his eyes warming.
He really had the most attractive eyes when he looked at her just so, she thought. And for some reason they sent shivers coursing through her entire body . . .
‘At least until you have told me what is expected of me as the owner of the Manor, and helped me to make an inventory of the contents?’ he continued.
She took a deep breath and then nodded. ‘A truce.’
He smiled and held out his hand for her to shake.
Cicely quavered. She was forcibly reminded of the effect it had had on her when he had taken her hand at the Manor. It had set her pulse racing and filled her stomach with the strangest tinglings. And yet she could not see any way of avoiding it.
She took a deep breath, and then put her hand into his.
As his strong fingers close around her own she felt a surge of energy course through her, making her shiver from head to toe. It was a good thing she was wearing gloves, she thought with a gasp, for if he had closed his fingers round her bare hand the sensation would have been overwhelming.
Hastily, she retrieved her hand. Or tried
Cicely wavered. The job he was outlining was tempting. Even so, working for Mr Evington . . . no, it did not bear thinking about. It was not just that she resented him for having bought the Manor, and it was not just the way he laughed at her almost every time they met. Nor was it the fact that she did not like city dwellers, who came into the country with their noise and their pollution and their flashy way of living, making themselves a nuisance to everybody else.
No. It was because of the way his eyes flashed when he smiled, and the way it made her feel. Why it should make her feel that way - why indeed it should make her feel anything - she did not know, but she did not want the feeling. It made matters too confusing.
Mr Evington as a bad-mannered man, whom she disliked, she could cope with. Mr Evington who had a sense of the ridiculous and a lively sense of humour - attributes which, in normal circumstances, Cicely both enjoyed and shared - and whose eyes flashed wickedly when he smiled, was something else.
To say nothing of the way he made her feel when he touched her. He seemed to have the power to turn her world upside down and she was not sure she liked the feeling. It made her feel vulnerable, out of control.
‘And then there is the inventory,’ he said, thrusting his hands deep in his trouser pockets. ‘I mean to catalogue the contents of the Manor,’ he explained. ‘As I bought it partly furnished I would like to know exactly what there is, in case anything goes missing or there is ever a fire, and to do so I need a full inventory. And who better than you to help me make one? You know the house and its contents better than anyone else - if you could put your dislike of me aside enough to come and work for me, that is.’
She wavered even more. On the one hand, she thought the task of making an inventory of the Manor might be a sad one for her, as her beautiful family heirlooms belonged to her no more, but on the other hand she could not bear the thought of a stranger doing it. At least if she made the inventory she would be able to treat the house and its contents with the love and respect they deserved.
‘Well, Miss Haringay. Will you accept the post?’
Cicely hesitated for a minute, but the job appealed to her and besides, without any qualifications or experience she knew that it was the only offer of employment she was likely to receive. ‘I . . . ’ she said. Before asking herself if she was being wise. But wise or not it was the only way forward. ‘I will.’
‘A truce, then?’ he asked, his eyes warming.
He really had the most attractive eyes when he looked at her just so, she thought. And for some reason they sent shivers coursing through her entire body . . .
‘At least until you have told me what is expected of me as the owner of the Manor, and helped me to make an inventory of the contents?’ he continued.
She took a deep breath and then nodded. ‘A truce.’
He smiled and held out his hand for her to shake.
Cicely quavered. She was forcibly reminded of the effect it had had on her when he had taken her hand at the Manor. It had set her pulse racing and filled her stomach with the strangest tinglings. And yet she could not see any way of avoiding it.
She took a deep breath, and then put her hand into his.
As his strong fingers close around her own she felt a surge of energy course through her, making her shiver from head to toe. It was a good thing she was wearing gloves, she thought with a gasp, for if he had closed his fingers round her bare hand the sensation would have been overwhelming.
Hastily, she retrieved her hand. Or tried
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