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Authors: Hilary Wilde
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could have kept it as it is . . . people love to stay in a castle and they don't expect mod. cons. I believe they did it successfully in Ireland. People like to, live as they did then !" Cindy fought back. "And with the staff dressed in period clothes !"
He turned to look at her and laughed.
"Honestly, I didn't think people like you were still born. Where were you going to get the money?"
"That was what worried me," Cindy said gravely. "I wondered if the bank would loan it."
They were near the village now, the blue water
very still, the small snowdrops pushing up their white little heads above the soil. Peter left her at Mrs. Usher's cottage.
"I'll be along in about an hour, tell her," he said,' and drove away.
There was no answer to Cindy's knock. She waited, uncertain what to do, not wanting to go back to the village and the curious condemning eyes. Suddenly someone on a bicycle came along the road, stopped at the little wicket gate, and it was the little old lady who got off, waving a hand. She wore a trouser suit with a thick anorak and a scarf round her head.
"Well, dear, this is nice," she smiled, lifting out her shopping. "I had to go down along the lake to get my mushrooms. Do come in, the kettle will be boiling
now."
"I'm afraid it's very early."
Mrs. Usher's face shone. "The earlier the better, dear. Sit you down now and be comfy while I get around."
In ten minutes the tea was ready, the fire crackling as Mrs. Usher looked at Cindy sympathetically.
"I thought maybe you'd come down now. 'T ’ was a nasty shock for you, I would say, seeing that in the paper."
"Oh, Mrs. Usher !" For one awful moment, Cindy thought she was going to cry. "You believe me, then? You know I had nothing to do with it?"
"Of course I do, child. 'Twouldn't be like you t'do such a thing. That's what I told them all. No judge of character, that's their trouble, as I said now. Tell me about it."
Gratefully Cindy obeyed, starting with David Baxter waving the paper on the ferry.
"I thought he was the man I'd seen in London, but it seems he wasn't. Because Peter Baxter is quite different, yet they do look alike."
"You thought David was Peter?" Mrs. Usher chuckled. "I doubt if t'either would be flattered. Never did get on, those two."
Then Cindy told Mrs. Usher of the scene in the post office.
"I could feel their anger and I didn't know what I'd done wrong." She described her dismal day and how frightening the mountains and quiet lakes had been.
"I know, dear," Mrs. Usher agreed. "They can give you the creeps now. Real eerie, they are. So you went home."
"Back to the castle, and . . . and he was there." Mrs. Usher's face dimpled as she tried not to laugh.
"And who, might I ask, is he ?"
"Peter, of course."
"Of course. Go on."
So Cindy did; telling her how Peter had implied that she was lying, had said he planned to let her have the castle until he saw the article in the paper.
"It isn't fair," Cindy nearly wailed. "I had nothing to do with the article. You know I would never sell the castle."
"Unless you had no choice," Mrs. Usher said dryly. "Sometimes it's impossible to do what we want to. All the same, it is sad. You could have had the
castle and Peter not had to come up. Is he sad about it ? Memories ?"
"He was and he isn't, if you know what I mean," Cindy tried to explain. "He's ... well, not easy to understand. He's a mass of contradictions."
Mrs. Usher poured them out more tea, "He always was a strange one any time. So what happens now ?"
"Well, I wanted, to pack and go, because I have no right here now he's here and he wouldn't let ..."
"Wouldn't let you ?" Mrs. Usher looked shocked. "You mean he stopped you ?"
"In a way." Cindy told the little old lady what ad happened and was startled when Mrs. Usher l aughed.
"The same old Peter—turns on the charm." s uddenly she was serious. "My dear child, don't tell e you've . .. ?"
Cindy knew instantly what she meant. "I ... I ..."
"Am afraid so?" Mrs.
He turned to look at her and laughed.
"Honestly, I didn't think people like you were still born. Where were you going to get the money?"
"That was what worried me," Cindy said gravely. "I wondered if the bank would loan it."
They were near the village now, the blue water
very still, the small snowdrops pushing up their white little heads above the soil. Peter left her at Mrs. Usher's cottage.
"I'll be along in about an hour, tell her," he said,' and drove away.
There was no answer to Cindy's knock. She waited, uncertain what to do, not wanting to go back to the village and the curious condemning eyes. Suddenly someone on a bicycle came along the road, stopped at the little wicket gate, and it was the little old lady who got off, waving a hand. She wore a trouser suit with a thick anorak and a scarf round her head.
"Well, dear, this is nice," she smiled, lifting out her shopping. "I had to go down along the lake to get my mushrooms. Do come in, the kettle will be boiling
now."
"I'm afraid it's very early."
Mrs. Usher's face shone. "The earlier the better, dear. Sit you down now and be comfy while I get around."
In ten minutes the tea was ready, the fire crackling as Mrs. Usher looked at Cindy sympathetically.
"I thought maybe you'd come down now. 'T ’ was a nasty shock for you, I would say, seeing that in the paper."
"Oh, Mrs. Usher !" For one awful moment, Cindy thought she was going to cry. "You believe me, then? You know I had nothing to do with it?"
"Of course I do, child. 'Twouldn't be like you t'do such a thing. That's what I told them all. No judge of character, that's their trouble, as I said now. Tell me about it."
Gratefully Cindy obeyed, starting with David Baxter waving the paper on the ferry.
"I thought he was the man I'd seen in London, but it seems he wasn't. Because Peter Baxter is quite different, yet they do look alike."
"You thought David was Peter?" Mrs. Usher chuckled. "I doubt if t'either would be flattered. Never did get on, those two."
Then Cindy told Mrs. Usher of the scene in the post office.
"I could feel their anger and I didn't know what I'd done wrong." She described her dismal day and how frightening the mountains and quiet lakes had been.
"I know, dear," Mrs. Usher agreed. "They can give you the creeps now. Real eerie, they are. So you went home."
"Back to the castle, and . . . and he was there." Mrs. Usher's face dimpled as she tried not to laugh.
"And who, might I ask, is he ?"
"Peter, of course."
"Of course. Go on."
So Cindy did; telling her how Peter had implied that she was lying, had said he planned to let her have the castle until he saw the article in the paper.
"It isn't fair," Cindy nearly wailed. "I had nothing to do with the article. You know I would never sell the castle."
"Unless you had no choice," Mrs. Usher said dryly. "Sometimes it's impossible to do what we want to. All the same, it is sad. You could have had the
castle and Peter not had to come up. Is he sad about it ? Memories ?"
"He was and he isn't, if you know what I mean," Cindy tried to explain. "He's ... well, not easy to understand. He's a mass of contradictions."
Mrs. Usher poured them out more tea, "He always was a strange one any time. So what happens now ?"
"Well, I wanted, to pack and go, because I have no right here now he's here and he wouldn't let ..."
"Wouldn't let you ?" Mrs. Usher looked shocked. "You mean he stopped you ?"
"In a way." Cindy told the little old lady what ad happened and was startled when Mrs. Usher l aughed.
"The same old Peter—turns on the charm." s uddenly she was serious. "My dear child, don't tell e you've . .. ?"
Cindy knew instantly what she meant. "I ... I ..."
"Am afraid so?" Mrs.
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