three self-contained flats.
Bel had the basement.
Having descended the wrought-iron steps to a paved area brightened by tubs of flowers and a long windowbox overflowing with orange nasturtiums, she let herself into the small, white-walled flat and kicked off her smart court shoes.
After a cool, refreshing shower, leaving her long hair loose, she changed into a navy sleeveless dress and flatheeled sandals.
These days she seldom wore high heels. Roderick was a bare inch taller than her five feet seven, and she had discovered quite early in their relationship that he hated to be loomed over.
Her weekend case was packed and waiting. She collected it and, after walking round the corner to a sidestreet which bore the sign ‘Tenants Only Parking’, got into her white Cavalier.
She was ahead of the Friday afternoon rush hour and her journey out of London was comparatively easy. While she drove she considered the coming weekend.
Roderick, an only son, backed by the Bentinck family money, was in banking. He owned a bachelor pad in the City but, having no great liking for town life, preferred to escape into the country from Friday until Sunday.
His parents, who were always delighted to see Bel, had given her an open invitation, and after she had become engaged to Roderick she had usually accompanied him.
Her father had occasionally been persuaded to join them on what, apart from the odd game of tennis, were essentially peaceful, relaxing weekends.
But on this occasion, because it was the Bentincks’ fortieth wedding anniversary the following day, there was to be a weekend get-together. It was due to begin with a Friday evening party to welcome both visiting relatives and guests.
Bel had been looking forward to it until the previous day, but now worry cast something of a blight.
As soon as the Cavalier drew up on the paved apron in front of the mellow creeper-covered walls, Daphne Bentinck, a slight woman with grey hair curling around a cheerful face, came out to greet her.
‘How lovely to see you!’ she exclaimed as Bel got out of the car.
Defying the heat in a mauve twin-set and pearls, she gave her future daughter-in-law a quick hug before rattling on in her usual non-stop, staccato fashion.
‘Roderick isn’t home yet, I’m afraid, and I have to pop into the rectory. Such a nuisance. But you won’t mind taking care of yourself, will you? You’re in the rose room as usual.
‘I’ve left the front door open for you. Leave your car where it is; Thomas will move it later. Tell Maggie to make you a pot of tea and some sandwiches to tide you over. Must dash…’
She trotted off at speed towards an elderly Bentley parked in front of a stable block long since converted into garages.
Smiling, Bel took her case from the car and, leaving the keys in the ignition, made her way to the house.
As she entered the long, oak-panelled hall Margaret McDougal appeared and asked cheerfully, ‘You’ll be wanting some tea?’
‘I’d love a cup. When I’ve put my case in my room I’ll come down to the kitchen, if you like, and save your legs.’
As soon as Bel reached the pleasant, familiar room, with its rose-patterned wallpaper and light fashionable furniture, she unpacked and made sure the present she was carrying was safe.
A Jesse Harland figurine to add to Daphne and Roger Bentinck’s priceless collection, it was simple and oddly moving—a boyish figure of a young girl in jeans, the head tilted slightly, the gaze shy but steady.
Roderick had suggested that, to get the maximum effect, instead of having it gift-wrapped it should simply appear on the Bentincks’ breakfast table the following morning, and she had agreed.
Putting it carefully on the dressing table, Bel went to wash her hands and run a comb through her hair before making her way down to the huge kitchen.
On the oak table, large enough to have graced a medieval banqueting hall, Maggie had set out a tray with a freshly brewed pot of tea, a plate of dainty sandwiches and a selection of home-made cake.
‘That looks wonderful,’ Bel said appreciatively.
‘Then sit yourself down.’
‘Won’t you have a cup with me?’ Bel asked.
‘Aye, I might that.’
Maggie filled two cups with the steaming amber liquid, and the women sipped in amicable silence.
Peckish, after a salad lunch, and with no need to calorie-count to keep her slim figure, Bel ate a couple of the sandwiches and a piece of cake. She was on her second cup of tea when the door opened and Roderick came in.
Though he couldn’t be termed handsome, be was a pleasant-looking man, with fine brown hair, a thin, intelligent face and clear hazel eyes.
His small features, slightly sloping shoulders, and neat hands and feet made him appear somewhat prissy.
Which he wasn’t
He was open-minded, humorous, and excellent company, and Bel had liked him since they’d met at a business conference early in the spring.
‘So there you are.’ He stooped to kiss her cheek. ‘I saw the car, and when you were nowhere about I thought you must have gone for a walk or something.’
Dropping into the seat Maggie had vacated, he asked, ‘I take it you saw Mother? Did she tell you she’s had to invite Suzy for the weekend?’
Without waiting for an answer to either question, he went on, ‘It was a bit awkward, as her parents are two of our oldest friends. When they were invited, it was understood that Suzy would still be abroad. But she came home yesterday, and Mother had no option but to extend the invitation to her. I hope you don’t mind?’
‘Of course I don’t mind,’ Bel told him, while admitting silently that she would have preferred the other girl to be safely abroad.
It wasn’t so much that she didn’t like Suzy, as that Suzy didn’t like her.
Barely eighteen, and spoilt rotten, the pretty, petite redhead hero-worshipped Roderick and had been devastated when she’d lost out to another woman.
Unable to control her tongue or her spite, she had made one weekend visit very uncomfortable. Sensibly, Bel had ignored all the gibes and, refusing to enter the fray, had done her best to keep the peace.
But she wasn’t looking forward to a rematch, especially with a houseful of strangers for an audience.
Clearly concerned that that shouldn’t happen, Roderick added carefully, ‘I have every intention of having a straight talk with her as soon as she gets here. I’m fond of Suzy, we’ve known each other all our lives, but I won’t have you upset or my parents’ anniversary spoiled.’
By eight o’clock that Friday evening most of the guests had arrived and been made welcome, including Suzy and her doting middle-aged parents.
It
