age always have a passion for the first man they meet.”
“As long as she is not a nuisance,” Lady Heywood said.
“If she is, I shall look to you to protect me,” Lord Heywood replied.
He had put his arms around his wife and they walked away into the garden, completely happy, as Minella knew, to just be together.
A year later, Constance, or rather ‘Connie,’ as she would now called herself, saying that ‘Constance’ was too staid and dull, had gone to London.
She had written to say that she had found some very interesting employment, although it seemed to Minella that her parents were a little vague as to what it actually was.
Only once did she remember Connie coming home, or rather coming to The Manor, and that was after her mother had died.
Her father was back from London and feeling very depressed.
Connie had appeared looking, Minella now thought, quite unlike herself and in fact so different that it was hard to recognise her.
She had grown slim, tall and very elegant and was dressed so smartly that Minella stared at her in astonishment.
She had actually thought that the young lady standing at the front door was somebody from the County calling on them, perhaps to commiserate with her father over her mother's death.
Then Connie had asked,
“Do you not recognise me, Minella?”
There had been a little pause and then Minella had given a shout of excitement and flung her arms round her friend.
“How wonderful to see you!” she had exclaimed. “I really thought you had disappeared forever! How smart you are and how pretty.”
It was indeed true. Connie had looked very pretty with her golden hair that seemed much brighter than it had been a year ago.
With her blue eyes and pink and white complexion she looked every man’s ideal of the perfect ‘English Rose’.
Minella had taken Connie into the drawing room, wanting to talk to her and just longing to find out what she was doing in London.
Then two minutes after she arrived her father had come in from riding and after that it had been obvious that Connie wanted to talk only to him.
After a little while Minella had gone to make tea for them, leaving them alone, and only as Connie was about to depart did Minella hear her say to her father,
“Thank you, my Lord, for all your kindness and, if you will do that for me, I will be more grateful than I can possibly say in words.”
“I can think of a better way for you to express yourself,” Minella’s father had replied.
His eyes were twinkling and he was looking very dashing and, she thought, as if he had suddenly come alive.
“You will not forget?” Connie had asked eagerly.
“I never forget my promises,” Lord Heywood had replied.
He and Minella had then walked with Connie to where she had left her pony trap at the blacksmith’s forge.
“The reason I came here was to have my father’s old horse re-shod,” she had explained.
She had looked, Minella noticed, at her father from under her eyelashes as she spoke and Minella had known it had only been an excuse to come to The Manor.
Then Connie had driven away looking absurdly smart and somewhat out of place in the old pony trap.
As they had watched her go, Minella had been perceptively aware that her father was thinking what a very small waist Connie had and how tightly fitting her gown was.
Her neck had seemed very much longer than it used to be and she had worn her hat at a very elegant angle on her golden hair.
“Connie has grown very pretty, Papa,” she had said, slipping her arm through his.
“Very pretty!” he had agreed.
She had given a little sigh.
“I often used to beat Connie at lessons,” she had said, “but she beats me when it comes to looks.”
Her father had suddenly turned round to stare at her as if he had never seen her before.
He seemed almost to scrutinise her and then he had said,
“There is no need for you, my poppet, to be jealous of the Connies of this world. You have the same loveliness that I adored in your mother. You are beautiful and at the same time you look a lady and that is so important.”
“Why, Papa?”
“Because I would not have you taken for anything else!” her father had said fiercely.
Minella did not understand, but because she was so closely attuned to her father that she knew he did not wish her to ask him any questions. At the same time she was very curious to know what he had promised to do for Connie.
Now, feeling somehow that she was intruding and yet as if she could not resist it, she opened Connie’s letter and read,
“Dear, wonderful Lord of Light and Laughter,
How can I ever thank you for your kindness to me? Everything worked out exactly as you thought it would and I have been given the job and also I have moved into this very comfortable little flat which again thanks to your ‘pulling the right strings’ I can now afford.
I have always thought you wonderful but never so wonderful as you have been in helping me when I really needed it.
One day perhaps I will be able to do something for you.
Until then, thank you. Thank you.
Yours,
Connie.”
Minella read the letter and then read it again.
Then as she wondered what her father could have done to make Connie so grateful, she read for the third time,
“One day perhaps I will be able to do something for you.”
It was in fact too late for Connie to do anything for Minella’s father, but supposing, just supposing, her gratitude might extend to her?
Connie might find her some employment that would save her from having to accept the only invitation she had received from anyone, which was to live with her Aunt Esther.
She looked at the address on the top of Connie’s letter, but as she did not know London, it meant nothing to her, although she had the idea that Connie would be living somewhere in the West End.
‘If I was
