tell me you haven’t noticed!’ gasped Susan. ‘Jane and I saw him arrive. We were downstairs in the hall when he came in. Is it James Mannering?’
‘Yes.’ Domine stuffed the rest of her toilet articles into an overnight case, and lifted it together with the larger case that contained all her belongings.
Susan shook her head. ‘Well, I must say you don’t look very pleased about it,’ she exclaimed rather impatiently. ‘Surely he’s not at all like you had imagined.’
Domine glanced in her direction as she walked towards the door. ‘Well, I’d agree with you there,’ she said dryly. ‘Honestly, Susan, I know absolutely nothing about him. I don’t even know where I’m going to live!’
Some of her trepidation showed in her voice and Susan approached her sympathetically. ‘You know he’s quite a well-known playwright,’ she pointed out thoughtfully. ‘And after all, you’re not old enough to arouse any—well, other kind of interest in him, are you? I mean—I don’t want to be unkind, Domine, but you are rather naïve, aren’t you? Me!’ She laughed. ‘I’d give anything to be in your shoes! Being ward to a famous man like him! Having the opportunity to meet all kinds of exciting people! Not just to marry the first man that asks you because you think his prospects are good!’
Domine half-smiled. ‘You will write to me, won’t you? I’ll let you have the address as soon as I know where it is.’
Susan nodded vigorously. ‘Of course. After all, you might invite me to come and stay some time.’
Domine sighed, and then walked slowly along the corridor towards the stairs again. As she began the downward descent, she saw James Mannering waiting in the hall with Reverend Mother, and when he saw her struggling with the cases he left off speaking to the nun and mounted the stairs lithely to take them from her. Domine, unused to any kind of assistance with her belongings, glanced at him in surprise, and saw a faintly mocking glint in his eyes as though he had been glad to escape from Reverend Mother’s catechism.
Sister Theresa joined her superior to say good-bye to their charge and the double doors of the convent were opened to admit a blast of chilling air, accompanied by driving rain. Domine, who had donned her school coat, a navy gaberdine, pulled up the collar, while James Mannering said: ‘Wait here!’ peremptorily, before dashing out into the storm.
A few moments later, the roar of a powerful engine heralded the arrival of his car, which he drew up close to the entrance so that Domine had only to cross the terrace and climb into its warmth and luxury. She said good-bye to Sister Theresa, and then to Reverend Mother, and biting back a choking feeling in her throat, she ran and climbed into the limousine. She saw, through the pouring rain, that James Mannering had returned to say good-bye to the nuns, before striding back to the vehicle and sliding in beside her. The engine had been running and he thrust it smoothly into gear and raised one hand in farewell as they began their journey.
Domine lay back in her seat feeling overwhelmingly shaky now that she had left all that was familiar behind her, and for a few minutes she stared blankly out at the awful weather and thought she would never experience a storm without remembering this afternoon. James Mannering did not speak to her at once, giving her time to collect herself, and manoeuvring the sleek car out of the gates and along the rain-washed country roads. The Convent of the Holy Sisters was situated about five miles from Guildford, and it wasn’t until they reached the main road to London that her companion glanced her way.
‘Well?’ he said, somewhat wryly. ‘Are you going to cry? Or will you save that for tonight—in bed?’
Domine stared at him in astonishment. She was unused to his blunt manner of speaking, and endeavouring to assume a little of his candour, she replied: ‘No, I shan’t cry now, Mr. Mannering. As for tonight, I don’t even know where I’m to spend tonight!’ She compressed her lips to prevent them from trembling.
Mannering gave her a lazy stare. ‘Don’t you? Didn’t the solicitor explain the situation to you?’
‘I haven’t seen the solicitor,’ replied Domine tightly.
Mannering frowned. ‘Is that so? You mean it was all done by correspondence?’
‘Of course. Besides, what could the solicitor have told me? From the tone of his letter, he seemed as surprised as me!’
Mannering’s frown deepened. ‘Now why were you surprised, Domine? Did you expect to be Henry’s heiress?’
Domine clenched her fists. ‘I think you’re most objectionable, Mr. Mannering!’ she exclaimed. ‘I didn’t imagine anything. Great-Uncle Henry wasn’t old—at least, not that old. When I was eighteen I expected to go to college, and afterwards—well, I suppose I just thought I’d get a job and find somewhere of my own to live.’
Mannering gave her a wry glance. ‘Okay, I’ll accept that,’ he nodded. ‘I’m sorry if I’m riding you, kid. Perhaps I’m so used to the rat-race I’ve forgotten there are still mice around.’
Domine flushed. ‘You still haven’t answered my question. Where am I to stay? Where am I to live?’
Mannering drew out his cigar case and lit a cigar before replying. Then he said: ‘Tonight, you’ll stay at my apartment—in London. Tomorrow we’ll drive up to Yorkshire.’
‘To Grey Witches?’ exclaimed Domine, in surprise.
‘Sure, to Grey Witches!’ He frowned. ‘I don’t intend to sell the place, you know. What’s the matter? Doesn’t that appeal to you?’
Domine shook her head. ‘I didn’t think about that either,’ she murmured, wondering with a sense of excitement whether Grey Witches was to be her home. It would be wonderful to have a real home after all these years.
Mannering gave an exasperated shrug, and then they encountered a stream of traffic entering London and for a time his attention was focused on negotiating a series of traffic lights. Domine looked about her with interest. She had never really visited London. When she was younger, living with her parents in Nottingham, it had never appealed to her, and afterwards Great-Uncle Henry had avoided it like the plague. ‘Nasty, unhealthy place,’ he had called it, and Domine had been too inexperienced to offer an opinion.
James Mannering’s apartment was the penthouse of a block of luxury dwellings, and once inside the air-conditioned environs of the lift Domine forgot the vile weather outside. The lift swept upwards smoothly, and then whined to a halt at the thirtieth floor. They stepped out on to a pile carpeted corridor that led to double doors into his apartment, and Mannering went ahead of her, using a key to admit them.
Immediately a suave little man appeared from the direction of what she later learned to be the kitchen, and Mannering introduced him as Graham while he removed his overcoat.
Domine smiled, and shook hands, and Mannering said: ‘Graham is a gentleman’s gentleman. He was employed by Lord Bestingcot years ago, but he’s been with me for about ten years now, haven’t you, Graham? He’s endeavouring to instil the attributes of a gentleman into rough clay like myself!’ He smiled, and Domine was surprised at the change it brought to his harsh features. She was begining to see why Susan had thought him attractive. There was something particularly masculine about him, and his hardness, she thought, would appeal to some women.
Graham took Domine’s gaberdine, and suggested they might like some coffee, but after ascertaining that dinner would be ready in about fifteen minutes, James Mannering waved him away.
