ingenuous smile? She barely reached her shoulder, Lark noticed as they both paused in the entrance to the sitting-room.
‘Oh, I forgot to take your coat. It’s so cold out, isn’t it? I’ve lived in this country for nearly forty years, and yet I still miss our New England springs.’
The American accent was barely discernible, and had a twang with which Lark wasn’t familiar.
‘I wanted to invite you to have lunch with me,’ Mrs Mayers was saying as she ushered her into a pretty sitting-room decorated in soft blues and yellows. A fire burned cheerfully in the grate, and Lark couldn’t resist a soft exclamation of pleasure as she looked around her.
‘I’m so glad you like it. My son doesn’t approve at all. He thinks it’s far too frivolous and feminine. Do come and sit down. I’ll get Cora to bring us some tea, or would you prefer coffee?’
Her hostess was charming but rather obviously slightly dizzy, and Lark couldn’t help wondering how on earth she had come to be the chairwoman of a charity committee. Surely such a role demanded great organisational skills?
It had been a long time since anyone had treated Lark with such warmth and friendliness, and she found herself responding to it like a thirsty plant soaking up rain. It was several minutes before she could interrupt her hostess for long enough to ask her exactly what the job would entail.
For a moment or two Mrs Mayers looked rather vague.
‘Oh, yes, the job. Well, my dear, here’s Cora with the tea.’
Cora proved to be a late-middle-aged woman with dark hair and a round face in which brown eyes snapped energetically and curiously. Mrs Mayers introduced them, and Lark was very conscious of Cora’s scrutiny as she put down the tea tray.
‘Cora’s been with us for years,’ Mrs Mayers told her when the other woman had left. ‘I don’t know what on earth I would do without her.’
‘Mrs Mayers, the job …’ Lark prodded gently.
‘The job, oh, yes! Well, my dear, I can’t tell you exactly what your duties would be other than to say that you would be acting as my personal assistant.’ Suddenly she sounded brisker, less vague. ‘The charity’s only a small one. We have a branch here in London and another one in Boston, which is not, perhaps, as odd as it seems.’ A rather sad smile touched her face. ‘My first husband was, like myself, from Boston. Our families had known one another for years.’ She made a slight face. ‘That’s how it is in Boston. We’re a conservative lot, I’m afraid. I became involved with the charity after the deaths of my husband and son. Both of them died from an inherited genetic complaint. My husband knew nothing about it. There had been cousins, other members of the family who had died in their early thirties, but in those days …’ She shrugged, her eyes suddenly very sad. ‘When John, our son, was born, neither of us had any idea. He died when he was ten. In some cases the disease is more progressive then in others. My husband died twelve months later. He suffered such a lot, poor man, not just from the illness itself, but from his guilt over what had happened to John. He said before he died that, had he known, he would never have married me.’ She smiled again. ‘Perhaps it is selfish of me to be glad that he did not.’
She said it with such quiet sincerity that Lark felt a lump rise in her throat. This woman was the antithesis of everything she had expected before she came for the interview. She realised now that she had been guilty of judging her on surface evidence alone.
‘My husband was a wealthy man,’ Mrs Mayers continued quietly. ‘Very wealthy. I used some of the money he had left me to set up the charity. In those days my first thoughts were that perhaps somehow we might be able to find out what caused the hereditary defect which gave rise to his death and that of our child. Those early days were probably what saved my sanity, but that was a long time ago. Now it’s very different. These days we’re far better organised, and the money we’ve raised has helped with research into the causes and possible treatment for the deficiency. A lot of work has been done. We’ve now managed to isolate the genes that cause the problem, but there is still an awful lot more work to be done, which is where you and I come in, my dear,’ she added briskly.
‘My role of chairwoman involves me in having overall control of our fund-raising activities both here and in Boston. I think you already know that I spend part of the year over there working for the charity.’ When Lark nodded, she went on quietly, ‘I’m not a young woman any more, unfortunately. In fact, my son claims that I’m too old to be doing as much work as I do, but I’m loath to give it up, so he and I have compromised. He has made me promise to get myself an assistant, which is where you come in, my dear. I do hope you’re going to take the job,’ she added whimsically, ‘because if you don’t, I’m afraid my son is going to insist I give up a very important part of my life.’
Her son, she had said, which meant that she must have married a second time. Almost as though she had read Lark’s mind, Mrs Mayers continued, ‘I have been married twice. I was devastated when John died. He and our child were the most important things in my life. I thought I would never, ever recover from the blow of losing them, but then I met Charles.’ She smiled reminiscently. ‘He was exactly as I’d always imagined an English gentleman to be. He was a surgeon, and I was introduced to him by a mutual friend in Boston.’
‘And you have just the one son?’ Lark prodded, conscious of an air of sadness settling on her companion’s face.
‘Yes, it is probably just as well. He is a typical Taurean, incredibly stubborn, but I shan’t bore you by being a doting mother and telling you how wonderful he is. Did your solicitor tell you that the job would involve living in?’ she asked anxiously. ‘I know that wouldn’t appeal to most young girls these days, but I’m afraid that it’s really a necessity. You see, sometimes, because of the very nature of the work I do, it means working odd hours. We hold a variety of charity events to raise funds, and I would want you to help me with all of those. Plus there’s a great deal of correspondence which always needs answering. Does the thought of living in deter you?’
Deter her? If only Mrs Mayers knew! Lark thought wryly. She glanced round the sitting-room again, comparing its warmth and loveliness with the shabby bareness of her bedsit. What person in their right mind would prefer living in that to living in something like this—or rather, living alone, to living with someone like Mrs Mayers? Her stubborn Taurean son apparently did, because with the next breath she was explaining to Lark that there would only be the two of them in the house, plus Cora.
‘It’s very much an all-female household, I’m afraid. Do you have a … a boyfriend?’
She looked rather hesitant as she asked the question. Lark shook her head quickly.
‘Would you like to see your rooms?’
Rooms? Lark felt as though she had wandered into some sort of daydream.
‘Mrs Mayers,’ she said gently, ‘you do know who I am, don’t you? You do know about the court case?’ Suddenly she had had the uncomfortable suspicion that her solicitor had not been totally open and honest with this charming woman, and that she had absolutely no idea of Lark’s recent history.
To her surprise, Mrs Mayers said quickly, ‘Oh, yes, I know all about that. It must have been awful for you, my dear.’
‘They weren’t true—all those things they said,’ Lark told her desperately. ‘None of it was true. I’d absolutely no idea what Gary was doing.’ To her chagrin, tears suddenly filled her eyes. What on earth was happening to her—giving way like this?
‘My
