POVERTY'S PRIDE

CHAPTER TWO (Part Two)

                                                  CHAPTER TWO  (Part Two)

Cedric Trevellian entered his father’s study, carrying a sheaf of documents, and walked swiftly to the big mahogany desk, where Sir Leopold sat in a pool of light from the oil lamp.

     ‘I need your signature on these, Father,’ he said briskly.

     Sir Leopold glanced up, removing his pince-nez. ‘I’ve been reading the reports from the Neath mines,’ he began tersely. ‘Production has dropped over the last month. What is the meaning of that, Cedric?’

     ‘There was a bad fall earlier, if you remember,’ Cedric said. ‘Miners were killed. Some of the tunnels are still blocked and the men are reluctant to risk more lives to clear them.’

     Sir Leopold brought his fist down on the desk with a crash. ‘Must I deal with every last detail? See to it at once. Offer incentives if you must, but get results.’

     ‘Yes, Father.’ He stood hesitating.

     ‘Well? What is it?’

     ‘I thought you should know that the girl has arrived, so Mrs Gilbert informs me.’

     ‘Girl?

     ‘Edward Trevellian’s daughter.’

     ‘Eh?’

     ‘You agreed to take her in as Pricilla’s companion on her father’s death.’

     ‘What of it?’

     ‘I thought you might want to see her.’

     ‘Is she pretty?’

     Cedric swallowed. ‘I’ve no idea, Father. I’ve not seen her myself yet.’

     Sir Leopold pushed the papers away from him and leaned back in his chair. ‘I’m in need of a diversion,’ he said. ‘Have her brought down to the study straight away.’

     ‘It’s very late, Father,’ Cedric said. ‘She’ll be in her bed now.’

     ‘Being interviewed in her night attire will put her at a disadvantage, I think,’ Sir Leopold said, sharp amusement in his voice which made Cedric wince. ‘Let’s see what she’s made of.’

     ‘Father, she is a simple parson’s daughter and not used to such indignities.’

     ‘Have her brought down I say!’

     ‘All the servants are in their bed, too.’

     ‘Then fetch her yourself, man! Since I’m paying for her keep I’ve a right to inspect the goods.’

Rosalind lay in the large four-poster, wide awake, finding it impossible to sleep. Her room was at the front of the house, her window overlooking the cliffs, and she could hear the sea bounding relentlessly on the rocks below.

     Despite all the luxury about her she longed for her narrow bed in the safety of Mrs Dutton’s lodging house. But it was no good dwelling on that, she told herself sternly. Fate had brought her to Cliff House and so she must try to make the best of things.

     Restless, she turned over in the bed and then was startled by a tap at the door. She had no time-piece with her and could not even guess at the hour, but thought it unlikely that anyone would be about at this time.

     When the tapping came again Rosalind got out of bed and reaching for her wrap padded on bare feet to the door, but she hesitated to open it.