dedicated this chapter to MadelineSane for making the wonderful covers for my story ;-)

Chapte Five:

The car arrived just after lunch. Meg, who had been helping Claire with the packing, was unhappily resigned as she opened the door and handed the two large suitecases to the waiting chauffeur.

'It's better than lossing you altogether, i suppose, but you might have found a job in ambleside and stayed on here with us.'

'I tried, Meg dear, you know that.' Claire slipped an arm round her shoulders.

'Mr. Condliffe says i'll be free every evening after Lindy has gone to bed, so i'll be along to see you quiet often. any one would think i was going to the other end of the world.' she added laugh. and then, more seriously, 'Thank you for all your kindness to me, Meg, not only now but ever since Mummy died.'

'You've always seemed like a daughter to us,' Meg declared, blowing her nose vigorously.'

Simon was out when Claire arrived at the Tower, but Miss Dawson, effusive as ever, took her up to a beautiful pink and white bedroom, furnished, surprisingly, in the modern style. Claire gasped with delight, her eyes taking in the delicately-shaped pink carpet, the white rugs and white satinn curtains and matching bedcover.

'How lovely! Claire's eyes glowed with pleasure as she stood gazing round the room.

'This was luxury indeed.

'It is pretty, isn't it? i do hope you'll be comfortable. let me know if there's anything else you want.'

Crossing the room,Miss Dawson opened another door. 'This is your room.'

It was fitted the same luxurious style; everything seemed more suited to a guest of honour rather than an employee, thought Claire, as turning, she asked where Lindy was.

'Her uncle told her she was not to trouble you until you'd settle in. 'I'll send her up in about an hour if that's all right with you. she wants to show you the garden.'

The garden. . . . .

As soon as Miss Dawson had left the room Claire moved over the window and stood there for some moments in breathless admiration. the sweeping lawn, sloping gently away from the house was bordered with flowers and statuary. the right masses of flowering shrubs were intermenglid with golden thuyas, Japanese cedars and other trees which had been planted for the beauty of their foliage alone. to the left lay acres of timbered woods where in the spring daffodils grew wild. Rydal Water, beloved by wordsworth and all his famous friends, lay gleaming in the sunshine while above it rose the massive plateau of loughrigg fell.

Claire hurried with her unpacking, for she that Lindy would be having the greatest difficulty with her patience. when at last she went downstairs Lindy was squatting on a rug at the bottom. she jumped up excitedly, asking claire if shecould take her round the garden.

'Yes, Lindy, i would like that very much.'

The child's excitement grew, but Claire said nothing, and eventually she became more composed, taking Claire's hand as they walk through the grounds.

'Can you swim, Miss Harris?' Lindy enquired as they came to the pool. it was in a charming spot, close by a waterfall on rydal Beck, and surounded by decorative water-loving plants.

'Yes. can you, Lindy?'

'i'm learning at school, and sometimes Uncle Simon teaches me but not very often, because he has not time. will you teach me, Miss Harris?'

'Perhaps your Uncle wouldn't like me to use the pool,' Claire said doubtfully.

'Shall i ask him?'

'No, not just yet. perhaps when i've been here a little while longer.'

'Are you frightened of him?'

Lindy enquired, looking up into her face, and Claire laughed. then, suddenly, it struck her that she wasn't sure. she understood him a little now and of course did not fear him, but there had been occasions when his disapproving frown caused her to tingle with apprehension. however, that was not being afraid, not in the way Lindy meant.

'No, dear, but your uncle would think it very impertinent of me to ask him if could use the swimming-pool.'

They had reached a part of the garden which was not visible from Claire's window. left enchantingly wild, it had an ever greater splendour than that nearer the house. the outlineof the distant mountain rose to the sky, and below, in its snug little hollow, stood Melhurst Church. the sight of that switched her thoughts for a moment to her friend, Kenneth Rayner. she ahd received a letter from him only yesterday. he had heard that the vicar of Melhurst was retiring and could Claire give him any imformation?

'It's time i had a living of my own,' he had said. 'And when you write and tell me the beauties of Melhurst i feel i must try for the living the there.'

It was true about the vicar retiring, Meg had told her a few days ago. Not only first with news, Meg also managed to obtain the correct version quite an achievement in a smell village like melhurst. claire wondered if Mr, Condliffe, patron of the living, already had someone in mind or he might prefer to please the bishop by choosing one of the names submitted by him. however, there would be no harm in Ken's writing to Mr. Condliffe. Claire felt sure that Ken would make a favourable impression it only he were granted an interview. she discussed it with Meg and Jim the following evening.

'i'll write him first thing in the morning. wouldn't it be wonderful if he came to live here? 'i've missed him so much.'

noticing the look which passed between Meg and Jim, Claire instantly regretted her admission. they never had been convinced that she and Ken were just good friends.

'It would be nice,' Jim agreed, knocking out his pipe on the bars of the gate.

'But don't build on it too much, my dear. this is a wealthy parish and news travels fast. i dare say there'll be so many applicants. also, as you've already suggested, Mr. Condliffe may have someone in mind. however, go ahead and write to Ken; tell him to come over for a few days, then he can have a look round and see if he likes the place.' he threw a questioning glance at his wife before he went on, We'll fix him up?'

'certainly we will,' agreed Meg enthusiastically.

'I wish i knew Mr. Condliffe a little better,' claire mused. 'Then perhaps i could have put in a word for Ken.

But she soon begun to wonder if she would ever come to know her employer better, for she saw so little of him. not that this troubled Claire, for her life had become full and interesting since her arrival at the tower. she had been brought up in comfort, but the luxury and slendour of her present surroundings was almost dazzling by comparison. she would spend hours going through the magnificent rooms, each of which had elaborately decorated walls and cellings, many of the groups of birds and flowers incorporating the family crest. Simon's remarkably fine art collection was distributed among these rooms; choice paintaings and beautiful sculpture, costly bronzes and rare china. Though longing to handle the cabinets precious contents, Clairedid not even venture to open the doors.

One room pleased her more than the rest; with an air of strange disuse, it was a most charming apartment, with a large window facing the park, and three smaller windows looking down on to the surpassing beauty of the verdant waterside and tree-clad hills. the walls, like those of the other rooms, were exquisitely carved, and hung with fine tapestry and family portraits. Over the fireplace of white marble were gods and goddesses, animals and flowers, all of the most delicate workmanship. the furniture, though not so massive as that in ther rooms, was just as lovely, and looked rather more comfortable.

what a pity not to use it, Claire thought, for snug and homely as was the room into which Simon had first brought her, it was be compared with this. she later learned from Tilda that the room had always been the private boudoir of the mistress of the house and therefore had not been used since the death of Simon's mother.

One os Claire's duties was to drive Lindy to school in the morning and bring her back in the afternoon.

Sometimes Tilda would accompany her and they would od the shopping between them before Lindy came out of school. Desmond would lie and dream in the back, streched out on a rug, emitting strange grunts that could more easily be associated with a hungry little piglet than with 'Desmond of Melhurst Tower ', as Lindy so proudly described him.

'My dear!' Tilda would say with a shudder of disgust, 'I do think we shall have to get rid of that dog! it's not only that he snores as you'll probably have noticed?'

'I have,' claire nodded, and laughed. 'What does Mr. Condliffe say, ''Good lord, that dog wants shooting.'' '

'Why, yes his exact words. . . you must have heard him?

'I merely used my imagination.' Claire laughed again, and then, poor Lindy, she obviously believed he meant it.'

'Simon will shoot him one of these days.'

'You don't mean that, Tilda. I'm sure he wouldn't, knowing how much Lindy cares for him.' Lindy did indeed care a great deal about her pet. Bounding out of the school gate, she would jump into the car and immediately put Desmond on her lap.

'Don't you enjoy this nice big ride?' she would ask lovingly.

'It's a shame Uncle Simon won't have you in his proper car.' Then, having made quite sure that Claire was totally absorbed with her driving,

she would pick him up, rub his coat against her cheek and whisper.

'Grown-ups are all bit peculiar. 'do you know that Miss Harris won't let me put my face near you? she say you have germs. so you won't be offended?' will you, if i only do it when she isn't looking?'

Once Claire heard this she had the utmost difficulty in maintaining a straight face. the child might at one time have been spoilt and unmanageable, she mused, but there must have been something very lovable beneath it all.

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