POVERTY'S PRIDE

CHAPTER TWENTY

                        CHAPTER TWENTY

Rosalind was in the morning room writing her weekly letter to her friend Mrs Dutton when someone knocked at the front door. She heard Linda’s footsteps cross the hall to answer.

     Curiosity made her rise and go out into the hall to see who had come visiting a house of mourning. She was in time to see Linda invite the caller inside. A gentleman stood there in clergyman’s garb. Rosalind judged him to be in his fifties; of medium height but well made.

     ‘The master is not in, sir,’ Linda was saying. ‘I don’t know...’

     ‘It’s all right, Linda,’ Rosalind exclaimed, coming forward, suddenly realising who the caller was. ‘The gentleman is expected.’

     She smiled at him. ‘You must be the Reverend Dunbar, sir. I’m sorry that Sir Leopold and Mr Cedric are not here to greet you.’

     ‘That is quite all right, Miss...er...’

     ‘Rosalind Trevellian,’ Rosalind said.

     ‘Ah! A daughter of the house, perhaps?’

     Mr Dunbar had a quiet, pleasing voice.

     ‘No, sir, I am a distant relation, very distant. Sir Leopold has kindly taken me in as companion to his grand-daughter, Pricilla.’

     ‘I see.’ His eyes showed sincerity and kindness as he smiled at her. She was immediately reminded of her own dear father.

     A rather tattered carpet bag lay at his feet.

     ‘Please forgive me, sir,’ Rosalind added hurriedly. ‘You must be weary after your ride from Scurlage. Your rooms are ready for you. Perhaps you would like to retire until Sir Leopold returns.’

     To Linda she said. ‘Would you take Mr Dunbar’s bags to his room, please?’

     Linda reached for the carpet bag. ‘Is there any other luggage, sir?’ Linda asked shyly.

     ‘No, I travel light, child.’

     ‘Linda will show you to your rooms,’ Rosalind suggested. 

     ‘If it’s all the same to you, Miss Trevellian,’ Mr Dunbar said, almost apologetically. ‘I would welcome a pot of tea. I started out early without my breakfast.’

     Rosalind felt embarrassed. ‘I do beg your pardon, sir. That was thoughtless of me. Please come into the drawing room and I will ring for refreshments.’

     She signalled Linda to take the bag, and then led the way to the drawing room.

     ‘Please take a seat sir,’ she said to him.

     While he seated himself in one of the high-backed chairs by the side of the ornate marble fireplace facing the windows, Rosalind rang the bell for the maid.

     Almost within seconds, as though she had been waiting in the hall, Maggie appeared.

     ‘A tray of tea, please, Maggie,’ Rosalind requested. ‘And some slices of Mrs Jowett’s excellent fruit cake.’

     ‘How many cups and saucers, Miss Trevellian, ma’am?’ Maggie responded, curtsying with a cheeky grin.

     ‘Away with you, girl,’ Rosalind answered, unable to suppress a grin herself.