Part 4 (1/2)

Samantha wondered what her father would think of her if he knew. After all, it was he who had virtually sent her back to her mother. She guaranteed he would never have agreed to anything of this kind. Subterfuge was ab horrent to him. And yet, her mind argued, had he not practiced a certain kind of subterfuge himself, allowing her to believe her mother was dead when actually she was very much alive?

”All right,” she said at last, ”I'll agree. At least for now. I won't guarantee my actions until I try out this masquerade.”

”Oh, my dear. I'm so glad, and so grateful. You've made me so happy.” There were tears in Lady Davenport's eyes and Samantha felt glad she was able to make at least one person happy.

”And now,” said Lady Davenport, ”we can get down to details.”

”What details?” Samantha was puzzled.

”Well, I'm afraid that Barbara has already given it out that she contracted a secret marriage, seventeen years ago, when she was seventeen. You were the outcome and your existence was kept a secret so that you might grow up without the usual hoo-ha attached to children of famous people.”

”Wait a minute.” Samantha frowned and stared at her grandmother. ”How could she give that out? She didn't know that I was going to agree.”

Lady Davenport looked uncomfortable. ”My dear Samantha, Barbara banked on your acceptance of her plans. No one ever refuses her anything.”

Samantha shook her head. ”Oh, G.o.d, so I'm just an other p.a.w.n in her game.”

”Don't, please, Samantha. Let it go. You won't regret it, I promise you.”

Samantha was not convinced, but as the whole plan had her head in a spin already, she could not voice her objec tions. She felt heartily sick of the whole business, and won dered what was behind it all. There must be something. From what she had gathered about her mother, Barbara never did anything without good reason.

”And when do we leave for Daven?” she asked now.

Lady Davenport looked thoughtful. ”Well, not for a week or so, I'm afraid. Barbara wants to have time to in troduce you to her friends. She has planned parties, dinners, etc. When we leave, you will not need to worry about coming back to London for some time.”

”I see.” Samantha bit her lip. Dinners, parties! And she was to be sixteen again!

CHAPTER III.

The next morning Samantha awoke in an enormous bed, with soft sheets and a creamy silk counterpane. For a mo ment she lay wondering where on earth she was and then it all came flooding back to her. She was in England. She was staying in London with her grandmother and today she was to meet her mother for the first time in seventeen years.

At the remembrance of this, she turned over and buried her face in the pillow. It was no more palatable today than it had been yesterday.

Last evening she had spent alone with her grandmother.

Lady Davenport had said that Barbara had an important engagement and would not be around to greet her daughter until the following day. To Samantha, tensed and curious, this in itself was a revelation. Had her mother no interest in her at all?

This morning Lady Davenport had said they were to go shopping. Samantha had to be fitted out with suitable clothes, and her hair must be shampooed and set. To Sam antha, who had never seen the inside of an expensive Lon don salon, this was to be a rather terrifying experience and she had asked why she could not set her own hair as she had always done in the past.

Lady Davenport had smiled. ”My dear, you must get used to the idea that you are now a comparatively wealthy young woman. As such you do not 'do' your own hair. You have it shampooed and styled regularly at a salon and you must never be seen looking dishevelled or untidy.”

Samantha had still thought it was an unnecessary ex pense, but had refrained from making any further comment.

Now she slid eagerly out of bed, glancing at her watch as she did so. It was already eight-thirty and back home she would have been up and breakfasted by now. ”Back home!” She sighed. Would she ever get used to calling London her home? It seemed unlikely at that moment She was bathed and dressed by the time the maid knocked and brought in her breakfast tray.

”Oh, miss, you're up!”

”Yes.” Samantha looked anxious. ”Does it matter?”

The maid smiled. ”Bless you, no, miss. But I was sur prised, that was all, I thought you would have been tired after your journey yesterday.”

”Oh, I'm all right. This looks an enormous breakfast.”

”Why, it's only cereal, bacon and eggs and toast!”

Samantha smiled. ”I'm been used to managing on rolls and b.u.t.ter. My .. my ... I've been told about this Eng lish meal.” She had nearly said her father and she swal lowed hard.

”Well, you do your best,” said the maid easily, not no ticing any change in Samantha's expression. ”Lady Davenport said to tell you that she will be up and ready for your chopping expedition at ten o'clock.”

”All right. Thank you.”

Samantha ate her breakfast on the table below the win dow in her room and looked out on the busy thoroughfare below.

Already the surrounding buildings were giving her a closed-in feeling and she would be glad to get out and see something of the town.

She dressed in the dress she had worn the previous day.

Compared to her grandmother's expensive clothes her things looked rather shabby and her underwear had seen better days. It was embarra.s.sing to feel like this. But she had naturally a.s.sumed that her grandmother would be very much the same as themselves. She had certainly never dreamed of having a member of the n.o.bility for a rela tion, Lady Davenport emerged promptly at ten in a town suit of light Donegal tweed. She looked small and elegant and Samantha envied her her a.s.surance. Beside her she felt gauche and bulky, and much top tall.

”Do not slouch, my dear,” said Lady Davenport, study ing her severely. ”You are tall, yes, but that is something to be proud of. You will soon be wearing high-heeled shoes which will add a couple of inches to your ... what ... five feet five?”

”Five feet six,” said Samantha quickly.

”Very well. That will make you five feet eight. If you find yourself with smaller people, do not stoop to their level. Let them look up at you. You have the advantage. Use it. Don't pander to yourself.”

”Yes, Grandmother,” said Samantha dutifully, and smiled.

”You're rather severe when you're roused, aren't you?”

Lady Davenport chuckled. ”It depends who I am with. Now, shall we go? Barnes is waiting for us.”

The Rolls awaited them in the courtyard and Samantha helped Lady Davenport in, before following her: Barnes shut the door and then walked round and climbed in him self. Now that they were on their way, Samantha felt ex cited and stared unblinkingly out of the car window, not wanting to miss a thing.

They crossed part of London, Barnes, on Lady Dav enport's instructions, driving round Piccadilly Circus so that Samantha could see the statue of Eros.

”You will have to go sight-seeing properly one day,” said Lady Davenport. ”Do you know much about Lon don?”

”Well, I know about the Tower of London and Buck ingham Palace,” Samantha replied. ”My father told me quite a lot really.

He loved the museums and the art galleries. He once took me to Rome to see the Colosseum and, the Vatican.”

Her grandmother smiled: ”And did you like these sort of things too? The art treasures of the world?”

”Oh, yes. I would like to explore London, really. There are heaps of things I want to do.”

”Well, you will have plenty of time.”