The Andre Norton Megapack - 15 Classic Novels and Short Stories

Philippine Sutton said about the inn? Good food. A look at the kitchen clock showed Fredericka that it was already late for lunch and one should certainly feed a cold but not make the effort of cooking for it. She hurried upstairs to change her clothes to the tune of “Abide With Me.”
    Fredericka found the Coach and Horses as attractive as Philippine had promised. It was certainly early nineteenth century, a colonial white wooden house with brick ends and wide chimneys, and it had been well preserved. The doorway with its fanlight and side windows was unspoilt, or perfectly restored. The grass that edged the curved driveway was neatly cut and the beds bright with flowers.
    Fredericka found the door ajar and went in hesitantly. To her surprise, she stepped directly into a comfortable living room with large chintz-covered chairs and an air of being used and homelike. A log fire was burning in the great fireplace directly opposite the door and Sunday papers lay in untidy patches on the scattered tables and chairs.
    Fredericka saw at once that the room was empty and that the clock on the mantelpiece said ten minutes past one. She walked across to the fire and stretched out her hands. How odd to be grateful for this warmth after yesterday’s midsummer heat. She stared at the flames absently and then became aware that someone had come quietly into the room behind her. She turned quickly and found herself staring into the face of a woman. The eyes that regarded Fredericka were violet-gray and beautiful, but cold as a foggy winter day. And then the woman spoke and the lovely colourless mask of her face was suddenly creased and spoilt by age and petulance.
    “You must be Miss Wing. Miss Hartwell said to be on the lookout for you.” She extended a white hand which Fredericka took with instinctive reluctance. “I am Mrs. Clay—Catherine Sutton Clay.” She pronounced the middle name with obvious pleasure.
    “Oh, yes,” Fredericka murmured. So this was the Sutton daughter who had been married and divorced, if that was what Chris meant by saying that she was not married just at present! The limp hand in her own had unexpected strength. And then, remembering her manners, Fredericka added: “How do you do?”
    “Not too well, thanks,” Catherine answered unexpectedly. “I’ve left New York too long and now the slow decay of South Sutton has set in. I don’t suppose you’ve felt it yet. But you will…”
    Fredericka could think of nothing to say and the woman shrugged impatiently. “You’d better get lunch if that’s what you came for. Chicken on Sunday and the longer you wait, the less there is of it!” Then she muttered under her breath; “If friend James doesn’t come soon we’ll get cold ham.” She sank down into a chair and waved an expressive hand toward the dining room.
    I mustn’t dislike any of these people, Fredericka thought miserably as she muttered a word of thanks and moved toward the sound of rattling plates and cutlery that she could hear through the door at the far end of the room. But I don’t like her, and I have a hunch that I never will, customer or no customer.
    The dining room seemed to Fredericka’s overwrought nerves to be crammed with people who all looked up to stare at the newcomer as she stood hesitant in the doorway. But when the hostess had greeted her pleasantly and shown her to a quiet corner of the room, she looked around with some surprise to discover that, in fact, very few of the tables were taken. The first person she saw was Colonel Mohun who, as yesterday, looked directly at her with intent appraising eyes. And then when she stared back, as though hypnotized, he smiled, and the severity vanished from his face. Fredericka also smiled and then looked down at the menu in confusion, as she felt her cheeks flame with sudden telltale colour. The typed card was not worth serious attention since there was no question of choice, but it gave Fredericka a chance to recover and, after a moment, she was able to look around the room, if not in the direction of the distracting Colonel Mohun.
    There were several large tables round which sat husbands, wives and children who looked as though they might be professors’ families. They had an unmistakable “Sunday treat after church” look about them. Fredericka now realized that the noise which had greeted her entrance came from one of these tables, where a young man of about two in a high chair was producing tom-tom beats of spoon