She still kept her hand upon my arm, as though to show me off before her visitor, much as a teacher would a sullen child.
“I congratulate you upon your fine property,” said Rainaldi.
“I do not wonder that your cousin Rachel has become so much attached to it.
I have never seen her look so well.”
His eyes, the eyes that I remembered clearly, heavy-lidded and expressionless, dwelled upon her for a moment, then turned again to me.
“The air here,” he said, “must be more conducive to repose of mind and body than our keener air in Florence.”
“My cousin,” I said, “has her origin in the west country.
She has merely returned where she belonged.”
He smiled, if the slight movement of his face could be so called, and addressed himself to Rachel.
“It depends what tie of blood is strongest, does it not?” he said.
“Your young relative forgets your mother came from Rome.
And, I may add, you grow more like her every day.”
“In face alone, I hope,” said Rachel, “not in her figure nor in her character.
Philip, Rainaldi declares that he will put up in a hostelry, whatever we can recommend, he is not particular, but I have told him it is nonsense.
Surely we can place a room at his disposal here?”
My heart sank at the suggestion but I could not refuse it.
“Of course,” I said.
“I will give orders at once, and send away the post chaise too, as you won’t want it further.”
“It brought me from Exeter,” said Rainaldi.
“I will pay the man, and then hire again when I return to London.”
“There is plenty of time to decide upon that,” said Rachel.
“Now that you are here you must stay a few days at least, so that you can see everything.
Besides, we have so much to discuss.”
I went from the drawing room to give orders for a room to be prepared—there was a large bare one on the west side of the house that would do him well—and went slowly upstairs to my own room to bath myself and change for dinner.
From my window I saw Rainaldi come out and pay the fellow with the post chaise, and then with an air of appraisal he stood a moment in the carriageway, to look about him.
I had the feeling that in one glance he priced the timber, reckoned the value of the trees and shrubs, and I saw him, too, examine the carving on the front door and run his hand over the scrolled figures.
Rachel must have joined him, and I heard her laugh, and then the pair of them began talking in Italian.
The front door closed.
They came inside.
I had half a mind to stay up in my room and not descend, to send word to John to bring me my dinner on a tray.
If they had so much to talk about they could do it better with me absent.
Yet I was host, and could not show discourtesy.
Slowly I bathed, reluctantly I dressed, and came downstairs to find Seecombe and John busy in the dining room, which we had not used since the men had cleaned the paneling and done some repairs about the ceiling.
The best silver was laid upon the table, and all the paraphernalia for visitors displayed.
“No need for all this pother,” I said to Seecombe, “we could have eaten in the library very well.”
“The mistress gave orders, sir,” said Seecombe, on his dignity, and I heard him order John to fetch the lace-edged napery from the pantry, that we did not even use for Sunday dinner.
I lit my pipe, and went out into the grounds.
The spring evening was still bright, and twilight would not come for an hour or more.
The candles were lighted in the drawing room, though, and the curtains not yet drawn.
The candles were lighted too in the blue bedroom, and I saw Rachel pass to and fro before the windows as she dressed.
It would have been an evening for the boudoir had we been alone, I hugging to myself the knowledge of what I had done in Bodmin, and she in gentle mood, telling me of her day.
Now there would be none of this.
Brightness in the drawing room, animation in the dining room, talk between the two of them about things that concerned me not; and over and above this the instinctive feeling of revulsion that I had about the man, that he came on no idle errand, to pass the time of day, but for some other purpose.
Had Rachel known that he had arrived in England and would visit her?
All the pleasure of my jaunt to Bodmin had left me.
The schoolboy prank was over.
I went into the house in low spirits, full of misgiving.
Rainaldi was alone in the drawing room, standing by the fire.
He had changed from traveling clothes to dinner dress, and was examining the portrait of my grandmother which hung upon one of the panels.
“A charming face,” he said, commenting on it, “fine eyes, and complexion. You come of a handsome family.