108. An Archangel Called Ivan by Barbara Cartland Page B

butler called it, would be situated.
    It was in fact very much the same as she had had when she had been very small.
    She then supposed that the children, who now had a Governess rather than a Nanny, were still isolated in the nursery.
    She was not mistaken.
    The butler opened the door into what was obviously a large comfortable room, but still a nursery with a rocking horse near the window.
    A boy on the floor was playing with tin soldiers, while the twin girls, who were remarkably like each other, were seated in a large chair each holding a small doll in their arms.
    They all three looked up when Arliva appeared.
    Then the butler said,
    “Here she is. She has arrived safely as we expected and you’ll have to show her round the house and tell her all the things she has to know now she’s come to look after you.”
    The children did not seem very enthusiastic at the idea, which did not surprise Arliva.
    “Thank you very much,” she said to the butler, “and can I see where I am expected to sleep so that I can take off my hat and coat.”
    As she spoke, an elderly woman, who she realised must be the housekeeper, then came up the stairs, breathing heavily on every step.
    “You knows I hate havin’ to hurry up these here stairs,” she puffed.
    “I forgot, Mrs. Lewis,” Evans the butler said. “But you’ve managed them better than you did yesterday.”
    “They’ll be the death of me sooner or later,” Mrs. Lewis grumbled.
    She turned to Arliva and looked her over before she remarked,
    “You’re a touch younger than I expected, but then we’ve had all sorts here as I suppose Mr. Evans told you.”
    Arliva held out her hand.
    “I am delighted to meet you,” she said. “And I am so sorry you have had to climb up all these stairs to do so.”
    The housekeeper seemed almost taken aback at the courtesy, but shook her hand and replied,
    “I’ll show you to your room and, if there’s anything you wants, then, of course, you asks me.”
    Arliva said nothing but followed her into what she thought was very much a nursery bedroom with blue and white chintz curtains.
    She hoped the bed would be comfortable, but rather thought that it would not be.
    Breathing even more heavily than the housekeeper, the elderly footman brought her case up the stairs and put it down with a bang against one of the walls.
    Then Mrs. Lewis suggested,
    “I expects you’d like your luncheon now after the journey. The children usually have theirs at one o’clock, so it should be upstairs at any moment.”
    “Surely it would be much easier for them to have it downstairs,” Arliva said. “It must be an awful nuisance for the household having to come up and down these stairs so often.”
    Both the butler and the housekeeper looked at her in astonishment.
    “The Master eats downstairs,” Evans told her.
    “And so do you,” Arliva added with a faint smile. “If the children are not welcome in the dining room, I am sure that there must be another room which would make it far easier than having to take the food up so many stairs.”
    Evans and the housekeeper looked at her as if she had proposed an uprising.
    “But the young people have always had their meals in the nursery,” Mrs. Lewis managed to say at last.
    “That was when they had a Nanny,” Arliva replied. “But once they are with a Governess then they should be downstairs. If not with their parents, then in a room which is easier for the staff and better for them to learn how to behave as young ladies and gentlemen.”
    Evans and Mrs. Lewis exchanged glances of sheer bewilderment.
    “I never thought of that,” the housekeeper admitted eventually.
    “Nor did I,” Evans agreed. “But then it does seem common sense. The Missus complains to me day after day coming up all these stairs. You knows yourself it’s bad for your heart.”
    “That be true enough,” the housekeeper said.
    “Well, think it over,” Arliva suggested, “and now I should get to know the young people I