Fair Horizon

by Rosalind Brett

  Perhaps it was fortunate just now that Justin brought in a young acquaintance straight from England to train as his assistant. Bill Norton, full of ingenuous eagerness, slept in a but in the garden and joined the family during the day. His presence, though harmless, put a brake on intimate exchanges.

  One day, just after tea, Karen saddled Bambu and rode down to the bridge. It was the first time she had seen it complete. Its white splendour spanning the pink-tinted river, in a setting of wild beauty, filled her with a vicarious triumph. Mark had conceived and built this thing; his heart and brain had co-operated to produce a superb feat of engineering. The bridge was Mark.

  An inexpressible yearning hurt her throat. Would Inga respect his passion for building lovely things? Would she realise how much of the man went into his work and never reproach him with it? Up to a point, Inga was

  his kind of woman; through travelling, she had acquired a cosmopolitan veneer, and yet she contrived to offset the sophistication with her Scandinavian background. An incalculable woman, who could melt from icy displeasure into husky sweetness that might captivate the stoutest woman-hater. And Mark wasn't a woman-hater. If he were, he would avoid women, not trouble to be charming and teasing and all the other qualities that were so poignantly, unforgettably Mark.

  "Memsahib!"

  She turned. "Greetings, Hanim. I thought you would have returned to Nairobi with your master."

  The tall, slim servant bowed. "It is the bwana's order that I remain here. The memsahib has not before seen the finished bridge?"

  "No. It's perfect."

  "May I offer the memsahib a cool drink?"

  She smiled. "Thank you, Hanim." She followed him so slowly that, when she entered the house, he had already mixed a fruit cocktail with lime. After serving it, he hesitated, uncertain whether she wished him to go. "You must find it lonely here," she said.

  "Yes, it is lonely, but soon I join the bwana. The little bwana, Keith, come sometimes to play in the tree-house." He stopped, before continuing diffidently, "I am very happy to see the bwana's little sister. Once, I ask him why you come here no more. He was angry."

  Karen emptied her glass, took a quick look round the living-room and moved to the door. "Thank you for the drink, Hanim. I'm afraid this is goodbye."

  "The memsahib is leaving the coffee-farm?"

  "Leaving Kenya. My home is in England, you know."

  His dark face was serious. "May I ask when you go, memsahib?" "Within perhaps a month."

  "Does the bwana know?"

  "Probably. He seems to learn most things. Goodbye, Hanim."

  IT was Elizabeth's suggestion that Karen should accompany Roy and Nova to the Guaba club a couple of nights later. This was the last

  weekend before the wedding for, the next Friday, they would all travel to Mrs. Lawson's villa on the Nyeri road ready for the ceremony the following day. Elizabeth watched the car vanish down the road and then sauntered back into the house. Justin and Bill were at the sheds and Keith in his bed.

  Contrary to habit, Elizabeth subsided, empty-handed into a chair. She was so tired and dispirited—at a time when she should have been brimming with energy and gratitude for the excellent season they had had, and the promise of greater prosperity in the year ahead. But she knew that she couldn't feel right till Karen was back with her mother and picking up the threads without too much heartbreak. Thank goodness there was no evening meal to prepare. The men had eaten high tea and would be

  satisfied with a cold supper at nine-thirty. She could doze now and make up for her laziness later.

  It was thus that Mark, entering as usual by the french window, came upon her. For a long moment, she stared at him, without stirring. Then she jerked upright. "You came in so quietly that I thought I must be seeing things. Take a seat and I'll get you some refreshment."

  "I don't need it." His demeanour was puzzling, his glance, as it roved from door to window, shrewd. "Are you alone?"

  "More or less. Justin and Bill are doing some repairs in the main shed, and Karen's gone dancing."

  "I see." After an undecided second, he sat on one of the dining-chairs

  near the table. "Stay there, Elizabeth. I'll wait for a word with Justin.

  I hear from Hanim that your cousin has definitely decided to sail away." "All good things come to an end some time."

  "When does Karen leave Kenya?" he asked abruptly.

  She looked startled. "Don't you mean 'Kitten'? I've never heard you use her name before. We shall fix it up in Nairobi next weekend."

  "I believe you'll be glad for her to go, Elizabeth."

  She frowned. "For her own sake, I shall."

  "She's still unhappy?" he queried curtly.

  On her guard, Elizabeth gestured helplessly, and said nothing.

  He thrust back his chair and looked down at her, his eyes curiously harsh and green. "I must get back, Elizabeth."

  "Aren't you going to wait for Justin?"

  "No, I'm driving back to Nairobi tonight!"

  ON Friday, they all said goodbye to Bill and set off in the bush car for Nairobi. It had been decided that Justin should motor back on Sunday

  with Keith, leaving his wife and her cousin to book a passage to England and take the train back on Tuesday. To Karen, the journey was unreal. Even while she struggled to share Elizabeth's mood of spurious gaiety, she was conscious of the dead weight of departure in her heart.

  The wedding, next day, was simple. After the cake had been cut and tasted, Roy had a private word with Karen. "I stayed at the Ashley last night and met Colonel Williamson at breakfast this morning." His look was anxious. "I hope you don't mind, but I told him you were staying here with Mrs. Lawson for three more nights. He said he'd like to see you."

  "I intended writing him a note some time," she admitted. "But I shan't mind seeing him. Charles is all right."

  "I couldn't make him out. He talked a lot and was off his food. In fact he ordered a whisky and soda for breakfast and then Mark Howard showed up, looking equally fed-up, and ordered a brandy. I was the only one eating anything and drinking coffee."

  Karen's smile faded. "Does Mark know I'm here?"

  "I think so. Yes, I remember that Williamson mentioned it."

  At about four, the young couple drove off to a country club about forty miles outside Nairobi, for a brief honeymoon. Standing between Mrs. Lawson and Elizabeth, Karen waved and called her good wishes with the others. But her jaws ached with the smile that never reached her eyes.

  Early on Sunday morning, Justin drove into town for a conference with Mark. When he returned at about ten o'clock he answered Elizabeth's queries with a mystified frown. "His house is sold and his business connections signed over to another man. Everything has turned out just as he wanted it, yet he's thoroughly wretched. I don't understand Mark at all."

  Before noon, Karen and Elizabeth were saying goodbye to Justin and the little boy. It was Mrs. Lawson's habit to lie down after lunch, so Elizabeth and Karen stayed on the veranda, dozing in deckchairs. Shattering the peace came the sound of a car. Elizabeth sat up. "It's Colonel Williamson. I don't think we need disturb Mrs. Lawson."

  Charles looked hot and perspiring but, as he stood in the shade of the veranda wiping his forehead and hands, he was smiling with more than his usual conventional good will.

  "Do sit down," invited Karen. "Roy told me that you might be calling."

  He sat down and accepted a drink. "This isn't the best time of the day for a social call but I've been so busy. As a matter of fact, since leaving Guaba I've had the most astonishing luck. Unknown to me, Mark Howard has been pulling strings, with the result that I'm called to Paris to take up some highly interesting work. It's just my sort of job and I do enjoy living on the Continent."

  "How exciting for you," said Karen warmly. "When do you go?" "At the end of next week, by air."

  Karen had never seen him so pleased and expansive. "It's great luck, your being here just now," he said. "I'd been wondering whet
her I dare ask you to make the trip from the farm especially for my farewell party next Thursday. I hope Strasmore was mistaken when he said you're travelling back on Tuesday."

  "No. Elizabeth can't leave it later."

  "What a pity, still, I've another plan. Will you and Mrs. Paterson join one or two friends and myself for dinner at the Ashley tomorrow evening?"

  They accepted and Charles laughed—he seemed unable to do anything else. Thereafter, his conversation was of the races and polo, though it was easy to see that his mind dwelt almost exclusively elsewhere. Just before he left, Charles broached the topic which Karen had not dared to mention. "Did you see the report of Mark's new project in last week's Journal? I had an idea all along that he wouldn't leave Kenya."

  Before Karen could answer, Elizabeth exclaimed, "Then why has he sold his house?"

  He shrugged. "I suppose he wants something more modern. His father built that place about twenty years ago. Mark owns land a few miles out, so possibly he'll build there."

  At eleven o'clock that night Karen went to her bedroom. She could

  hear the others in their rooms, Mrs. Lawson humming rather tunelessly, and Elizabeth next door, hanging away her clothes in the wardrobe. A floorboard creaked and a tiny tap was followed by the entry of Elizabeth. On to the dressing-table she dropped a folded newspaper. "You might like to read the article about Mark some time. Mrs. Lawson found it for me."

  She flopped into a chair, crossed her legs, and gathered her blue candlewick wrap over them. Her glance rested on her cousin, sitting tailor-fashion on the bed. Her honey-pale hair was drawn back into a ribbon; there was a vulnerable look about her bared temples, where the veins beat. Entirely young and very appealing. If only Mark could see her like that. After a few more minutes talk she patted her cousin's shoulder, and wished her good night. For a little longer Karen stayed on the bed and then, inevitably, she was drawn to reach for the newspaper Elizabeth had brought.

  "Howard to Form Construction Company," said the heading. The distant phrase seemed to hang in the air before Karen grasped it. Her eyes moved over the half-column of newsprint.

  "Mr. Mark Howard, having declined an invitation to a seat on the board of a well-known firm of constructional engineers in Johannesburg, has nevertheless agreed to join them in the formation of a separate company in Nairobi."

  Karen creased and re-creased the paper between her fingers. She acknowledged now that she was afraid to go into Nairobi tomorrow, afraid of seeing Mark—with Inga. An appalling dread of the future claimed her. Days, weeks, and years, blank and pointless because Mark was not there.

  HER heart was still heavy next morning when she dressed for the trip into town with Elizabeth, and throughout the interview at the shipping agents. She chose her plane and paid her deposit.

  At six o'clock they set out for Charles Williamson's cocktail party. Charles himself opened the car door for them. "So glad to see you," he said heartily. "Do come inside."

  Through the vestibule and, the lounge into a small room to where half a dozen friends of Charles's were already taking a first drink. According to Charles, only eight had been invited, but there seemed to be a great many more present. "Where's Inga?" someone asked plaintively. "She ought to be here, Charles."

  Charles laughed spontaneously. "We were out shopping till rather late. She won't be long now."

  Inga! Instinctively, Karen searched the room for Mark, forgetting that he would stand head and shoulders above most of the people here, and that, in any case, she would automatically have felt his presence. No, Mark was not here yet. Perhaps he would bring Inga. Torn between yearning and dread, Karen found Charles. "You won't mind if we go now, Charles?"

  "But, my dear, you've only just come! And you must certainly stay to meet Inga. It may be for the last time."

  "Will Mark be with her?"

  "Mark?" Karen saw a comprehending kindness. "I ought to have thought. I'm so sorry I didn't invite him but he's given us so much of his time." His voice lowered conspiratorially, and his eyes gleamed. "I'll let you into a secret—and won't these people kick themselves for missing the fun when they notice the wedding-ring! Inga and I were married this morning and Mark was our chief witness. Not a word, now!"

  For thirty seconds Karen was-incapable of speech. When eventually it returned, her tones were weak and not very clear. "Congratulations, Charles. Wasn't it—rather sudden?"

  "Not really. We planned it as soon as I received the Paris offer. Inga's mad about Paris. We'll have marvellous times."

  She was saved from further reply by an exclamatory chorus of welcome to Inga, who sailed up to Charles's side, sleekly gowned in black and white, her blonde crown in braids held coquettishly on one side. Karen never afterwards recalled what passed between herself and the Swedish woman. Karen slipped out to the balcony, subsided into a woven gilt chair and clutched the arms.

  Meanwhile Elizabeth, her boredom miraculously erased by the wedding-ring on Inga's finger, avidly questioned Charles. Good-naturedly, he explained. "Find Karen," he finished quietly. "I've telephoned Mark. He's on his way."

  Elizabeth did not hesitate. She had seen Karen vanish through the glass door and she herself took a different exit, one which brought her out through the lounge to the front entrance. She saw the big car turn into the courtyard and Mark step out. Throttling her impatience, she waited till he leapt the steps. "Elizabeth! Has the party broken up already?"

  She shook her head. "Not a chance. It's my guess it'll go on till midnight now that Charles's news had percolated."

  "Is Karen in there?"

  "Naturally. The poor child's being defeated by other people's wedding-bells. First Roy and Nova and now Charles."

  "Karen should never have gone to Strasmore's wedding," he said furiously. "That sort of experience is more than flesh and blood can stand!"

  "Is it?" Elizabeth's tone rose with cautious excitement. "Why?"

  "Use your imagination! She had to stand by and watch him marry someone else."

  "Roy Strasmore?" she echoed. "What are you talking about? Surely you don't think Karen is or ever has been in love with Roy?"

  "Who else?" he demanded brusquely. "She admitted there was someone."

  Elizabeth stared at him and answered slowly, her head tilted, "Yes—who else?"

  His eyes glittered. "Tell me all you know!"

  "Find it out for yourself," she told him and gestured towards the side of the hotel. "Karen's on the balcony of the private reception-room."

  “KAREN !" A second earlier Karen had not believed her eyes and now she was

  just as dubious of her hearing. But Mark was there, vaulting over the balcony wall, smiling with devilry, his eyes gleaming. Her heart stopped for a suffocating moment and broke into a race.

  "Aren't you glad to see me?"

  "But, Mark, I don't understand—"

  "I do—at last. Karen, the time we've wasted!" He grasped her wrists and pulled her up. "We're taking a walk. Not a long one—just far enough to cut out the risk of interruption. Hold tight." She was being lifted and swung out into the garden. For a heartbeat her face was close to his jacket. Then she was standing, his hand tight on her elbow, urging her forward.

  "Here's the path. A little way down to the right there's a summerhouse. Here we are. Now, how shall I begin?" he said a trifle thickly. "Explain, or tell you I love you?"

  She had to keep looking out at the stars and the trees. They were real; this couldn't be. "It's so impossible," she breathed.

  "Sweet Kitten! I've been a brute to you without meaning it—even more so to myself. You see, I got things tangled up. You know how I felt about marriage before you came along—"

  "And afterwards!"

  "Yes, but not for long. Only a week or two after we met you began to come between me and my blueprints." He made a small, savage sound. "I could say all this a thousand times better if I kissed you first. Karen—"

  "Please, Mark, this is important."

  He had pulled her up a
gainst him. "Nothing's important, except that we love each other." He was kissing her, hard and hungrily, with a passion almost as cruel as it was tender. Minutes later, she saw his head outlined against the studded sky. She leaned back in his arms, raised shy fingers to stroke his cheek. The joy of being able to whisper "Darling!" just below her breath, and to feel his heart thudding against her so urgently.

  " PERHAPS now you'll understand how it was," he said. "You made my cynicism look like plate-glass armour. One delicate tap of your heel and it was shattered. I was giving in, with private enthusiasm, when I learned that you wanted a settled home, and a school round the corner for your children—"

  "Who told you that?"

  "Inga. Was she lying?"

  "No." It was a struggle but she must be just to the woman. "I don't quite remember how the discussion went, but I'm sure I finished by saying

  that I'd give up everything—whatever the heartbreak—to be with the man I loved. She forgot to mention that?"

  "Yes," he said grimly. "She forgot."

  "Inga was out to marry you."

  "She needed money. She was George's widow and I felt bound to help her. If I could have offered her cash the whole thing might have been clinched earlier. As a matter of fact, I'd reached desperation over Inga when Charles Williamson opened up and told me they loved each other but couldn't marry because he was without an income. What a relief that was. I was able to help him find a good job in France."

  Karen was beginning to understand many things, among them the futility of jealousy. Yet jealousy, in some degree, is inevitably present when one is in love. Gently, she freed herself. "Who brought you here tonight?"

  "Charles, by telephone. I've had a ghastly weekend, battling with the need to see you and a determination to stay away from the Lawsons' villa at any cost. Early this afternoon I made inquiries at the shipping agents and found that you had booked an air-passage. I—cancelled it and arranged to follow you back to the farm tomorrow. The indecision was more than I could bear any longer."