She saw Laura Bramshaw twice during that time, but Laura had nothing to say to her, and then, one day, they learned that Bramshaw Mains was on the market and that there was no sign of a buyer for it.
“It’s the sort of house I’d love!” Rhona exclaimed. “Old world but up-to-date at the same time as far as comfort goes. Do you think the new quarry at Druim Alaig will spoil it?”
“There’s a great screen of trees between them,” Christine pointed out, “and I don’t think the Treversons will cut down the trees. Even old Ben didn’t do that at Glenavon.”
The next piece of news that rocked the village was the fact that Ben Treverson had bought Bramshaw Mains, and it was rumored that he had bought it for his nephew.
Christine heard it and her heart seemed to turn over, completely drained of all its glad, new hope, because rumor had immediately jumped to the conclusion that Laura’s father had parted with the Mains only to make it her future home. Laura and Huntley! She could not believe it, yet it seemed that there could be no other explanation of the sale, no other end to the controversy in the glen than that Huntley should settle down among his own people and live happily married there.
She was conscious of drawing nearer to Rhona in these moments of utter heartache.
They went around together a great deal, and when autumn came they were collecting raspberries in the High Wood when Huntley’s car drove past on the road below them.
Looking down at him and seeing the familiar dark profile for the first time in many weeks, Christine felt her heart contract with the force of her love. She stood like some silent, woodland creature afraid of further hurt, determined to remain hidden until all danger was past.
An hour later, they were leaving the wood behind with both baskets full when the first splashes of rain dropped through the trees.
“We’re going to get terribly wet, even if we run for it!” Rhona said. “I knew we should have brought our raincoats!”
“We’ll just have to make a dash for it as soon as we get out from under the trees,” Christine said. “Don’t drop the berries, though!” They ran down the narrow, rutted track between the pines and were almost at the junction of the glen road when a car came up behind them. Christine felt all the color draining out of her cheeks as she recognized Huntley.
Rhona said, “I think he’s going to offer us a lift.”
Huntley opened the passenger door.
“Hop in!” he commanded. “Do you think raspberry jelly’s worth all this?”
Christine was able to smile.
“It makes it twice as good!” she assured him as she slid in, and they drove away on a note of laughter.
“I’ve been up to the Mains,” he told them. “You’ve heard my uncle bought it, of course?”
“We heard that he had made you a present of it,” Christine said, forcing herself to meet the truth with as much composure as she could command.
“Don’t you believe it!” he returned. “I have to earn it. My uncle never made anyone a present of anything in all his life.”
“It’s a lovely house,” Rhona said shyly. “I’ve seen the kitchens and they’re a dream come true!”
“I’m not sure whether I would know about that,” he said whimsically. “But old Bramshaw converted the stables very nicely and made them a mechanic’s paradise as well as a garage!”
“Which means,” Christine suggested, “that you intend to stay in Lochaber?”
He turned to look at her for a second.
“I always intended to stay,” he said briefly.
They were nearing their destination and he pulled the car up close to the wall above the side gate into the garden. Rhona got out almost hurriedly, seizing her basket and thanking him with a brief smile.
“You’ve saved us a complete drenching.” Christine tried to speak casually, but the effort was almost beyond her.
“I seem fated to come to your assistance in a flood!” he said, his voice holding a caressing quality she had never heard before. “How long is it going to be before we can be sensible, Christine, and accept the fact that we are necessary to one another?”
She was half turned in her seat ready to leave him with the conventional word of thanks on her lips.
“You have never said that before,” she faltered.
“Long ago,” he said, “I told you that I loved you. Was that not enough?”
“No, Huntley—no! You only asked me to marry you.”
“Which means the same.” His arm went around her, drawing her suddenly close. “Even in the face of your first blunt refusal I never meant to let you go,” he told her. “The Treversons are a terribly stubborn lot, and desperately tenacious, yet there was a time when I thought I hadn’t any right to claim you, and that shook me,” he confessed.
“That was when the village wasn’t very kind,” she guessed immediately. “Oh, Huntley! as if it would have mattered what the village said!”
His face darkened.
“It mattered to me at that time. I wanted their respect and I knew you had always had it—you and your family, so I couldn’t jeopardize it. I had almost done it once before, when I was mad enough to think that being on the moors for a night together didn’t matter in these modern days. And it didn’t really matter—between you and me. The real thing was the village attitude to me all around, their firm conviction that the leopard doesn’t change his spots.”
“But now,” she said, her heart so full that it could scarcely hold all her joy, “everything has changed. We’re—together now, Huntley, for always!”
She raised her eyes to his with all her confidence in him shining in their depths, and he bent swiftly and kissed her lips, holding her suddenly and possessively tighter as she would have drawn away again to ask another question.
“It was for always, right from the beginning,” he said huskily. “I knew it from the first moment I met you and I’ve known it ever since. Perhaps that’s why I had the temerity to ask you to marry me on a day’s acquaintance,” he suggested with a crooked smile that smoothed the lines from his face and lighted deeply humorous lamps in his gray eyes. “And of course I risked the only answer I had a right to expect!”
“You mustn’t have done it very well,” she said shakily, “because I never dreamed for one moment that love came into it at all. I thought it was just ... a matter of duty.”
“I don’t think duty would have carried me that far—not in the circumstances,” he said. “I’ve always known what I wanted, but I must confess I was a bit thunderstruck when you didn’t see eye to eye with me about ... belonging.”
“I did,” she whispered, “deep down! I’ve always thought it in my heart, but it seemed that every known obstacle was being put in our way.”
“With the possible exception of the other woman!”
“She was there, too,” she confessed. “I thought that Laura—”
He laughed softly, turning her face up so that she was forced to look at him.
“Laura, of all people!” he said.
“I know, dearest, but I thought—”
“You weren’t thinking about Bramshaw Mains?” he asked, smiling into her ashamed eyes. “Because that definitely belongs to Uncle Ben ‘till I’ve come to my senses and brought the right wife back to Lochaber.’ The quotes are definitely his own so the fate of the Mains now rests on your answer to my second proposal of marriage within six months!”
“Don’t laugh at me, Huntley!” she begged. “I had an idea that the Mains was for Laura and ... you know my answer to the other.”
“I know it,” he said, “but I want a full confession of it. I want all my doubts and my foolish jealousy over young Kilbridge swept completely away!”
“You know I never cared for Nigel,” she protested while his arms tightened about her again.
“Not any more than you knew about Laura,” he said. “You told me you wanted him back in Lochaber only a few weeks ago.”
“Only because of Rhona. I’ve told you
her secret now, and I never meant to tell a soul!”
“That shook me,” he confessed. “Especially when I realized how much more he had to offer you.”
“Does that really come into it?” she asked softly, happily. “Isn’t it only ... love that matters?”
“All the way!” he agreed. “Although a certain amount of determination can creep in at times!”
“You and your determination!” She was able to laugh with him now. “It nearly separated us.”
“I don’t think it ever could have done ... not for very long,” he said soberly. “We were ... two of a kind, and we were meant to come together.”
“I’m glad you believe that—I’m glad you see it my way!”
She lay back in his arms, forgetful of the rain and oblivious to the fact that a basket of spilled berries would have to be picked up from the floor at their feet. Her thoughts winged their way back over the weeks behind her, that had been the fullest in her life, back to the conviction that he had just uttered, which was what she had known all along. “We were meant to come together.”
“Will you come into the house?” she asked at last. “Will you come and see my people and help me to tell them our news?”
“I don’t think your father will be surprised,” he said. “I met him yesterday and managed to thank him for all he had done for me in the village—boosting my stock with his patients!”
Christine smiled tenderly.
“You see,” she said, “he believed in you, too.”
They were still picking berries off the car floor when John Helmsdale drew up at the gate. Christine looked up and saw Nigel Kilbridge getting out behind her father. They looked at one another for a full second before Nigel glanced at Huntley and smiled faintly, as if he saw in reality something that he had long known.
“Nigel’s going to be with us for a week or two,” Doctor John announced. “He’s recuperating from examitis! But let’s all get in out of this rain or we’re going to be soaked to the skin!”
They ran together toward the house, meeting Rhona in the doorway. She had no time to hide the surge of joy that overwhelmed her at sight of Nigel, and Nigel seemed to cling to her welcome as a man might cling to a spar he finds floating toward him from a sinking ship.
“Hello, Rhona! It’s grand to see you again!”
“And grand to see you, too, Nigel! Are you staying?”
“Your father insists...”
“We all do!” Christine put in. “You can’t just rush off now that you’ve come.”
“No,” he said, looking at her steadily, “I want to hear all A your news.”
Doctor's Daughter Page 17
