The House of Seven Fountains

by Anne Weale

  “For heaven’s sake stop calling me Miss Connell,” Vivien said impatiently. “And never mind about what happened last time. Tell me what’s the matter. Is your father ...?”

  “No, no. Father’s fine.” Cara swept that aside. “It’s Julian.”

  “Julian?”

  Cara closed her eyes and took a deep breath as if finding courage for what she had to say.

  “I’m in love with him!”

  In the brief interval Vivien had imagined half a dozen frightful possibilities. Julian killed in a car smash. Julian bitten by a deadly snake. Julian in prison.

  She gave a shaky gasp that was half a laugh. Then, seeing Cara’s stark face and guessing the pitch of desperation that had driven her to making the extraordinary admission, she recovered herself and said gently, “I know you are.”

  “You know?”

  “Yes, I’ve known it for a long time.”

  Cara stared at her incredulously, and then she began to laugh. At first it was a low chuckle that gradually grew louder until the girl was shaking with shrill hysterical laughter.

  Springing up, Vivien brought the flat of her hand down hard against the girl’s cheek. She winced as Cara’s head jerked sideways under the stinging force of the slap, but it had the right effect. The frenzied laughter broke off in a yelp of pain, and then Cara’s blue eyes filled with tears that spilled over and trailed forlornly down her pale cheeks.

  “Don’t cry. There isn’t anything to cry about,” Vivien said compassionately, putting her arm about Cara’s bowed shoulders. “Here, take my handkerchief.”

  “I shouldn’t have come here. I shouldn’t have told you.” Cara’s voice was muffled.

  “Of course you should have come. We ought to have been friends a long time ago,” Vivien answered warmly. “Now, tell me what’s the matter. Perhaps I can help.”

  Cara blew her nose and dried her eyes. Then she straightened up and gave a long quivering sigh.

  “You’re the last person to help,” she said sadly. “Julian’s in love with you.”

  “Of course he isn’t, you goose. Julian and I have never been more than friends.”

  “But he told me that he’d asked you to marry him,” Cara said, fresh tears welling up.

  “Did he, indeed? And did he tell you what my answer was?”

  “No.” Cara sniffed and bit her lip to stem the treacherous trembling. “We had a row. That was the last thing he said. Then he went off.”

  “I see. Well, it’s fairly obvious that you said something that riled him, and he made the first retaliation that came into his head.”

  “Then it’s true?”

  “In a way. He did ask me to marry him. But he didn’t mean it.”

  “He would never ask if he didn’t mean it,” Cara said desolately. “He’s always been scared of marriage.”

  “Look, it’s high time we had a talk with the gloves off,” Vivien said determinedly. “I’ve wanted to tell you this for ages, but we’ve always been at loggerheads in a polite, civilized way. Julian only asked me to marry him in a fit of temper against someone else. And that someone else was you.”

  “But that’s—”

  “Don’t interrupt,” Vivien said crisply. “I suppose you and he are the only people for miles around who don’t realize that you’re in love with each other. I guessed as much the first time I met you at the club. I asked him about you once, and he refused to discuss it in a way that confirmed my suspicions. Now, for goodness’ sake, why doesn’t one of you have the gumption to tell the other? One word from either of you, and the whole silly muddle could be cleared up.”

  There was a pause.

  “I don’t believe you,” Cara said in a stunned voice.

  “All right, don’t! Go on being miserable. Go on pretending you don’t care a jot about him and that you’re having a lovely time flirting with all those stupid subalterns with their pop-eyed faces and fancy whiskers. Perhaps you like the idea of being a lonely old spinster,” Vivien said crossly. “Why did you come here anyway?”

  Cara slumped down in the chair, twisting the sodden handkerchief in her thin fingers.

  “I wanted to talk to somebody. I haven’t any friends. My father would never understand. All he thinks about is the army.”

  “And now I suppose you’ll go home and repair your face and try to forget you made a fool of yourself?” Vivien suggested caustically. “Oh, Cara, have some sense. Julian loves you. Anyone would tell you that if you asked them.”

  Cara stared broodingly at the pavement for a while.

  “And if he does?” she said at last. “What can I do about it?”

  “Tell him the truth. Forget that you’re the glamorous Cara Maitland with a train of groveling admirers and look at it from Julian’s angle.”

  “But what is his angle?” Cara exclaimed miserably.

  “Well, from what he’s told me, Julian’s never had any kind of love. As a little boy he seems to have been left to the care of nursemaids, and then he was sent off to a public school. His parents were nearly always away during the holidays, and as far as I can make out the only person he was fond of was an old butler who died when he was sixteen. Oh, I’ve no doubt he had all the luxuries—lots of expensive toys and far too much pocket money and a sports car when he was seventeen, but that doesn’t make for security. After that I suppose he had lots of girls thrown at his head by matchmaking mothers. He admits that his father packed him out here because of some scandal he was mixed up in. The result is that he’s adopted this cynical pose, and he’s afraid to drop it.”

  “He isn’t like that with you,” Cara said.

  “He was at first. It’s become a habit.”

  Cara thought this over for some time, absently reaching for her bag and lighting a cigarette. Vivien noticed that she forgot to use a cigarette holder.

  “But I can’t possibly go to him and say point-blank that I’m crazy about him,” she said presently.

  “Why not? Look, can’t you see that the only thing that holds you back is pride, and when you want something very badly you can’t afford to be proud.”

  “I don’t know. I just don’t know what to think,” Cara said with a long sigh. “I shouldn’t be worrying you with my affairs. You still look awfully worn down. Is it true that you’re leaving Mauping quite soon?”

  “Yes, quite true. I’ve got a job in Rangore, and Miss Buxton is taking over the house for her orphans.”

  “You don’t sound very enthusiastic,” Cara said.

  “I’m not,” Vivien admitted. “I’d give anything to stay, but it isn’t possible.”

  Before Cara could reply there was a movement near the archway and they saw Tom coming toward them. Seeing Cara he hesitated.

  “Good afternoon. Am I interrupting you?”

  “No, no, I was just leaving,” Cara said quickly. She turned to Vivien. “May I come to see you again?”

  “Of course. I’m glad you did today.”

  The two girls exchanged understanding glances and Cara said quietly, “I think you may be right. I’ll think it over.”

  When she had gone Tom said, “I didn’t know you were friendly with Cara.”

  “Why shouldn’t I be?”

  He made a noncommittal gesture and then said, “I shouldn’t have thought you would have had much in common.”

  “The ugly duckling and the swan, you mean?” Vivien said, smiling.

  To her surprise he took her seriously. “You are far better looking than she is. Her coloring won’t last more than ten years or so, but beautiful bone structure is permanent. You’ll be a very handsome old lady.”

  He couldn’t possibly know what the compliment did to her, of course. Don't be kind to me now, not now, she thought achingly. Outwardly she schooled herself to smile again.

  “I couldn’t help overhearing what you were saying as I arrived. About wanting to stay here.”

  She shifted nervously. “I shall be sorry to leave the house. That’s only natural.”
>
  “Then why go?”

  “I’ve accepted a job. I can’t turn it down now.”

  “I don’t see why not. As matter of fact, I’ve never understood why you applied for it in the first place. There are several suitable jobs here.”

  “I wanted to leave Mauping,” she said, wishing he would leave it alone.

  “But you just told Cara that you would give anything to stay,” he remarked.

  “Oh, Tom, stop cross-examining me!” she exclaimed in exasperation. “It’s settled and that’s that.”

  He gave her a quick, intent look.

  “Are you sure it hasn’t anything to do with Barclay?”

  Vivien jumped up and plunged her clenched fists into the pockets of her skirt with such violence that the seams almost burst.

  “I’ve told you Julian means absolutely nothing to me. If you must know he’s in love with Cara and she with him. Does that satisfy you?”

  “It puzzles me that you should be so edgy merely because I want to make certain you’re doing the right thing,” he said coolly.

  “It isn’t necessary for you to concern yourself with my welfare. I’m quite capable of fending for myself,” Vivien retorted, struggling to keep her voice level.

  “So you’ve told me before,” he reminded her. “Why do you resent my trying to help you? It’s part of my job.”

  “I don’t resent it. It’s merely that you are trying to discover a problem where there isn’t one,” she said tautly.

  “Have it your own way,” he said with a resigned shrug. “I wonder if you’ll ever surrender that fierce independence?”

  “You forget that I’ve only had it for a short time,” she answered.

  “Are you implying that I am trying to bully you like your dragon of an aunt?”

  At that she turned to him and said swiftly, “No, of course not. I know you mean to be kind.”

  “But you don’t need kindness, is that it?”

  “Perhaps.”

  “Are you leaving Mauping because of me?” he asked abruptly.

  Her eyes widened and two spots of color flamed in her cheeks. “What do you mean by that?”

  He shrugged. “You don’t like me very much, do you?”

  She swallowed. “I don’t dislike you,” she replied huskily. “But you would agree that we’ve never really hit it off?”

  “Sometimes we have. Sometimes we’ve got on very well.” He made an impatient movement.

  “Why don’t you speak the truth?” he said harshly. “Why not admit that you’ve always resented my interference in your affairs and that ever since I kissed you you’ve been like a cat on hot bricks for fear I’d make some more unwelcome advances? Every time I touch you, I feel you stiffen.”

  “That isn’t true!” she burst out hotly. “It was the way you kissed me that I hated. As if ... as if you were trying to punish me for something.”

  He stared at her narrowly for a moment.

  “Perhaps I was,” he said on an odd note. “Perhaps you reminded me of something that I had succeeded in forgetting.”

  Vivien was too strung up to measure her words.

  “You mean your fiancée,” she said bluntly.

  He tensed. “What do you know about that?”

  “Only that you were engaged to a girl who married someone else.”

  To her astonishment he grinned.

  “So Anna regaled you with some of my past history, did she?” he observed dryly. “It’s strange how no woman will ever believe that a man remains single simply because he prefers it. They insist on finding some hidden motive. Under that rough front, even Anna has some foolish notions. I suppose she spun you a pathetic tale about how as an impressionable youth I was let down and it’s set me against women for life. Is that it?”

  “Yes, something like that,” Vivien admitted in embarrassment.

  “It’s true in part,” Tom said flatly. “I took a bad knock a long time ago, but contrary to feminine beliefs very few men allow a misguided love affair to wreck their whole lives, my dear.”

  “Then why aren’t you married?” Vivien said. It was the first thing that came into her head and was out before she could check it.

  “For the very practical reason that I never met anyone I wanted to marry,” he said levelly.

  For the next twenty-four hours Cara brooded over Vivien’s advice, torn between alternating moods of confidence and doubt. Then, late the next night when her father had gone to bed and the house was still except for the agitated buzzing of a tree frog trying to get through the shutters, she suddenly jumped up and hurried to the bedroom to change her slippers.

  All day the sky had been sullen with slow-moving monsoon clouds, and as she slipped out to the garage a light breeze sprang up, rustling the leaves of the casuarina hedge and stirring the pliant branches of a rubber sapling in the center of the graveled parking space. As she drove onto the main road the wind grew stronger and the first slow drops of rain began to fall, but she was too intent on her destination to notice the weather.

  Five minutes later a tremendous roll of thunder reverberated across the inky sky, and as if at a signal, the heavens opened and a torrential deluge came pouring down.

  Cara braked, narrowly avoiding a skid, and glanced at the backseat to see if she had left any kind of covering there. But there was only a pile of magazines that she had forgotten to deliver to the camp hospital. She drove on, leaning forward to peer through the curtain of rain illuminated by the headlights. Soon her hair was plastered to her head and her dress was soaked. Still she drove on, passing an occasional trisha and catching a blurred glimpse of the drivers enveloped in glistening oilskin capes, their legs working furiously.

  Reaching Julian’s bungalow, she left the car in the drive and dashed for the shelter of the veranda, gasping for breath. Her dress clung to her body and rivulets of water coursed down her legs. The rain thundered on the corrugated iron roof, pouring over the eaves and gushing along the shallow drainage channels, swishing and gurgling like a mountain stream in space.

  A light was shining from the windows beyond the front door, and she moved toward them and looked cautiously through the Venetian blinds.

  Julian was lounging on the couch, a cigarette dangling between his fingers and an empty whiskey glass on the table at his elbow.

  At the sight of him Cara realized what she was doing. To come here in the middle of a cloudburst looking like a half-drowned cat was crazy.

  I must be raving mad, she thought wildly.

  Another crash of thunder shook the whole bungalow and Julian glanced toward the window. Before she could draw back, he had seen her. For an instant the expression on his face was so comical that she wanted to laugh. He looked completely flabbergasted, and no wonder! One would scarcely expect to find a face peeping in at the window at a quarter to twelve at night with the full fury of a monsoon gale thrashing the countryside.

  She was still held by the absurdity of the situation when he recognized her and sprang to his feet. Seconds later the front door was wrenched open, and he came onto the veranda.

  “What the blazes are you doing here?”

  At that Cara’s control dissolved, and she began to rock with laughter.

  “My God, a mad woman!” Julian said in an outraged voice, and dragged her forcibly into the house.

  She was still choking with laughter when he pushed her into the bedroom, dived into drawers and cupboards, thrust some garments at her and said, “For heaven’s sake get out of those soaking things. You must be off your head.”

  Whereupon she collapsed into a chair and went off into another gale of laughter.

  “Your face ... oh, Julian ... your face...!”

  She clutched her middle and shook her head in a breathless convulsion of mirth. It was a long time since she had laughed like this, not since her schooldays when some exaggerated parody of the headmistress had reduced the whole class to hysterical shrieks of joy.

  When at last she was able to breathe a
gain without succumbing to another paroxysm of laughter, she said contritely, “I’m sorry, Julian. Oh, dear, I haven’t seen anything so funny for years. Don’t worry. I’m perfectly sane.”

  Julian raised speculative eyebrows. “Hurry up and change. I’ll get you a drink.”

  He went out and closed the door, and Cara began to peel off her sodden clothes. When she had rubbed her hair, she put on a shirt and shorts that were several sizes too big and went into the sitting room.

  He was standing by the radio, sipping a whiskey and soda. There was a large brandy on the table for her. She drank it down quickly, feeling tendrils of warmth spreading through her limbs. Outside the rain was still beating down with undiminished ferocity, but already the sound was becoming an accustomed background noise, as familiar as the croaking of bullfrogs and the whirring of cicadas.

  “Now, suppose you explain what this is all about?” Julian said when she had set down the glass and helped herself to a cigarette.

  “I wanted to talk to you,” she answered composedly.

  “Hmm. Must be something urgent to drag you out in this. What?”

  She took a deep draw on the cigarette and laid it on the edge of the glass ashtray. Then she stood up and moved slowly toward him, her bare feet making no sound on the thick rugs. Within an arm’s length of him, she stopped.

  “Can’t you guess?” she asked gravely.

  He looked down at her. The rain had washed the makeup from her face and her skin glowed like a child’s. The air of bored sophistication that she normally wore had disappeared, and standing there in his shirt and shorts that enveloped her slender body, she looked oddly defenseless. She was a Cara that he had never seen before.

  “Tell me.”

  She drew a deep breath and her mouth trembled slightly, but she kept her eyes on his face.

  “I love you, Julian.”

  What happened next was as cataclysmic as the breaking of the monsoon.

  One moment they were silent and tense, the next they were locked in a passionate embrace.

  It was a long time before they dared to let go of each other and longer still before all their questions had been satisfactorily answered.

  “Great heaven, look at the time. Your father will be out for my blood,” Julian said anxiously.