by Susan Barrie
"We've been planning how soon we can get married, Nurse," he said, looking up at her quizzically. "And I suppose you'd say that's exciting, wouldn't you? "
CHAPTER FIVE
Alison Larne was arranging the flowers in the room where Lindsay was to sleep, and it was such a cool, pleasant room, with the window standing open to the afternoon quiet of the mews outside, that she felt sure the girl would like it.
When she heard Philip's powerful, black car turn in under the arch at the end of the cobbled mews, she hurried through the combined sitting-cum-dining-room, where a little table was already laid for tea, and into the tiny hall to welcome her guest. Even she, cool and calm though she usually was, felt an almost breathless feeling of excitement attack her as she watched Philip Summers slip out of the driving-seat and go round to the back of the car to open the rear door.
Lindsay made an attempt to get out, but before she had placed one foot on the cobbles Philip had succeeded in gathering her into his arms and carrying her into the flat, set her down in one of the inviting chairs beside the tea table.
"Lindsay, my dear," Alison bent to kiss her, thinking how pretty she looked in her green linen dress. There was a touch of colour in her cheeks and her eyes looked bluer than ever.
Philip smiled at Alison. "I'll just go, and park the car out of the way," he said. "I won't be a moment."
He touched Lindsay's cheek with the tip of his finger and was gone.
Alison stood looking down at the younger girl.
"It's wonderful to see you looking so much better."
"I feel much better too," Lindsay answered. "And it's marvellous to be out of hospital at last."
Alison smiled. "We'll celebrate that with tea," she said, "but we won't wait for Philip because I'm sure you need a cup now."
Lindsay watched her as she poured the tea and thought how gracefully she went about it. "I can't thank you enough for inviting me to stay here," she said, looking round the small, beautifully furnished room. "It's so good of you to be willing to trouble yourself with an invalid."
"My dear, I'm delighted to have you," Alison assured her. "And as for troubling myself with an invalid—I don't intend you to remain an invalid for long! I intend to start helping you get together some sort of trousseau for your marriage to Philip!"
"Oh!" Lindsay exclaimed, and a lovely colour stung her cheeks.
Alison looked at her quizzically.
"Philip told me that he wanted the wedding as soon as you were strong enough to walk into a church without assistance. Then he's planning to take you on a long honeymoon abroad in the sun. His godmother has a wonderful villa in Italy, and I believe he has already been in touch with her about taking you there. She's a very old and rather eccentric lady, who won't see anyone unless she feels like it. Philip happens to be a favourite godson, and she's bound to be curious to meet his bride."
Once again Lindsay said, "Oh!" because she couldn't think of anything else to say just then, and the quizzical gleam in Alison's eyes seemed to grow stronger.
"And, in any case, you'll love Italy—especially if you haven't been there before."
"I haven't," Lindsay admitted. She remembered that she had once told Philip that she had hardly travelled at all, and he had said quietly 'Perhaps you will one day'.
Although he had only left her side momentarily Lindsay longed for Philip to come back. Somehow her dependence on him in the last few weeks had become so great that she was not really happy when he was out of her sight and she now had to admit to herself that he was her world. But was she his? He was tirelessly attentive and with him she felt utterly secure, but beyond that? She did not know.
Now she had learned that he was planning to take her to Italy. Italy—with Philip…
Philip returned, having parked the car, and settled himself down beside Lindsay He smiled at her, but his smile was tinged with anxiety.
"I don't think you ought to stay up very much longer," he said, "you mustn't get over-tired."
"Nonsense!" Alison exclaimed. "She's doing splendidly, and you mustn't fuss over her, Philip—at least, not too much," she added, with an amused smile in his direction. "It would be a waste of breath to ask you not to fuss over her altogether!"
He grinned, quite unrepentantly, and placed another cushion behind Lindsay's shoulders. She smiled up at him gratefully. Alison handed him a cup of tea.
"By the by, Philip, what are you going to do tonight about dinner? I've planned that Lindsay and I should have a very light meal before she goes to bed. It will make a nice change for her not to eat off a tray. Would you like to join us? "
He looked a little uncertain.
"Yes do, Philip," Lindsay begged.
He saw the imploring look in her blue eyes, and smiled.
"Of course I'll stay. As a matter of fact, although you haven't had an opportunity yet of sampling Alison's cooking, I know that she's a wonderful cook, and for that reason alone you'd find it hard to get rid of me when I'm pressed so very assiduously to remain. And for the next few days, until I go back to Windrush, I shall probably inflict myself upon you for the better part of every day, if you can bear to have me," looking confidently at Alison.
"That's exactly what I imagined you'd do," Alison replied complacently, and bent to pick up the tea tray.
Philip rose to help her, but she waved him away.
"You stay and talk to Lindsay. It won't take me a moment to wash up." And she disappeared into the kitchen.
Lindsay and Philip sat in silence. Then, after a moment she looked up at him appeal in her eyes.
"Philip, you—you will be careful when you're driving back to Windrush, won't you? You won't take any chances?" The words seem to come from her under their own volition.
He looked at her keenly, then laid a hand over both of hers, which were tightly clasped together in her lap.
"Of course I won't take any chances! Do you think I would, in the circumstances?"
Her lips quivered for a moment, and one of her hands freed itself and clutched at his.
"It's just that I—I'm a bit afraid…"
"Of possible accidents?"
She nodded her head dumbly.
"Tell me," he asked softly, "how did you feel when I brought you here today? Were you afraid at all?"
"Oh, no," she assured him, looking up at him quickly. "I felt absolutely safe with you driving, and I never even thought about— about…"
"Well, that's good," he returned, making it unnecessary for her to complete her sentence. "Don't worry, darling—everything's going to be all right for you again soon! I'm sure of that And don't waste any time worrying your head about me, because I'm not in the least likely to come to any harm." And bending forward he brushed her forehead lightly with his lips.
During the next few weeks Lindsay began to regain a little of her old strength and vitality, and the somewhat uncertain business of walking ceased to be uncertain. Alison was exactly the right type of person for her to be with at that stage of her convalescence, for although she was extremely kind she encouraged Lindsay to do things that she might otherwise have shrunk from doing, and Philip, arriving at the flat one afternoon, was a little taken aback to find her in the kitchen making pastry.
"You shouldn't be doing this, Lindsay." He was frowning, his dark brows drawn together. "You'll tire yourself out."
She smiled at him. "Nonsense. I'm enjoying it and it's certainly not tiring me. I'm only making an apple flan for this evening, in case you come to dinner."
His eyes softened as they gazed at Her.
"So you were expecting me? I've got to go back to Windrush tomorrow, but I shall certainly be inflicting myself on you tonight! But I didn't know you could cook."
"I'm not a very good cook—just average."
"I don't believe it. You weren't an average secretary—you were a very good secretary, so you're probably a very good cook."
She looked at him for a moment with amused eyes.
"I always thought you d
isapproved of me quite strongly!"
"Did you?" For a rather long moment his eyes held hers, and then she felt herself blushing as she looked quickly away. "Well, I didn't! Not at any time," he answered with curious emphasis.
She hastened to get her flan case into the oven, and when she turned round he was looking at her with quite a different expression, and he held a letter in his hand.
"Lindsay," he told her, "I've had a note from my godmother in Italy, and she wants us to go there for our honeymoon. I know you'll like my godmother in spite of the fact that she can be a bit frightening to some people." He moved nearer to her. "Lindsay, I want us to be married very soon now—in another week or fortnight. Can you manage that?"
She felt her breath catch in her throat, and the sudden unreasonable behaviour of her heart caused her to turn pale.
"So—soon?" she said.
He nodded.
"I want to take you away for at least two months so that you can really rest and recover your strength. I want to show you something of Italy, too."
"But what about Windrush?" she asked.
He stared at her frowning.
"Do you want to return so much?"
"I suppose I do, in a way," she admitted honestly. "I shall never Jose my love for Windrush. For me, I think roads from all four corners of the earth would eventually lead back there." She smiled at him. "But I was really thinking of you and your plans for it Do you feel you can be away so long?"
"Of course. It's doing very well and the new manager's a good man." He broke off. "But this is all beside the point. What I really want to know is if you'll marry me in a fortnight Will you, Lindsay?"
Lindsay caught hold of the back of a chair and thinking she was feeling suddenly exhausted, Philip put her into it anxiously. She smiled up at him reassuringly.
"I'm not a bit tired—and of course I'll marry you whenever you want me to!"
They were married in a centuries-old London church on a September morning when the sun shone, and the rumble of London reached them in a muted fashion on the other side of closed doors. In addition to Alison as a witness, there was a friend of Philip's who acted as best man. Alison gave Lindsay all the support that was necessary, holding her flowers and murmuring something gently rallying when she thought the girl looked a little too pale and tense for a bride.
Philip also noticed how pale Lindsay became just before he placed his ring on her finger, and he looked at her anxiously. But feeling his eyes upon her she smiled up into his face, and a slightly frozen feeling about her heart, lest after all she was making a grave mistake, melted like snow before the first touch of the spring sunshine, as his eyes sent back to her a message.
Their wedding breakfast was in the form of a quiet lunch for four in an hotel, and afterwards, just before Lindsay went to change out of the mist blue dress she had worn for the ceremony into a fuchsia pink travelling suit, a telegram arrived.
It was from the Windrush, and it conveyed the good wishes of all the staff. Philip having read it aloud, handed it to Lindsay who, feeling curiously warmed and touched by its message, slipped it into her bag.
Alison and the best man, a friendly grey-haired man called Stephen, accompanied them to the airport.
Alison kissed Lindsay on both cheeks, and Lindsay thanked her in a small, uncertain voice for all that she had done for her.
"It's been a pleasure, my dear. A real pleasure." There was a slight break in Alison's voice, too. "And I'm going to miss you tremendously."
"Not afraid to hand her over to me, are you, Alison?" Philip inquired, with a dry note of humour in his voice. "You think I can be trusted to take the maximum amount of care of her?"
Alison looked at him strangely.
"I hope," she answered, "that you can be trusted to make her completely happy!"
Philip had planned that they would fly to Milan and spend one night there before motoring down to his godmother's villa.
Lindsay had never travelled by air before, but as Philip helped her settle herself comfortably and fastened her safety belt for her, her slight feeling of nervousness was suddenly swamped by the realisations that she was now his wife—and that it was Mrs. Philip Summers and not Lindsay Carteret who was turning her back on her old life…
There was still light enough when they arrived in Milan for a glimpse of the city before night closed down upon it, and Lindsay gained a quick, confused impression of rose-flushed spires and a wonderful cobalt-blue sky before the sumptuousness of the hotel swallowed them up.
And once up in their suite, which comprised two bedrooms and a bathroom superlatively well equipped, she found that she was expected to rest and be treated as if she was still very much an invalid, and Philip suggested that they would have an early dinner and then she could go to bed almost immediately afterwards and be fresh for the continuation of the journey the following day.
The porter placed her luggage in the larger of the two bedrooms and carried Philip's into the room next door. Then he departed, leaving them alone together for the first time since a clergyman had made them man and wife that morning.
A sudden tumult of awareness and self-consciousness swept over Lindsay and she felt herself begin to tremble.
Philip watched her, his eyes grave. He moved nearer to her and spoke gently:
"I'm afraid you've had a very exhausting day, Lindsay. Are you terribly tired?"
"No—not—not really…" She had taken a comb from her bag and was running it nervously through her hair. "In fact, I'm not a bit tired."
"I'm sure you are." The soft fair hair, fluffed about her face, made her look young, appealing and -utterly adorable in the pink suit. For an instant something strange appeared in his eyes, and the breath caught and remained suspended—as if waiting—in her throat. Then her sudden excitement died. "You were up very early, and since then you've been married and flown part of the way across Europe. I'm not even sure that I oughtn't to pack you off to bed straight away."
"Oh, no!" Lindsay exclaimed, like a disappointed child. "Not— not on a wedding-day, surely?"
He smiled.
"You mean that it isn't customary for a bride to go to bed early and dine alone in her room? Well, I should say you're right about that, and if you really feel up to it—and would like it— I'll take you to a restaurant I know for dinner. It's quite small and quiet, and I think you'll enjoy it."
"Oh, that will be lovely!" Lindsay exclaimed, and the vague sense of depression that had settled on her when she saw her luggage being separated outside their rooms lifted and fled away from her.
"You think so? Well, I'm glad. Poor Lindsay," he added softly, "you've had a very, very dull time lately, I'm afraid."
"It hasn't been a bit dull," she assured him, her eyes suddenly very blue and almost confident. "Both you and Alison have been so terribly good to me that I'd be most ungrateful if I complained of dullness."
"And now I'm your husband I can go on being good to you without it being necessary for you to feel at all grateful!"
Colour dyed her cheeks, and she lowered her eyes.
"I hope I shall always be grateful for everything you do for me," she told him in a slightly muffled voice.
He put out a hand and unexpectedly touched her hair.
"Do you know, Lindsay," he told her, in a strange voice, "you're even lovelier now than you used to be."
She found herself looking up at him in surprise, her shyness forgotten.
"Thank you, Philip," she whispered.
He smiled down at her his mouth gentle.
"And now," he said, "I'll leave you to get changed, Mrs. Philip Summers—does it seem frightfully odd to you that brief ceremony this morning made you Mrs. Philip Summers? — and if you want any help opening a trunk, or anything of that sort, just penetrate to the bathroom and bang on my door, and I'll be in at once. But whatever you do don't struggle with things yourself?"
"Thank you," she returned, confused because he had called her Mrs. Philip Summers, "but Aliso
n packed everything for tonight in one case, and it's perfectly light and easy to deal with."
But when he had gone she stood holding both her hands up over her heart as if to still it. She looked at herself in the glass and she saw that her eyes were like blue stars. She said to herself, over and over again:
"Mrs. Philip Summers! Mrs. Philip Summers!…"
When later he knocked on her door, she was wearing something white and filmy and sparkling with rhinestones. The rhinestones were the colour of sapphires—the colour of the deep square-cut sapphire in the engagement ring Philip had given her, and which she now wore above the pale circlet of gold that was her wedding ring. She was so conscious of that brand new wedding ring that she felt Philip's eyes were drawn to it as if it was a magnet, as soon as he had removed them from herself and her dress, and then he stepped forward and spoke in rather a hushed tone.
"You look wonderful Lindsay! You look—bride-like!"
She picked up her wrap from the back of a chair, and he put it round her shoulders. She was glad that he did not notice that the touch of his fingers set her trembling again, because even if he had mistaken the cause of the trembling he might have decided against her going out to dinner after all, and that would have been a disappointment she felt she could hardly bear.
And, as it was, she found the visit to the Milanese restaurant something she knew she would remember all her life—not only was it her wedding night, it was also the first time she had actually dined alone with Philip—Philip who had only just become her husband!
They did not linger long once the meal was over, for Lindsay could sense Philip's anxiety to get her back to the hotel. And once they were back m her room, and she looked at him with shining eyes in a face that was just a little wan, and thanked him for a wonderful evening, his anxiety for her caused him to dismiss her thanks almost curtly.
"We've got a considerable drive ahead of us tomorrow, and I'm not sure I've been wise," he said. "However, if you're too tired we can always postpone our departure for another day and ring the villa."
