Too Young to Marry

by Rosalind Brett

  “You haven’t seen Main Island. I’ll take you for a short drive.”

  She answered softly, “Go and ask Paul if I may.”

  He lifted his brows in exaggerated surprise that permission was necessary, and disappeared. Within three minutes he was back again, showing both thumbs. Lorna did not hesitate, except to make sure that she looked presentable and pick up her hat. She ran downstairs quickly and quietly, joined Colin, and knew an unutterable sense of release as the car slipped round the drive towards the road.

  They were spinning along the deserted main street when he said chummily, “Goes like a bird, doesn’t she?”

  “A high octane bird,” she nodded. “How long have you had it?”

  “It isn’t mine. I’ve a six-year-old tin can, and lucky at that. This is Armand’s. Every time he comes here he seems to have a different car. This time he’s gone sports-minded.”

  “Does he bring it by sea?”

  “There’s no other way, at the moment. You’ll see our airfield soon. It’s the only private one in the Main Islands and if we want to travel by plane we have to book through the airport at Panai. The big noises come by air, of course, but they often travel in chartered planes. Look, there it is. Not much to see except the thatched office and the airstrip.” She saw it in the distance with the blue mountains beyond. Then she looked back and saw that they had risen several hundred feet and left the white town dreaming at the edge of calm sea.

  ‘There’s a difference in the air here,” she commented. “At Panai it’s more oppressive and you have the feeling that if the rubber were neglected for a month the jungle would blanket it.”

  “The height of the mountains makes the difference, so I’m told.” He put on speed, so the wind whistled through their hair. “How do you like us now that you know us at home?”

  She parried that one. “Are you able to think of the Residency as home? It’s such a splendid sort of existence that I should imagine it colours everything that happens—even unimportant details.”

  “It might, if one let it. Dad has it in his bones, and he’s just as much at home at a big reception as he was at lunch today. So is the stepmother, come to that. Her first husband was a High Commissioner somewhere, so she’s full of starch and experience. She doesn’t bother me much, though.”

  Lucky Colin. “I suppose you’ve evolved a way of handling her?”

  “Bless you, yes,” he said happily. “I’m the naughty boy who leaves ball-bearings on the bedroom floor and smelly fishing-rods all over the place. When we all came to Main Island, just about four years ago, she told me that women mature much faster than men, and that was why Kyrle was so much more poised and quiet than I was. It could have been true, and it was convenient. She’s the canny one, though. She’ll gracefully insult almost anyone except Dad and Paul and me. And you, of course. You’re one of the family now.”

  I’m afraid I don’t feel it.”

  “Oh, but you should,” he said sincerely. “Dad and I think you’re a wow. In fact, the day after Dad first met you he told me that he hoped I’d be sensible enough to choose a wife as gay and innocent as you are.”

  “Gay?” she echoed. “Yes, I suppose I did feel happy with him that day. There were no complications, you see.”

  “Such as Alys? You mustn’t let her get under your skin. Stand up to her and she’ll have to accept you properly. She did hope Kyrle would make a go of it with Paul, but once he was married the thing had to fizzle right out. In any case, it appears there’s someone Kyrle met in Europe last year. Alys talks about it openly.”

  “But under that ice she must be simmering.”

  He shrugged cheerfully. “Well, what of it? To get at you she has to slide past Paul, and that’s not easy, believe me! I grew up with him.”

  Colin didn’t understand, of course. He thought of Lady Alys as a tartar who could be circumvented by boyish tricks and an engaging smile, and of Paul as a possessive and devoted husband.

  Lorna said, “Tell me what Paul was like as a boy. What were his hobbies?”

  Colin grinned. “He was keen on horses—used to take some food and disappear on horseback for hours, sometimes days. I liked my comfort, but Paul was just the opposite. My father used to say he had a wild streak in him which would peter out if he was allowed to do as he liked. But I don’t think it did peter out; I think it just hardened into something else. You know, he’s something of a paradox; he’s impatient of weakness but he’s always on the side of the vulnerable. You’re probably the first vulnerable woman he’s ever come across; possibly, you’re almost the most amenable.”

  She side-tracked him then, and soon he was talking about polo, cricket and tennis, about the annual regatta for the Governor’s Cup, the Residency Balls and the occasional military exercises which thrilled the islanders without awakening in them a desire for conquest.

  The sun had gone, leaving a canopy of blue-gold shading to purple, when the roadster came to a halt at the pillared entrance to the Residency. Lorna met only servants as she went quickly upstairs to the suite. She found lounge and bedroom empty, but a swift glance into the dressing-room showed that Paul had already changed. His button-box stood open and empty, and a black tie he had discarded lay on the top of the chest. She looked into the wardrobe cupboard, saw that his white dinner jacket had gone, and went through to the bathroom.

  She put on the white brocade, pinned a towel round her shoulders and made up carefully. She screwed on the earrings, stood back and took in the reflection in the long glass. It was lovely, but she wished she felt absolutely certain of the rightness of this get-up; she had never worn anything so ... so dressy before. Paul should be here to guide her, but he was staying away for the best of reasons.

  It was too warm for a stole, but perhaps she should wear the one she had brought with her; it was white lace, lined with brocade. She came out into the corridor, paused for a moment to steel herself and walked towards the head of the staircase. And there, as if waiting for her, stood Armand Chauvet Those fine expressive features and the brilliant dark eyes revealed far more than the words he used.

  She thanked him for the abundance of compliments, and went downstairs at his side, saying conventionally, “You must tell me about the Marquesas, monsieur. They have such a romantic name.”

  “A beautiful word—marquesa,” he stated. “Perhaps one day you and Paul will pay us a visit. Tell me—how did you find my car this afternoon?”

  “It’s a dream, and fast!”

  “Did you know that Colin had taken it without my permission?”

  “Why, no!” They were in the big reception hall, and because she was caught up by sudden consternation, she halted. “Were you angry?”

  “A little,” with the deep shrug, “but chiefly because I would have preferred to demonstrate my new roadster to you myself. I shall naturally reprimand Colin.”

  “Please don’t—not in front of anyone else.”

  He looked into pleading hazel eyes, lifted an eyebrow as if he understood and took one of her hands. Raising it to his lips, he murmured, “It shall be as you say. Please believe that I will never do anything to distress you, mademoiselle.”

  At the sound she whipped her hand from his grasp. From the library, just behind them, Lady Alys came with Paul, followed by Sir Ronan. There was a triumphant glitter in the older woman’s eyes as she said airily,

  “Ah, there you are! I’ll wager you’ve been pacing the upper corridor, Armand. What it is to be a Frenchman, and for ever in love. Shall we go to the drawing-room for a drink?”

  Lorna drew close to Sir Ronan’s side. Paul, as he went ahead with Lady Alys, was tall and taut, controlled as a metal spring. They entered the official drawing-room; spacious, beautifully furnished with a few Sheraton pieces, comfortable gold damask chairs, some flower arrangements spreading exotic color against the pale green and gold walls. Through a wide archway at the end a grand piano was visible, set up on a dais and backed by soft lighting above an urn of gladioli.r />
  A few guests arrived. The O.C. of the island troops and his wife, the senior aide and his wife, the police chief and one or two others. Felicitations were extended to Paul and Lorna, but after the first surprised glance at the young girl in white all were friendly. The unmarried men permitted themselves to look envious, but Lorna drew no comfort from them. She felt as if she were suspended in time, waiting for an unavoidable explosion.

  Because at least twenty were present at dinner, the meal was less of a trial than lunch had been. In fact, except for one small incident the evening passed smoothly.

  It had happened during the dispensing of coffee in the drawing-room. Paul was bending to place a cup on a low table when the Governor said quietly, both to Paul and to Lorna, who was at his side.

  “I have a wedding gift for you and Paul, my dear. It’s an antique silver tea and coffee service which my own father gave to Colin’s mother and myself when we were married. It is already packed and you may take it with you tomorrow.”

  Before Lorna could speak, Paul had lowered himself to a chair and said, “It’s very generous of you, Uncle Ronan, but I’d rather you kept it here, if you don’t mind. We have no use for such a thing at the bungalow and it might get damaged.”

  “Oh, I don’t think it would, my boy. I do realize that you won’t be able to use the set till you have a bigger place somewhere—perhaps over here on Main Island—but I’m sure Lorna would find the greatest pleasure in looking at it sometimes. I kept it for your marriage, Paul.”

  Paul said evenly, “Yes, I know, and I realize that it’s a very great gesture on your part to give it to Lorna on her first visit here. Even so, I’d rather you took care of it for a while longer.”

  “As you wish, Paul,” said Sir Ronan regretfully.

  And there it ended. Paul drank his coffee and asked them to excuse him. The rest of the evening he spent talking with other men.

  The guests left at ten-thirty, Lady Alys said good night and sailed upstairs, followed by the Governor. Paul took Lorna’s elbow, Armand Chauvet bowed, unsmilingly for him, and Colin said gaily that he and Armand were going for a spin.

  Lorna mounted the staircase with Paul, entered the suite ahead of him and stood still for a moment, folding the stole with clammy-cold hands. Then she turned, as if to enter the bedroom.

  “Just a minute,” Paul said coolly. “We have something to talk about.”

  “It’s rather late.”

  “I purposely left it till now so that you wouldn’t be upset for the evening.”

  She took a fold of the stole tightly between her finger and thumb. “Does that mean you intend to upset me now?”

  “It means that I intend to get something absolutely straight, whether it distresses you or not. Why didn’t you tell me you’d met Armand Chauvet?”

  “Other things happened, and I forgot”

  “That’s hardly likely. No woman forgets Armand.”

  She was stung to retort, “Well, I did—but I’m not a woman, remember? I’m just a little girl.”

  “Is that why you allow him to call you mademoiselle?”

  “I’m not responsible for what he says—only for my own actions, and I’ve done nothing I’m ashamed of. If you heard him call me that this evening, why didn’t you take him up on it?”

  “I kept quiet for Sir Ronan’s sake—he didn’t hear it, and for that moment I had to pretend I hadn’t heard either. If I’d been alone...” He stopped, shoved his hands into his pockets. “Chauvet said he escorted you back to the bungalow after your lunch with the Governor on Panai. What happened between you that day?”

  “Nothing at all. We just talked, and when we reached the bungalow he didn’t even come on to the drive.”

  “You took good care of that, because Elise was in the house. You didn’t tell her about Chauvet, either, did you?”

  “No. No, I didn’t” She threw out a hand, confused and pleading. “You make it sound horrid—as if I’d had an assignation with Armand...”

  “Armand!”

  “Monsieur Chauvet. I’ve never called him Armand. You ... you’re rattling me, to try and make me slip up, It’s hateful of you, Paul!”

  “I’m doing nothing of the sort,” he said forcibly. “I’m not letting you down—you’re doing it yourself. He appeals to you, doesn’t he—this Frenchman?”

  “Oh, heavens,” she said, white to the lips, “what am I to say to that? Would you believe me if I said I wouldn’t care if I never saw him again? Will you ever believe anything I say, if you can’t trust me to be escorted from your offices to the bungalow with one of your drivers as chaperon? That was all that happened. I swear it!”

  “Really?” He was looking at her in a way that made her feel feeble and ineffective. “Then why has he stayed so long on Main Island, and why was he on the quay to meet us today? I’ve known him for years, and I can assure you he’d never have come down to meet me.”

  She swallowed. “Well, I suppose your uncle intended that we should be met, and he offered.”

  “Exactly. And why did he offer? After all, he’s a bachelor and not normally more than politely interested in married women. He wanted to see you again, as soon as possible. And yet to a man of his kind marriage means something rather inviolable and permanent.” The blue glance glittered. “He doesn’t think of you as a married woman. Why is that?”

  “Oh, Paul ... please!” White lace tore between her fingers. “You’re thinking terrible things. I couldn’t possibly talk to Armand Chauvet about ... about us! Nor to anyone else, but particularly to a man. He’s ... complimented me, we did talk as his sort do, but that’s all.”

  He swung round to face her fully. “How did you happen to come down with him this evening?”

  “He was at the head of the stairs when I got there.”

  “Had you arranged it?”

  Ashen-faced, she flared, “How dare you, Paul! What in the world do you think I am?”

  “Since you ask,” he said savagely, “I’ll tell you. I think you’re young and extremely foolish. So foolish that you’ve encouraged Chauvet each time you’ve met. No girl who’s been married only a few weeks has so many glances to spare for other men as you seem to have. With Colin, I knew you were fairly safe; the fact that you bear my name would halt any notions he might get. But Chauvet is a man of the world, and he’s no fool. You wouldn’t have to tell him in so many words that you don’t care a damn for me; you’ve already made it very plain to him by your actions.”

  “That’s not true! What am I supposed to do when he flatters me—run to you? You’re the one who’s so keen on my gaining poise!”

  “Not at the expense of your dignity and my pride. How do you suppose I felt when he started talking about having seen you on Panai? And what do you expect me to think of your keeping the meeting a secret?”

  “You seem able to think dreadful things,” she said tremulously. “I knew you were angry this morning, but if I’d attached any importance to Armand Chauvet wouldn’t I have told you that I knew him—at least on the launch as we came? I didn’t say anything because I’d completely forgotten him.”

  “Yet in no time at all you’re such close friends that he waits for you to finish dressing and brings you down. Kisses your hand and calls you mademoiselle!”

  She threw the stole aside on to a lounger, clenched her hands and stared up at him. “I won’t stand this. I understand your being fed up because I put you in rather a false position when we met Monsieur Chauvet this morning; that was fair enough, and I deserve to be reprimanded for forgetfulness. But I won’t have you accusing me of all kinds of things I haven’t done. If you object so strongly to Monsieur Chauvet’s behaviour you must tell him so.”

  “I’ve done so already; that’s why his smile had slipped a little when we said good night. Dealing with Chauvet is the least of it. The kernel of the whole thing is the fact that you’ve allowed yourself to become fascinated by the man. So much so that your behaviour has actually encouraged him!”


  “You’ve seen me. How have I encouraged him?”

  “It started on Panai, when I was away. He made you feel neglected.”

  “Nothing started. And I didn’t feel neglected because I was glad to be alone for a while...” She stopped precipitately because of the swift tightening of his expression, added lamely, “You were relieved to go off without me; you said we weren’t good for each other.”

  “Was that all it meant to you?” he asked abruptly. “No wonder you were influenced by extravagant compliments and warm glances. You’re just about ready for a love affair, but nothing dangerous. It occurred to you that marriage made you fairly safe against Chauvet and therefore you could enjoy him as much as you wished. Perhaps you didn’t even think that far, but subconsciously that was what happened. Well, you can get him out of your mind. There are no circumstances whatever in which you could possibly marry Armand Chauvet!”

  “Marry him?” she breathed.

  “None at all, he reiterated roughly. “Now go to bed!” But she remained there, gazing up at him, said huskily, “You dislike me very much, don’t you Paul?” When he did not answer she went on, “I don’t blame you, really. You’ve done a great deal for me and I haven’t done anything at all for you; I haven’t been able to do anything. To your private life I’ve brought more trouble than you’ve ever had, but it wasn’t my fault entirely. I would never have entered the Governor’s family of my own will—you know that. I ... I wish there were some way of going back a few weeks—to that day you met me at the airport in Panai.”