“But there isn’t. We have to deal with life as it is now. Get some sleep. We’re leaving early in the morning.”
“Early? I thought...”
“For the present you’ve seen the last of Chauvet. We’ll probably leave before the others are up.”
“I see,” she said quietly. “You arranged it with Lady Alys, didn’t you? And you listened to what she told you about Armand Chauvet’s praises of me after we’d met in Panai. You warned me that she was a hawk, but for you she isn’t anything like that.” She stiffened her jaw. “I know a lot more than you’ve told me yourself, Paul. And I’m not so young and brainless that I can’t see a little of what’s in Lady Alys’ mind. She wanted you to marry her daughter; the fact that you didn’t she took as a blow to her own self-esteem. Kyrle sailed away to marry someone else, but Lady Alys is still here, smouldering inside. She doesn’t want you to be happy with anyone else, and as for me...”
He went to the bedroom door and pushed it wide. “I can read Alys for myself,” he said, “and I know the rest of the people here, too. Nothing anyone has done or said will alter the fact that you deliberately kept your knowledge of Armand Chauvet to yourself as long as you could.” His face dark and tight, he ended, “There’s nothing more to discuss. Go to bed.”
Lorna drew a breath through dry lips and went past him into the bedroom. The door closed behind her and she was alone. The dainty china clock on the dressing-table chimed eleven, so it could have been only half an hour ago that she had said good night at the foot of the staircase and mounted the stairs with Paul.
She undressed, washed and got into bed, lay within the pool of light from the reading-lamp with her arms crossed under her head. It was like the end of the world, a finality; yet she had to go on and on, trying to understand and to please someone who fought against being understood. She knew, despairingly, that Paul had never bared his heart to anyone, yet somehow she was sure that his tolerance was being tried to its Utmost. If only he would realize that she had a heart and mind of her own, that she longed to share them with him. But he wouldn’t want that. He wanted someone mature, someone who could know him better than she could ever aspire to know him.
How could he possibly think she was attracted to Armand Chauvet? Yet he did, and blamed her for it. She couldn’t comprehend Paul’s standards, couldn’t think as he thought in such matters. Perhaps in his heart he was seeking all the time to establish some insuperable barrier between them, so that ultimately they would have to part. And yet... It was all too painfully bewildering to analyse.
She reached out and snapped off the light, but lay there a long way from sleep. There were few sounds; the chirping of night insects, the bark of a dog. Nothing whatever from other regions of the Residency because the walls had been built solidly, to last.
It must have been well after midnight when the door was quietly opened and Paul slipped through into the dressing-room. In the pale radiance from the window she saw him, tall and lean as he passed the foot of the bed without a glance towards its occupant.
CHAPTER EIGHT
ELISE was better but still rather pale. She was sitting, clothed in pyjamas and dressing-gown, close to the french window of the living-room, and she smiled round at them as they came in and waved a white hand.
“You’re earlier than I expected you; that’s why I’m not dressed. Well, how were the high-ups?”
“Just as usual,” Paul answered. “And how are you?”
“Surviving. That superintendent of yours and his wife stayed the night, but I told them it wasn’t necessary for them to remain all day today. They’ve been awfully good. Can’t think what got hold of me.”
“Was it migraine?”
“Sort of. Haven’t had a spell like that since ... well, for a long time. Did the sea get you, Lorna?”
Lorna shook her head. “No, I’m all right.”
“A quiet day with Elise is what you need,” Paul said. ‘I’ll have some coffee and then get busy.”
“I’ll make it.”
“No, tell Jake to do it and come back.”
Elise raised an eyebrow, but waited till Lorna had gone before asking, “Wasn’t the visit a success?”
He shrugged. “It was less enjoyable than I expected. Have you seen Bill?”
“No. He came yesterday but I told them not to let him into the bedroom. Seems he didn’t insist.”
“Were you disappointed?”
“Heavens, no. Bill knows these attacks of mine. I don’t have them often but I’m sure cantankerous when they come.” She lowered her voice. “What’s wrong with Lorna?”
“Nothing. We had a late night.”
“Girls of her age thrive on late nights.”
As Lorna came back into the room, Elise sank further into her chair. She watched fingers which were none too steady accept a cigarette from Paul’s case, saw that hand shrink into itself as Paul grasped the wrist to steady the cigarette to the flame of his lighter. She asked a couple of casual questions: had they done anything spectacular, and so on.
“I went for a drive with Colin,” said Lorna.
“In that bone-shaker of his? No wonder you look peaked.”
Lorna smiled faintly. “No, we borrowed a sports model.”
“I didn’t know that,” said Paul. “Whose car?”
“Monsieur Chauvet’s.” She added quickly, “I thought it was Colin’s till we were moving.”
“Oh, so you met Armand Chauvet?” exclaimed Elise. “Fascinating man, isn’t he?”
“Devastating,” said Paul non-committally. “Ah, here’s the coffee.”
Lorna poured and gave Elise her cup. Her own she left as black as Paul’s but no one commented. She drank, and when Paul stood up to go, she said she would unpack. She left them together, knew that they spoke for several minutes before Paul went out to the car.
Lethargically, she hung away the two frocks she had worn and two more that she hadn’t, placed her shoes on the rack. When there was nothing more to do she returned to the living-room.
Elise had got up and gone to the window. She turned round. “You’re not accustomed to the Residency type of excitement,” she remarked. “Just sit down and let things go for the day.”
“I’d rather work in the garden, really. Sure you feel better?”
“Quite sure. Perhaps it’s the contrast, but I always feel on top of the world when I’ve shaken off a migraine.” She paused. “How was Lady Alys?”
“Very much in character, I should say.”
“That means she was sharp and not too pleasant. It’s amazing that Sir Ronan doesn’t see that side of his wife—but men don’t, you know, once they’ve decided a woman is just right for them. That was the trouble with my marriage—Bill and I bickered from the beginning though we didn’t notice it till the bickering tones changed to a snarling one.”
“That sounds horrible.” Lorna picked up a book and put it down again. “I can’t imagine Bill snarling.”
“But you can imagine me having a shot at it?” asked Elise lightly.
“I didn’t mean that—though a woman is often better at it than a man. I daresay you were cleverer in a row than he was.”
“I’m afraid I was—he often went dogged and silent, and that annoyed me more than if he’d raved.”
“What did you want from marriage?”
“What do you want?” Elise countered, her glance shrewd.
Lorna flipped once more at the book cover. “I only want to be loved; the rest follows naturally.”
“No, it doesn’t, my little Lorna. There’s such a thing as give-and-take. Since I parted from Bill I’ve learned heaps. Before you can love anyone else you must be able to love yourself—not in a selfish way as I do. But it’s no use thinking yourself incapable of playing your part, no use looking into your mirror and seeing someone inept and frightened. You have to see the essential you—the person with qualities and potentialities and courage. I want to tell you something.” She had not moved, had not e
ven changed her voice very much from its usual light cadences. “Living here with you I’ve realized far more clearly than ever before what I want from life. I mean to get it.”
Lorna thought of Paul but was not shaken; she merely nodded.
Elise added, “I know that I was invited here to be with you while Paul was away, but I want you to let me stay on. I’ll give Paul my reasons, and I’m sure he won’t mind.”
“You consider me too young to be told?”
“Of course not, but I’m not used to baring my soul to all and sundry.”
A jeep stopped in the driveway. “Here’s your husband,” said Lorna. “He’s not all and sundry.”
She went out, managed a smile at Bill and passed him, to walk in the garden. Bill looked after her and hesitated as if he were half inclined to follow her. Then he saw Elise through the window, and decided to enter the house. Her dressing-gown was a red silk that he remembered; in fact, like this he remembered her rather more than very well. In the old days she had often still been wearing a gown when he came in for mid-morning refreshment
But his manner was reserved. “Thought I’d call in to see how you feel. You look fairly well, but you always do after one of those heads.”
“I’m fit, thanks.” Then, almost with reluctance, “It was good of you to enquire yesterday.”
“Was it? We’re still married Elise.”
Very coolly she said, “Sit down, Bill. I must talk to you.”
He bit on his lip, looked at her lovely face and for the first time noticed tiny lines at the corners of her eyes. “Are you quite sure? I want this, Elise—a discussion—but...”
“Yes, I’m sure. I’ve made a pact with myself not to say anything bitter just for the sake of proving myself superior, I no longer feel I am superior. Paul and Lorna are back, as you’ve seen.”
“They’re early, aren’t they?”
“A little. Bill, I’m going to ask Paul if he’ll let me stay on here.”
“Oh.” He sounded disappointed. “Then it’s not us you aim to talk about?”
“Yes, but...” The hesitation was unusual for Elise. “We know what went wrong with our marriage—you and I—but Lorna hasn’t the foggiest idea what’s wrong with hers.”
“Oh, come! There’s nothing wrong with it Paul’s so good to her, so protective.”
“And so cold. He’s not in love with her, Bill. I know this sounds a bit bogus, coming from me, but why should he marry the girl if he’s not in love with her? It was cruel!”
He gazed at her. “Is this you? Since when did it worry you when someone else was unhappy? I’m not getting at you, Elise. I honestly wish to know.”
She gestured. “With Lorna, I’ve been leading a very quiet life—perhaps quieter than at any time during the past five years. I’ve thought a lot—and not only about myself. I think Lorna needs to be rescued from Paul.”
“Good lord,” he said soberly. “What’s been happening since his return?”
“I wish it were possible to work that out. I went to Panai Town on Saturday, collected the bad head and haven’t really talked to anyone seriously since. When I got here on Saturday afternoon they seemed fairly happy together, but this morning, when they came back from Main Island, he was withdrawn and noncommittal and Lorna can’t bear to be near him. Bill, you knew her before they were married. Is she very different now?”
“Well, naturally,” he said cautiously.
“In what way?”
He lifted his shoulders awkwardly. “I don’t know. She always laughed a lot and she loved trying new things and sensations; Paul used to encourage her and he always found time to teach her. I remember he once told her she had dreams in her eyes, and she must keep them there.”
She sighed. “That’s typical of Paul, when a woman doesn’t mean anything to him. Now that he realizes how closely she’s tied to him he’s brutal about it.”
“You’re wrong, I’m sure. I don’t think there was any grand passion about it—Lorna was too young—but he’s fond of her and she’s sensible. Things will come right—you’ll see.”
Elise shook her head and leaned her arms on the table. “Just before he went out this morning I was alone with Paul for a few minutes. Jokingly, I asked if the Governor and his lady had given him a wedding present. He said they had—an antique silver tea service—but that he had left it at the Residency to be taken care of. Why should he do that?”
“It sounds a sensible thing to do.”
“Not to a woman.”
“You think he’s avoiding more ties?”
“I’m sure of it. He married Lorna out of compassion, and now he wishes he’d thought up some other way of looking after her.”
“I can’t believe it—not of a man like Paul Westbrook.” Elise said broodingly, “I once had quite a feeling for Paul, and when we met again a few months ago I thought him even more interesting if rather more flinty than before.”
“Were you ... involved in any way?” Bill asked carefully.
“In love with him? No, but he attracted me—still does a little. Yet this marriage of his has jolted me into wondering more about other things.” She paused, and did something he had never seen her do before; she moistened her lips and looked away from him, as if she were just a little nervous. “Paul also mentioned this morning that he might give you the entire management of the new island. Would you ... want to take it?”
Bill, still attuning himself to this new mood of Elise’s, rubbed his chin and said rather flatly, “I’d have to think about it, but my first reaction is that I’d rather not.”
“Why?”
Bill floundered. “I can’t cut myself off from ... from everything. You see, Elise, I’ve never yet given up hope—not entirely—about us. You may not have realized it, but it’s been a strain, having you here, only a couple of miles away from my place; I haven’t been able to think about much else, but I’ve kept away from you because I thought it best to see if propinquity was working on you, too. Shall I go on?”
“Yes,” she answered in low tones.
“Well,” he now pushed a hand round the back of his neck, “I’ve been thinking that if we could try again, if we could start a new home together, it would be best to do it elsewhere—where we aren’t known; a different climate, too, so that if you ... well, you might want a family ... you know what I mean.”
She smiled, warily. “You’re transparent, Bill. What’s wrong with the climate of the Main Islands?”
Bill heard, stared and took a grip on himself. He knew his Elise too well to jump up and take her into his arms. Instead he said a little hoarsely, “It’s up to you, you must see that. I’ll go more than half-way but you’ll have to do the rest. I like it here on Panai...”
“No. Everyone would watch us and gossip, because they know we’ve been parted.”
He had to get up this time and go round to the back of her chair. She leaned her head against him, and shakily he held her shoulders.
“Elise,” he said, “we must never risk anything like this again. I’ve been wondering whether you’d fallen all over again for Paul, trying to decide whether you were hoping to steal him from Lorna. We’d grown so far apart that I’ve thought a thousand times of other men you’ve found attractive, and...”
“They weren’t so attractive; they merely helped me to forget that I’d made a mess of marriage. We didn’t appreciate each other’s differences to start with, and I was too keen on remaining an individual. We were both at fault, and hell, we’ve paid for it. Bill, I can’t stand any more emotion just now. Give me a cigarette.”
“You’ll come over and live with me at the bungalow?”
“I don’t...” She stopped, and forced herself to say smilingly, “Perhaps, in a few days. We’ll do it brazenly, Bill—even have a house party to celebrate the return of the prodigal.”
Bill was so relieved that he had to mop sweat from his temples. He sat down closer to her, kissed her wrist and gave her a cigarette. “It’s like being
let out of prison,” he said. “We’ll have to think up one of those long ridiculous words that couples use to each other when they want to avoid a row.”
“If I start a row,” she said, “just kiss me. That will do the trick.”
Their cigarettes lighted, he inhaled and then slipped a hand over hers on the table, as if he were still afraid this softening in her would not last. “You don’t know how glad I am that Paul invited you here!”
“He didn’t—I invited myself, several weeks ago. He wanted to get away to the new island plantations, so he made use of me, that’s all.”
“You really wanted to come over?”
She shrugged, flippantly. “To save my living expenses. You know why I was salting away your allowance.”
“For heaven’s sake, Elise!”
“By doing it I hurt myself more than I hurt you. I made myself penniless and cadged, and I thought of all that money which was going to free me from you. And I hated myself. Bill, we won’t start together again till we’re adjusted to this. We’ll meet every day and talk as we’ve never talked before. That was one of our troubles—we could never talk without shooting poison, and mine became more virulent than yours.” She glanced through the window. “Lorna’s out there in the sun. Paul will kill me if she gets ill.”
“There, you see! He cares for her far more than you think.”
“No, he’s only possessive. I really am terribly worried about her.”
He didn’t say, as he might have said a short while ago, that it was a change for her to worry about anyone but herself. He didn’t even think it. He said, “There’s nothing we can do, Elise. It’ll work out.”
“When there’s no spoken bond between two people things can’t work out. We know Paul doesn’t really love her, and I’m afraid that Lorna’s well aware of it too.”
“Don’t say that. She’s too young and sweet to be hurt so much.”
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