‘Just be quiet and go away, Bridget,’ Nicholas cut in furiously. ‘I don’t want to hear from you or see you. Go on, get out—and don’t cry!’
Because he had seen the sparkle of tears in her eyes. Hastily, even more humiliated now, Bridget turned away from him.
‘I could never cry over anything you said or did,’ she lied fiercely. ‘Because you don’t deserve that either, if you can even reject an apology like that. You don’t deserve anything!’
Least of all her love, she reflected tempestuously as she sought the sanctuary of her bedroom, but still, he had it—not that he wanted it—and she had never been so unhappy in her life.
CHAPTER EIGHT
BRIDGET cried a little on reaching her bedroom, and for some reason the expenditure of emotion left her shivery, so she put on the Punjabi outfit she had bought for herself at Connaught Place, the salwar trousers and longsleeved, narrow-waisted top, all palest grey except for the squared yoke, which was black embroidered with silver thread. There was a long black scarf to go with it but, suspecting it might be a handicap to someone unused to wearing such things, she left it off.
She didn’t know what to do with herself, but she couldn’t remain in her bedroom forever, and Virginia might want to discuss her buying with her.
She could hear voices in the living-room, but she wasn’t ready to face Nicholas yet, especially as he was sounding distinctly edgy, and, after his earlier censure, she shrank from intruding on what would almost certainly be a private family discussion, so she went outside to the veranda on which they usually breakfasted. It was too dark for the formal rose-garden to be visible, but she stood looking out over it anyway, listening to the distant sounds of the city at night and wondering if she would ever be happy again.
‘All covered up, Bridget?’ Nicholas spoke softly from behind her and she spun round to find him inspecting her outfit in the soft light coming from the house at his back. ‘Is this another of your ways of helping me? To resist temptation, perhaps, since it seems that I have to?’
‘Stop it!’ she protested unevenly. ‘It may have a funny side for you, but I’m not—I’m not—’
‘Not used to this sort of thing,’ he supplied expressionlessly, ‘as Virginia tells me that there’s nothing between you and Loris now, and that, in fact, you never did have the sort of relationship I believed there had been.’
‘I—’ Bridget broke off in consternation.
‘It’s all right.’ Nicholas was unexpectedly soothing in response to her alarm. ‘You’ve had the worst of me, Bridget. I won’t touch you again. I’ve never been interested in initiating innocents. I should have known you meant it literally when you first said you hadn’t had an affair with Loris.’
‘You didn’t know me well enough,’ she conceded fairly, and he stirred irritably.
‘And I should certainly have guessed the truth from your physical response to me.’
Bridget also stirred, suddenly agitated.
‘Because I—because I contributed…so little?’ she prompted self-consciously, and there was a surprised quality to his brief silence.
‘You’re not going to get a complex about being inadequate, are you? Don’t feel uncomfortable about it,’ he added more gently. ‘That wasn’t what I meant. As far as it went—as far as we got—I found you more than delightfully satisfactory. But I warn you, I don’t want you looking to me to satisfy any curiosity I may have aroused, and I do accept some of the blame there.’
‘Don’t worry,’ she reassured him scathingly, beginning to be angry. ‘The only curiosity I feel is as to how someone as insensitive as you can be counted a member of the human race.’
‘Great, then I needn’t worry about your putting me up on whatever romantic pedestal you had for Loris and plaguing me with your girlish adoration,’ he retorted unkindly, all trace of gentleness vanished. ‘Tell me what happened with him.’
‘Nothing,’ she snapped.
‘I know that now. In fact, Virginia said part of the reasoning behind her decision to send you out here was that she was afraid that you wouldn’t be able to resist Loris when he…”got round to you”, was how she put it. I meant tell me how it was.’
‘She’s wrong!’ Bridget was incensed. ‘I would have been able to resist him. I didn’t love him. I thought I did, and then I found out how he thought of me, likelike a bead to go on a necklace he was stringing in his own good time, and I thought my heart was broken. It wasn’t. That’s all—if it’s any of your business.’
‘Well, your innocence may be its own protection where I’m concerned, but never rely on that being true in all cases, Bridget,’ Nicholas cautioned her flatly. ‘Have you any idea what a dangerous game you were playing, letting me believe that phone call had resulted in a renewal of a previous relationship?’
‘I’m sorry—’
‘No, don’t apologise,’ he cut in authoritatively. ‘I understand why you did it; you might have convinced me that it was over between you, but you could never have convinced me that there’s never been a real affair, when I knew for a fact that you’d been involved with him in some way. I needed Virginia for that. It seems it’s possible to be too cynical for one’s own good, after all. But it was reckless of you all the same. You won’t need any more lies as a defence, though. That’s about all I wanted to say to you. What are you doing out here? We’re all in the living-room.’
‘You said earlier that you didn’t want to see or hear me,’ Bridget reminded him tautly.
‘I wish I didn’t have to now,’ he admitted flatly. ‘But I’m sure you’re as reluctant as I am to have Virginia and the boyfriend wondering about something that’s a private matter between the two of us, which they will if we avoid each other too obviously. It might even be easier for us, having other people around, although it won’t be for long as they’re flying on to Kathmandu tomorrow. He seems all right, incidentally—this man, Mortimer Oxley.’
‘So are you—?’ Bridget broke off self-consciously, afraid of having her interest construed as interference.
‘Going to help them? I’ve never known ‘Virginia so single-mindedly set on anything. Even if it’s unlikely to last, it’s definitely what she wants right now, so I suppose I’ll have to see what I can do for them when I get back to London,’ Nicholas concluded, sounding wearily disenchanted.
‘You don’t have to.’ Bridget couldn’t help herself. ‘You’ve done enough for your sister—for all your family. They were so young when all of you were orphaned that they obviously really needed you then, looking after them and solving their problems for them, but they shouldn’t now.’
‘I suppose I got into the habit back then,’ he conceded slowly. ‘Do you think they’ve been damaged, prevented from becoming independent?’
‘I think they’ve been very spoilt,’ she responded gently. ‘It’s nice to be protected, but most people don’t get as much as you’ve given them, and without giving some kind of protection or support back in return.’
‘The way you would. You are so idealistic,’ he taunted rather tiredly, and shrugged. ‘I have to say Oxley gives the impression that he’d prefer to fight things out with his wife for himself.’
‘Then let him,’ Bridget suggested quietly. ‘And let him be the one to manage Virginia’s life, if it’s really in need of it.’
‘Don’t give me any more advice, sweetheart,’ Nicholas requested expressionlessly, ‘or I’ll end up making you cry again, and that’s the last thing I want to do.’
She felt filled with sadness, aching to go to him and put her arms round him. She suspected that he would never entirely abandon the burden of his importunate family, however much it might bore and frustrate him at times, but, if only he could have loved her and had wanted her love, she knew she could have made it less of a trouble to him by sharing it, if only by being supportive when they came to him again with their exigencies.
‘That was so hard on you, having to take responsibility for the rest of your family when you we
re so young yourself,’ she offered impulsively, with a sudden up-rush of emotion.
‘Oh, Bridget, don’t start caring about me,’ he advised her tensely. ‘Put it down on your list of things I just don’t deserve. I’ve got nothing good to give you, girl. Come inside now.’
With a sigh, she went, accepting that a kind of reverse was equally true: there was nothing she could do for Nicholas.
Mortimer Oxley was a burly, bearded man with a quiet sense of humour, and some amusing adventures to relate when both Nicholas and Bridget questioned him about his experiences as a travel writer. But, as with most new lovers, there were lapses when he and Virginia became entirely preoccupied with each other, and Bridget was aware of Nicholas’s complete boredom when these occurred.
Once she met his glance, so sardonically exasperated, but, seeing her amused comprehension, he gave her a slight smile, more with his eyes than his lips, and the small moment of sharing warmed Bridget, even if it was Nicholas at his most cynical and intolerant.
It was clear that Mortimer wasn’t entirely happy with Virginia’s confident expectation that her brother would help expedite his divorce, but on the other hand he was obviously so in love with her that he was probably as impatient for their marriage as she was.
Virginia was particularly self-obsessed this evening, barely able to concentrate on Bridget’s replies to her one or two perfunctory questions about the fabrics she had so far ordered for Ginny’s.
‘When did you become such an indifferent employer, Virginia?’ Nicholas drawled. ‘Bridget works for you, she has been doing your job for you, and doing it well, so show some interest.’
‘I’m on holiday, Nicholas,’ Virginia retorted. ‘And I’ve got other things on my mind. You understand, don’t you, Bridget?’
‘Yes, of course,’ Bridget agreed soothingly, stirred by those few words of praise from Nicholas, and, seeing Mortimer looking uncomfortable, obviously wondering whether he ought to defend Virginia against her brother’s criticism, she quickly changed the subject, saying how exciting she was finding India. But the derisively knowing smile Nicholas sent her broke her heart, and she excused herself early.
Virginia and Mortimer left Delhi early the next morning, and Nicholas turned to Bridget after their taxi had driven away.
‘When will you be off again?’ he asked abruptly.
‘I may not have to be,’ she responded, and saw him look annoyed. ‘Everything else we need should be obtainable here, as it seems just about everyone and everything comes to Delhi. I’m going to look at some samples this morning, and then, if there’s time, I’m going shopping on my own account, to a place in Chandni Chowk in Old Delhi—the silver street.’
‘Dariba Kalan.’ Nicholas supplied the proper name, frowning at her thin white blouse and straight pink skirt. ‘I suppose you can look after yourself there? Maybe I should tell Anand Bhandari to send a car and driver for you ’
‘I’m not a member of your family, Nicholas,’ Bridget interrupted resentfully, incensed. ‘They might expect you to interfere in their lives but I don’t, so stop doing it. Or is it just that you’ve decided to see me as a child again, as opposed to the interesting and desirable person I was when you thought I had the experience of a fling with your cousin?’
‘That’s not much experience,’ he retorted.
‘It was enough justification for you at the time.’
‘Don’t remind me! But with your hair in a ponytail like that you do look incredibly young.’
‘It’s too hot to wear my hair loose,’ she offered furiously.
‘It suits you,’ he commented unexpectedly.
‘Suits my lack of experience, you mean?’ she accused defensively. ‘You’d like it a whole lot better if I were as over-sophisticated and cynical as you, wouldn’t you?’
‘Like what? This whole situation? Yes, I would,’ Nicholas agreed gently. ‘But you never will be.’
‘Because I’m me!’ Bridget snapped. ‘You can’t change me into someone else.’
‘I wouldn’t want to,’ Nicholas asserted. ‘And even if I did, what would be the point? You don’t believe in compromise, do you?’
‘No—’
‘Which actually just underlines how very young and naïve you still are,’ he continued. ‘Adults compromise.’
‘It’s known as selling out where I come from,’ she asserted scathingly, and stopped, silent for a full five seconds as she wondered how such a ridiculous quarrel had blown up. ‘What…? Nicholas, what is this really all about?’
‘Yes, what?’ he echoed disgustedly, studying her suddenly bewildered expression. ‘I suppose it really is about my wishing you were… something else.’
‘You…want me to be different?’ she prompted slowly, feeling as if part of her was dying.
‘No!’ he replied emphatically. ‘You’re right, Bridget. I’d end up turning you into a doll, a puppet, if you started changing to suit me, and that would make it so much easier to throw you away when I was done with you. You weren’t seriously considering it, were you?’
‘No…’ But she sounded uncertain, unbearably tempted by the possibility of him perhaps at least liking her, if she could make herself more like the women with whom he usually had affairs, any idea of him loving her being out of the question.
‘You were,’ Nicholas realised, his face tightening. ‘My God, I’ve really done this to myself, haven’t I? You’re infatuated with me.’
‘No!’ Face flaming, Bridget denied it tempestuously, feeling almost offended at hearing her feelings for Nicholas reduced to infatuation.
‘Yes, keep on denying it, Bridget,’ he urged blisteringly. ‘It’s infinitely preferable to having you viewing me in the same light as I presume you must have viewed my cousin… You’re not spending the nights crying over him any more?’
‘I only did that once,’ she stated shortly, ‘and that was when I started to get over him.’
‘Let’s hope you get over me equally fast,’ he mocked, and glanced at his watch. ‘I must go. I’ve got meetings, and I may not see you this evening as I’m going to some embassy party.’
Left alone, Bridget gave a few moments’ thought to the tail-end of the exchange, realising that it had been the night she had met Nicholas that she had wept over Loris, and then begun her rapid recovery, as if her heart had recognised long before the rest of her had that here was her real, true love.
By coincidence, her new friend Jolyon rang a little later that morning to invite her to an embassy party that night, presumably the same one that Nicholas would be attending. Bridget hesitated, knowing that the less she and Nicholas saw of each other, the easier it would be for both of them, but in the end she accepted. Among other people, the situation between them could hardly preponderate as it did when they were alone together, and she needed some distraction from her unhappiness. Additionally, the invitation meant that she wouldn’t have to encounter Nicholas here in the house for even a few minutes that evening, should he return after all, as Jolyon was cheerfully agreeable when she asked if she could go straight to his flat from Chandni Chowk and change her clothes there.
Later, when she arrived, he entertained her, making her giggle by saying outrageous things, and insisting that she eat the snacks he provided.
‘Perfect,’ he applauded succinctly, after she had changed into a straight, simple dress and matching hiplength jacket in a beautiful and unusual greeny-grey shade, rich but subtle, emphasising the shining darkness of her hair, which she had pulled loosely back, gathered at intervals into prettily beaded clasps as far as it fell down her back.
‘I forgot to bring any make-up,’ she confessed.
‘I’m not wearing any, and I need it more than you do,’ he retorted. ‘Let’s go.’
At the party, there was no sign of Nicholas, although Bridget recognised the woman who had been one of those to visit the house so hopefully before his arrival in Delhi. She was aware of several women giving her looks which combined curiosity and envy, an
d she realised that her companion was the most wildly glamorous man present.
Until Nicholas arrived. When he did, looking incredibly sophisticated and sexy in formal clothes, Jolyon’s bright beauty seemed to fade.
Bridget made no attempt to attract his attention, but she was so acutely aware of him that she knew the exact moment he became conscious of her presence, just when she was standing alone, Jolyon having moved away to fetch fresh drinks.
Eyes narrowed, Nicholas came over to her. ‘Why didn’t you tell me you’d be here?’
‘I didn’t know,’ she explained, her smile slightly strained. ‘My friend only rang to ask me after you’d left this morning.’
‘Who is your friend, anyway?’ he enquired, glancing idly round the closest group of people.
‘Jolyon Methven. Isn’t it a gorgeous name?’ she added, beginning to relax a little since his mood wasn’t overtly hostile. ‘It makes me think of the men in the historical novels I used to read in my teens. The heroines were nearly always governesses. Oh, I loved them!’
‘You would,’ he said very sardonically. ‘I know Methven, but do you? Have you any idea what sort of man he is, Bridget, or have you been blinded by boyish fair hair and baby-blue eyes?’
‘Oh, I know he’s completely decadent and a terrible cynic,’ she conceded, still smiling.
‘You do know that, then… My God, and you like it!’ Nicholas realised.
‘Why not?’ Bridget retorted. ‘You’re a cynic and I quite like you on rare occasions.’
‘Thanks,’ he muttered grimly. ‘And what do you know about cynics, sweetheart?’
‘I know better than to think I can rely on them for my happiness.’ She regarded him with a new, bitter despair. ‘You really have a low opinion of my intelligence, don’t you? I suppose you think I’m also infatuated with Jolyon?’
‘How long have you been seeing him?’ he demanded tautly.
‘This is the second time I’ve been out with him since that day you dropped me off at the Embassy to pay my respects. That’s when I met him—not that it’s any of your business, Nicholas,’ she added sharply.
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