Escape to Happiness

by Mary Whistler

  Oh, yes, Rose didn’t doubt that he was fond of her!

  But could one live with a “fond” husband and be happy? Could one bear his child and know that one was simply fulfilling an expectation because there were large sums of money and property to be inherited? Business interests that would devolve upon the child!

  Rose didn’t realize that as she pushed open the door of the salon she did so very silently, and when at last she stood looking inside - as if her feet had dragged to a standstill - Carmella and Guy were standing before the fireplace, and Carmella had her arms wrapped about his neck. Her face was buried in his shoulder, as if she was too unhappy to lift it, and he was looking down at her strangely.

  Rose heard the enamel and ormolu clock on the mantelpiece ticking away delicately, and then they sprang apart, and Carmella actually looked confused.

  “Oh, my dear, I’m sorry!...” Then she looked a little cross, even peevish. “But if you will creep about the house you must expect a few shocks sometimes, you know! Who was it who rang you?”

  “Dr. Carter,” Rose answered, speaking as if the words formed themselves automatically. “He’ll be here tomorrow.”

  “Carter?” Guy echoed sharply, and Carmella put a finger up to his lips and gently pressed them.

  “I invited him,” she admitted. “I knew he was interested in Rose, and he’s coming for the wedding. I thought also that he could act as your best man.”

  Guy uttered a sound that was a mixture of resentment and fury.

  “I’ll find my own best man,” he told Carmella bluntly. “And, in any case...” And then he realized that Rose was about to slip away and leave them, and he moved quickly towards her. “Rose!” he cried.

  But Rose was already running up the thickly carpeted stairs to her bedroom, and he turned helplessly to Carmella.

  “You must tell her to come down again,” he insisted. “I’ve got to talk to her, Carmella! I’ve got to explain!”

  But Carmella shook a wise dark head at him.

  “You won’t find it easy to explain ... not tonight. Leave her, my dear, and try explaining tomorrow. But I’m not going to say she’ll be prepared to listen!” with a warm glow of satisfaction in her eyes.

  CHAPTER XV

  And, as it turned out, there was every reason for that glow of satisfaction in her eyes, for Rose refused even to see Guy the following morning.

  She told Carmella that she would remain in her room until lunch-time, and then she would get a taxi out to the airport and meet Dr. Carter when he came off his aircraft.

  But, my dear girl,” Carmella said, feigning perplexity, “why do you have to meet Bruce Carter? He will go straight to his hotel and deposit his things, and then he will come here to see you. You can have tea together.”

  “I don’t want Dr. Carter to come here,” Rose answered. “At least, I want to see him first!”

  Carmella’s eyes dwelt on the small, pale face, and she shrugged her shoulders slightly.

  “You’re determined to be annoyed with Guy? But it was such a little thing ... an embrace between old friends! What is that?” And then her eyes betrayed a hint of sympathy. “You’re in love with him, aren’t you? It’s not just the money, and the prospect of an entirely new life? But Guy was never in love with you - you do realize that, don’t you? I don’t suppose he ever told you that he was, did he?”

  He never did - at least he had never attempted any real pretence! - and Rose’s tragic brown eyes gave away the truth without her even realizing that they did.

  “Well, there you are, my dear!” Carmella murmured, making a definitely Continental gesture with her hands. “In this life we can’t have everything, and quite a number of young women would consider you fortunate because you are going to marry Guy! The fact that he is in love with me ... Well, that’s something you will have to grow accustomed to, or overlook. You will only hurt yourself if you try to do anything about it.”

  “I have no intention of doing anything about it,” Rose replied stiffly. “I merely want to see Dr. Carter as quickly as possible.”

  “In order to ask his advice? But, my dear child, surely you realize he is in love with you? You almost certainly captivated him immediately with those great brown eyes of yours! And how can a man who is in love with you give you advice about a problem such as yours?”

  “I’m not interested in love, and I do want to talk to Dr. Carter,” Rose replied with unshakeable firmness. “You must please cancel all my appointments for today, and I refuse to see anyone until evening.”

  “Meaning Guy? But is that fair, when he’s being so terribly generous...” And then she saw the way Rose was biting her lip, and trying to hang on to her composure, and she spoke more soothingly. “Very well, you shall have my car to take you to the airport.”

  “No, I’ll take a taxi.”

  Carmella shrugged.

  “And I will get Guy to take me out to lunch, and you can have your talk with Bruce without any fear of being interrupted by either of us. But take my advice, my dear, and ... don’t be too indiscreet!”

  And as she went out, closing the door, Rose wondered whether that was a warning not to involve her too much.

  Rose had no clear idea what she was going to say to Bruce when she saw him, but she knew that she had to talk to someone who could see her side of the picture before Guy could lull her into a state of false security again with some explanation of the scene of last night that would not hold water for an instant if it was made to anyone more sophisticated than Rose. And Rose knew her own lack of sophistication was possibly one of the things that attracted him. She had not learned how to be demanding, and she would not expect too much! And she was pliable material. He could convince her if he tried hard enough.

  Or could he? Rose didn’t think she would ever be convinced again by Guy.

  She got a taxi out to the airport, and when Bruce was free from the formalities of customs, and so forth, the first person he caught sight of, waiting for the passengers to emerge, was Rose, looking so little like a prospective bride that his eyebrows shot upwards. It was true she was wearing one of her new outfits - an oatmeal-coloured coat and suit, and a mink hat - but her face was the face of a distressed young woman, and her eyes were appealing.

  “Rose!” He gripped both her hands strongly, and she instantly felt better. “Is anything wrong?”

  She nodded her head.

  “That’s ... what I had to talk to you about!”

  “Good!” he exclaimed softly. “In that case I’m glad I came. Shall we go into the lounge and have a coffee?”

  “I’d like a coffee,” she admitted.

  She had had no breakfast, and very little lunch, and now she was wondering what he would think of her when she poured forth her story. She realized she would have to involve Carmella. There was nothing else she could do about it, and, in any case, Carmella was the leading figure. Without Carmella there would possibly be no story to tell.

  She would be marrying Guy, and hoping for the best- loving him so much that the best was surely something she could hope for? - and that would be the end of the story, or the beginning!

  Now! ...

  Between gulps at her coffee she managed to make it clear that his chances of attending a wedding were infinitely remote. She told him about the afternoon before, and Carmella’s outburst ... And she also told him what had happened after his telephone call. She didn’t think she was letting Guy down in any way by making these revelations, for Guy had never pretended - she could disclose that much now! - and it was she herself who was entirely to blame because she had wanted more than Guy was prepared to give, and now she knew it could never be hers she had to do something to stop the wedding. If they wouldn’t listen to her, then perhaps Bruce could help her ... Give her advice.

  “I’m perfectly willing to help you all I can, my dear,” Bruce replied, “but I’m not at all sure I can interfere in your wedding. For one thing ... and surely this strikes you as strange? ... if Guy doesn�
�t want to marry you, then why is he pressing on with the arrangements? Why is he spending so much money on you?”

  “Because he - needs a wife!” Rose answered.

  “Rubbish, my dear! There are so many women in the world who would be ready to become Wakeford’s wife if he so much as lifted a finger that it would be scarcely necessary to equip you for the role unless he had some special reason for doing so.”

  “He has learned to depend on me,” Rose said quietly to this, and knew that there was a very large measure of truth in that, at any rate.

  But once again Dr. Carter said, “Rubbish!” Then he ordered another coffee for her, and for himself, and looked at her closely. “You’re very upset about this,” he stated rather than asked, “and it’s no wonder, really. But although I have never had a particularly high opinion of Wakeford - rich men irk me, and perhaps they also make me jealous of their possessions! - I’m quite sure he’s not a fool, and I’m equally sure he’s not a knave! And to marry you and be prepared to continue an affair with Carmella would be knavish in the extreme! Besides, I don’t think you quite realize how attractive you are, and what a lot you have to give.”

  “Have I?” She looked up at him wistfully, and he thought how the mink hat suited her, perched as it was on the top of her graceful fair head.

  For an instant, the look in his eyes was very revealing, and Rose wondered whether she had been quite fair, rushing to him like this. (And Carmella had said he was in love with her, which she nevertheless didn’t believe.)

  “Look here, my dear, an airport lounge is no place to discuss this. Will you have dinner with me tonight?”

  She hesitated.

  “I said that I would see Guy this evening...”

  “Well, a little competition won’t do him any harm, and it’s important that you get all this off your chest with as little delay as possible. And it’s important that you should receive some advice. I can’t give you any at the moment, because I haven’t had a chance to think of the best kind of advice to offer you; but if we met again this evening ... say, at my hotel.”

  “I could meet you there,” Rose agreed. “And,” she added, wondering how Guy would take her dining with a man who had always seemed to have the power to annoy him, “it’s very kind of you to bother with me like this.”

  “Not at all. If I behaved selfishly I would give you some advice here and now. But I won’t!” He smiled at her a little crookedly, and put her into a taxi. “Tonight at the Meurice! But I’ll come and collect you if you wish.”

  “No,” quickly, “I don’t think that would be at all wise!”

  “Then,” with another one-sided smile, “perhaps it’s as well I’m not being selfish!”

  But although her conversation with him had made Rose feel much better than when she started out to meet him, no sooner was she alone in the taxi than the old uncertainty clamped down on her again. Dr. Carter was, after all, not much more than a stranger to her, and how could he advise her when she couldn’t advise herself? It was her future that had got to be dealt with in a limited amount of time, for she must see Guy before very long and give him the benefit of offering her some sort of an explanation. Although how one explained away an obvious thing like a close embrace she couldn’t even begin to think!

  It was an explanation in itself - of the way Guy felt, and the way Carmella felt. And the one who was standing between them - who had absolutely no right to be even thinking of marrying a man who had nothing to give her but his money, and a certain amount of grateful affection - was Rose herself.

  Suddenly she knew that she didn’t need advice from anyone, that her course of action was as clear as daylight. She should give up deceiving herself and go back to England. Carmella would be relieved, and even Guy would very possibly draw a deep breath of relief once he realized that she had saved him from mortgaging his whole future, and turning his back on the thing he wanted. For he wanted Carmella, and once Rose was out of the way he would probably recognize that harbouring a grievance would get him nowhere, and the best thing to do would be forget the past, and start again with the future.

  Start again with Carmella! ... Snatch the happiness that had eluded him for six years, and admit that he owed it to Rose!

  But Rose didn’t feel at all elated at the thought of his gratitude as she stopped the taxi while it was still some considerable distance from Carmella’s maisonette, and started to walk the rest of the way. What was it Carmella had said Guy’s grandmother had written to him on one occasion...?

  “You must marry someone who can lift you to the heights... Otherwise the marriage will be a failure.”

  Well, she, Rose, could never lift him to the heights, and it was as well the realization had been well and truly borne in on her before it was too late. But her footsteps dragged as she drew nearer the quai where Carmella’s elegant house was situated, and although a November mist had dissolved into thinly falling rain, and her shoes were thin, and she had no umbrella, and her expensive mink hat was in danger of being rained, her feet dragged still more when she finally came in sight of the house.

  Cars were squelching past her, carrying parcel-laden women home from an orgy of shopping and spending, and other cars looked as if they were just setting out for an evening’s entertainment, their occupants dripping with diamonds and furs, wearing white bow ties and obviously thinking of early dinners and shows that began early. Their lights made a dazzling path across the wet road, and on the other side of the river there were lights also, strings of lights like pearl necklaces and the contents of a jeweller’s window. But from the river itself there was a November chill, a biting chill, and the water looked black and uninviting as it slipped beneath its bridges.

  Rose felt bewildered by all the passing; traffic, and by the pedestrians who jostled her. She was telling herself that she must slip into Carmella’s house without being seen - fortunately, she had her own key to the front door - and at all costs she must avoid running into Carmella, and most certainly Guy.

  If she was to retain the strength to carry out her resolution, which was to collect a suitcase with a few of her own things and then leave the house for good, the very last person she must collide with was Guy. Not merely would he insist on talking to her, but one touch from his hand, one look from his dark blue eyes – especially if it was the faintly pleading, tender look with which she was so familiar - would cause her to grow weak at the very heart of her, and once that happened the weakness would spread.

  And for her own sake, if she was to be strong-minded about this sudden decision of hers, and if the carrying out of it was to be at all bearable, she couldn’t risk running into Guy. She would have to remember him as she had seen him last night ... looking down broodingly on to Carmella’s lovely dark head, and allowing her to clasp him tightly round the neck!

  With that picture kept firmly at the back of her mind she could go through with what she had to go through.

  So when she realized that it was Guy’s car that was drawn up close to Carmella’s front door, and that Guy himself was sitting at the wheel, while Carmella bent down and talked to him through the open window, a most unreasoning panic came upon her, and she turned and fled blindly in the opposite direction.

  The stream of traffic was worse than ever now, and those blinding lights shining and seeking their reflection in the wet road confused Rose to such an extent that she put a hand up over her eyes as if to shield them from the glare. The bright lights bathed her, and her slim figure showed up plainly as she dived recklessly in and out of the traffic, her intention being to escape from it somehow ... and to escape from that silver-grey Bentley.

  There was a scream of brakes, a brilliant bumper caught her and sent her flying across the road, and another car pulled up just in time to avoid running right over her. But she had lost a shoe and her balance at the same time, and over she went in the wet road, her mink hat flying from her fair head and rolling into the gutter, her face pressed to the mire.

  There wer
e some horrified exclamations on all sides of her, the stream of traffic rolled to a complete standstill, and car doors banged.

  The man who had been driving the car that had practically run her down knelt beside and attempted to lift her, but a hand grasped the back of his collar and almost flung him aside. Guy, his face devoid of anything in the nature of colour, his eyes black with a sort of nightmare, knelt down and cradled her in his arms. Her face was so coated with mud that he could scarcely see it at first, but when his fine white handkerchief had carefully wiped away the mud her brown eyes looked up at him dully out of a small, pale blur of a face. Her lips moved.

  “I’m-all right!”

  “Oh, Rose!” His voice was a cry of agony. “Oh, Rose, Rose!”

  Then he lifted her in his arms and started to weave his way through the crowd to his car.

  CHAPTER XVI

  Rose was still feeling bemused by the suddenness of this thing that had happened to her, but as the car started to move away from the kerb, and she realized that Carmella was running frantically alongside to attract Guy’s attention, she inquired quietly:

  “Where are we going?”

  “To the hospital. I don’t think you’re seriously hurt, but you must have a check-up. It’s important that a doctor should see you.”

  “But I don’t think I’m hurt at all. The car didn’t touch me, you know.”

  He drew a long breath of relief as he glanced sideways at her. Carmella had given up and was left far behind, and they were islanded in the car together, the bright lights of Paris all around them. But the only thing that was of any importance to Rose was the fact that the man she loved looked as if he had recently gazed into the jaws of death himself, and his colour was slow in returning. His eyes still had that agonized look.