by Anne Hampson
‘You work for Andrew?’ Christine gasped, changing colour. ‘But—but you never told me.’
‘I started to,’ Muriel stammered, conscious of her own swiftly rising colour. ‘But we—we went on to talk of something else. I had no idea then that Mr. Burke was—I mean, I had no idea you knew him.’
Christine was clearly put out, and in spite of her own discomfiture Muriel could not suppress a smile.
‘You should have told me,’ Christine almost snapped.
‘Does it matter?’ Andrew’s tone was mocking, his eyes glinting with unveiled contempt as he looked down at her for a long uncomfortable moment. Then his eyes flickered to Aunt Edith. Christine introduced them, her cheeks burning even more hotly as she wondered what Andrew must think of her aunt. The old pinchfist could have bought a new dress for the occasion! Not that Muriel looked much better, she thought, wishing fervently she had not been so eager to show Andrew off to her.
What a disastrous thing that she should be working in the factory; some time during the evening they might get into conversation ... It was up to her to see that they didn’t. A little while longer and then it would not matter; she would have Andrew where she wanted him. A sudden frown darkened her brow. What was wrong with him? The others had always risen at the first dangling of the bait. Could it be that she was losing her skill? Or perhaps Andrew, being so different from the rest, needed different handling. She had not had much time, she recollected; he would rise before long.
As she watched him her frown deepened. How very odd that he had shown so little surprise on discovering that Muriel was her cousin ... And they had met, he said. It seemed rather an odd word to use. Did Andrew meet an employee just because he made some casual remark to her? Christine turned sharply to glance at Muriel; her head was downcast, she fidgeted nervously with the folds of her dress. Christine’s lips snapped together. Here was some mystery; she would have a quiet word with her cousin later...
The opportunity Andrew had been waiting for came soon after dinner; he found Aunt Edith alone at a small table, watching the dancers. Looking up as he approached, she pointed to a chair.
‘Do sit down, Mr. Burke, I’ve been waiting for you.’
His eyebrows lifted in surprise.
‘You knew I wanted to speak to you?’
‘You came here for that purpose only,’ she said, casting him a perceptive glance. ‘Otherwise, why did you change your mind? You weren’t coming; Christine said so.’ She paused as he sat down, then continued in her usual blunt manner. ‘Muriel has told me all that has happened, and it was not difficult to see how you feel about her—No denials, please; it will waste such a lot of time.’
‘Did Muriel—?’
‘No; she has no idea at all that you’re in love with her; stupid creature! Must be blind! Now, Mr. Burke, what do you want to know first?’ she added briskly, and for a moment his face was dark. Then a responding grin broke.
‘Did you come here especially to speak to me?’
‘I did,’ she admitted frankly. ‘With two such idiots as you and my niece something had to be done. You can be as outspoken as you like, young man; I mean to be.’
Andrew’s eyes wandered round the ballroom until they came to rest on the demure little figure talking to one of Christine’s devotees.
‘I hardly expected to see Muriel here tonight,’ he said musingly.
‘Why shouldn’t she be here?’
Turning slowly, Andrew directed a level stare at her. ‘Mrs. Butterworth, in view of the interesting conclusions you’ve reached, is an answer necessary?’
She chuckled; her husband would have been delighted with the fellow!
‘She came to prevent me making a scene.’
‘A scene?’ he frowned.
‘I called at her home on my way here and told her mother I intended denouncing you openly, letting her relatives know what a scoundrel you are. I knew she’d come scuttling here to stop me.’
‘But you had no intention of making a scene!’
‘Certainly not,’ Aunt Edith responded calmly. ‘But it was the only way to get her here. I didn’t see how I could make much headway until you’d seen the real Muriel Paterson—Oh, I know you’ve seen her at work, but that’s not the same.’
‘And this, I presume,’ he said, waving an impatient hand, ‘is the real Muriel Paterson?’
‘It is ... you don’t sound as pleased as you should.’
‘Pleased. Do you think I go round amusing myself with girls like that?’
‘Conscience-stricken, eh? And so you should be, young man; you’ve caused my niece a great deal of unhappiness.’
Andrew looked her squarely in the face.
‘Shall we come to the point at once, Mrs. Butterworth? You’ve been speaking to Muriel and have discovered my feelings for her. Because of the discovery, you came here to see me and put things right between us ... correct?’ She nodded and he went on, ‘You’ve told me to be outspoken, and I’m going to be just that. Muriel’s behaviour on that cruise was disgraceful; she obviously changed her whole personality—Why?’
Aunt Edith hesitated for a brief moment as her gaze rested on Andrew’s firm, unrelenting mouth. Just how deep was his love for her niece? she wondered.
Deep enough, she concluded, noticing his expression as his eyes found Muriel again.
‘On that cruise, Mr. Burke, Muriel was exactly what you took her for—a brazen little baggage in search of a rich husband.’
Andrew’s head jerked round, his face going grey. ‘What—what did you s-say?’
‘Did you think you were mistaken? But of course you did. However, you were not wrong in your judgment. When I invited Muriel to accompany me on the cruise she thought it a wonderful opportunity of meeting some rich mug who would fall for her looks—’
‘Do you know what you’re saying?’ Andrew interrupted harshly. ‘I thought you wished to put things right between us!’
‘There was, of course, a reason for her wishing to marry for money,’ Aunt Edith continued imperturbably. ‘She had the stupidest notion that she could make all her family happy—’ Before he could interrupt she went on to tell him everything. His interest was soon held and gradually the grey lines disappeared from his face. ‘I’m not making excuses for Muriel,’ she added. ‘I’m just trying to convince you that she was silly rather than wicked.’ Andrew did not speak and she gave him one of her direct looks. She hadn’t had her face for nearly seventy years without learning that it inspired confidence. ‘I have told you nothing but the truth, Mr. Burke—indeed, there was nothing else I could do.’ For a long while after she had stopped speaking Andrew remained silent; he was watching Christine, an unreadable expression on his face.
‘From what you’ve said, I gather that Christine put the idea into Muriel’s head in the first place?’
‘Oh, we must not blame Christine,’ Aunt Edith returned in an expressionless voice. ‘Muriel is old enough to think for herself, to know what she’s doing. She was very naughty and deserved a good shaking—’
‘Shaking?’ Andrew cut in wrathfully. ‘If she’d been a sister of mine she’d have received the hiding of her life!’
Aunt Edith grimaced. Well, Muriel wanted him, and if she later discovered she had taken on more than she could manage she would just have to abide by it. For herself, Aunt Edith preferred the docile, even-tempered type of man. Hers had been the quiet road of contentment—no being transported to ecstatic heights, but no painful bumps back to earth again. No twists and turns, no ups and downs; she had always been able to see exactly where she was going. It would never be like that with Muriel.
‘I wouldn’t marry you for all the tea in China,’ she told Andrew bluntly.
‘No?’
‘You’ll develop into a domestic tyrant when you’ve been married a year or two—when the novelty’s worn off.’
‘But the novelty won’t wear off.’ His flash of ill-humour had fizzled out and in its place was a feeling of eager anticipation.
‘Bunk! It always wears off—’ She spread her hands and grinned at him. ‘It’s useless for me to tell you that, isn’t it? Young people never look into the future. There will come a time,’ she went on twinklingly, ‘when that glorious hair of Muriel’s will be grey—and when you, young man, will have none at all. There’ll come a time when the curves become bumps, and the wrinkles spread—’
‘Mrs. Butterworth!’ Andrew laughingly stopped her. ‘Just when I’d decided you were highly romantic!’
‘A mistake, Mr. Burke. There is not much romance in me.’ But the pale eyes still twinkled under their sparse white lashes.
‘You must have some romance in you,’ he returned, rather gently. ‘Otherwise...’ He merely gestured towards the far end of the ballroom.
‘Well, she could never have been happy without you; and when I was absolutely sure how you felt about—’
‘Did I give myself away on the ship?’ he wanted to know.
The old lady shook her head.
‘I drew my conclusions entirely from what Muriel told me. She must be an idiot not to see it for herself.’ She paused. ‘You weren’t really very clever, were you, to fall in love with a woman like that?’
‘With the girl underneath it all,’ he murmured gravely, and then, with a laugh, ‘You know, Mrs. Butterworth, I have a feeling I’m going to like having you for an aunt-in-law. We shall get on famously.’
‘I sincerely hope so,’ she responded with a smile. ‘Er—how much longer do you expect to be calling me Mrs. Butterworth?’
‘Not a day longer than I can help.’
‘Well, I detest celebrations as a rule, but I hope you’ll send me an invitation to the wedding.’ Aunt Edith paused and then added, ‘I should love to see Christine there as chief bridesmaid, but I have a feeling I shall be disappointed.’
‘You will,’ replied Andrew between his teeth. ‘Whatever is Muriel’s wish, I intend to have a say in that!’
‘Christine wouldn’t accept an invitation, in any case.’
Andrew was not interested in Christine, so he made no comment. Instead, he looked across at Aunt Edith and said gravely,
‘Thank you, Mrs. Butterworth, for coming here tonight.’
‘There’s no need to thank me,’ she said. ‘I only hope I’ve done the right thing and that you’ll both be happy.’
‘You need have no doubts of that,’ Andrew returned, his smile fading swiftly as Christine came up to the table.
‘She’s been watching us for some time,’ Aunt Edith informed him, sotto voce.
‘I know.’
‘May I sit down?’ Without waiting for an answer, Christine pulled out a chair and seated herself beside Andrew. ‘You two seem to have a lot to say to one another?’ She glanced at them in turn, her eyes narrowed and questioning.
‘This is Christine’s subtle way of asking us what we were talking about, Mr. Burke,’ Aunt Edith said, deriving immense satisfaction from the flush that rose to her niece’s cheeks.
‘It’s no such thing! I haven’t the slightest interest in what you were saying!’ Christine glared at her aunt. Ill-mannered old bitch, she thought, wondering why she had come. Neither Christine nor her parents had expected her to do so, seeing that the ‘free’ meal she would get would not cover the cost of her train fare. Aunt Edith invariably considered things like that. She turned to Andrew. ‘I came to ask if you wanted a drink?’
‘No, thank you, Christine. How about you, Mrs. Butterworth?’
‘I am a bit thirsty; perhaps Christine will get me a glass of lemonade?’
‘I’ll get it. Do you want something, Christine?’
‘No, thanks.’ Christine’s dark eyes followed him almost scowlingly. What was the matter with him? she asked herself again. He was about as responsive as an iceberg! She had tried so hard, but mere dogged persistence was useless against such cool impassivity. With other men she knew where she stood, but Andrew had her completely baffled. He couldn’t be as indifferent as he appeared; no man had ever been indifferent to her charms.
Tonight he was even more remote, Christine reluctantly admitted. Previously he had been the perfect companion, polite and charming, and equally attractive whether his mood were grave or gay. She had begun to hope, but now—
She became aware that her aunt was staring at her, and deliberately turned to watch the dancers. How odd that Andrew should sit here with her for so long. What could they have found to talk about? ... Christine’s whole body stiffened as her nerves went tight. ‘This is Christine’s subtle way of asking us what we were talking about... ’ Hardly what even Aunt Edith would have said to a stranger ... And he was no stranger to Muriel, either. The three had met somewhere ... and there was only one place—
Andrew was handing Aunt Edith her glass of lemonade; vaguely, Christine was telling herself that there was no need for this jealousy that was surging over her. Andrew did not want Muriel, he had proved it. He had amused himself with her and then, at the end of the voyage, had thrown her off as he would an old coat for which he had no further use. She had been someone with whom to pass the time; she did not count.
The reason for all this secrecy was apparent; Muriel had requested it. Christine’s thoughts sped on; she soon realized that in asking Andrew to keep quiet about her knowing him, Muriel must have disclosed at least part of the conversation outside the Midland Hotel. The conversation during which she, Christine, had hinted at an engagement between Andrew and herself!
No wonder Andrew had looked at her with such undisguised contempt earlier in the evening!
Becoming hotter and hotter, Christine rose unsteadily to her feet. The desire to vent her rage on Muriel was uncontrollable; she murmured a polite excuse and left the table.
CHAPTER TEN
‘Why have you brought me up here, Christine?’ Muriel stood by the bed studying her cousin’s face through the mirror. Christine was by the dressing-table, touching up her lips, and to Muriel there was something sinister in her every movement.
‘I told you, I want a nice little chat with you.’ She continued to apply the lip pencil. ‘Sit down.’
Muriel sat down on the bed, her heart beginning to pound madly against her ribs. And then Christine turned; her nostrils were pinched, her lips drawn back into an ugly line over her teeth.
‘How long have you known Andrew?’ she asked softly.
‘Known?’ Muriel strove to regain her composure. Andrew had not displayed a sufficient measure of surprise on discovering her to be Christine’s cousin, Muriel had known it at the time, but there was no need for panic, she told herself, raising her clear eyes to meet Christine’s. ‘I don’t know him, not really. He came to my department, just as he said, and—’
‘You met once, briefly, before you saw him here tonight?’
Muriel was dumb. Christine played a cat and mouse game with her.
‘Yes, Muriel, I know where you met. Did you tell him all I said the other Saturday afternoon?’
‘I had to tell him some of it, Christine—I had to when I asked him to keep silent about our having met on the cruise. You must know how I felt when I saw who it was you were meeting. I’m sorry about deceiving you, but if you hadn’t taken so much for granted, anticipated something that will never take place—’
‘How do you know it will never take place?’ Christine cut in savagely.
‘Because Andrew doesn’t love you.’ Muriel was more than a little astonished at the calmness of her voice.
‘He told you so?’
‘He said you were merely acquaintances—Oh, Christine, why did you talk of bridesmaids? It was all so stupid!’
Christine moved nearer to the bed.
‘If you’re not very careful, Muriel,’ she threatened, ‘I’ll slap your face.’
‘I think I’d better go.’ Muriel rose and made a movement towards the door. Snatching at her arm, Christine swung her round again, pressing her fingers into Muriel’s flesh.
‘Christine! You’re hurting
me!’
Released, Muriel stared at the little bruise appearing on her wrist, then looked at Christine in the manner of one dazed by an unpleasant dream.
‘Dil said I would see you in your true colours,’ she murmured, almost inaudibly, ‘if I had something you wanted...’
‘And what makes you think you have something I want?’ Christine’s voice was suddenly shrill and metallic. ‘Are you trying to tell me that Andrew loves you?’
‘Don’t be silly, Christine. You know very well how he treated me.’
‘But he treated you in a most friendly way tonight; there didn’t appear to be any antagonism between you. Perhaps it was all dissolved by the laugh you had at my expense?’
‘Laugh?’
‘When you told Andrew what I said; that would appeal irresistibly to his particular sense of humour.’
‘We didn’t laugh at you, Christine,’ Muriel rejoined quietly. ‘But if Andrew found it amusing it’s entirely your own fault.’
For a long moment Christine regarded her cousin with undisguised hatred, for what she had said was true. She, Christine, had anticipated something that would never now take place ... but it might have done had Muriel held her tongue.
‘You’re a spiteful little cat, Muriel—’
‘I am not! How was I to know it was all lies? I believed every word you said; I thought you were going to marry Andrew, and I felt I couldn’t bear it if you knew he was the man I had fallen in love with. You would have felt the same, done the same, had our positions been reversed.’
‘And now you think our positions are reversed?—What a hope, Muriel! You’ve wrecked my chances with Andrew, but if I can’t have him, I’ll take good care you don’t, either!’
‘You don’t know what you’re talking about,’ Muriel said, her face as white as her dress. ‘Andrew didn’t fall in love with me on the cruise, so he’s hardly likely to find me attractive now.’
Christine was not sure, and she tried to find some shadow of reason for her fears regarding Andrew’s attitude towards Muriel. Without doubt he had wanted to spare her embarrassment ... had gone to the lengths of lying in order to do so. True, he hadn’t actually said they had not met on the cruise, but it was the same thing. Then there was the way in which he had regarded Muriel when shaking hands with her. Unquestionably there was a deeper meaning in his eyes than was revealed on the surface. Did he find her more attractive now than when he had first met her? Could it be that he was one of those men who preferred the quiet, unsophisticated type?
