White Rose of Winter

by Anne Mather

  Emma had asked her mother to accompany them, but Julie had declined. She had guessed that Lucy wanted to be alone with the child, and she was her grandmother after all.

  Robert was out, too. He had gone out that morning before Julie was even up, and had rung Halbird during the morning to say he would not be in to lunch. So Julie had the apartment to herself, apart from the manservant, of course.

  She was sitting in the lounge enjoying the momentary sense of freedom when the door bell pealed. Getting automatically to her feet, she was forestalled by the arrival of Halbird.

  ‘I’ll attend to it, Mrs. Pemberton,’ he assured her with his usual courtesy, and Julie subsided on to the couch again.

  Halbird went through the lobby and opened the outer door. She heard the muffled sound of voices, Halbird’s raised in obvious surprise, and then the sound of the door closing. Glancing round, she saw him entering the lounge with an armful of boxes and parcels.

  ‘Good heavens!’ she exclaimed, with a smile. ‘What’s going on?’

  Halbird hesitated, still holding the packages. ‘They’re for you, Mrs. Pemberton,’ he said. ‘Where shall I put them? In your room?’

  ‘For me?’ echoed Julie disbelievingly. ‘But – but I haven’t ordered anything.’

  ‘Well, that’s what the delivery boy said,’ said Halbird firmly.

  ‘Are you sure they’re not for – for Mr. Robert’s mother?’

  ‘No, madam. Mrs. Julie Pemberton, the boy said.’

  Julie got to her feet. ‘Well, you’d better put them down here, Halbird. Don’t just stand there. I’ll see what’s inside, shall I?’

  ‘If you wish, madam. Or would you like me to do it for you?’ Halbird smiled and Julie warmed to his approval.

  He dropped the parcels on to the couch where she had been sitting, and as he did so Julie noticed the name on the top of one of the boxes. She stiffened. It was the name of one of the most famous couturiers in London, and suddenly she knew what the parcels were.

  ‘Thank you, I can manage,’ she said, in a suddenly taut voice. Then realizing that Halbird was looking at her curiously, she added: ‘I – well, these things are – are not for me.’

  ‘But the delivery boy—’

  ‘Yes, I know what he said. And he thought they were. But they’re not.’ She bit her lip. ‘Just leave it, Halbird. I – I’ll deal with it.’

  ‘Yes, madam.’

  Halbird went back to the kitchen with obvious reluctance and Julie heaved a sigh, standing staring at the heap of packages with impatient eyes. Who was responsible for this? Robert? Or the unknown Pamela? Whoever it was, they could have them back again. She wanted nothing from the Pembertons!

  Even so, sitting in the lounge, constantly in the company of so many intriguing parcels, was disturbing. Her natural curiosity urged her to look inside the boxes, to see what they had chosen for her without her knowledge.

  But she determined not to give in to herself. Turning her back on them, she seated herself in an armchair and picked up the newspaper she had been reading when the doorbell rang. But suddenly there was a slithering sound and one of the parcels which had been thrown so carelessly on to the couch dislodged itself from the pile and fell noisily on to the carpet. The unexpected disturbance startled her, and she looked round angrily.

  The box was lying, half open, its contents spilling on to the apricot carpet. She didn’t know what it was, but the colour of the material was exciting. It seemed to be several shades of purple, blue and green, blending together in cloth that was threaded with silver.

  Making an impatient exclamation, she got up and went across to it, getting down on to her haunches and gathering the box and its contents together. The material was soft and clinging against her bare forearms and on impulse she dropped the box on to the couch and shook out the garment.

  It was a caftan, long and straight, with wide sleeves and an upstanding collar before a dipping neckline. Holding it against herself, she realized it was probably her size, and the realization irritated her.

  With careless fingers, she folded it back into its box and jammed on the lid. Then she pressed her lips together broodingly and looked at the other boxes.

  But even as she was contemplating breaking her word to herself and opening them the outer door of the apartment opened and a moment later Robert Pemberton entered the room. He was wearing a dark thigh-length overcoat with a collar of dark fur, and as he unfastened this as he entered the room she saw the cream suede suit beneath.

  He looked surprised to find her alone and glanced round questioningly, ignoring the parcels on the couch with annoying deliberation. ‘Where is everyone?’

  Julie took a deep breath. ‘They’re at the park.’

  ‘I see.’ Robert removed his coat and Halbird appeared to take it.

  ‘Afternoon tea, sir?’ he suggested.

  Robert looked at Julie, but she shook her head and he shook his too. ‘No, thanks, Halbird,’ he replied. ‘Later, perhaps. When Mrs. Pemberton returns.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’ Halbird withdrew and Julie moved away from the couch to the centre of the room, waiting for the moment when he would chose to mention his gesture.

  However, Robert seemed determined not to mention them, flinging himself into an armchair and lighting a cigar with irritating indifference. Finally Julie could bear it no longer.

  ‘Well?’ she said. ‘Why did you do it?’

  Robert chose to be obtuse. ‘Do what, Julie?’

  Julie sighed. ‘Buy these things!’

  Robert’s gaze flickered over the parcels. ‘Did I do that?’

  ‘Well, didn’t you?’ Julie was angry.

  ‘What if I did?’

  ‘Oh, stop it!’ Julie clenched her fists. ‘I told you – I didn’t want anything from you.’

  Robert raised his dark eyebrows. ‘Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I’m not responsible.’

  Julie frowned. ‘You’re not? Then who—? Not your mother!’

  Robert shrugged. ‘Why not?’

  Julie sought about for a reason. ‘She – she wouldn’t.’

  ‘Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you yet again, but it was she.’ Robert surveyed her appearance critically. ‘I gather she thought your wardrobe was – well – inadequate.’

  ‘Like hell she did!’ Julie tugged fiercely at her hair. ‘How dare she try to direct what I’m going to wear?’ She grimaced. ‘Oh, of course. Why didn’t I think of it before? It’s your dinner party this evening, isn’t it? Is she afraid I might disgrace her? The poor relative!’

  Robert’s face hardened. ‘Calm yourself, Julie! Stop acting like a spoilt child! If my mother chooses to buy you some clothes, the least you could be is grateful!’

  ‘Why? Why should I be grateful? I didn’t ask for anything.’

  Robert rose to his feet, his expression contemptuous. ‘You sicken me, do you know that?’ he demanded coldly.

  ‘Not half as much as you sicken me!’ retaliated Julie childishly, but he ignored her outburst.

  ‘You’re determined to make things difficult, aren’t you?’ Robert stood looking down at her, his eyes mirroring his distaste.

  Julie endeavoured to remain unmoved outwardly at least, but it was terribly difficult in the face of such hostility. ‘If – if my clothes are not good enough for your – your friends, then I shall remain in my room this evening.’

  Robert shook his head. ‘You will do as I say.’

  ‘Why should I?’ Julie took a couple of steps back, half afraid of the anger she had aroused in him. ‘You – your mother must have known how I would feel. That’s probably why she did it.’

  Robert raked his fingers through the thickness of his hair, resting his hand at the back of his neck almost wearily. ‘Don’t talk rubbish!’ he exclaimed shortly. ‘You know perfectly well that practically everything you wore out in Malaya will be unsuitable for this climate in winter.’ He looked down at the pile of boxes. ‘Haven’t you looked at any of these?’

&nb
sp; ‘No. I didn’t even open the lids,’ replied Julie defensively.

  Robert hesitated a moment and then unbuttoning his jacket he bent and lifted the lid of the nearest box. Inside was a trouser suit of olive green tweed. He shook it out and regarded it critically. ‘This should suit you very well,’ he remarked, his voice controlled again.

  Julie bent her head. ‘You don’t care how much you humiliate me, do you?’ she asked, in a small voice.

  At this, Robert straightened, dropping the trouser suit carelessly on to the couch. ‘Why should I?’ he asked harshly. ‘You didn’t mind humiliating me.’

  Julie stared at him then, her green eyes wide, a pulse throbbing in her forehead. ‘I – humiliated – you,’ she echoed. ‘How?’

  Robert turned away, reaching for a cigar from the box on the low table nearby. Putting it between his teeth, he searched his pockets for his lighter. Then flicking it, he said: ‘How did you think I’d feel when I came back and found you’d married Michael?’

  Julie put a defensive hand to her throat. ‘I’d rather not discuss it,’ she said unevenly.

  Robert’s lips twisted. ‘I’ll bet you wouldn’t. What can you say, after all? It’s irrefutable!’ A cruel smile tugged at the comers of his mouth. ‘Oh, but you were good for me, Julie. Really good. You made me realize exactly what a bloody fool I’d been—’

  ‘You don’t understand!’ Julie couldn’t prevent the interjection.

  ‘Oh, I understand perfectly, Julie. Half the attraction was the money, after all, wasn’t it? I’d slipped out of your net, and one bank balance was as good as another!’

  Julie drew back her hand and her fingers stung across the lean muscles of his cheek, successfully silencing any further comment on his part. She didn’t know what she expected then; some form of retaliation, she supposed. But Robert did nothing except hold her wavering gaze for a long penetrating moment, while the red marks of her fingers became visible on his face, and then he turned and walked abruptly out of the room.

  Julie stared at the closed door with tear-glazed eyes. Oh, God, she thought nauseously, what have I done now?

  She turned to the pile of boxes on the couch and had the absurdly childish notion to tear them and their contents to shreds. But that would prove nothing, except that she was indeed the adolescent he accused her of being.

  Taking a deep breath, she gathered them together and making two journeys, she carried them all into her bedroom. Once there, she tumbled the contents on to the bed and found hangers to put them away in the wardrobes that lined one wall of the room. She didn’t quite know what her motives were, but one thing was certain, these clothes would enable her to meet Lucy Pemberton on her own terms …

  CHAPTER FIVE

  THAT evening Julie took a long time preparing for dinner. Whatever else Pamela Hillingdon and her parents might say about her, it would not be that she had not taken care with her appearance.

  Among the clothes which Lucy had had sent round for her inspection was a gown of turquoise velvet, soft and expensive, the hem edged with a pale fur which she suspected might be mink. The sleeves were long and full, the neckline low and round. It was a beautiful dress and it gave Julie’s slender figure an added allure. Julie wondered, rather dryly, whether Lucy’s efforts to make her daughter-in-law acceptable to her friends might not have repercussions of a different nature.

  She had put up her hair this evening, leaving only tantalizing tendrils of silver silk to caress her cheeks and the nape of her neck. She knew she had never worn anything more becoming and the knowledge of her own attractiveness gave her confidence at a time when she most needed it.

  As she walked along the hall later she heard the sound of voices from the lounge, and realized that Robert’s guests had already arrived. She could hear Emma’s voice, too. Lucy had suggested she be allowed to stay up to meet Robert’s fiancée and Julie had had, perforce, to agree. But she had insisted that Emma put on her pyjamas and dressing gown and be ready for bed as soon as the introductions were over.

  It took a great deal of courage to open the lounge doors and step into the room, and as she did so the talk in the room subsided and all eyes turned in her direction.

  Lucy was the first to speak. Approaching her daughter-in-law, with a fixed smile on her face, she said: ‘Oh, there you are, Julie! We’ve been waiting for you. Come and be introduced to everyone.’

  Julie suffered Lucy to take her arm and draw her forward, her eyes going straight to the tall young woman standing beside Robert. Pamela Hillingdon was not at all as Julie had imagined, although there was no denying her attractiveness. Chestnut-haired, a full, almost voluptuous figure, her gown of cyclamen jersey moulding her body, she carried herself with supreme self-confidence, and Julie felt a little of her own confidence melting away beneath that patronizing gaze.

  Her eyes flickered to Robert, dark and masculine in his dinner clothes, and she felt a tightening of her stomach muscles that made her feel slightly sick. His grey eyes were hidden beneath the thickness of his lashes, and his face was expressionless.

  ‘Francis – Louise – this is my daughter-in-law, Julie. Julie, this is Pamela’s father and mother. And Pamela, too. Darling, this is Julie!’

  Julie shook hands automatically. Pamela’s parents were younger than she had imagined they would be, probably just in their late forties, and Francis Hillingdon was regarding her with unconcealed admiration in his blue eyes. He was rather an attractive man, thought Julie detachedly. Not as tall as Robert, but sturdily built, with greying dark hair, and long sideburns.

  Louise was like her daughter, tall and muscular, on eye level terms with her husband. They made Julie feel quite insignificant.

  After the introductions were over, Francis said: ‘We’ve just been introduced to your daughter, Julie. A charming young lady.’ He grinned and Julie warmed to him.

  Emma giggled. ‘Mr. Hillingdon thought my pyjamas and dressing gown were a new style of evening dress.’

  Julie smiled then. ‘Did he? I hope you explained that young ladies have to get their beauty sleep.’

  Emma wrinkled her nose. ‘Do I have to go to bed?’

  ‘You do indeed.’ Julie was firm.

  ‘What will you drink, Julie?’ That was Robert, his voice cool and detached.

  ‘Gin and tonic, please.’ Julie refused to acknowledge Lucy’s abrupt tightening of her lips.

  ‘How are you settling down to life in England?’ Pamela seemed to think it necessary to say something now that Robert had deserted her to get Julie’s drink.

  ‘I expect you find it rather cold, don’t you?’ Louise Hillingdon frowned. ‘You were in Malaya, weren’t you?’

  ‘That’s right.’ Julie nodded. ‘Oh – thank you.’ She took her glass from Robert as he proffered it. ‘Yes, it is quite cold. But the apartment is centrally heated, so I haven’t noticed it much.’

  ‘How do you like your house?’ Francis offered her a cigarette which she accepted. ‘It used to belong to some friends of ours.’

  Julie bent to his lighter, steadying it with her hand, her lashes lifting so that she could thank him with her eyes. ‘Yes, so I understand. And it seems very nice. Er – Robert took me to see it yesterday.’

  Pamela glanced at her fiancé, stepping back a little so that he was included in their circle again. ‘When will Julie be able to move in, darling?’

  Robert put a cigar between his teeth. ‘In a little over a week, I believe, Pamela. The decorators are almost finished.’

  ‘Do you like the decorations?’ Pamela was looking at Julie again.

  Julie decided to be polite. ‘Very much. You had some hand in them, I hear.’

  Pamela smiled. ‘Yes. It was quite fun. Sort of practice for Rob and me when we find our own home.’

  Julie didn’t like the abbreviation of Robert’s name, but it was nothing to do with her, and in any case Lucy chose that moment to say:

  ‘Aren’t we silly, standing here? We could all be sitting comfortably.’
>
  Robert turned. ‘Will you come and sit down, Louise?’ he inquired of his mother-in-law-to-be.

  Louise sipped the remainder of her sherry and then putting down her glass she drew the skirts of her black gown about her and accepted the chair he offered. Francis stood back, indicating that Julie should precede him and as Pamela was already subsiding on to the couch, Julie took an armchair. To her surprise, Francis took the chair beside her leaving Lucy to sit with Louise.

  Emma perched on the arm of Julie’s chair, and conversation became general. But after a few minutes, Julie realized her daughter was drooping, her lids dropping over her eyes with tiredness. Standing up again, she said: ‘Come along, darling. I’ll put you to bed.’

  Both Robert and Francis had risen too and with an apologetic smile Julie told Emma to say goodnight to her grandmother and the others and hurry along to her room.

  By the time Julie returned to the lounge, dinner was ready, and they all went through to the dining room. Robert and Lucy sat at either end of the table with Pamela and her father on one side, and Julie and Louise Hillingdon on the other.

  As usual the meal was delicious. The main course was roast duckling, one of Julie’s favourites, but as she wasn’t relaxed she couldn’t enjoy it. However, Francis Hillingdon put himself out to be as entertaining as possible and she found herself laughing quite helplessly at him at times as he described a trip he had made recently to central Africa. His descriptions of his experiences at the airport in Nairobi brought a smile even to Robert’s brooding countenance and by the time they adjourned to the lounge for coffee Julie had decided she liked him enormously. He was so friendly, so uncomplicated; and while neither Pamela nor her mother had been at all hostile, there was nevertheless a certain reserve about their reception of her which made Julie wonder exactly what they had been told.

  In the lounge, Robert put several long-playing records on the hi-fi equipment, and presently the room was filled with the fourth dimensional quality of Burt Bacharach’s music. Drinks were offered and Julie accepted another gin and tonic. The wine they had drunk with the meal had made her comfortably mellow, and she no longer felt the automatic tightening of her stomach muscles every time she looked at Robert.