by A. J. Cronin
“Sleeping partner this morning,” she rejoined brightly. “Headache!”
He considered her in some astonishment. “I heard her say the other day she never had a headache on board ship.”
“Perhaps she didn’t touch wood,” said Nancy with a little laugh. “Don’t gape, darling. Your beloved is perfectly fit and well.”
He smiled down at her. “ Then why didn’t you turn up for gym?”
She made a grimace. She was in a smart, provoking mood, very different from her serious application of the previous evening. Reaction explained it, and a sense of well-being induced by the freshness of the morning. She answered happily:
“Don’t bully me, darling. Not until we’re married. Now be quiet and give me a cigarette.”
“You won’t smoke mine?” He raised an eyebrow at her. “ I thought not! I shall have to get you some.”
They took the lift to the main hall, where he ordered her a large box of her favourite cigarettes. As he gazed at her he thought that he had never seen her look more lovely. Slim, boyish, and audacious, her camel’s-hair coat girded closely to her figure, she had a quality which made him catch his breath. Her soft curls were brushed to the back of her head. She was very busy putting on a great deal of lip rouge.
“You do love me, Nancy?” he said in a low voice.
She paused in what she was doing. Unexpectedly a deep wave of feeling came over her. All her flippancy fell from her. She caught her breath, realizing suddenly how much she cared for Chris, how much he meant to her. Gazing up at him seriously from under her lashes, she answered simply:
“With all my heart.”
There was a pause. His face lit up. Quickly he grasped her hand. For a second their fingers touched, then with a little embarrassed laugh she broke away, striving to recapture her poise.
“Remember we’re in mid-Atlantic,” she declared lightly, and slipped her arm through his.
They stood for a minute studying the noticeboard, then, as they turned towards the staircase, his eye was taken by the florist’s shop. A sudden notion struck him.
“By the bye! We ought to send some flowers to Katharine. It’ll cheer her up.”
“Grand idea,” she agreed. “ Send carnations. Katharine adores them. And look, darling, these lovely mauve orchids—aren’t they super? I’m rather gone on them myself.”
He gave her a quick glance, than laughed. Going into the shop, he ordered carnations to be sent to Katharine. The orchids Nancy carried off herself.
There was no sign of Katharine at lunch, and it was two o’clock before they came upon her in a sheltered section of the upper deck. She seemed snug in her long chair and wraps and perfectly tranquil, while the tray beside her indicated that she had eaten at least a sketchy meal.
“Hello, darling,” Nancy sang out. “ How’s the head?”
“Much better.” Katharine smiled up at them composedly from her rugs. She turned to Nancy. “I thought you were playing deck tennis.”
“Yes, we’re going along now. It’s a bore, the competition. But you know Chris’s feverish energy.”
With a certain hesitancy Madden interposed. “We felt kind of worried about you, Katharine. Are you sure you’re all right?”
“Perfectly. But I’ve been doing too much lately. I shall take it easy the rest of the trip.”
He persisted, as though not yet satisfied: “It seemed so queer not seeing you at table to-day. And in the gym this morning—well, I missed you a lot.”
“I’m sorry about that.”
He stared at her, as though the quiet neutrality of her manner left him uncomfortably at a loss. Nancy, humming softly, had strolled away in the direction of the tennis courts, but he remained as though unwilling to leave the spot.
“You got the carnations we sent?”
“Why, yes, Chris.” She paused. “But will you please not trouble to send me flowers again? Really, you mustn’t.”
He seemed even more perplexed. He still hesitated. Then he asked, as at a sudden idea: “Have I by any chance done anything to annoy you?”
Her glance travelled over his face, then away again. “Aren’t we becoming a little involved about nothing at all this afternoon?” she murmured pleasantly. “ Of course you’ve done nothing to annoy me. I’m just feeling as if I’d like to be alone for a bit.”
He flushed. For a second the hurt expression lingered in his eyes. Then his face turned normal once again. “ I’m sorry, Katharine,” he said in a quiet voice. “ I forgot about your headache. And I apologize for boring you.”
He turned and walked after Nancy.
Katharine lay back in her chair, her book idle upon her lap, apparently absorbed by the remote consideration of sea and sky. No one could have guessed the pain that she endured, the weight which lay upon her heart, crushing and insufferable. It was as though, wilfully and of set design, she had plunged a knife into her own breast. She felt cold. All that remained to her was a tiny candle flame of comfort, the still white thought that she had begun what she had resolved upon during the long hours of her sleepless night. At whatever cost, she would continue to maintain her own integrity. And she would die rather than cast a shadow upon Nancy’s happiness.
The next two days passed quickly, hastened by the ship’s rapid approach upon New York. The passage had been especially favourable, and they hoped to sight the Nantucket lightship by Friday morning. Coincident with this presage of the end of the voyage, a heightening of social activity occurred, to which, saved by her pronouncement that she must rest, Katharine maintained her attitude of friendly reserve. Certain parties she was obliged to attend, but on the whole she was successful in her attempt at self-effacement. Several times she caught Madden’s secret, puzzled gaze upon her, yet, until the evening of the gala dinner dance, she was spared the necessity of being with him alone.
The dance, that inevitable occasion of champagne, streamers, paper hats, and all the hectic effects of carnival, had loomed before Katharine as the greatest test of her strength, a trial she could not possibly escape. It began easily enough, for during dinner she talked chiefly to the Captain and to Lady Blandwell, maintaining a wholly fictitious absorption in the nautical platitudes of the one and the egotistical prattle of the other. But when the orchestra struck up, and coloured lights flooded the pillared room, and people began to dance, the strain upon her nerves was intensified. To sit and smile, preserving a serene untroubled face in the sight of all this gaiety, was as much as she could bear. She had the awful feeling that she might in some way betray herself. This made her lose a little of her self-possession and led her into a mistake.
The old Captain asked her to dance, and, unguardedly, thinking anything better than her present inactivity, she accepted. When he had ambled pleasantly round the floor with her, he restored her to her seat. At that moment she felt Madden’s eyes upon her. So far he had danced every dance with Nancy, but now he got up and asked her to dance the next with him.
For a second, which seemed longer than a year, Katharine kept her eyes upon the table, while a sickening pounding started in her pulses. “I’m not much good,” she excused herself at length.
“Oh, yes, you are,” he answered. “ I’ve just seen you.”
Nancy leaned across, a cigarette between her scarlet-tipped fingers. She wore a black frock, which gave her hair an even lighter sheen, and high-heeled silver shoes. She looked more finished than ever and amazingly young. She smiled complacently. “ Go on, Katharine. Bear with him for my sake.”
There was no escape. Katharine rose and took the floor with Madden. He placed his arm round her, and they moved off together. He held her lightly, and, though he was clearly no expert, his steps went evenly with the music’s rhythm.
“Why didn’t you want to dance with me?” he asked at length. His voice was natural and quiet.
Now that she was cut off from all retreat, and in his arms, that strange pounding beat like waves in her ears. She bit her lip, summoning all her courage to suppor
t her. She managed a pale smile. “I’m too old for this sort of thing.”
“What nonsense!” he declared with his quiet smile. “I should say you’d hardly begun.”
“Well, let’s put it that I’m thinking of other things. About landing to-morrow, and business, and my future plans.”
Nothing was said for a moment. The music kept up its slow, insistent beat. She felt his eyes upon her face.
“You don’t seem much interested in my plans,” he said at length.
“Of course I am.” In her tone she tried to convey just the right shade of perfunctoriness. “You’ll stop a bit in New York?”
“Yes, I’d figured on spending a few days with you and Nancy in town, showing you around a bit. Then I hoped you’d both run up to Vermont to meet my mother and some of our folks there in Graysville.”
Katharine’s face was troubled. “I don’t know that I’ll be able to come.”
“I visited your mother,” he reminded her with an odd, persuasive smile.
There was a pause between them. She felt her position keenly.
“Very well, then,” she said awkwardly. “I’ll try to come along.”
“That’s fine,” he said quickly. “I’d like you to see some of our Vermont countryside. How I loved it when I went there on a vacation when I was a kid! For that matter, how I love it now!” Again he paused, then, without any alteration in his tone, quietly went on: “ By the way, Katharine, what’s gone wrong between you and me? It was swell before, but now it’s not so good. You’ve shut me out. The others don’t feel it, but I do. Now, all I want to say is this: Katharine, you’re a grand person. I value your friendship terribly, not only because I’m marrying Nancy, but for my own sake. Can’t we get right with each other again?”
For all her courage a kind of panic took hold of Katharine. She had wanted to keep away from Madden at all costs, for Nancy’s sake. But now she felt suddenly that her change of manner had been obvious and unwise. Struggling between those two currents, she had a sense of blind confusion.
“You’re quite mistaken.” She spoke stumblingly. “ I daresay I’ve been rather irritable lately, but it’s because I’ve been off-colour. I haven’t meant to upset our friendship.”
“You mean you haven’t noticed anything yourself?”
She shook her head.
“I see,” he said, and paused. Then, with an almost puzzled smile: “Well, in that case there’s nothing more to be done.”
The music ceased, and they came back to their table. Someone had refilled Katharine’s glass. She drank quickly. The champagne, tingling through her nerves, restored her. When she looked up, Madden was dancing again with Nancy, and the doctor, coming forward, claimed his turn with her. She danced afterwards with Mr Pym, who never failed to single her out for this attention, and once more with the Captain. Then, as some of the tables were breaking up, she excused herself and went to her cabin.
She could not read, and sleep seemed equally impossible. She lay battling with the hurrying procession of her thoughts which pressed upon her relentlessly, causing her to toss fitfully from side to side. Towards morning, however, she fell into a deep sleep, and when the stewardess awoke her, they were in the harbour moving quietly, with a slow panorama of New York’s skyline drifting across the ports. The sight, with its tangible evidence of the journey’s end, of solid land and the prospect of escape, brought back some confidence to Katharine. She dressed quickly and went on deck.
Above everything she was resolved to show nothing, to yield nothing, to carry through her purpose to the end.
Katharine found Madden and Nancy on the upper deck, forward, studying the exquisite clear-cut outline of the city which seemed to rise and fill the heavens in fluted tiers like a modern Acropolis. Her own calmness reassured her, gave her new confidence.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” she remarked, including Madden in her greeting. “I’m glad you gave Nancy her first sight of it like this.”
“Yes, it looks a pretty good town,” Nancy said. Her small face wore a look of unusual concentration. “And it’s a thrill, hitting America for the first time.”
“Like Columbus,” Katharine suggested lightly.
“Exactly,” Nancy agreed. Her eyes narrowed slightly. “Only this time America is going to discover me.”
Here Mr Pym approached, suaver and more omnipotent than ever. Singling out Katharine, discreetly he murmured:
“The reporters are on board, Miss Lorimer. I thought you might care to give them a moment, as usual.”
Katharine understood the purser’s friendly hint, his desire to give her arrival with the Holbein a selling value. No one had better knowledge of the commerce of news than quiet Mr Pym. Turning, she watched the group of reporters advance upon her. They were mostly young men, sophisticated and business-like, with coat collars jerked up and hats jerked down.
“Morning, Miss Lorimer,” remarked the foremost, touching his brim.
Katharine recognized him as Kelly of a leading evening paper.
“Glad to see you again,” he said. “ How’s tricks? Hear you’ve got a swell story for us about that little piece of antique you’ve brought along.”
Katharine nodded, preparing to advertise her miniature attractively. But at the same moment she caught sight of Nancy’s face turned with a kind of eager sharpness towards the group. All at once a wave of feeling rushed over her, swept all thought of self behind her. On an impulse she said:
“I’ve brought something more interesting than an antique. That little picture isn’t so important. And in any case it can wait. But I’d like you to meet my niece, Nancy Sherwood. She’s come over to play in Bertram’s new production. If you want advance copy and photographs, now’s your chance to get them, for I warn you, Nancy’s going to be the hit of the show.”
Instantly nine pairs of eyes were switched from Katharine to Nancy, and nine hatbrims were twitched accordingly. There was a pause.
“Well, Miss Lorimer,” said Mr Kelly with conviction, “I’ve a hunch you’re talking. How about it, boys?”
While Katharine stood aside, cameras flashed, and questions were fired upon Nancy in volleys. She rose to the experience without a tremor, her smile brilliant, her attitude charmingly audacious.
“Thanks, Katharine,” she breathed, when it was over, “I only wanted a start like that.”
They were alongside now, and Madden turned from the rail where he had been contemplating the scene upon the dock below. For the first time that morning he addressed himself to Katharine
“Nancy has promised to have lunch with me at the Waldorf. Won’t you—won’t you come, too?”
Katharine managed a gesture of regret. “ Business,” she said with a faint, impersonal smile. “ That’s going to keep me moving now.”
“You won’t forget Vermont, though?”
“No,” she had to say, “I won’t forget.”
They left the desk together, and presently, when Katharine had taken leave of all her friends on board, she passed quickly through the customs. Here, by accident or design, she lost Madden and Nancy, so out on West Street she hailed a taxi and drove alone to her hotel.
Chapter Ten
As though it were the antidote to that dragging pain which now never seemed to leave her breast, Katharine embraced the prospect of immediate work. The moment she reached the Tower Carlton, where she always had her apartment, she rang Breuget, her American manager. Breuget, restrained from meeting her at the dock only by her express wish, had been awaiting her call and declared that he would come over immediately. She had barely time to glance round the little apartment, decorated in green and gold, which had so often harboured her; to envisage once again the fascinating view, thirty storeys below, of the great canyon of Fifth Avenue; to receive Mr Lenz, the hotel manager, who presented himself with fruit, flowers, and profound expressions of delight at her return, with the additional information that an extra bedroom had been thrown on to the suite for Miss Sherwood; before Breug
et burst in, his hands outstretched, his small beard quivering with a truly Gallic welcome.
Georges Breuget was a Parisian, specialist in early bijouterie and eighteenth-century watches, who had come to New York to make his fortune, failed grotesquely, and been rescued literally from starvation by Katharine.
When he had kissed her hand, discharged a great variety of compliments at her head, and at last taken a seat upon the settee, he pressed the knob of his famous stick against his lips, as though to silence his own presumptuous loquacity, and awaited her inquiries and commands.
“Well, Breuget,” she said, sitting back in her chair and inspecting him soberly, “ I’ve brought the miniature.”
“Good, Miss Lorimer.”
“I hope so! Tell me, now: have you put in that work on Brandt? Exactly as I wrote you?”
“It is all arranged.” Breuget rolled the r’s with naïve satisfaction. “Brandt is to be in New York in ten days. On Wednesday the seventh, at three o’clock, he is coming to our place to inspect the miniature. And to buy it, Miss Lorimer. You’ll see. Just like that. For certain.”
Katharine’s lips drew in. “ I hope you’re right, Breuget. Anyhow, you’ve done well. In the meantime we’ll have the miniature in the window, exclusive frame, red velvet setting, for the whole of New York to see. Let all the dealers see it, too—Ascher and the rest of them. They’ll talk a lot, and all that does good. I don’t want our friend Brandt to run away with the idea that it’s ready to drop into his hands at his price. It’s got to be our price. Do you understand, Breuget?”
“Why, yes, Miss Lorimer. Things are a little difficult at present.”
“Difficult! That lets us out too lightly. Look here, old friend, you may as well realize it. If we don’t sell this miniature for near enough one hundred thousand dollars, we can both start looking for two nice new jobs.”
Breuget made a composite gesture with his high shoulders, sympathetic, vaguely apologetic, yet on the whole optimistic. “ We’ll sell it, Miss Lorimer. Then we’ll go ahead again. I tell you business is beginning to look up. If only we can get past these next few weeks, we shall be in velvet.”
