“Talk about it? All I want is one word.’’
“I know. The—the truth is. Miles. I—had one disappointing affair just before I came here. I suppose it’s made me cautious. I don’t seem to be able to trust my own feelings—or even know what they are. Maybe it’s too soon on top of the other.”
He hugged her. “All right, darling girl. I understand. Take all the time you want. I’d rather that than rush you into saying no.”
She hardly knew what to say. His caring was touching her deeply. She knew that fundamentally, this was what she needed. To be cared for, to be loved, not merely “helped.” Her need went deeper than ordinary friendship. She almost said yes to Miles then and there, but she contented herself with putting her arms around his neck and kissing his cheek.
“Hey, that’s no use,” he said, and covered her lips with his. Then when he released her, “Tell you what, darling girl. Pop the ring into your purse, then when you’re sure, just put it on your finger. I’ll keep a sharp lookout for it, believe me!”
He dropped the little box into her purse.
They were just going out of the door when the telephone rang. Vanessa turned back.
“I’d better answer it. It might be for me, and I think Nancy’s upstairs.”
She lifted the receiver to find Freda at the other end. “I was wondering whether we could go to the Club together,” she said. “There’s no point in taking two cars if one will do, is there?”
“That’s—very kind of you, Freda, but Miles is coming as my guest. He has his car, so I shall be going with him.”
“Oh. Oh, I see,” Freda answered in a flat voice. “All right, Vanessa. See you there.”
Obviously having heard her side of the short conversation, Miles’s face held the smile of amusement he seemed always to reserve for the mention of Freda or Ian. Vanessa felt suddenly irritated.
“What’s funny, Miles?” she asked sharply.
He laughed. “Darling girl, it is funny. Don’t you see? He’s so accustomed to being top dog. He’s been trying to be the great friend and protector; the man to whom everyone—and especially yourself—turns to for help and advice; the man every woman worships and looks up to and so on ad nauseam. You have shown him that you want none of it—or of him. And the fact that another man is having some measure of success where he is failing must be burning him up. The more so as I happen to be the man. I would think he’s gnashing his teeth.”
But Vanessa still did not think it was funny, even though Miles’s description of Ian fitted in with her own opinion of him. She felt Ian was far too dignified to be “gnashing his teeth”, as Miles put it. He might have a strong sense of pride, but she felt sure Ian would never be guilty of petty jealousy.
Miles’s attitude to Ian, and Ian’s dislike of Miles niggled her all the way to the Foresters’ Club room. But Miles was in excellent spirits, not only during the short journey, but in the Club room, so much so that Vanessa found herself becoming increasingly irritated and discomfited. He was not the same person in the company of others. He was more brash, more possessive than she liked, and acting as though he had already proprietorial rights over her. He was constantly putting his arm around her shoulders, calling her “darling”, hardly leaving her side for a moment, until at last she managed to escape to speak to Freda.
“Hello. Vanessa.” Freda said quietly, giving her a long look. “Miles is creating a certain impression. Does he have grounds?”
Vanessa frowned. “No, not really. I—don’t know what’s come over him. He’s so different when we’re alone together.”
“The one you’re seeing now is the one we know—Ian and I. And I think the same goes for most people.”
“Perhaps you don’t know him sufficiently well,” Vanessa said. “People often behave differently in a crowd. Not everyone’s reactions are the same.” She glanced around the room. “Is—Ian coming tonight?”
“Later. I hope. Though in a way, it might be better if he stays away.”
“Why?” asked Vanessa. She simply could not believe that either Miles’s behavior or her own would have all that much influence on him.
But Freda was looking toward the door. “Here comes Ian now anyway.”
She waved, and he joined them immediately. As he strode across the room. distinguished-looking in his fine tweeds, Vanessa felt something inside her contract painfully. He nodded to them gravely and said in a quiet voice, “Good evening. Vanessa. Glad you made it. Did you come with Freda?”
Vanessa was about to answer. Why should she be afraid to say she had come with Miles? But Freda intervened swiftly.
“Excuse me, both of you. It’s my turn to help with coffee tonight. Ian, why don’t you and Vanessa go and sit over there—” she indicated a corner half hidden by a stack of spare chairs. “I’ll bring you both a cup of coffee.”
Ian looked inquiringly at Vanessa. She nodded, and he put his hand under her elbow and led her between the groups of people standing and talking.
“It’s—a long time since we’ve seen each other, Vanessa,” Ian said when they were seated. “How’s the business going? I’ve seen your posters around.”
She had the feeling that he was merely being polite and wished Freda had not maneuvered them into this corner together. But she answered that it was going well and warmed up to the subject.
“You haven’t seen the barn since I’ve had windows put in, have you?”
“No, I haven’t.”
“Oh, then you must,” she said, forgetting in her enthusiasm that the last time Ian and herself had met they had almost quarreled. “It looks marvelous. The walls are painted white, making a perfect background for plants. I shall have to think about some heating before the winter comes, of course. It won’t be long before I shall need another greenhouse.”
His face relaxed into a smile. “You’ll soon be needing an assistant too, by the sound of things. Your aunt would have been proud of you. But how are things going financially—if you don’t mind my asking.”
“Of course I don’t mind,” she told him warmly, aware of an extraordinary feeling of lightness, their differences forgotten. “I’m not quite at the end of the money Aunt Maud left for me. But I don’t think I shall have very much in hand by the time I’ve paid for the leveling of the ground and the sodding. Still, I hope to start showing a profit in a few weeks’ time.”
“Have you got much ground clearance to do yet?” he asked.
“No, not a lot,” she told him. “The hogweed is nearly all stacked ready for burning, so—”
“Have you contacted a firm to do the leveling?” he queried.
She shook her head. “Not yet. Do you know of one?”
“Better than that. I have a bulldozer you can borrow—or hire, if you insist. Although strictly speaking I ought not to rent it to you as I’m not in the bulldozer hire business. But if you really want to pay something, pay the man who operates it the basic rate for the job.”
It was a relief to be able to say yes to his offer. Freda appeared with their coffee and looked swiftly from one to the other.
“Well, you two look happy enough, anyhow. If I were you I’d stay right there.”
Vanessa smiled contentedly. She felt as though she could go on sitting here talking to Ian indefinitely. Something odd was happening to her. She had rarely felt so at peace. As Freda went off again, she caught Ian’s eye and smiled, feeling extraordinarily shy.
“Have you done anything about those piano or guitar lessons?” Ian asked her after a moment or two.
“No, I haven’t. But I intend to,” she told him with sudden decision. “Somehow I haven’t felt like it. With my new business and all I—haven’t had a minute. But now I shall.”
Music seemed suddenly an essential part of her life. She felt so light-hearted she wanted to laugh out loud.
“Do you pick up new things quickly?” he asked.
“I think so. Once I start on anything I usually stick to it and want to reach a certain stan
dard.”
“Yes, I can imagine you would.” He smiled. “We’ll forget about the guitar. There is one difficulty you’ll find when you come to learn to play the piano. Your fingers will be stiff for a while. Even those who can play well find the same if they haven’t touched the piano for some time. So you’d have to be content with very little more than five-finger exercises for a week or two.”
More and more people had entered the Club room since Freda and Vanessa had arrived. Now Vanessa and Ian were hemmed in almost completely. But Ian was leaning slightly to one side and looking across the room. He frowned, then shot an inquiring look at Vanessa. “Kendal is looking for someone. Could it be you?”
“Possibly.”
“Then don’t let me keep you.”
He half rose from his seat, but Vanessa shook her head quickly.
“No, no, please. I—I’d rather stay here and—and talk to you for a little while longer.”
His eyes widened, then his brows contracted in a puzzled frown and his expression became guarded.
“There was a rumor going around that you and he were engaged.”
She shook her head slowly. “He asked me, but I—haven’t made up my mind yet.”
“Why not?”
She stared at him, not knowing quite how to take the query. She would have expected him to show disapproval that she had not turned Miles down completely. Instead his tone hinted that she ought to have accepted him.
She tried to answer Ian, but it was not easy to frame the right words.
“Well, I—I don’t think I want to get married yet. I’ve only just started on my business project, and—”
“Don’t ‘feelings’ come into it?”
“Feelings?” she echoed, as if she had never heard of the word.
“Yes, feelings,” he repeated. “Are you in love with the man or aren’t you?”
She felt her cheeks warming. “I—don’t think you have any right to ask me such personal questions. But if it’s of any great interest to you, I—I’m not sure. I don’t know whether I trust love, anyway.”
The ghost of a smile played around his mouth. “Disillusioned at your age?”
“One can be disillusioned at any age,” she retorted. “True, but one doesn’t usually associate disillusion with love in someone as young and—shall we say as attractive as you.”
Her eyes widened at the compliment, but she reminded him. “I didn’t say I was disillusioned. That was your word. It just happens that—experience has taught me to be cautious, that’s all.”
“Experience?” He caught up the word as if to examine and analyze it. Then he said. “I’m sorry. Sorry that you should have had that kind of experience.”
She smiled faintly. “It’s all a part of life. I suppose.”
“Well, you’ve recovered sufficiently to be able to be philosophical about it, evidently. But it still left you careful.”
“Every experience leaves its mark. I suppose. And in the case of—disappointment in love, one tends to mistrust one’s emotions,” she answered.
He gave her a long look. “If you were really and truly in love, you wouldn’t be thinking this way—trying to analyze your feelings.”
“You think not? Perhaps one learns to control one’s emotions as well as to mistrust them. And maybe I’m not a very emotional or—ardent kind of person.”
His eyes narrowed in a calculating look. “I would stake my life on it that you are. If you’ve never felt really passionately in love, then I would say you’ve never been in love. No man has been successful in rousing these feelings in you yet, that’s all.”
She opened her eyes wide. She didn’t know whether to laugh or be indignant.
“And what gives you such wonderful insight as to the kind of person I am?” she demanded.
“Well, you’re not exactly placid. You’ve shown that you’re capable of a great warmth of affection from the way you came to nurse your aunt. Added to that you’re something of a spitfire, aren’t you?”
“Am I?”
“You are indeed.-’
Vanessa could hardly believe that they were talking like this. The jumbled sound of voices in varying tones, bursts of laughter, the chink of glasses or cups and saucers broke over their heads, but they were in a world apart. A man and woman talking, getting close to each other, discussing each other. Vanessa felt a strange sense of unreality, as if she and Ian were standing high on a mountain top, their hands clasped, their fingers entwined. It was important. Treasure this time, hold on to it.
She gave a little smile. “You’ve been analyzing me. What about you? I’ve been hearing rumors, as well.”
He thought for a moment. “I daresay you have. But tell me what you’ve heard.”
But now Vanessa felt alone on the mountain top. She had asked the wrong question. She had wanted to find out what kind of man he was: how he would treat a woman, whether he would be ardent. Instead, mentioning rumors about him had only served to remind her of Cecile Harland and to talk about her.
“Well, I—heard that you were once in love with Miss Harland, that you—only came to Barn Hill because of her.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Is that all?”
“Briefly, yes. It—tells its own story, surely. Is it true?”
“Partly. I did know Cecile before Freda and I moved to this part of the country, but of course there were other reasons why we came here.”
Other reasons. So Cecile had been one of them? And was he still in love with her? Naturally it was a question she could not ask him. She would not have wanted to. She asked herself why and knew that it was because she would dread the answer. She did not want him still to be in love with Cecile. She did not want him to be in love with anyone. She stared into her empty coffee cup, aware that it was her turn to speak, yet not knowing quite what to say. There were so many things she wanted to know about him, but it was impossible to ask. She became aware, too, of his scrutiny. When she raised her eyes to look at him, she knew she was in love with him.
“Do you ever wonder,” he asked, changing the subject, “what the conditions of your aunt’s will are?”
She shook her head dazedly. What did Aunt Maud’s will matter? What did anything matter except that she was here? Ian was here, and she loved him?
“No, I—haven’t even thought about it,” she answered a trifle breathlessly.
“That’s very strange. Most people would have tried to hazard a guess or two.”
“I’ve had so many other things on my mind. And if I did try to guess, what good would it do? I would have no idea whether my guesses were right or wrong?”
“No,” he agreed. “On the other hand, it might help if you were to give the matter some thought. I believe you said there was a considerable sum of money involved. One of the conditions of inheritance might be that you shouldn’t marry. How would you feel about that?”
She stared at him. “Surely Aunt Maud wouldn’t make any such condition?”
“She might. She never married herself, and she might not like the idea of a man invading her house and property.”
“All she asked,” she said after a moment’s thought, “was that I shouldn’t sell Puck’s Hill. The other part of the will only concerns money.”
“Which you might not get if you marry.”
Vanessa eyed him uncertainly. “You—think I should remain forever single—never marry?”
“That’s for you to decide, isn’t it?” he countered.
“Decision is not the word I would use,” she answered, her eyes flicking over his tanned features, wondering fleetingly how long she had loved him, really. “What is money? When one falls deeply in love, marriage is the natural, the only thing.”
His gaze was on her face too. Once more they were together on the mountain top.
“So you would give up everything for the man you loved?”
“Of course.”
“You really are worth wooing and pursuing, Vanessa,” he said in an oddly quiet voi
ce.
Her heartbeat quickened; the hand holding her cup and saucer trembled. Then someone jogged her elbow and her cup fell sideways, spilling the dregs on her dress. At once there were apologies, people turning to look at them, and someone took the cup from her hand. The magic moments were over. Vanessa opened her purse to find a handkerchief to mop her dress. When she pulled it out, the ring case came with it and dropped on the floor. The lid was evidently not on properly. It flew open at Ian’s feet, revealing the ring in all its significant sparkle.
He picked it up and handed it back to her, his face a mask, his eyes cold.
“Yours, I believe,” he said icily, and walked away into the crowd.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Miles was at her elbow now. “Darling, so here you are. I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
Vanessa stood up and looked vaguely around, trying to see where Ian had gone, wanting to hurry after him to explain. He thought she had lied to him, that she was engaged to Miles. How could she make him understand?”
She became aware of Miles’s scrutiny. “What’s the matter, Vanessa—and how did you come to be pinned in this corner with Hamilton’.’ Has he been annoying you?” She shook her head swiftly. “No, no, of course not. But I think I’d like to go home, if you don’t mind.”
“Go home?” he echoed. “But the evening’s only half over.”
She wished she had brought her own car. It was unfair to drag Miles away really, but she felt she must get away. Miles drew her into the center of the room, his hand under her elbow. There were only two things in Vanessa’s mind—Ian, and Miles’s ring, once more in her purse. Where was he? Was there someone else who would give her a lift home? She saw Freda collecting coffee cups a worried look on her face. Vanessa caught her eye. Freda carried her tray into the kitchen, then came across the room.
“What happened in the corner there, Vanessa? Ian’s gone out looking furious.”
To My Dear Niece Page 14
