But a half hour later, as she waited in the elegantly appointed offices of Ransome Properties, she did not feel like a grown-up woman but a gauche and totally inadequate child, conscious of her wan cheeks and swollen eyes, the shabbiness of her three- year-old suit and the unaccountable run she had just seen in her stocking. What sort of woman was she when she did not even have a woman's instinct for making the best of herself? Instead, she had grabbed the first thing in her wardrobe and rushed to see Gregory before her resolution faded.
A buzzer sounded on the desk of the sophisticated blonde girl at the switchboard, and a discreet murmur was heard before the girl looked over at Melanie and nodded. As she did so, a door at the other end of the room opened and a thin young man in a dark suit came towards her.
'Mr. Ransome will see you now. If you'd follow me…'
Melanie did as he asked, walking beside him down a long thick-carpeted corridor lined on either side with offices. At the very end, double doors faced her and it was here that the young man stopped.
Melanie braced herself, turned the handle and walked in. She was vaguely aware of the room being extremely large, with parquet floor, a Persian carpet and panelled walls lined with many books. In front of her loomed a large desk and behind it, remote in the depths of a black leather armchair, was Gregory. Pale-faced, dark-suited and impeccably groomed, he was the Gregory she had first met so many months ago. Although it was so early in the morning, she saw a cigar stub already in his ashtray and saw too that he was smoking another one, noticing with something near despair that the hand that held it was perfectly steady.
He stood up, made as if to come towards her and then stopped and pointed to a chair. 'I was going to come and see you,' he said. 'You shouldn't have come here.'
'I had to. When Mrs. Ransome told me I—'
'I'm sorry you had to learn it from my aunt,' he said swiftly, his voice showing the first sign of emotion. 'Believe me, Melanie, it was the last thing I thought she'd do. If I hadn't had a board meeting, I'd have been round to your flat first thing this morning.'
'And when were you planning to come and tell me of your engagement?' she asked shakily.
'Immediately afterwards. It was only when my aunt rang me - after she'd spoken to you - that I knew what had happened.'
Melanie's composure fled and she leaned forward, her hands outstretched. 'Tell me it isn't true! Tell me it was a mistake - that Lydia did it for spite.'
'No, I can't say that. It's perfectly true.'
'But why? Why did you speak of marriage? Why did you say you loved me? You couldn't have been lying! What's gone wrong, Gregory?'
If anything he became even paler, but when he spoke his voice was still controlled. 'I'm afraid I allowed my emotions to get the better of me. You were very sweet the other night and I-'
'But what about yesterday?' she interrupted. 'You came to the flat yesterday morning. You weren't carried away by emotion then. You're not telling me the truth, Gregory. There's something else behind it.' Uncaring that she was pleading, that her hands were still outstretched and tears were pouring down her face, she continued to speak. 'I love you and I know you love me. You weren't pretending when you said so. But something's happened to make you change your mind and I must know what it is.'
There was a long silence and he stared at a point beyond her shoulder, his face devoid of expression, so that it was impossible to know what he was thinking. But at last he spoke, leaning back in his chair and tilting it slightly so that he was facing the window behind him, giving her a view of his profile, stern and implacable against the clear light shining in on him.
'It would be much better if you hadn't asked for an explanation, Melanie. Trying to give a reason for what I said - for what I did - can only result In giving you more pain.'
'I'm used to pain,' she said bitterly.
He Ignored the interruption. ‘We come from different worlds - different backgrounds. I tried to ignore it - to make myself believe that the differences wouldn't matter - that once we were married everything would work out. But the more I thought about it the more I realized I was looking at a mirage and not the reality of the situation.'
'Many people from different classes and backgrounds have happy marriages.'
‘Not as many as you think; and even then, you'll find that one or other of them has had to sacrifice something - either giving up their family or trying to change their whole pattern of existence.'
'You speak as though we come from different countries; as though I was a foreigner.'
In many ways you are foreign to me. You've been brought up in a milieu where dancing is all-important, where everything, in fact, is subservient to ballet.’
‘You said you didn't want me to give it up.'
He half turned in his chair and glanced at her briefly before turning away again. 'Would you have done so if I'd asked you?
'No,' she admitted, 'at least not right away.' She stood up and came forward so that only the desk separated them. ‘But if you'd made it a condition, if you'd said I had to choose between you and my career, I'd have chosen you.’
'And hated me ever after. No, Melanie, you're not being truthful to yourself.'
'Are you being truthful?' she retorted. ‘Do you expect me to believe what you've just said?’
'I'm afraid you'll have to. I mean every word. I should never have mentioned marriage. I did so because I found you—' he hesitated, and then faced her squarely. 'Because I found you extremely desirable.'
'Don't tell me you were so carried away by passion that you lost all your reasoning powers!'
That's exactly what I am trying to tell you, 'He was standing now, his whole body outlined by the light from the window, so that he appeared taller and broader. The night before last - when we were together - I allowed myself to believe that we could be happy together. But when I thought about it afterwards I realized it wasn't true. To have gone on pretending would hare been wrong for both of us.'
Then why did you pretend yesterday when you came to the flat?'
For the first time he did not have an answer ready and it was a moment before he spoke. ‘I don't know,' he said at last.
‘When did you decide that you knew? Was it last night when you rang me at the theatre?’
Again he took time before replying. 'It was becoming clearer to me then,' he admitted.
'Clearer that we were too different to be happy, or that you loved Lydia Fenwick?’
Colour came into his face, and a strange expression passed over it, leaving his mouth narrow and unexpectedly tight with anger. 'Must we go on with this catechism? What the hell do you hope to get out of it? I've changed my mind about marrying you. I'm bitterly sorry you had to hear about it from my aunt, but coming here and holding an inquest won't make me change my mind.'
Melanie moved back from the desk, longing to run from the room yet knowing that her trembling limbs would not take her that far. She stared across at him, trying to see In the icy grey eyes staring back at her the loving and responsive man who had held her in his arms yesterday. It was incredible that his feelings for her could have changed so quickly; and not only changed, but turned towards another woman. It was this more that anything else that she found unacceptable.
'All right, Gregory,' she said huskily. 'I'll accept the fact that you've changed your mind - that you realize you mistook desire for love. What I can't accept - what I can't understand - is your engagement to Lydia. Or are you asking me to believe that you fell in love with her as quickly as you fell out of love with me?
Carefully he tapped the ash from his cigar into the ashtray in front of him. ‘What I feel for Lydia is not the same emotion I felt for you.'
'Then why marry her?’
'Because it's time I had a wife. That's one thing you did make me realize.'
‘Don't!' she gasped.
'I'm not going to pretend that my - that what I feel for Lydia compares with my - with what I feel - what I felt for you,' he admitted. 'But one can
't base a marriage on passion.' Even as he spoke he turned away from her again and stared intently out of the window at the blank blue sky.
Looking at his rigid back, the faint hope that had brought her here to plead with him died its final death.
‘What you mean,' she said carefully, 'is that you would rather have a loveless marriage with a girl from your own background than have real happiness with me.'
'It wouldn't be a lasting happiness. I've given you my reasons for thinking that.'
'But they're wrong!'
'You're entitled to your opinion, Melanie, and I'm entitled to mine. I'm going to marry Lydia. I should never have mentioned marriage to you, and once I admitted it was a mistake, the only way of making you accept It - or so I felt - was for me to marry someone else.'
'To stop me from pestering you, I suppose!' she burst out.
His shoulders lifted in a shrug and, hearing her give a gasp of pain, he turned to face her again. 'My biggest regret is that you had to learn about it from my aunt. As I told you when you came in, I had every intention of seeing you myself, but I had an early morning meeting and it wasn't until half-way through it that I found out that Lydia had already announced our engagement to the newspapers. I never wanted you to learn of it the way you did. If you believe nothing else, you must at least believe that.'
‘Why do you care what I believe?' Melanie said scornfully. 'Don't tell me you've got a conscience.'
A spasm of pain crossed his face. 'Despite what you believe at the moment, I'm not heartless. If I could turn back the clock - take back what I said…'
'Don't bother,' she said wearily. 'Suffering is supposed to be good for the soul, so you've at least assured me of a happy after-life!'
She was at the door when he called her name, and she stopped and, still clutching at the doorknob, looked back at him. 'Yes?'
'What are you going to do now?' he asked. 'Where are you going?'
'To the theatre. Or did you think I was going to throw myself under a bus?'
'I hate it when you talk so bitterly.'
‘Whatever makes you think I'm bitter?' she asked scornfully. 'I'm only thankful that I found out the sort of person you are. I never thought I'd have to thank Lydia Fenwick for anything, but at least she's made me see how despicable you are !'
'I deserved that,' he said quietly.
‘You deserve much more,' she answered, ‘but I can't give it to you. I'll leave that to your new fiancee.'
CHAPTER TEN
Melanie went straight from Gregory to the theatre, for only there would she be forced to control her emotions. Quickly she changed into practice tights and went to the rehearsal room, but she had only been practising at the barre for a few moments when Anton came up to her.
'So you finally decided to put in an appearance,' he said by way of greeting. 'I suppose now you're going to be Mrs. Gregory Ransome you think you can afford to skip rehearsals!'
Momentarily she closed her eyes. Obviously Verenskaya had not told him the happenings of this morning - an unusual feat of diplomacy which she desperately wished had not been the case. When Anton chose to be unpleasant his tongue had a cutting edge that she was in no state to take.
'I'm sorry, Anton. I didn't mean to be late.'
'Apologies won't make up for lost time. Either you work with the rest of us or get out!'
‘Don't!' she cried, and averted her head, praying he would go away.
But instead he came closer, his body shielding her from the other dancers. ‘What's wrong, Melanie? Had a quarrel with Ransome?’
She nodded, too weary to dissemble,
'I assume he wants you to give up the ballet?’
She shook her head. 'He wants to give up me… he already has.'
Anton's slanting brows rose in perplexity, making him look even more puckish than ever. 'I don't follow you.'
'It's quite simple. I've been jilted. Thrown over.’
'If this is some sort of joke I—'
The joke's on me,' she interrupted. 'Gregory's going to marry Lydia Fenwick.'
With the truth brought out into the open, clearly stated to the one person who - above all others - would be delighted at the news, Melanie braced herself for what Anton would say.
‘You poor kid. You shouldn't have come in at all.'
The reply, briskly spoken, yet so obviously sympathetic, brought tears to her eyes, and she fumbled helplessly for her handkerchief.
Use this,' he said, and gave her his own. ‘We'll be breaking for lunch in half an hour. If you like, I'll take you home.'
'I'd rather stay here.' She wiped her eyes and held out the handkerchief, resolutely meeting his gaze. 'It's not the end of the world, Anton. I've a brilliant career ahead of me. You said so yourself I'
'So I did,' he said slowly. 'And now there's nothing to stand in your way.'
Not until later that evening, as they waited together in the wings, did he refer to their earlier conversation, asking with unusual diffidence if there was anything he could do to help.
'If you'd like to tell me about it… It might help if you got it out of your system.'
'Ballet's the only thing that will help me,' she said, keeping her eyes fixed on the dancers on stage. 'Anyway, there isn't much to tell. He just - just decided it wouldn't work out… that we were too different.'
'We're not different,' Anton said. 'Remember that.'
The music changed and, glad it was their cue,' she poised ready to make her entrance with him.
'I love you,' he whispered as they moved forward. 'I'll always be here when you want me.'
In the weeks that followed Melanie found herself taking advantage of Anton's offer, and most of her spare time was spent with him. It was a long, unusually warm summer, but because they had been away from London for six months on their Australian tour Verenskaya had decided not to take the company round the provinces, which had been their normal procedure. Instead they remained at their London theatre and, with an influx of foreign visitors, were dancing night after night to packed houses.
But every Sunday Anton drove Melanie to the country, each time choosing a different venue, a new restaurant, another beauty spot from which she returned mentally refreshed and better able to cope with the arduous week that lay ahead. Yet always she had to be on guard not to mention Gregory, to keep her mind fixed firmly in the present, with no thought of her own bleak, loveless future.
But try though she did, there were painful occasions when the sight of a tall, commanding figure or crisp dark hair would bring him forcibly to mind, and it was then that gaiety became feverish and her conversation brittle and excited.
It was at times like these that she appreciated Anton's sympathy most, for though he was always warm and understanding, he refused to let her give way to self-pity, and would tease her until she was forced to defend herself and, in so doing, to forget her heartache. Indeed, their relationship was slowly ; becoming a repetition of what it had been in Australia, and one night as he drove her home from the theatre and parked outside the flat she remarked on it.
'I always turn to you when I'm in trouble. You shouldn't let me, Anton. It isn't good for me.'
'It's good for me, though. I want you to rely on me, Melanie. I love you.'
In the light cast by the street lamp she noticed the fines of weariness at the corners of his eyes and, moved by tenderness, she reached for his hand. ‘Dear Anton,' she murmured.
He slid across the seat, the tiredness vanishing from his face. 'Can't you think of me as more than just a friend? I wouldn't ask for much.'
'It would be wrong. I've so little to give.'
'Whatever you give is better than nothing.' Gently he drew her close and with a sigh she surrendered to his kiss.
Yet though she wanted desperately to respond to him, it was impossible to think of him as anything but her friend and dancing partner and she remained passively in his arms, unable to show any answering response. But if he was aware of it he gave no sign and when he dr
ew back there was satisfaction on his face and a more proprietorial air in the way he helped her out of the car, took the key from her handbag and let her into the flat.
From that moment on, there began a new phase in their relationship, and more than ever she looked to him as her guide and mentor, not only in matters of dancing but in her personal life too, accepting his advice before she bought any clothes - an act which an increase in salary made possible, and taking his opinion on make-up and how she should wear her hair. Anton revelled at playing Pygmalion, obviously seeing it as an extension of their working relationship, and enjoying the knowledge that not only was he helping to mould her career but also her life.
He made few physical demands on her and, anticipating that he would ask to be her lover, she was surprised that he seemed satisfied with their gentle good night kiss. She knew him too well to believe it was a role he would be content to play for long, but she was glad that for the moment he accepted the little she could offer and wondered whether - when the time came and he asked for more - she would be able to give it. The knowledge that she might not be able to do so frequently filled her with guilt, a guilt which increased whenever she went to see Mrs. Ransome, for her visits to the Belgravia house always brought Gregory so forcibly back into her mind that she doubted if she would ever be free of him.
Frequently she toyed with the idea of not going to see Mrs. Ransome at all. But to do this would have caused the woman pain and all she could do was to make her visits as brief and infrequent as possible.
It was on one such occasion, a Monday afternoon in late autumn, when Melanie was unexpectedly free of rehearsals and was spending an hour with Mrs. Ransome, that the question of Gregory's marriage was discussed.
'Lydia would like to get married soon, but Gregory keeps putting it off. He said he wouldn't have time for a honeymoon and he's determined not to get married until he can go away for at least six weeks.'
Melanie's brief flare of hope at hearing Gregory was not anxious to get married died as she heard the rest of what Mrs. Ransome said, and the depression that always enveloped her when she was here now became intolerable.
Roberta Leigh - My Hearts a Dancer Page 15
