Harlequin Omnibus: Take Me with You, Choose What You Will, Meant for Each Other

by Mary Burchell

  "It's about me—my affairs. I'm afraid I'm going to need your help, after all. Or rather, of course, Lin's" help." At her mstinctive gesture of protest, his mouth hardened unbelievably. "That was the arrangement, jou know. '*

  "Yes, but—well, what do you want me to do?"

  "You'll have to go to London—"

  "London? I can't possibly. I am here to look after Mrs. Mayhew. I can't just suddenly—"

  "You must make some excuse. Good heavens, one can always make an excuse! You have a sister there, haven't

  you? Well, then she can be ill—dying—whatever you like. But it*s imperative that you go to London. It probably wouldn't be necessary for you to stay over more than one night. You can make some arrangement for Mrs. Mayhew. The mother of that girl—what's her name? Priscilla—would come in for one night. Or the vicar's sister, if he's got one, or somebody's maiden aunt. It doesn't matter. But you must go to London tomorrow—"

  "Tomorrow!"

  "Yes, yes. Of course. I'd have made it today, only it would be too late to get anything done when we got there, even if we did go today—"

  "You didn 't say you were coming, too."

  "Well, I am coming, too. All I want of you is that you should prepare the ground for me. I can't coach you in the intricacies of the position. What you have to do is to see Lin for me, show all the distress you can muster and beg him to do all he can for me. Don't look so sick about it. This was what you undertook to do, if it became necessary."

  "Yes, I know. But-"

  "But what?"

  What indeed! She made a helpless little gesture, which was nothing but a sign of her despairing realization of the difference between theory and practice. She had felt sufficiently terrible when she had undertaken to do this if it ever became necessary. But that was nothing to the chill despair that engulfed her now that it had become reality. Now that she actually had to face Lin in less than twenty-four hours and beg him to do something distasteful, for the sake of Brent, whom she loved.

  "Ifldothis-"

  "There is no question of'if,' Harriet. This is what you undertook to do, and if you try to back out on me now—well, anyway, I 'm sure you won't.''

  "Well, then—vv/ie/i I have done this, what happens next? Where do you come in?''

  "Why, first you stage your scene of distress and pleading—and for heaven's sake, Harriet, do the thin§ well—and speak to him in general terms about interceding on my behalf Then, when you've melted him, you arrange for him to see me, so that I can make a clean breast of the whole thing." She saw Brent was already almost enjoying the

  artistic details of his role of semi-penitent. "After that there's nothing for me to do but explain in detail how he can help me. That's why it's necessary for me to see him myself You couldn't absorb all the details of the position at such short notice."

  "And suppose I don't succeed, and he won't see you?"

  "But you must succeed, Harriet. If you don't, I shall know you didn't really keep your word, but just scamped the whole thing. I know you re capable of making a scene that will stir him. If you don't I shall show him Dilys's letter. You remember that, my girl!" He laughed, with quite genuine amusement. "It will spur you on to fresh heights of eloquence and probably make you able to produce some frightened tears, which will be quite in keeping with the distressed fiancee."

  "You are a beast!" she exclaimed fiercely.

  "Nonsense, Harriet." He actually laughed. "It's just that I see the thing in all its proper detail."

  She was silent. She felt like telling him that she dared him to do his worst—that he could show Lin the letter, for there was nothing left between them to spoil and it could not alter the situation.

  But she knew that she could not face that. Further deterioration of the situation might not be possibk. But, even if she never saw Lin again, she could not bear to have him read that letter and believe that she had deliberately tried to estrange Dilys from him so that she might make him notice herself She had put up with much in her relationship with Lin. But that final indignity and injustice she could not bear.

  "When do we go to London?"

  The single, almost sullen, question marked her capitulation and he drew a quick breath of relief

  "Tomorrow morning, by the nine-thirty from the Junction. I'll drive us through there, which will cut out all that dawdling on the local Ime, and we can garage the car for a couple of days until we return. You 'd better go back now ana tell Mrs. Mayhew you've had a telegram from your sister. I can supply you with a form and a used telegraph envelope, if you want something to clutch in your hand. You might say that— "

  "I am not saying anything on the lines you suggest,"

  Harriet stated coldly and distinctly. **I believe you lie just for the sheer love of lying. It doesn 't take fne that way. I shall simply say that you want me to go to Lx)ndon with you on some very urgent business and—'*

  "Oh, but, Harriet! Will that wash?"

  "Of course it will. Why not?"

  *'Oh, I don't know. It seems so—so feeble, somehow."

  She laughed shortly.

  "It's just your natural aversion to the truth which makes you feel that way. You can leave me to deal with the question of explaming my absence in my own way. What time will you call for me tomorrow morning? "

  "Eight o'clock."

  "Eight o'clock? All right. I'll be ready."-

  "Good girl!" he said. And the heartiness with which he said it was the measure of his relief at having achieved at any rate his principal objective.

  As she walked back across the field, Harriet forced herself not to look more than one stage ahead. She would not think about the journey to London or the interview with Lin. She would keep herself calm, and merely consider what she was going to say to Mrs. Mayhew.

  When it came to the point, she said what she had told Brent she would say—the truth.

  "I know it's terribly inconvenient and sudden, but Brent is in some sort of trouble," she explained earnestly to Mrs. Mayhew. "He has to go to London tomorrow, and he needs me with him. He wants me to see someone who can help him. Someone with—with whom I should have much more weight than he would. An old friend of mine."

  That last was the only deviation from the strict truth that she permitted herself And Mrs. Mayhew did not query her explanation in any way.

  'Of course, my dear, if it's so urgent, you must go. Will you be away long? "

  "I hope not more than one night. I daresay Priscilla's mother would come in for once."

  "It really isn't necessary." Mrs. Mayhew smiJed. "If you remember, Priscilla ^nd I managed perfectly well during ,the week before you arrived. And Mrs. Court stays quite late."

  "I would be happier if I knew there was someone else,"

  Harriet said. And her affectionate anxiety was so patent that Mrs. Mayhew yielded, and told her to make what arrangements she pleased.

  It was a busy evening. An absence of even a couple of days, at such short notice, raised several minor proolems with which Harriet had to deal. But she attended to everything, coolly and meticulously. She was glad to do so. It gave her so little time then to think of other things.

  She even remembered to send a telegram to Maxine, telline her that she would be in London on business and would stay the following night at the flat, if that were convenient. She knew that it would be convenient. If Maxine had been asked to put up a family of six at three hours* notice she would have contrived to do so with the assistance of her—amazingly—always willing friends.

  Not until Harriet got into bed that night did her thoughts have really free rein. And then there was only one supremely important fact, which swamped all others in her consciousness.

  Tomorrow I shall see Lin.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Brent had one virtue. His worst enemy could not have accused him of unpunctuaUty—particularly where his own interests were concerned. And at eight o'clock precisely, on the following morning, he called for Harriet.

  She was read
y, having already gone to Mrs. Mayhew*s room to bid her goodbye. It seemed mean, somehow, not to ask if she had any special message for Lin. But that, of course, was impossible.

  Brent smiled at her brilliantly as soon as she came to the door. And really, to judge from his air, they might have been setting off on the most lighthearted expedition. He was, she knew, peculiarly susceptible to externals, and probably the brightness of the day served to raise his spirits. But even so, she marveled that his anxieties sat on him so Ughtly.

  She remembered what he had said about his "shameless optimism," and she thought, That's just what it is. He is certain that I am going to get him out of his mess, and he is not in the least worried because the method is unscrupulous.

  As they drove through the blossoming countryside, in the full beauty of an early June morning, Harriet thought how intensely she could have enjoyed it all if her mind had been free from worry. But there was no chance of forgetting what lay ahead. Brent, with an air of good-natured determination, insisted on going over the details of his simple plan of action.

  "We should be in town soon after midday," he told her. "And you must telephone Lin at once, asking him to see you."

  "Suppose he is busy and can't see me?"

  "Nonsense. He will fit you in somehow."

  *'He may be in Court all day."

  "Then you must arrange with his secretary that he rings you as soon as he returns to his office. Or else leave a message that you will telephone him at home this evening. Don't raise difficulties, Harriet. We'll deal with them as they come along. The only thing you have to remember is to maice it sound so urgent that he will put off everything short of a summons from the Lord Chief Justice."

  "How exactly do I do that?" Harriet inquired dryly.

  "Good heavens! Use your imagination a little. You're worse than Dilys," he told her, with amused scorn. "Say that you've come up from home on purpose, because what you have to discuss with him simply couldn't wait. Hint that something rather serious has happened at Fourways. Suggest-"

  "I'm surprised you haven't thought of teUing me to say Mrs. Mayhew is ilf," Harriet commented sarcastically.

  "No, no! Nothing as definite as that. He'd simply be irritated when he found out that it wasn't true. And that would put him in a bad mood for the interview right away. I'm afraid your natural powers of deception are very poor, Harriet." And he laughed, as though the whole thing were a joke, instead of a matter of deadly seriousness for both of them.

  At the station, he looked after her with exceptional care, seeing to it that she had a comfortable corner seat and was supplied with papers and magazines. She supposed, with passing amusement, that all this was just as natural to him as the less likable side he could show. If only he had been bom very rich, with no responsibilities—if such people ever really existed—how charming he would have been, reflected Harriet grimly.

  The journey could not, in any circumstances, have been enjoyable for her. Part of the time she stared at one or other of her newspapers, pretending to read. But whether she did that or gazed out of the window, her thoughts were the same. / am going to see Lin—to speak with him. But what I have to say will take him still farther away from me. It can 7 be anything but a misery and humiliation. But I am going to see him.

  When she had done this journey in the opposite direction

  it had seemed long and strange. Now it was frighteningly short. Long before she felt able to deal with any situation they were rushing through the depressing outskirts of London. And presently they drew into the smoky terminus, and Brent was saying, "We'll find a telephone booth, and call from here. With luck, we should catch him before he goes to lunch.'*

  They had to wait outside a row of occupied telephone booths, Harriet outwardly calm, but secretly feeling her nerves tighten with each additional second of delay. Brent spent the time looking up the number of Lin's office. And then, when at last one of the horrid little booths was free, he said, "Now, Harriet!" and she knew, with a dreadful lurch of her heart, that this was the moment.

  He dialed the number for her and then handed the instrument to her. And she seemed to stand there for minutes, clutching the thing unnaturally tightly, while the blood beat loudly in her ears, and the horrible, stale, tobacco-laden atmosphere of the telephone booth seemed to press on her face like an anesthetic mask.

  Then a pleasant, brisk, feminine voice repeated the number in her ear and added unexpectedly, "Can I help you?"

  She had an hysterical desire to exclaim, "No. ^fo one can help me. I've got to go through with this thing myself" But, instead, she repliea in a perfectly ordinary and sensible-sounding voice, "Might I speak to Mr. Mayhew? I have no appointment with him, but I'm just up from his home in the country. The name is Miss Denby.''

  The pleasant voice requested her to hold on a moment, which suggested that at least he was in his office. Then there was a whirring and the click of a fresh extension being plugged in, and Lin's voice said, quite naturally except fpr Its slight note of surprise,'' Is that you, Harriet?'' .

  "Oh, yes!"

  "But where are you speaking from?"

  "From King's Cross. I... I've only just arrived, and I must speak to you, please. Could you possibly see me sometime this afternoon?" At a mutter from Brent, she amended that to, "early this afternoon."

  "Is anything wrong?" Lin's voice sharpened slightly.

  "Yes. At least, I mean—no, nothing to do with your mother or any of your family. She's perfectly all right

  It's ... it's just something to do with me, personally. Oh, please do see me!"

  He was astonished, she knew, but he would not have been Lin if he had refused that appeal. He said, *'Wait a minute," and presumably consulted someone or some engagement book. "Harriet, I can't meet you for lunch, I 'm afraid. I have an appointment I can't cancel. But—could you come here to the office?"

  *'0h, yes, of course!"

  *'About half-past two?"

  "Yes. Oh, yes—thank you so much."

  "That's all right. Are you in some sort of trouble?"

  "In ... in a way—yes. I'll tell you about it when I see you."

  "Very well. Do you know how to get here?"

  She felt sure Brent knew, so she said "Yes." And then she rang off and turned to face Brent.

  "All right?" he inquired sharply, though her end of the conversation had largely reassured him.

  "Yes. He'll see me m his office at half-past two."

  "Fine!" exclaimed Brent. "Now let's go and have a good lunch."

  Whatever anxieties he might have had while they were in the telephone booth were dispersed by now, and he at least enjoyecl his lunch immensely. Harriet did her best, but it was rather a poor best. And then he took her by taxi to Lin's office.

  This was near Lincoln's Inn Fields. And, without knowing that the suggestion gave Harriet the most curious, superstitious feeling, he undertook to meet her at what might well have been the identical bench on which she had sat and studied Mrs. Mayhew's letter all those months ago.

  Alone, Harriet went into the solemn, rather aged-looking building in which Lin had his offices, and presented herself in the outer room whose door bore the encouraging legend, Please enter.

  The girl who came to ask her business was undoubtedly the one who had answered her on the telephone. The pleasant, efficient voice was the same. And as soon as Harriet had given her name, she said, "Oh, yes. Mr. Mayhew is waiting for you." And showed Harriet into Lin's office.

  It was as simple as that.

  He had risen from his desk, and come across the room to greet her, with outstretched hand, just as though their last meeting had not been so dramatic and so harrowing. Of course, she knew, one had to resume normal relationships, and enough time had gone past for them both to be self-possessed and sensible. But, somehow, she had not imagined that it would be like this.

  "Come and sit down, and tell me what the trouble is.*'

  Possibly he said that to all worried clients. But she doubted if he regard
ed them with quite such kindly concern. And, when she had sat down in the chair he indicated, and he had resumed his seat at his desk, she suddenly thought that, after all, it was not going to be so desperately difficult as she had supposed.

  ''You must forgive me for coming to you," she began eagerly.

  "I shouldn't have forgiven you if you hadn't," he told her with a smile. "I'm glad you thought of me when you wanted help."

  She gave him a fleeting smile of gratitude, which was more timid than she knew.

  "It's about Brent," she said desperately. And she had no idea that only that fleeting smile kept him from hardening both his heart and his expression. "He ... he's in trouble."

  Lin carefully balanced on office ruler on his forefinger.

  "Not an entirely new situation for Brent, Harriet," he said, but without rancor.

  "No. At least—I mean there have been occasions when he has been unfortunate, and when he hasn 't taken the course that perhaps you or I would have taken. I don't want to tell a detailed hard-luck story, Lin, but Brent hasn't had an awfully lucky break in the early days. I suppose it's not very difficult to be scrupulous and absolutely straight when you've been brought up that way and never subjected to terrific temptation. ..." She knew she was doing this rather well, partly because, in a general way, she believed what she was saying. "Brent never had that advantage. But since he's been engaged to me—" she took a deep breath "—he's begun to see things very differently."

  She paused, and after a moment, Lin said gravely, "I'm

  glad to hear that, Harriet." And, as far as she could see, he meant it.

  '*But—but sometimes, Lin, even when you Ve turned over a new leaf, or made good resolutions, or however you like to put it, something out of the past suddenly catches up with you, after all. That. .. that's what has happened in Brent's case, and—"

  "Could you be a little more explicit?" Lin said courteously, and she had the curious, and not very reassuring impression, that the professional Lin had taken over from the personal Lin at this point in the interview.

  *'Well-" she swallowed slightly **-ril try. But it's a bit difficult, because I don't know all the details myself."