"No! What did he say?"
"Well, he didn't really say anything. But he didn't seem very pleased about it, and then afterward I managed to get out of nurse that it will probably take a good while before I can use my hand much. But it was nice of you to arrange for anyone so important to come and see my hand." She looked up quickly and smiled again, because it was easier to smile now that he was here. "It was you who arranged it, wasn't it?"
"Well, we naturally want the best attention for you."
Thea thought "we was rather good, and wondered if he really imagined she supposed that included Geraldine. And then, following the natural train of thought, she said rather carefully, "Geraldine came to see me yesterday—no, the day before."
"Oh, yes? It was the first time she had come, wasn't it?"
"Um-hm."
"What had she to say?"
"Not very much." Again she spoke rather carefully. "She
was quite—kind in her inquiries, and she brought me some lovely fruit, and—'* Thea broke off, and then said: *'Have you seen her since the accident?"
"Yes. I saw her yesterday evening.'*
"Oh. Did she say anything about me—about when I come out of hospital?'*
"Yes,'niea.**
"Then you know that she doesn't intend to have me back? She has Kay Pelham staying there, in my room—at least, I mean the room she let me have. And—and all my things are packed up ready to be taken away, as soon as I can move them.**
"Yes I know.** He pressed his lips together rather tightly, and Thea felt pretty sure there had been a sharp argument about it.
She sighed a little. "I'm sorry, Mr. Varlon. I seem to cause a good deal of trouble all around. *'
"Nonsense, child. It isn't your fault. We'll find somewhere for you to go and—**
"But, it isn*t quite as simple as that, is it?" Thea said gently. "You see, it isn*t even as though we only have to cover a limited period until I've completed my course of training. That's all changed now. I don't know anything very definite about my hand, but I don't think there's much doubt that it will be quite a while before I can use it much for typing—or even perhaps for anything else. Perhaps if you went to see Sir Norman—** She stopped because she thought she detected the slightest change in his expression "Have you been to see Sir Norman?** she asked.
"Yes. As a matter of fact, I have.**
"Since he saw me?**
"Yes.**
There was a short silence. Then she said, "You'd better tell me. It isn't very good news, is it? Or you would have been reassuring me before now. But it's really much better for me to know the truth. Otherwise I—I can't make any sort of plans."
She wondered—and perhaps he did, too—what sort of plans she could make. But anyway, it sounded better to put things that way.
"Listen, Thea. I want you to know that, whatever happens, I won't leave you in any sort of a hole. You needn't
think of yourself as friendless and without any security. It's thanks to my carelessness that you're here now, in any case, and-"
**No, it isn't. But would you tell me about my hand, please?"
"All rieht. The bones are mending perfectly satisfactorily, but the big gash cut some of the tendons, and that's a very different matter. It means that you won't get back the strength in your hand for a long time. Electrical treatment and massage will do a lot and may restore the hand almost entirely eventually, but I doubt—or, rather, Pranbook doubts—whether you will ever be able to put much of a strain on it."
"You mean I won't be able to type."
"I'm afraid not, darling."
"Well, I—I'll have to think of something else." She was very pale, and her mind felt a blank. "There must be things one can do that don't require much strength in one's left hand. After all, it isn't like the right hand. It's not so—so important. If only it wouldn't take so much time—or Geral-dine would let me stay with her a little longer. Oh, it's so simple if only you have a home!" she cried, suddenly overwhelmed by the full realization that she had none.
"Thea, will you please try to feel that you have a home-that you're not without a place to go to. You can go to any club or hotel or lodgings and I'll arrange it for you—or you can have your own apartment or whatever you like—"
"Oh, you mustn't say things like that!" Thea's cry was half amused and half horrified, because she had suddenly remembered Stephen saying, "He's never rented a West End apartment for anyone, as far as I know."
"Why not?" He looked unexpectedly obstinate, as he could at times.
"Why, you know why not as well as I do." She smiled at him and rather nervously stroked his arm, as though to soften what she was going to say. "It was harmless enough so long as I was in Geraldine's apartment and no one knew who really paid. But I couldn't have you maintaining me-paymg for me in a hotel, installing me in a apartment, anythmg like that^without people thinking the perfectly obvious thing. Quite apart from the fact that I haven't the
faintest claim upon you, Lindsay. You must see that. It isn't as though—**
"You have a claim on me,** he broke in firmly. '*If you don*t want to accept the fact that it's partly my fault you*re in this hole, then at least, Thea, do me the justice of allowing that we are friends. Such friends that you called me by my Christian name just now, without even noticing that you did it.**
"Did I?*'She looked faintly put out. "Pm sorry.**
"You needn *t be. I prefer it tnat way."
"Very well then. And of course we are friends. You've been a wonderful friend to me, and no one knows it better than I. But there has to be an end to these obligations of friendship, Lin. I'm not a child. I'm not a sort of orphaned schoolgirl, to be provided for and clothed and taken out for treats by a kind of guardian. Vm a grown-up young woman. I can*t allow myself to be maintained by a man friend. What would people think? What could they think?"
"Need they know?*' His obstinate look had become almost sulky, and it gave an incongruously boyish expression to his usually worldly face. " Haven *t we the wit between us to devise some means of my paying over enough money to you, and for you to make your own arrangements?**
But Thea shook her head.
"How could we? Geraldine knows perfectly well what my real financial state is. She also knows—or would know—who was supplying the money, if I apparently became the possessor of independent means. And she wouldn *t keep quiet, Lin. Geraldine is in a very nasty mood. At the moment, nothing would please her better than to have some real grounds for spreading scandalous tales about us.**
"Us? There isn*t much harm she could do to my leathery reputation,** he said dryly. "But you*re right, of course. She would be delighted to blast yours.**
"You see."
They were silent for a moment or two—she pale and calm and, strangely enough, far more resigned now that the position had been clearly defined, and he dark and somber and obstinately rebellious against a situation that, perhaps for the first time in his life, he seemed to find unmanageable.
Then, rather slowly, he raised his head and looked at her, the light coming back into his eyes and the characteristic half-mocking smile to his lips.
"Well, my child, there is one solution to this problem which will provide you with a home, silence scandalous tongues, and take the weapons out of Geraldine's hands. I think, Thea, that you will have to marry me."
CHAPTER SEVEN
Thea drew a deep breath, blinked her long lashes, and said very solemnly, ''What did you say?*'
"I said—and I think you heard me—that you will have to marry me," he told her with a smile.
"Is that a joke?**
"Only if you wish it to be.*' And then, as she was silent and nonplussed, he spoke seriously and urgently. "No, my dear, it was not in the least a joke. It is a perfectly serious proposition. In fact, Thea, it is the only sensible solution to the problem.**
"It seems a rather—desperate remedy.*'
"Tm sorry it appears in that light to you."
"I wasn't think
ing of my point of view. I was thinking how you 'd hate it, * * she said slowly.
"Why are you so sure that I'd hate it?*' He looked at her curiously.
"Well, no one—least of all yourself—has ever thought of you as the marrying kind. You'd be bound to feel caught, and then you*d get fed up and bored and resentful."
He smiled faintly, perhaps at this effort to explain him to himself.
"My dear, I don't think we've got this thing quite straight between us," he said. "To begin with, this is not a romantic, till-death-do-us-part kind of proposal. I am suggesting that I should marry because it seems that only as your husband can I look after you in the way I want—and, mdeed, intend—to do. Later on, when you're quite all right again, or when there is some life of your own that you want to follow, we can arrange a quiet divorce. If you want me to say so categorically, neither the marriage nor the divorce
need be anything more than a matter of form. They simply constitute a means by which I can provide for you during your temporary need, without your losing your reputation m the process. Is that quite clear?**
Thea nodded, with her eyes very large and serious and dark blue.
"If there is any permanent injury to your hand, no doubt there will be some sort of compensation paid to you when the case is settled,'* he went on, as though he thought business details might somehow give an air of reasonableness to an otherwise fantastic arrangement. *'That will probably help you to make a start in whatever else you decide you want to do. And in addition, of course, I should be able to give you any financial assistance I liked, in the character of husband or ex-husband or whatever you like to call it. No one could see anything wrong in that. **
"No.**
The monosyllabic reply seemed such a small comment on all he had said, and the silence that followed it was so long, that at last he prompted her.
"Well, Thea?** He spoke rather gently. "What do you think?**
"I think,** she said slowly, with a very small and rueful smile, "that you must be bitterly regretting ever having come to the station to meet me that day. **
For a moment he looked completely taken aback by her answer. Then he laughed—so heartily that it relieved the tension that had existed before. Andf suddenly he leaned forward and very gently framed her pale little face in his hands.
"Listen, sweetheart—I don't regret it in the least. Will you marry me?'*
"Oh, Lin—*' Her mouth quivered suddenly, and she put her injured arm around his neck and kissed him. "You are so kind—so ridiculously, incredibly kind. Do you really want me to say yes to this extraordinary proposal?'*
"I do. In fact, I absolutely refuse to take no."
"Then in that case it's no good my saying it, is it?" She smiled at him. "I'll marry you, Lin, on the strict understanding that—"
"—When you wish to get away you have only to say so."
"Yes, all right. But what I was going to say was that you,
too, are free to end the arrangement whenever it suits you. It's not—not binding on you in any way that a real marriage would be. It's simply an arrangement to cover your fantastic generosity to me, and if there were any other way—" She stopped suddenly and looked at him. *'Oh, Lin, there is."
'^Thereiswhat?"
"A solution we neither of us ever thought of "
*'I don't believe it."
"Yes, there is. I could go to Emma and Darry. Mrs. Dorley said I was to go down there weekends if I wanted to. And I know she would be willing for me to go there from the hospital and spend the time while I was convalescing. Then-"
**Sorry, Thea. That way out is closed, too." He sounded regretful but quite firm about that. *'I went down to see Emma this morning before I came here—after I knew Geraldine wouldn 't take you back, you know.''
"Yes?"
"And she is having to close the house for the time being, after all. Her sister is ill, and Emma has to go and nurse her."
"And Darry?"Thea asked anxiously. t "Eh? Oh, Darry will go with her." "Oh, he'll hate that!'^
"Like other people, Darry will have to learn to do a few things he doesn 't lilce," Lindsay said dryly.
"Not if he knows it," murmured Thea absently. "Will the house be auite shut up then?"
"I'm afraid so, Thea. i believe Emma will look in once a week—she will be near enough for that. But she couldn't look after someone else besides her sister. Much less go backward and forward between homes."
"No, of course not. I see that."
"So there is no escape for you." His dark eyes smiled at her teasingly, but with a shade of anxiety, she thought, and immediately she wondered if she were seeming ungrateful and eager to escape from the situation he had so generously created.
"I don't really want to escape," she said with naive candor. "I only didn't want to involve you in this if there were any other way out."
He laughed and dropped a kiss on the top of her head.
"I am involved. We'll leave it at that. And now you may consider yourself engaged. '*
Before Thea could say anything to that, her nurse came in with tea, and Lindsay said quite coolly, *'Ah, here's the first person to congratulate us. Nurse, your patient is going to be married."
"Married!" The nurse set down the tray and beamed with romantic approval. "To you, Mr. Varlon?"
"Certainly to me. You didn't think I'd let her marry anyone else, did you?"
How well he does it! thought Thea.
"Well now, isn't that splendid. That's something to cheer her up, and no mistake. The best of luck, dear." Thea's nurse smiled at her with all the kindly interest of which she was capable—which was a great deal. "Now, all you've got to do is get well in good time for a summer weddmg. You'll make the prettiest bride possible."
"Yes. Won't she?" Lmdsay said thoughtfully. And Thea found herself laughing and blushing and behaving just like a bride, funnily enough, as she put it to herself
Over tea he was extraordinarily jovial, but whether or not it was to reassure her and make her feel that everything was most satisfactorily settled, Thea could not decide.
For herself, she was unable to take the situation quite in her stride, and although she smiled and even laughed once or twice, at the back of her mind was the terrific, inescapable thought: / have said Vll marry Lindsay, However little it means in actual fact, I have said I'll marry him.
And as though to emphasize her thoughts, he said to her then, "What kmd of ring would you like, Thea? Since it's bound to be a very short engagement, I think you'd better have your ring as soon as possible."
"Oh dear! do you—do you have to give me all the expensive trimmings?"Thea said.
I think so." He laughed at her tone. "And I would like to give you a ring, in any case."
"I'm costing you the most awful lot of money one way and another, I m afraid."
"I can bear it," he told her. "Won't you tell me what ring you would like?"
"I never really thought about it, Lin. Would you get me something you think would suit me and—and don't make it
very valuable, because you don't really have to, and it isn't like a real engagement. *
'*You mean you leave the choice to me?"
*'Yes," Thea said, and remembered suddenly something else that Stephen had said about Lindsay: *'I don't expect he's ever asked the price of wedding rings."
Well, he'll have to, now, thought Thea, and wondered if he were really making his admirable best of a situation that secretly appalled him."
Not that it was any good worrying now. The decision had been made. But she wondered what Stephen and Mrs. Dorley would think when they both heard. And all at once she very much wanted them both, and thought how dear and sane and ordinary they seemed in contrast to the situation into which she seemed to have wandered.
Perhaps Lindsay thought she had had enough excitement for one clay and sensed that she was growing tired.
''I'll have to go now, Thea child. I've a dinner engagement and I've got to look in at the theater tonieht."
He stood up and she thought, How tall ana handsome he is. No wonder so many women have run after him. And—and, in a way, I've^ot him. It's rather frightening.
*'You won t worry anymore, will you? he said, and she shook her head. "I'll come in tomorrow and bring you your ring."
"Oh, Lin, I forgot—I won't be able to wear it yet."
He frowned. "No, of course not. I hadn't thought of that. Never mind, you can wear it on your right hand for the time being."
She thought it was very nice of him to be so determined to have the whole arrangement signed and sealed, and she smiled and said, "Very well. That will be nice."
He stood looking down at her, and his smile took on that quizzical character.
"Well, do I kiss my fiancee? Do you want us to play our parts thoroughly, or only to bother about it when we have an audience?"
"I like being kissed," Thea stated simply. And with a laugh he bent down and kissed her on her lips.
Lone after he had gone, she lay there thinking about that kiss. She supposed Lin was what one called an accomplished lover. He could turn on all this sort of thing, as and
when required. He certainly did it very well. It gave a comforting air of reality to this strange arrangement that she had taken on, only she mustn't take it too seriously because it was only a piece of playacting.
She had never imagined herself sharing any sort of life with a worldly, although charming, enigma like Lin. He was years older than she was, for one thing, and two or three times her age in experience. She had always supposed that anyone she married would be young and frank and understandable. Someone rather like herself. Someone rather like Stephen.
And at the thought of Stephen she experienced a rather dreadful little twinge, because of the irrevocable character of what she was doing. Lin had said it was a temporary arrangement, that she was free to do what she liked later, and so on. But no words or phrases hid the fact that she was taking a step that could never really be retraced.
One could see that when one thought of Stephen. Not that there had ever been any lovemaking between her and Stephen. He had never even kissed her except when he said goodbye to her. But they had been perfect companions, utterly at ease with each other, hardly needing to explain or dissect the things that most people found so difficult to straighten out between themselves.
Harlequin Omnibus: Take Me with You, Choose What You Will, Meant for Each Other Page 52
