by Betty Neels
Eliza went and put on the grey dress and did her hair very tidily, so that only a very few curls escaped the pins. The sherry she had had lent a sparkle to her eyes and the two elderly people waiting for her smiled indulgently at her as she joined them. The three of them had an enjoyable meal together, and presently, when they had had their coffee, she left them sitting by the fire in the small sitting room and went to fetch her coat.
It was cold outside but pleasant in the thin sunshine. Eliza buried her chin in the folds of her head-scarf, stuck her gloved hands into her coat pockets and started off briskly, down the formal garden, through the door in the wall, and into the park beyond. She cut across the grass here towards the group of trees which concealed the pond, and had just reached the first of them and glimpsed the water when she heard voices. Estelle and Doctor Peters, standing very close together and only a few yards from her—and Estelle was speaking in a high, clear voice which penetrated the thicket with remarkable clarity, what was more, she was speaking in English. ‘It was a great mistake in the first place,’ she was assuring her companion. ‘I see now that we are not compatible, he and I…’ She turned her head as Eliza trod on a twig. ‘Why are you standing there?’ she asked coldly.
‘Because I came out for a walk, and how can I help but hear you when you choose to talk like a tragedy queen?’ asked Eliza snappishly. ‘And I’m glad to hear that you’ve realised at last that you and Christian don’t suit—I hope you’ll have the sense to break it off and leave him free to make his own plans…’
Estelle had taken a step towards her, but now she stopped abruptly, her blue eyes wide.
‘So kind,’ said Christian to the back of Eliza’s head, ‘of you to allow me to arrange my own future, although I have my doubts about it.’
He walked past her petrified form to where Estelle was standing, remembering to nod to Doctor Peters. ‘I came looking for you,’ he told her blandly. ‘I thought it was time that we had a talk.’ His eyes rested for a moment on Doctor Peters. ‘But it seems that most of my talking has been done for me.’ He held out a hand. ‘I take it that we are no longer to be married—but friends just the same, I hope.’
Estelle’s face took on a slightly frustrated look; she wasn’t being allowed to squeeze a single dramatic moment from the scene, although she made the most of removing the ring from her finger, forestalled however by Christian’s cheerful: ‘No, no—keep it, do. I never liked it, you know. You shall have the earrings for a wedding present.’ He turned away, leaving her breathing heavily with annoyance, caught Eliza by the arm and dragged her along with him.
‘Musn’t stay there,’ he told her briskly. ‘Leave them in peace to discuss their Roman remains—there’s nothing they like better.’
He didn’t speak again and Eliza hurried along beside him, still held firmly by the elbow so that even if she could have thought of something to say, she wouldn’t have had the breath to spare. They gained the side door at last and she muttered: ‘I’m going upstairs…’
‘No, you’re not,’ his voice was mild but decisive. He turned down another passage and opened the door into the covered verandah which ran along the back of the house. It was almost warm here in the winter sunshine. Eliza, freed at last of his compelling hand, went and stood at its wrought iron railing, looking down on to the small garden below, where early daffodils were beginning to show amongst the crocus and the grape hyacinths. In the distance she could see Estelle and Doctor Peters, still a long way away, emerging from the trees.
‘So you decided that Estelle wasn’t suitable for me and set about putting an end to our engagement, Eliza?’ Christian’s voice was bland, the voice he used when he didn’t want anyone to know what his real feelings were.
She said: ‘I don’t know how you knew that. Yes,’ without looking round.
‘And may I ask if you intend to interfere with any future plans I may have—marriage-wise?’
She shook her head. ‘No. I was going to, you know. You see I knew that Estelle wasn’t the right wife for you and I knew you didn’t love her; it would never have done at all. I-I meant to marry you myself.’ She swallowed back tears at the mere thought and went on in a matter-of-fact way: ‘But that was before I knew that you had all this—I thought you were just a doctor.’
‘I am just a doctor, Eliza.’
‘Oh, no, you’re not. You—we don’t belong to the same world and it’s no good saying different. My mother and father—I’m proud of them, but they’re not…’
‘I found them delightful.’
She whirled round to face him, forgetful of the tears on her cheeks. ‘When? How did you find…?’
‘I went to visit them. You see, when I got back home I realised that Estelle and I—I went down to meet your parents, Eliza, and I liked them immensely and I hope they liked me.’
‘It doesn’t make any difference.’ She had turned her back on him again, remembering the tears. ‘This house and the park—why, I’ve never seen so many people about the place—just to look after you.’
‘Regrettable, perhaps, but they depend on me, you see, just as they depended on my father and his father before him.’ He smiled a little at the back of her head. ‘I pay them,’ he pointed out mildly. ‘Besides, when I marry they will have my wife to look after and in the course of time, a bunch of high-spirited children.’
She found herself asking: ‘High-spirited? How do you know that?’
‘I have always considered you to be that, my darling; children normally have some, at least, of the characteristics of their mother.’ He smiled again. ‘Tell me, how did you know that I didn’t love Estelle?’
He had called her his darling, or had she dreamt it? ‘You kissed me—that day the cottage was flooded. I don’t think that a man who loved a girl enough to want to marry her would kiss another girl in that fashion.’ She wiped her tears away with one hand. ‘Oh, dear, and I made you sweep the floor.’
‘An experience I thoroughly enjoyed. We must make sure that our sons learn the rudiments of house cleaning.’
Eliza said in a choking voice: ‘Oh, please—I’ve been very silly, but at least I’ve been honest about it, only please don’t make a joke of it.’
‘Turn around, Eliza, and look at me.’ He was leaning against the verandah wall, his hands in his pockets. ‘Am I joking?’ he asked gently, and when she looked at him she could see that he wasn’t, so that her mouth curved in a smile. ‘I’m most unsuitable,’ she told him, ‘I…’
She was given no chance to say any more; he had left the wall and his arms were holding her close. ‘I see no alternative,’ he told her softly, ‘and I find you most suitable. Indeed, I cannot imagine my life without you, my little love.’
He bent to kiss her, and presently, when she had her breath again, she observed into his shoulder: ‘I find it very strange, for you didn’t like me at first, did you?’
‘Now what gave you that idea? I liked you all too much; I found Estelle dwindling away to a cardboard figure which had nothing to do with me and I knew then that she never had, though I tried very hard to believe that that was not so. But you drew me like a magnet—it was as though I had my feet on a path which led to you and no one and nothing else. “When a man finds his way, Heaven is gentle”—someone wrote that, I don’t know who, but it’s true; I found my way just in time, didn’t I, dear heart?’
He kissed her again, taking his time, and Eliza stirred in his arms and said, half laughing: ‘Oh, Christian, they can see us.’
Estelle and Doctor Peters had come into the garden below them, but Christian took no notice of her, but kissed her once more. Only then did he remark: ‘Good, perhaps it will encourage them to do the same. They shall come to our wedding—it might put the idea of their marrying each other into their heads.’
‘I’m still waiting to be asked,’ she reminded him a little tartly.
‘Ah, yes, I was coming to that, my darling. Come into the study. There will be no one—only Cat and Willy and the kitte
ns—to disturb us there, and I will ask you to marry me in a manner which you will never forget as long as you live.’
She reached up to kiss him. ‘That sounds very satisfactory. I’ll come and hear what you have to say,’ said Eliza.
ISBN: 978-1-4592-3946-3
HEAVEN IS GENTLE
Copyright © 1974 by Betty Neels.
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
® and TM are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Trade Marks Office and in other countries.
www.eHarlequin.com
