Roberta Leigh - And Then Came Love

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by Roberta Leigh


  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  STELLA'S decision to get a job was easier said than done, for without training or business experience she was offered such ill-paid posts that it would not have been worth her while to accept any of them.

  It was, ironically, through Adrian that she at last managed to find a suitable position. The father of one of the boys at the Academy was a Harley Street doctor who had recently lost his receptionist, and Adrian casually suggested she went to see Mm.

  With some misgivings she did so, and found Dr. Carlisle a charming, grey-haired man who engaged her on the spot.

  "I don't think your lack of experience matters at all," he said. "What I need is someone with a pleasant manner, who can book appointments and receive my patients. There's very little typing to be done, though the hours are somewhat long."

  "I don't mind what hours I put in, Dr. Carlisle."

  "Then we should get on extremely well!"

  Within minutes salary and duties had been amicably settled, and Stella returned home feeling happier than she had for a long time.

  Working for a living gave her no chance to brood, and only during the weekends — when she went for long, solitary walks in Hyde Park — was Matthew constantly in her mind. Every man she had met in recent months seemed pallid by comparison, and she would have given a great deal to hear her husband's gruff voice and see his strong, masculine face with its firm mouth and blunt, determined chin.

  Yet she could not live forever in this limbo; sooner or later she must make a fuller life for herself, and even though the thought of marrying again seemed impossible, she was too much of a realist not to accept the fact that one day she would do so. But could her future be with Charles? As always, she found it disquieting to try and imagine a specific man taking Matthew's place; a second marriage was acceptable only as long as she could think of it in abstract terms; to consider it in emotional ones only made her realise how deep her feelings for Matthew were.

  In an effort to stop thinking about the past she had her hair cut short. Matthew had liked it long, and to cut it seemed the first step in her emancipation from him. But unfortunately it worked in reverse, for the- new style — her soft blonde hair curling softly on her forehead and around her ears — made her look so much younger and appealing that she knew he would have liked it even more. If only she could see him again —meet him accidentally and catch him off guard — who knew what might happen? But this was so unlikely that she forced herself not to think about it, and instead concentrated even harder on her work.

  "You haven't had a date for months," her mother remarked one Sunday afternoon in late summer. 'Why don't you ring up some of your girlfriends? They must be tired of getting in touch with you."

  "They probably are. But I can't bear it when they try and pretend how lucky I am not to be tied down by a husband and children. I feel they're sorry for me."

  "You could soon put an end to that Charles would—"

  "Not Charles, Mother. Don't start that again!" "I'm only thinking of you. I can't bear to see you so unhappy. You've got to, do something with your lif e, Stella. You can't go on like this. Why don't you see-a lawyer about a divorce?"

  It was a question Stella had recently asked herself. Now, with her mother posing it, she was forced to find an Answer. "I was waiting to see what Matthew was going to do… what he wanted."

  "What he wanted?" her mother said furiously. "Why should you care what he wants? It's what you want that matters."

  Stella turned away. If only it were as easy as that. What she wanted. Matthew… Matthew. I want him, she thought.

  "Stella!" Mrs. Percy gasped. "You can't mean it!"

  Stella swung round, and only as she saw her mother's horrified face did she realise she had spoken her thoughts aloud.

  "Yes," she said quietly. "I do mean it I've been in love with him for a long while, but I was too stupid — too prejudiced to realise it"

  "It's impossible. He's such a —"

  "Mother!" Stella said angrily. "Whatever you say won't change facts. I love him. If you hadn't made your dislike of him so obvious I —"

  "So now you're putting the blame on me! I might have known."

  "I don't blame you at all. I blame myself. I should never have let myself be swayed by your standards."

  "What's wrong with my standards?"

  "They died with Queen Victoria!"

  �"They used to be good enough for you!"

  "That shows what a fool I was."

  "And now you've come to your senses I suppose?"

  "Yes. But too late. Matthew wouldn't have me even if I went back to him."

  "He wouldn't have you?" Mrs. Percy looked incredulous. "You must be joking. I should have thought he'd be only too pleased to have you back."

  About to reply, Stella stopped: some things were too ultimate to be discussed. "Let's change the subject, Mother. It's a waste of time to go on with this."

  "Very well." Mrs. Percy went to the door. "Neither of us will change and it's pointless arguing who's right or wrong. All I want is your happiness, and if that means you returning to —"

  "I can't go back. I've already told you!"

  "You can't seem to go forward either! Think that one over before you get too old!"

  Sitting alone by the window, Stella absorbed the remark, realising its validity with a depression so deep that it was like a physical pain. Her mother was right, of course. One day — and not too far in the future either — she must come to terms with herself. Either forget pride and beg Matthew to take her back, or marry another man and force herself to forget him. Which would be the harder to do?

  Restlessly she wandered round the room, fiddling with the ornaments, straightening cushions and glancing idly at some magazines on a side fable before she finally sat down at the piano. Her hands drifted over the keys and a gentle Chopin Etude floated into the air. As always, music soothed her, and when she came to the end she remained where she was, her expression brooding and sad. Then her fingers moved again, but this time it was the Yorkshire melody she had- played to taunt Matthew the night Charles had first dined with them. How different the sound was now: tender and gay, romantic and gentle, no longer the vulgar sound she had so cruelly strummed all those months ago. Matthew, she cried silently. Matthew…

  The insistent pealing of the doorbell brought her back to the present, and with an exclamation she hurried to answer it. Bother Adrian for forgetting his keys. It was the third time this week.

  "All right," she said crossly, "I'm coming."

  She flung open the door and stopped, staring at the young woman in a yellow linen suit who stood on the threshold. "I'm sorry," Stella said. "I thought it was my brother. Can I help you?"

  The girl nodded, her thick black hair swinging either side of a vividly made-up face. "I’d like to talk to you."

  Her voice was as soft and full as her figure, with North country twang that made Stella's heart miss a beat. "I'm afraid I don't know you," she said uncertainly.

  "I'm Belle."

  Without a word Stella went to close the door, but the girl put her foot in the way and pushed forward.

  "I intend speaking to you, Mrs. Armstrong, so you may as well let me in. Otherwise I'll talk to you from here!"

  Rigidly Stella led the way into the drawing-room. "Well," she said, standing tense and nervous in the centre of the room. "Say what you have to and leave!"

  Unperturbed, Belle sat down and crossed her legs. I’ve come to talk about Matt."

  "So I imagined. But I would rather you didn't."

  "You're labouring under a delusion, Mrs. Armstrong," the girl continued, ignoring the comment, "and I've come to put you right. But I'd like to know one thing first — do. you love Matt?"

  "That's none of your business!"

  Belle smiled. "If you didn't, you would have said so — so it looks as though you do!" Bracelets jangled as she leaned forward. "He's eating his heart out for you. For heaven's sake go back before it's too late."
r />   "It's too late already."

  "You're wrong. That's what I've come to tell you. I knew Matt before he married you — there's no secret about that — but I never expected to see him after he was married."

  Stella jumped up. "I don't want to hear!"

  "You must! When he came to my flat in the middle of the night he was out of his mind with grief. I knew —"

  "Be quiet!" Stella cried.

  "I won't! You've got to hear me. Whea he kissed jne I knew something terrible had happened to him. He was like a wounded animal running to the only hide-out he knew. He hadn't come to me because he wanted me, but because he'd nowhere else to go!" She leaned closer still. "When he came back the following night I —"

  "Don't go on," Stella begged, her voice broken. "I cant bear it."

  "You've got to hear the truth. It's important After that first night — when he cried in my arms like a baby — he never made love to me again. Never!"

  Stella began to tremble. "What are you — what are you trying to say?"

  "That Matt wasn't having an affair with me. After that one night he never touched me."

  "Never…" Stella moistened her lips. "Why did he pretend?"

  "Surely you know the answer to that?" Belle said dryly. "Pride. He thought you loved someone else, so he saved face by pretending he didn't care. Being seen with me was the obvious solution."

  Stella sat down again, trying to absorb what she had just learned. But it was not easy: so much of what she believed had to be discarded. "Does Matthew know you've come to see me?" she asked at last

  "Not likely! He'd have my scalp if he knew! I've only seen him once since he left hospital. He came to tell me he wouldn't be seeing me anymore, He didn't say why — he's too kind for that — but he didn't need to. It was obvious. Once you'd gone, there was no need for him to pretend." She sighed and lifted her shoulders. "There was no need for him to .stop seeing me either. With you out of the way, he was free to do as he liked. But he'd changed. A blind man can see that!" She regarded Stella with unabashed curiosity. "Why did you leave without putting up a fight for him?"

  Stella hesitated, unwilling to be rode, yet equally unwilling to lie. "I… I'm afraid I…" She swallowed. "I don't believe in the permissive society."

  It took a moment for the statement to register. "You mean because he came to me?"

  "Yes. I — I couldn't forgive him."

  "There was nothing to forgive." The full voice was laconic. "That night — even when he came to me — it was hopeless. It was either you or no-one."

  Stella could not hide her joy, and seeing it, Belle flushed angrily. "You're not against the permissive society, Mrs. Armstrong, you're against forgiveness and understanding! Against pity and compassion! Maybe I shouldn't speak to you like this but —"

  "No! You're right. Everything you've said is true." Pacing the floor, Stella no longer monitored her words. "I was so concerned about my own feelings that I didn't think about anyone else's. Matthew hurt me and I couldn't forgive him. But it wasn't only because of you. There was more to it than that"

  "Jess, I suppose?"

  "Jess, and his attitude to work and my being alone so much… It seems stupid and pointless now, but at the time…"

  "If you had loved him it wouldn't have mattered."

  "If he loved me, it wouldn't have happened!"

  Belle nodded. "You've a point there. That's one thing I can't figure out — why he let you go without putting up a fight Matt's not a quitter, yet with you… he just gave hi."

  Stella did not answer; even the intimacy of this moment could not make her disclose Matthew's reasons, and she watched in silence as Belle picked up her handbag and went to the door.

  "I've said what I came for, Mrs. Armstrong. The rest is up to you."

  Impulsively Stella held out her hand. "Thank you for coming to see me. I don't know why you did, but—"

  "For Matt," came the retort "He deserves the best, but he obviously wants you!"

  Stella drew a sharp breath. "You don't mince words."

  "If I did, I wouldn't have come here."

  The door closed behind her and Stella stared at it blindly, lost in thought. A noise from the kitchen made her remember her mother was home, and unwilling to talk to anyone she hurried into her bedroom and locked the door.

  Only in the safety of her room did the barriers she had been maintaining since Belle's arrival, dissolve, and she sank on the bed and cried: for the wasted months, the unnecessary suffering which she and Matthew had caused each other. It was easy to understand why he had wanted to save his pride, especially in the beginning when she had rejected him so cruelly, but surely after his accident he had realised how she felt about him? Or had the hurt she had inflicted gone so deep that it could not be forgotten?

  Feverishly she jumped up and began to pack. She had to see him; had to tell him that she loved him. He might not believe her, might even send her away again — despite what Belle had said about his loving her — but no matter what he did, she had to tell him the truth.

  "Stella," her mother called. "Where are you?"

  "In here." Stella opened the door and her mother came into the room, stopping abruptly at the sight of the cases on the floor.

  "You're going back."

  It was statement, not a question, and Stella nodded. "I should never have left."

  "Are you sure it's what you want?"

  "It's the only thing I am sure about."

  Mrs. Percy sighed. "I hope things work out for you. If things don't, you always have a home here."

  Tears flowed down Stella's cheeks and wordlessly she put her arms around her mothers shoulders mentally closer to her than they had been for a long time.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  STELLA readied Grey Walls in the middle of the following afternoon, and watched with thumping heart as the driver carried her cases to the front door. He drove off before she rang the bell and she waited apprehensively as footsteps crossed the hall and Jess opened the door.

  "So you've come back!" Jess stepped aside to let her in and Stella lifted her suitcases into the hall. "Matt never mentioned you were coming."

  "He doesn't know. How — how is he?"

  "Well enough in the circumstances."

  "What time will he be home?"

  "He didn't say he'd be late, though since you’ve gone he spends more time at the factory than here! Been none too easy to live with, either — bites my head off for the least word; I was going to be in this evening, but as you're back, I'll spend the night at Milly's."

  "There's no need for you to go," Stella said hastily.

  Jess shrugged. "I'll have to be going anyway, so I might as well get used to it. I'll not live here now you're back. It didn't work last time and it won't work now."

  "Perhaps this time we'll-have a better understanding."

  "Enough understanding to know we won't get on." She moved towards the kitchen. "I'll give Elsie instructions for the meal. After tomorrow you can take over completely."

  She went out and Stella heaved a sigh of relief. At least one of the obstacles to her and Matthew's happiness had been removed; the rest was up to her.

  Almost before she was aware of it, it was time to, get ready for dinner, and she changed into the chartreuse green dress Matthew liked, wondering as she did so what he would think of her hair. He had always liked it long and free, and on the infrequent occasions when she had let him kiss her, had run his fingers lovingly through the soft mass. She longed for him to do it again and with a twinge of fear wondered what would become of her if he refused to take her back.

  Afraid of being alone with her thoughts she went downstairs, but Jess had already left the house and she occupied herself by setting the dining-room table with lace mats and filling a shallow bowl with roses as a centrepiece, putting two candles on the table before she filled another vase and placed it in the hall.

  It was growing dark when she had finished and a fault breeze was blowing in from the moors. S
he went to the window and stood looking out over the garden. It was the first time she had seen it in high summer and in the deepening twilight it had a soft magic, a scent of night stocks drifting in from the flower-beds. Even the house seemed softer, the grey stone warm and homely, and with a sigh she lit the candles before going into the drawing-room to listen for Matthew.

  She did not have long to wait. Within a few minutes a car crunched on the gravel, a man's heavy tread mounted the steps and there was the sound of a key in the lock.

  Quivering with nervousness she got to her feet. Matthew's steps crossed to the dining-room and stopped short, and she guessed he had seen the candlelight. There was silence before he came back across the hall, then the drawing-room door opened and he came hi.

  Neither of them spoke as he closed the door and leaned against it. Stella thought how much older he looked, how thin and lined, Ms hair more noticeably grey, his shoulders stooping.

  Her hands went out to him. "Matthew, I’ve come home."

  "What for?" he asked grimly.

  "Because I've been a fool. Oh, Matthew, I'm sorry!"

  "I don't want your pity."

  "I'm not offering you pity. I'm offering you love! Oh Matthew, why didn't you tell me about Belle? She came to see me and told me everything." He did not answer and she struggled with tears. "I've been cruel and blind, but you never even gave me the opportunity to understand. Why didn't you come after me and give us a chance to start again? Didn't you realize when I saved your life that I loved you?"

  "Why should I have realized?" he asked bitterly. "You only did for me what you'd have done for anyone else! I'd fooled myself enough about you without fooling myself any more! I had plenty of tune to think when I was in hospital, and it didn't make pretty thinking either. I was a fool from the word go where you were concerned. When I came down to London the first time and found you with Charles I should have realized what you thought of me. But I was so mad about you, it didn't seem to matter. I've taken more from you than I'd ever take from anyone else, man or woman, and I'll never do it again." He passed a hand over his eyes. "That's why I didn't come after you. From now on I stay where I am and as I am."

 

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