Roberta Leigh - In Name Only

by Roberta Leigh

  "Why are you always busy every time I ask people to dine with me? This is the third time in a row you've refused to come."

  "I do have another life apart from the Hamilton Press," she replied.

  "You never used to. When I was ill you practically lived here. Damn it, Jane, by rights you should be living here now. You're, like one of the family."

  Expecting this last remark to mollify her, he was taken aback when she rounded on him in fury. "I'm not one of the family, and I don't want to be looked on as your little sister!"

  "That's the last way in which I see you! Little spitfire would be nearer the truth. Now you're to come to dinner tomorrow night and I don't want any argument about it."

  "Very well, but you don't need to ask me every time you have your friends here."

  "But I want to. When you're around I always feel at ease." He rubbed his hand across his face in a gesture of puzzlement, and she sensed the turmoil within him, knowing that he still had doubts and fears about his feelings towards her. And yet it was not to be wondered at. His accident had shaken him out of his old life and he had not yet established himself in a new one. Equally important was the fact that every girl he had wanted had always been his for the asking and had equally easily accepted the parting. But with Jane he knew it would be different, and it was this knowledge that was obviously holding him back.

  On many occasions since the time he had kissed her he had made a move to do so again, but she had always managed to extricate herself from having to deliberately refuse him. Yet now she wondered whether she was right in not accepting what he could offer instead of stubbornly insisting it must be all or nothing. Was her attitude to love too old-fashioned for this day and age? Might she not achieve what she wanted if she had an affair with him? Indeed, if he came to know her in the full sense of the word there was every possibility that he would fall in love with her. Yet always -when she was on the brink of surrender - something held her back, some pride or fear or perhaps plain old-fashioned self-respect.

  "What are you thinking about ? " his voice interrupted her reverie, and she looked at him so blankly that he repeated the question.

  "I was just wondering what to wear," she lied.

  "Make it something bright. Go out and buy yourself a red dress."

  "It's against my budget, I'm afraid. I'm saving up to buy myself a car."

  "Let me buy you a car. After the way you've helped me it's the least I——-" He stopped and then said quickly, ''No ulterior motive, Jane, I was only offering out of the kindness of my heart!"

  She smiled. "You learn quickly," and then added mischievously, "Just as a point of interest, what car did you have in mind?"

  "A snappy red sports one."

  She giggled. "I can just see my mother's face if I drove up in something like that!"

  "Is she like you?" he asked. "I mean, serious and bossy."

  It was the first time he had questioned her about her family and she was pleased by it. "I don't think my mother would like being called bossy, but if you want to know whether she's got a mind of her own, then the answer is yes."

  "And your father?"

  "He's a poppet. He was an engineer until he retired."

  "You're not old enough to have a father of retiring age."

  "My parents were married seventeen years before I was born," she explained.

  "Good heavens!"

  "That's exactly what they said! I suppose that's why you find me different from other girls of my age. Having parents so much older than myself was probably the reason."

  "I'd like to meet your parents," he said unexpectedly. "Let me know when you're going to see them?"

  "I'm sure you'd be bored."

  "Why?"

  "There's nothing to do there. They live in the country and it's very quiet and…"

  "Really, Jane," he intervened, "you don't know me at all. I love the country. You must promise to let me know when you're going down next."

  Instantly she made up her mind. "This weekend."

  "Then it's a date."

  With more than a little nervousness Jane drove down to her parents' home on Saturday morning, arriving in time for lunch. From the first moment of meeting them, Nicholas was completely at home with her parents, endearing himself immediately to her mother by saying she didn't look old enough to have a daughter of Jane's age, and delighting her father with his immediate approval of the garden and offer to help with the weeding.

  All too quickly the two days fled and as they drove back to London late on Sunday she regretted she had not had the courage to ask Nicholas to her home before. Perhaps if he saw her more frequently in her home surroundings, he would see her as a person in her own right and not associate her -as he did now - with the months of his illness.

  "You've got wonderful parents, Jane," he said, interrupting her thoughts. "I hope you'll invite me again."

  "You're welcome to come down whenever you want to. Mother and Daddy said it as I was leaving."

  "I'm glad they liked me."

  "Why shouldn't they? You were your most charming self!"

  "Did I manage to charm you ?"

  "Stop fishing - you're conceited enough!"

  He chuckled, but did not pursue the conversation, and when next he spoke she was disappointed that he turned the subject to a Directors' Meeting his father had had on the previous Friday. With an effort she forced her mind away from romantic thoughts of the future to concentrate on giving him the information he wanted.

  "In another few weeks you won't need me to tell you anything," she concluded. "Once you start work you'll -"

  "I'll always need your advice," he interrupted. "You're invaluable, Jane. For someone so young you've got a remarkable understanding of people."

  It was not the sort of compliment she would have wished, but it was better than nothing and involuntarily she leaned over and squeezed his arm.

  "Dear Jane," he said unexpectedly. "Dear and lovely Jane."

  CHAPTER III

  As with everything he did, Nicholas's return to the office was swift and sharp, and within days his impact was felt throughout the entire group of Companies. Now that he was no longer concerned with supervising the network of foreign correspondents he concentrated entirely on re-planning the day-to-day working structure of each department. There were many angry scenes and several resignations, but within an amazingly short space of time the results Nicholas had wanted were achieved. Jane's pride in him was nothing compared to that of his father and for the first time since she had been with him Sir Angus openly spoke about his retirement

  "I'll just carry on to the end of the year," he said late one afternoon as they were both getting ready to leave the office. "And then I'll retire."

  "I'll believe that when it happens."

  He smiled. "What will you do, Jane? Come to my house and take care of an old man or stay on here and work for Nicholas?"

  Uncertain whether or not to .take his remarks seriously, she decided not to answer and he came over to the desk and leaned forward, his face dose to hers.

  "I'm serious, Jane. When I leave here I'd like nothing better than to have you stay with me."

  "Or stay here as Nicholas's secretary," she reminded him.

  "I was joking when I said that. The last thing in the world you should do is to work for Nicholas. It's time he started seeing you as a woman."

  She remembered how blithely Sir Angus had assumed that this would happen of its own accord and how wrong he had been, for now that he was working at the office each when they dined together or when she spent the weekend at day, Nicholas's attitude to her had already undergone a subtle change; though as friendly and unaffected as ever when they dined together or when she spent the weekend at Orme Square, their conversations were generally impersonal, the subjects they discussed relevant only to his business life.

  "No, Jane," Sir Angus reiterated. "You mustn't work for Nicholas. That's why I want you to leave. I'll probably write my autobiography and I'll nee
d you to help me. You can live in the house and be a proper member of the family."

  "What you're trying to do won't work," she said gently. "You know how I feel towards Nicholas - I've never lied to you about it - but love isn't something you can force."

  "I know my son better than you," came the stubborn reply. "He relies on you more than he realizes. Why, if you went out of his life he'd be lost."

  "Then perhaps I should go out of his life," she suggested. "If I take a job abroad for six months or -"

  "Don't do that. Absence makes the heart go wander! Remember that, Jane."

  "Well, proximity isn't getting me anywhere," she said, and he shook his head half in acknowledgement, half in annoyance.

  "Come to dinner tonight. I'm going to tell Nicholas I've made up my mind to retire and I'd like you to be there."

  That evening, Jane dressed with more than usual care. Despite telling Nicholas that she was saving her money to buy a car she had spent an appreciable amount of her savings on a new wardrobe, choosing the pastel colours he liked so much.

  Delicate as a rose in a swirling pink chiffon dress, she entered the drawing-room at Orme Square to find only Sir Angus there.

  "Nicholas has gone to a cocktail party," he explained, handing her a glass of champagne. "But he said he'd be back by eight, so we will wait dinner for him."

  She took the glass and sipped. "I can never get used to drinking champagne," she commented. "It seems wrong to drink it unless you've got something to celebrate."

  "Let's celebrate the fact that you're looking very lovely." He raised his glass. "You should always wear that colour, it suits you."

  "It's a new dress," she admitted. "Nicholas said my clothes were always too dark, so I——-" she stopped, blushed and then sipped at her drink again.

  "I'm sure he'll love it," Sir Angus replied, and settling himself in an armchair, glanced at the clock. "Not long enough to have a cigar," he said, pulling a face. "Nicholas is sure to arrive when I'm just in the middle of it."

  But in this Sir Angus was proved wrong, for at eight-fifteen when he was looking restlessly at the clock, Nicholas telephoned to say he would be going out to dinner. Jane tried to hide her disappointment, but it engulfed her like a tidal wave and her gaiety, which until that moment had been effervescent, went flat, making it an effort for her to smite or talk.

  "Don't look like that," Sir Angus said abruptly. "He might have met someone he hasn't seen for a long time."

  Jane forced herself to smile, but without knowing why, she had a presentiment that Nicholas's absence tonight meant more than Sir Angus realised.

  The following morning when Nicholas came into her office that she had full justification for her fears.

  "My father's busy ?" he asked

  "He's on the telephone, but he'll be free in a few moments."

  Nicholas sauntered over to the window and looked down at the people milling along Fleet Street. Unlike his father he did not wear dark clothes to the office and looked casual and younger than usual in a grey suit. "Sorry about last night," he said, and half turned to smile at her.

  She smiled back. "It must have been a very good party."

  "It wasn't really. I normally hate cocktail parties, but Alec's going off to the States for a few months so I had to go."

  She longed to ask him if he had not returned home to dinner because of Alec, and only the notebook she was holding in her hand reminded her that no matter how close she felt towards him, or how friendly he was in return, she was still only his father's secretary. How soul-destroying it was to work for someone once personal emotions became an important factor; there was nothing more guaranteed to destroy spontaneity than to be on the receiving end of a weekly or monthly salary.

  The buzzer sounded on her desk and she looked across at him. "Your father's free."

  He nodded and went into his father's office and Jane leaned back in her chair and wondered whether there would ever come a time when the sight of Nicholas did not make her long to throw herself into his arms.

  "Mr. Hamilton here?" She looked up to see one of the messengers in the doorway, a manilla folder in his hand.

  "He's with Sir Angus."

  "Could you give him this ?" The messenger put the folder on Jane's desk. "He left word with the news library that he wanted it urgently. I went to his office, but his secretary wasn't sure if he was going straight out to lunch or not, and he said he had to have it before he did."

  "I'll see he gets it."

  "Don't forget now," the messenger said with a cheeky grin, and whistled his way out.

  Jane looked at the folder curiously. It was a bulky one and a few of the news cuttings — obviously the most recent

  - had not been clipped together and had half tumbled oat. Automatically she pulled the folder forward to rearrange them, wondering why it was so important for Nicholas to see h before he went out. Assuming it to be news cuttings about the man with whom he was lunching, she idly opened the folder, recoiling with a distinct and unpleasant shock as the face of a beautiful, svelte-looking blonde stared up at her. Quickly she leafed through the cuttings, noting that each one came from the social or fashion columns of their newspapers. "Carole Sheridan, model of the year…"

  "Carole Sheridan denies marriage to nickel heir…"

  " 'I'm a model because I like the work, not because I need to do it,' says Carole Sheridan, newest socialite to make an impact on the model scene."

  Avidly - despite a qualm of guilt - Jane scanned the clippings, the succinct journalese painting in a few brief words a vivid picture of the girl whom she was convinced was the reason for Nicholas's absence last night and who was obviously going to be his luncheon companion of today.

  With trembling hands she rearranged the folder and closed it, then placed it on the corner of her desk as far away from herself as she could. Carole Sheridan. It was a name as familiar in the London social scene as it was in the fashion world, though in the last few months the fashion pictures had become fewer as newer faces and a different type of beauty became the fad, but despite this the girl's name continued to appear regularly in the gossip columns, always linked with young and wealthy bachelors. Not that mere was any reason for it not to be, for she came from an upper class background, her mother an Honourable and her father a retired colonel.

  Jane was just about to reach out for the folder again when Nicholas came through the door and she dropped her hand hastily. But he had seen the movement, saw too the folder on her desk.

  "So it's come," he said, and hurried over to pick it up. Standing in front of her, he leafed through the contents, pausing occasionally to read one. Then he closed the folder and handed it to Jane. "Could you have a messenger take it back to the cutting room ?"

  "Of course." She kept her eyes down, but knew that he was looking at her.

  "Well, go on, Jane. Ask me the question."

  She looked up. "What question?"

  "The one you're dying to ask." He tapped the folder and Jane was glad that she was still sitting down, convinced that if she had not been her trembling would have been too noticeable for him to overlook.

  "Why should I - why should I be curious about Carole Sheridan?"

  "Because one woman is always curious about another. I met her at Alec's last night," he went on. "Incredible to think we'd never met until then."

  Each, word he said confirmed her earlier fears, making a mockery of her own hopes for the future. "Not really so incredible," she heard herself saying, her voice so normal that she marvelled at it. "After all, until your accident you weren't on the London scene all that much."

  He nodded his agreement, glanced at his watch and with an exclamation hurried Out.

  Bleakly Jane looked at the door he had just dosed, realising that he was just as quickly hurrying out of her own life. She leaned forward and picked up the folder again; every fibre of her being longed to open it and examine it all over again, but she fought back the impulse and keeping her mind as blank as possible,
she put a rubber band around the folder and then dialled for a messenger to come and collect it.

  In the weeks that followed, Jane saw Nicholas less and less. Most evenings he dined out and on the rare occasions when he stayed at home and Jane was there’ he seemed abstracted and impatient. Only when the talk veered to bust-ness did he put his mind to it and give Jane his entire concentration, but this was little consolation to her, for she knew that at these times he was not seeing her as a woman. Once or twice Carole Sheridan's name would crop up in conversation, but it always seemed to happen by chance and Jane knew that Nicholas's secretiveness - unusual since he had always spoken to her freely - did not augur well for her own cherished dreams. Not that she needed any more indications, for common sense alone told her that with each day that passed the memories that had kept her and Nicholas close were fading from his mind. Yet she did not resent this, loving him too much to want him to continue thinking about his accident and the year of effort that he had spent in learning to walk again.

  But Jane's stoicism was in no way reflected by Sir Angus's attitude, although it was not until he arrived late at the office one morning that he finally gave vent to his feelings. She had known that a small dinner party had been held at Orme Square the night before, though not until now had she guessed it had been given for Carole Sheridan and her parents.

  "Nicholas must be out of his mind!" Sir Angus exploded. "There's nothing wrong with the Colonel - he's a typical army man - but his wife and daughter are a pair of vultures, with my fool of a son ripe for their pickings."

  Jane did not answer and Sir Angus restlessly paced the room. "Didn't tell you they were coming," he went on gruffly. "Thought the whole thing would pass over and be forgotten. But it isn't!" He flung out his hands. "Nicholas is besotted about the girl. Won't hear a word against her."

  Again he paused, and knowing that he expected her to say something, Jane made a determined effort to do so. "She's very pretty and was a very successful model."