The Gated Road

by Jean S. MacLeod

  In the six short weeks since their parting, Penny had grown up.

  Adam lifted a large cardboard box and a suitcase from the back seat of the car, catching Jane’s eye as she set them down beside her sister. Jane flushed scarlet. Penny had undoubtedly come to stay.

  It was impossible to read anything of his true feelings on Adam’s face, however. In so many ways he was a complete enigma. Penny was now his mother’s guest and he would not embarrass Jane by letting her see what he really thought of the situation.

  The one sure thing seemed to be that Penny had not been able to rush straight back into his arms with few questions asked and the rupture between them healed by a kiss.

  It had been madness to expect it, Jane told herself as she led the way upstairs to the room Doris was preparing for her sister. Adam must have had a few harsh things to say to Penny that even the flood of Penny’s sorrowful tears would not quite wash away.

  When they were alone at last, Penny looked about her with a deep sigh of relief.

  “This is cosy!” she said. “You’ve no idea how awful it has been, Jane, living in a suitcase all these weeks and never really knowing whether the tour was a success or not. We seemed to go down well with some audiences and absolutely flopped with others. We needed bigger names, I guess. Everything has to be big in America,” she added bitterly, “to go at all.”

  She sat down on the bed while Jane crossed to the window, standing with her back to it because it looked out over the yard where Adam was busy loading up the car with evergreens.

  “Then,” Penny said, “there was Stephen.” She raised pleading, apologetic eyes to Jane’s. “You’ll never forgive me for that, will you?” she asked.

  “I’ve forgotten about it,” Jane told her with the utmost truth.

  “I wish I could,” Penny said. “He’s broken my heart, Jane!”

  There was a small, curt silence.

  “I suppose you think I deserve that for what I did to you and to Adam,” Penny said at last. “Well, maybe I do, but it has made me see what an awful thing it was. I just went straight ahead and took what I wanted, and it didn’t seem to matter about anyone else. But now I know that it does matter. You can’t be selfish all the time and get away with it. Adam said that.” The revelation left her thoughtful for a moment. “He’s not going to forgive me easily, Jane.”

  “Can you wonder?” Jane’s anger rose uppermost for a moment. “You had no right to come here, Penny—inflicting yourself on Adam and his family like this!”

  “Perhaps not,” Penny agreed. “I was just very lonely, Jane, and very fed up.” The wistful expression which always got Penny what she wanted made Jane long to shake her. “Perhaps I felt that I needed Adam again,” she murmured. “His protection and his love.”

  “You’ve just told me that you couldn’t forget Stephen!” Jane reminded her harshly. “You can’t simply come back here and pick up Adam like a discarded glove. He’s not that sort of person!”

  Penny’s eyes opened wide.

  “You seem to know Adam very well,” she observed in a small, tight voice. “But he did ask me here. He did say that I could stay.

  “Adam told me about his mother. I was terribly sorry. It must have been an awful shock for everybody at the time, and then—and then me! Throwing Adam over like that. He must have been glad of you, Jane, to take care of Mrs. Drummond. How long are you going to stay?”

  “I don’t know,” Jane said. “I don’t know. All this—your coming here—has made it impossible for us to go on as we were. Adam will make some sort of decision,” she added as she reached the door. “Come down when you’re ready, Penny. Lunch is at one.”

  “What about your dress?” Penny asked, dismayed by the restraint between them. “I thought you might want to hang it up. It’s bound to be terribly creased.”

  “I’ll see to it later,” Jane answered automatically.

  In the hall she met Adam going up with Penny’s case, but she could hardly bear to meet his eyes.

  “Don’t worry so much about it, Jane,” he advised. “Penny and I have got the worst over.”

  Which meant, perhaps, that he had forgiven Penny.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “Well, I’m blowed!” said Nigel. “You are alike! As alike as two peas—which I never did think was a very complimentary simile. Same hair, eyes, nose, mouth—almost the same expression! It’s when you laugh you’re different.”

  He could not explain the difference, so Penny laughed delightedly to assist him. Some of her natural effervescence had returned in the two hours since she had met Nigel at lunch, and already they were friends.

  “You’ll stay for the ball, of course, now that you’re here?” he asked.

  “How can I?” Penny pouted. “I haven’t anything to wear.”

  “That’s a snag!” he grinned. “Jane couldn’t help, I don’t suppose?”

  “Bringing Jane’s dress was my reason for coming.” Penny was going to stick to that one, Jane thought dryly. “I didn’t bargain for a ball! It’s not a thing one can go to in a cocktail frock.”

  “H-m-m!” The finer points of full and semi-evening dress had never presented themselves to Nigel until now. “Couldn’t you get one from somewhere?” he suggested vaguely.

  Penny glanced at Jane.

  “You could quite easily wear mine,” Jane offered. The ball had lost its lustre for her now; she did not care very much whether she went or not. “Adam will take you.”

  Nigel glanced quickly from one to the other.

  “There’s four of us,” he pointed out. “You and Adam; Penny and me.”

  “And Marion,” Jane reminded him, aware once again how acutely Marion dominated her every thought.

  “I’d forgotten about Marion,” Nigel acknowledged, “but she doesn’t really count on this occasion. She’ll be at the Priory until tomorrow, organizing everything.”

  Marion had not come back to High Tor for lunch. She had taken sandwiches with her to the Priory and a flask of coffee, expecting them to join her later in the afternoon to help with the decorating of the hall.

  “We’re certainly not going to let you go back before the ball,” Nigel told Penny. “Couldn’t you buy a dress somewhere?”

  Penny glanced at her twin for the second time.

  “Could I, Jane?”

  It was the form of entreaty that invariably won people over, half-wistful, half-apologetic and willing to do exactly as the other person decided. It had won the day for Penny many a time.

  “You could always go to Carlisle or Newcastle upon Tyne,” Jane said, turning away. “There are plenty of shops there and you’re stock size.”

  “Then it’s settled!” Nigel was delighted. “I’ll take you right away, if you like.”

  Jane paused at the door.

  “What about the decorations at the Priory?” she asked.

  “Oh, you and Adam can hold the fort till we get back,” Nigel answered airily. “Marion won’t mind so long as Adam’s there. He’s more reliable than I am.”

  Penny followed him from the hall with a grateful smile in her sister’s direction.

  What a fool I am, Jane thought, always giving in to Penny like this! The decision about the dress will be credited to me, but surely Adam wanted Penny to go to the ball!

  Slowly she made her way to Helen Drummond’s room to tell her about their plans for the remainder of the afternoon. Adam had taken Penny in to see his mother earlier and they had talked together for half an hour. When Penny had come back into the hall Jane had noticed that all her nervousness had vanished. There had been a frank look of relief in her eyes, but there had been no opportunity for Jane to discuss the meeting with her.

  “Come in!” Helen called as soon as Jane knocked at her bedroom door. “I’ve been waiting for you to come,” she added, turning from the window where she had been looking out across the fields. “Adam says you are all going down to the Priory to help with the decorations.”

  “Adam and I wil
l be going,” Jane said. “Nigel has offered to take Penny to Carlisle to buy an evening dress.”

  She felt awkward and almost tongue-tied in her attempt to explain their swift change of plans because she did not know what Helen thought of Penny and the way in which she had descended on High Tor at last. But Helen did not seem to mind. Perhaps she was even glad that Penny had come because it might give Adam a second chance of happiness. If he could forgive Penny and forget what she had done, Helen, too, could forgive for Adam’s sake.

  Helen put a gentle hand on her arm.

  “Don’t take it too much to heart, Jane,” she advised. “Of course, it was a shock to us when Penny turned up, but I think Adam has got over it. He doesn’t say much, but in some ways I can read him like a book. I like Penny,” she added magnanimously, although she must have been angry enough with Penny in her time. “We all make mistakes, my dear, and Penny is young. Younger than you, Jane, although you are twins,” she added gently. “It’s something rather difficult to explain, this age business. Some of us grow up more quickly than others. Take Adam and Nigel, for instance. Nigel never had the responsibilities to shoulder that Adam had and it has made him reckless and foolish at times, but I can’t believe that he won’t settle down in the end. With Adam,” she added wistfully, “it has been the other way round. He has had too much responsibility and accepted it with a deep sense of obligation.”

  Her words sank into a brief silence which was broken, after a moment, by a girl’s high-pitched, careless laughter.

  Simultaneously they both moved nearer to the window. In the cobbled yard outside Nigel and Penny were fitting themselves into the little sports car which had already been loaded up for the journey to the Priory. A tea urn protruded from the back seat and a dozen or so paper lanterns bulged from an inadequate cardboard box, while a paper chain had festooned itself over Penny’s shoulders. Nigel turned from the wheel to disentangle her.

  When Jane turned back to Helen she was smiling. Her whole face had lit up and her eyes were tender.

  “That’s the most priceless gift of youth,” she said. “It’s laughter. When we grow older we laugh politely, discreetly, falsely, but never with youth’s complete abandonment to happiness. It lasts for such a little while, Jane, and it’s what High Tor needs. Nigel has been too hemmed in with seriousness these past few years. I’m not blaming Adam,” she added hastily. “All I’m saying is that we need someone like Penny here to level things up a bit.”

  A burning envy of her twin stirred in Jane’s heart as she turned away, yet she could not grudge Penny the joy of ultimate forgiveness nor Helen and Adam the happiness they so richly deserved.

  “Penny’s hopelessly impulsive but she’s terribly lovable,” she admitted. “I’m glad she hasn’t hurt Adam too deeply.”

  “Adam would never let anyone know how deeply he was hurt,” Helen reflected. “He’s so different from Nigel, whose emotions are all on the surface.”

  The red sports car set off with a good deal of backfiring and more laughter from its occupants, and Jane said hastily:

  “Perhaps I’d better find Adam and let him know what has happened. I thought I’d come in, though, to see if there was anything you wanted before we went down to the Priory.”

  Helen shook her head.

  “Off you go and find Adam,” she advised. “He’ll probably need help to load the other car.”

  Adam was stacking a few last-minute oddments into his own car when Jane found him.

  “You didn’t go to Carlisle, then?” he asked, looking up from his task.

  “No.” Jane’s face was pale and her voice was none too steady. “I thought you might need me—to help with the decorations,” she rushed on when, she realized how personal it all must sound.

  “There’s only the two of us,” he agreed. “Marion will be expecting Nigel, but I dare say he will put in an appearance later on.”

  He lifted the car bonnet to check the oil, and as he examined the dip-stick she saw how tight his lips were. He was not at all pleased about the Carlisle trip, Jane thought.

  He held the door open for her.

  “Nigel has everything else in the M.G.,” he said. “I hope they survive the trip to Carlisle and back.”

  “They hadn’t time to unload anything,” Jane explained, getting into the passenger seat beside him. “It was all decided so quickly.” He made no comment about that, and Jane turned to wave to Helen, who was watching from her window.

  The gate leading to the yard lay open, and all the other gates, as far as Jane could see.

  “Nigel doesn’t believe in barriers,” Adam observed dryly, “even to keep the cattle from straying.”

  Jane got down to close the gate behind them.

  “There’s an awful lot of them, Adam!” she smiled.

  “Too many, you think?” His glance was inquiring.

  “I don’t know. I don’t know anything about High Tor—about the things that are really necessary to your life up here on the moor.”

  “Gates are necessary,” he said firmly. “Barriers of one kind or another.”

  “I like best these open, roller affairs you’ve got down at the home farm at the Priory, where the cattle don’t cross but where you can drive through easily. Although probably that’s because I’m lazy,” she added lightly.

  “The cattle grids could be installed at High Tor,” he said when she had closed the final gate behind them. “They would be an innovation.”

  “And a help?”

  He shrugged.

  “I don’t know. Perhaps they would make life easier.”

  “Letting down any sort of barrier generally does,” Jane declared impulsively, and then could have bitten back the words because it was all so personal; Adam had erected so many barriers between himself and the outside world.

  “You consider me unjust where Nigel is concerned,” he suggested.

  “I’ve no right to judge you, Adam,” she told him.

  He drove for several minutes without speaking.

  “I’ve only had High Tor’s interests at heart for a very long time,” he confessed at last. “I’ve swamped myself in that to the exclusion of a good many other things, I suppose. But it’s certainly not too late for Nigel to make something useful out of his life. My mother’s one hope is that he will marry and settle down in the dale.”

  Jane felt the color rush into her cheeks and ebb again, leaving her paler than before. Did he still hope that she might marry Nigel and set his mother’s heart at rest?

  “It would be a good thing,” she admitted, and felt him look at her for a split second.

  After what seemed an interminable pause, he asked:

  “This Stephen whom Penny went to America to marry? Was he someone you knew, Jane?”

  Her surprise was so great that she could only acknowledge the fact with a nod.

  “You were in love with him?”

  “Yes.”

  He did not ask her if she were still in love with Stephen. Perhaps he took that for granted. It would only matter to him because of Nigel, because he was shrewd enough to suspect that she could only offer Nigel second best.

  He did not speak about Stephen again, or about Penny either. Whatever he thought about the past he seemed determined to keep it to himself.

  When they drew up at the Priory, Marion was standing in the great canopied porch with a heap of greenery lying in haphazard confusion at her feet.

  “So you did manage to get here!” she observed thinly, ignoring Jane to challenge Adam. “I’ve just had Nigel and your ex-fiancée here, Adam,” she added. “Quite a happy little party, aren’t we?”

  Adam’s jaw tightened.

  “They were on their way to Carlisle,” he said.

  “So I believe.” Marion’s eyes sharpened, although the mocking smile still curled her lip. “But they decided to go to Newcastle instead. They dropped in here to leave the decorations—in case I might need them before they got back!”

  Adam got out fr
om behind the steering wheel and began to take the packing-cases from the back of the car.

  “Events move swiftly, it would appear,” Marion suggested. “How on earth did she get here?”

  “I brought her,” Adam said. “I hope you have no objection?”

  His voice had been dangerously calm, but Marion laughed.

  “Not at all, my dear Adam, so long as it pleases you to have her,” she answered. “It does seem rather odd, though, and rather impertinent on her part.”

  Jane said furiously, “Penny asked if she could come to High Tor, Marion. She didn’t just turn up on the doorstep!”

  “No,” Marion agreed maddeningly, “but it was next to that, wasn’t it? She gave us no other alternative.” She shrugged, turning toward the house. “Oh, well, we can always do with the odd dancing partner at a hunt ball,” she conceded. “It evens things up and makes everything more—exciting.”

  Jane followed her into the hall, which had already been cleared of its furniture. She had the odd impression that Marion was not too gravely concerned about Penny now that she had met her. Penny was too transparent to trouble anyone like Marion for long.

  Suddenly Marion wheeled round to face her, the light from the chandelier above her head glittering in her pale eyes. It had been switched on to dispel the gathering shadows in that vast place which was so soon to become the scene of brilliant revelry, but it lit up more than the wonderful old timbers and the age-blackened panelling of Marion Denholm’s ancestral home. Its bright, unshaded light penetrated straight to the dark and secret places of Marion’s soul where an over-mastering hatred and a terrible jealousy lay like an animal ready to spring.

  Instinctively Jane stepped back, waiting for Adam to reach her side. Marion’s hatred had passed beyond Penny. She no longer cared about the girl who had cheated Adam. It was Jane who now inspired her desperate enmity.

  Before either Jane or Adam could speak, other helpers had arrived, spilling out of shooting brakes and cars to unload more evergreens and add them to the general confusion in the porch.