The Brave In Heart

by Mary Burchell

  “Mr. Onderley wants me to marry him, and for us all to go and live there.”

  Again the twins registered acute astonishment, though Tom almost immediately recovered himself sufficiently to say with some complacence:

  “What did I say? I told you I thought Mr. Onderley might ask you to marry him.”

  “Why, so you did!” cried Judy, genuinely impressed. And then, turning to her sister: “Oh, Jess, how simply splendid! Then we needn’t any of us go away.”

  Tom, whose thought processes were a little more subtle, refrained from open jubilation until he had asked, somewhat anxiously:

  “Do you want to marry him, Jess?”

  Jessica quite distinctly recognised this as the moment when her real decision must be made, and, with hardly a trace of hesitation, she said:

  “Why, of course, Tom. I wouldn’t have told you about it, otherwise.”

  “Then what were you waiting for?” enquired Judy with joyous impatience, while her happy relief beamed from her. “Did you just want to make sure we liked the idea too?”

  “Something like that,” Jessica told her with a smile. And, throwing her arms round her sister in a passion of congratulation and relief, Judy cried:

  “It’s a wonderful idea, Jess! It couldn’t be better.”

  “Do you like Mr. Onderley so much?” Jessica smiled at her curiously.

  “Oh, yes.” Judy dismissed that with cheerful positive-ness. “Besides, it means keeping us all together and in the place we all like best. Oh dear, fancy my crying for nothing like that.” And she scrubbed her tear-stained face with a grubby handkerchief.

  “I think you’d better go and wash your face,” Jessica said, surveying the rather disastrous results of Judy’s activity. “But, Judy”—as Judy started off very willingly towards the house—”don’t say anything just yet to Aunt Miriam or Uncle Hector. I mean—I’d better tell Ford first.”

  “Doesn’t he know he’s going to marry you?” enquired Judy, greatly intrigued.

  “Yes, of course. At least—I haven’t given him any final answer yet. But now I know you would both like it too, I’ll tell him.” Jessica explained. And, as she did so, she experienced that heady sensation which always goes with the burning of one’s boats, however much one may doubt the wisdom of the action.

  Fortunately, the twins were, like most children, quite prepared to take anything in their stride, once they had absorbed the salient facts. And they refrained from much comment on the new situation.

  From time to time, Judy burst out with such vital questions as, “Do you think we’ll be allowed to roll the lawn at Oaklands?” or “Will you be married in white? And will Mary be your chief bridesmaid?” But, on the whole, they were willing to wait upon events, once they had been assured that the peril of exile had been removed.

  By the time Mary rejoined them, they were so used to the whole idea that Judy enquired quite naturally.

  “Does Mary know?”

  “Do I know what?” enquired the sharp-eared Mary. “I know most things that go on around here.”

  Jessica looked faintly put out, and Judy said jubilantly:

  “Well, I don’t believe you know this!’

  “What’s the mystery?” Mary looked amusedly from one to another.

  “It—isn’t a mystery, Mary. It’s just that I’m—well, I’m going to marry Ford Onderley.”

  “Just that you’re going to marry him!’ cried Mary. “My dear girl, how sensational! I should call that frontpage news, with no ‘just’ about it. When on earth was this decided on?”

  “This afternoon,” put in Judy quickly.

  “Why, has Ford been here and proposed and gone away again all in the short space of time that I’ve been missing?” enquired Mary incredulously.

  “No, no,” Jessica laughed a little protestingly. “Judy means that she and Tom gave their consent this afternoon.”

  “And Jessica’s still got to tell Mr. Onderley that it’s all right,” supplemented Judy obligingly, “so don’t start congratulating him, if you see him.”

  “I won’t,” Mary promised, and gave a quick, curious glance at her friend.

  Jessica flushed faintly under it, and hastened to explain further:

  “I—wouldn’t give a definite answer until—until I knew how the children felt about it, so—”

  “Seriously, Jessica?” Mary interrupted with something like real protest. “Do you mean that your—decision about marrying depended on what the twins thought?”

  “No, no. Of course not.” Jessica saw that she was getting into deep waters, and knew that her shrewd friend was aware of the fact. “But, after all, it was a decision which would greatly affect the twins, too, wasn’t it?”

  “It was,” Mary agreed, and her tone was very slightly grim. Then she added more briskly: “Come along, Judy. Hop into the car, there’s a good child, or we shall be late. Go with her, Tom, and help her in.”

  Jessica recognised this perfectly well for a neat ruse to get rid of the children for a few minutes, and braced herself for the next question. As the children passed out of earshot, it came, with all Mary’s uncompromising directness:

  “Jess, you aren’t just marrying him to provide a home for those children, are you?”

  “No,” Jessica said, with admirable composure. “I’m marrying him because I love him.”

  “Jess!” Mary looked, Jessica thought impatiently, quite ridiculously puzzled.

  “Why not? He’s terribly attractive, when you get to know him, you know. And he’s been so wonderfully good to me.”

  “Yes. Yes—I know.” Mary bit her lip doubtfully. “It’s just—-Oh, you don’t seem to have known him any time, and somehow I never imagined your falling for anyone like that. You have too much sense of humour and personality to be dazzled by the arrogant, good-looking sort. Don’t think I’m speaking against him, Jess. I know he’s been goodness itself to you and the kids. Only—oh, I suppose it’s so obviously an advantageous match from every material point of view that a cynic like myself doubts the romance a bit,” she finished with a laugh.

  “You’re not a cynic, Mary. You’re incurably romantic, as a matter of fact,” Jessica told her with a smile. “But it—it is a love match, and I wouldn’t want you to think anything else.”

  “Well, darling, I only want to be assured that it’s for your happiness, of course,” Mary cried, and kissed her warmly. “A thousand, thousand congratulations, if this is really what you want. No one will be better pleased than I to sec you happily married and settled here. I just—was afraid—for a moment—”

  “Yes. I know. But there is nothing to be afraid about,” Jessica assured her calmly. “And, Mary dear— do something for me, will you?”

  “Anything,” promised Mary in the emotional generosity of the moment.

  “Ring up Ford for me, and ask him to come along and see me. I can’t do it myself, because I still can’t walk to the phone without Uncle Hector’s arm and—”

  “Yes, yes. I see Uncle Hector would be a disturbing element,” Mary said understandingly. “Leave it to me, dear. I’ll phone him the moment I’ve deposited Judy at the hospital. I must fly now, or she’ll be driving the car off on her own and breaking the other leg.”

  And, with a wave of her hand, Mary ran off towards the car.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  PRESENTLY Aunt Miriam came out and said—wasn’t Jessica cold and didn’t she think it was time she came in?

  “No, thank you, Aunt Miriam. I’ll stay just a little longer.”

  Jessica sounded pleasant but determined, for she was almost sure that Ford would come just as soon as he received Mary’s message, and she had no intention that the situation should be complicated by his having to pass Aunt Miriam’s catechism before he reached her.

  Her aunt looked a trifle dissatisfied, for she had come to associate that particular tone of Jessica’s with what she called “obstinate and unpractical notions.” But, with a slight shake of her head, she went i
nto the house again. And a few minutes later Jessica heard the sound of a car approaching.

  She knew quite well it was not just a car. It was his car. Not that she identified it by any special knowledge of the sound—as Tom would undoubtedly have done. She just knew that this was Ford Onderley coming to hear her say that she would be his wife.

  As he drew up at the gate, she sternly repressed a shiver of nervous excitement, telling herself that Aunt Miriam had been right, and that it was certainly growing too cold to stay out of doors.

  And then he was coming across the smooth lawn towards her, and she smiled. Because didn’t every girl have to smile when she was about to accept a proposal of marriage?

  “Mary Skelton rang up and said you wanted to see me.” He took her hand and stood looking down at her. “Is anything wrong? Do you want something done?”

  “Why, no, Ford.” She actually laughed then and slightly bit her lip. He was so very sure that if anything went wrong, he was the man to put things right. If he already thought he could manage all her affairs for her when he had no special right to do so, what was he going to be like when he considered her his complete concern?

  But it was too late to think about that now. Her task at the moment—and suddenly she found it a difficult one—was to tell him of her decision.

  She glanced down at the strong, rather fine hand which was still holding hers.

  “I—I just thought it was time I gave you an answer to the question you asked me the other day.” His grip tightened slightly and, she thought, involuntarily. “I spoke to the children about it this afternoon, because, of course, it does concern them too. And”—she picked her words carefully—”and that clarified my own ideas, and—”

  “Do you mind skipping the details,” he said with a certain impatient amusement, “and giving me the answer?”

  “I’m sorry.” She laughed again, a little nervously, and flushed. “The answer is ‘Yes’ of course. I thought you realised—”

  “No. I never ‘realise’ anything about you,” he told her a trifle grimly. “I find you quite unpredictable, and can make no clever guesses about you.”

  Even in that moment, she was surprised that anyone so simple and straightforward as herself should represent any sort of problem to Ford Onderley. But aloud she only said:

  “Well, you don’t need to guess any more about this. I—I will marry you, Ford. Thank you,” she added, and then thought what an entirely ridiculous thing to say. Apart from the incongruity of it, she supposed it emphasised the fact that his proposal was the solution of a pressing problem, rather than any manifestation of romance.

  Presumably he sensed that. Because he put his hand under her chin and tilted up her face—rather abruptly, Jessica could not help thinking, for a gratified lover.

  “It’s because of the twins, isn’t it?” he said. Not accusingly, but as though they might as well have the position clear.

  “No,” Jessica said. “Not entirely.” And somewhere, at the back of her mind, a surprised flicker of consciousness registered this as true.

  Then he bent down and kissed her, full on her mouth.

  It was probably the first time in her life that Jessica had been kissed, in the full sense of the word. Her serious nature and her busy life had rather precluded fun and flirtations, and, except for her father’s occasional and rather absent salutations, or Uncle Hector’s decorous pecks, she could not remember having been kissed by a man before. And the touch of Ford’s firm, rather possessive lips sent another slight shiver of excitement through her which, this time, she could not entirely repress.

  “What is it? Are you cold?” he asked quickly.

  And because that was the only possible reason to give, she said:

  “Yes. I am a little. I’ve been out here too long, I think. But I—I wanted to have you to myself.”

  He gave her a quick smile at that, though she thought the faintly cynical comprehension in his eyes indicated that he knew it was a desire to dispense with Aunt Miriam’s company, rather than any romantic urge, which had prompted her remark.

  But he was still smiling as he bent down and picked her up out of the chair.

  “Oh, Ford! That isn’t necessary.”

  “No?” He looked down at her as he held her close against him. “It’s what might be called a pleasing indulgence, then.” And he carried her into the house.

  Aunt Miriam was crossing the hall as they entered, and stopped short at the sight of what she evidently considered a slightly unseemly spectacle.

  “What is it, Jessica? Are you feeling faint?” she enquired sharply, before even greeting Ford.

  “No, Aunt Miriam.” Jessica smiled with composure, though she felt a little foolish. “Ford was kind enough to want to save me the exertion of walking and—”

  “My niece is quite able to walk now—with the assistance of her uncle,” Aunt Miriam informed Ford austerely.

  “No doubt. But I happen to like the idea of carrying my fiancée into the house,” he explained coolly. “And Jessica has just agreed to become my fiancée.”

  “Jessica!”

  Aunt Miriam’s exclamation was a peculiar mixture of dismay and congratulation—due, Jessica supposed, to the fact that, though she vaguely disapproved of Ford personally, she was quite unable to overlook the extraordinarily pleasant financial aspect of the match. After all, it was not every penniless niece who could be counted on to carry off the richest matrimonial prize in the district.

  Again that slightly cynical gleam in Ford’s eyes seemed to indicate a complete understanding of the situation, and Jessica reflected with amused apprehension that she was marrying a very perspicacious man.

  Ford pushed open the sitting-room door with his shoulder and, carrying Jessica in, deposited her safely in an armchair opposite an astonished Uncle Hector.

  Like Aunt Miriam, he appeared to think it highly undesirable that Jessica had employed any means of returning to the house other than the support of his own arm, for his first remark, as he looked over his spectacles at them, was:

  “If you had let me know you were ready to come in, Jessica, I would have fetched you.”

  “Yes, Uncle Hector. I know. But Ford was there, and it wasn’t necessary to disturb you. You—you know Mr. Onderley, don’t you?”

  Uncle Hector said that he did. But his tone conveyed the fact that, up till now, he had derived little pleasure from the acquaintanceship. And Jessica gathered that he had by no means forgiven Ford for his dictatorial behaviour when she had first been taken ill.

  Aunt Miriam by now had followed them into the room, and she said, “You had better tell your uncle, Jessica,” in much the same tone she would have used for urging her niece to-own up bravely to having broken her uncle’s watch.

  Jessica smiled irrepressibly, and then said gravely:

  “Ford and I have just decided to get married, Uncle Hector. It—really isn’t so—so surprising as Aunt Miriam seems to think. Ford says I’m a very easy person to fall in love with and—and I think he is, too. So it really isn’t so amazing that we want to marry, is it?”

  Uncle Hector did not reply at once to this somewhat ingenuous statement. Employing his usual form of delaying tactics, ho removed his spectacles, polished them at length, and then said:

  “This is a very sudden decision, Jessica. And, while wishing you both extremely well, I feel bound to point out that marriage is not something to be embarked upon without forethought and consideration. I am afraid you are following your father’s regrettable tendency to leap first and look afterwards.”

  “No, sir. You really do Jessica an injustice,” Ford assured him dryly. “She has been thinking this over for several days—keeping me on tenterhooks meanwhile, I might say,” he added with a smile.

  Uncle Hector did not actually say, “And very proper too.” But he glanced at his niece with something like approval.

  “Well, if Jessica has given this matter serious thought, that does, of course, alter the case,” he c
onceded. “What”—he cleared his throat tactfully—”what did you propose for the twins’ future, Jessica?”

  “Oh, they’ll come with me, of course,” she said quickly.

  “I should like them to make their home at Oaklands.” Ford stated unequivocally, and Jessica glanced up at him with a brilliant smile.

  “Hm. I see,” said Uncle Hector, and although both he and Aunt Miriam refrained from exchanging anything like a glance of profound relief, there was no doubt about it that a degree of geniality crept into their manner.

  To do them justice, neither would have hesitated to put duty before personal convenience, but it was an enormous relief to see the future of their nieces and nephew being settled before their eyes, without the sacrifices which they had been gloomily, if conscientiously, contemplating.

  “Well, of course,” Uncle Hector said, “you and I will have to have something of a talk, Mr. Onderley. I stand more or less in loco parentis to Jessica, though she is of age and entitled to make her own mista— that is, her own decisions.”

  “I hope she will never have cause to regard this as one of her mistakes, sir,” observed Ford with a smile.

  And Uncle Hector was gracious enough to say, “I think not. I think not.”

  He was not insensible to the subtle flattery of Ford Onderley’s “sir.” But that, in itself, would not have been sufficient to soften Uncle Hector. He thought his niece’s choice of husband an odd one—the man was altogether too arrogant and apt to think he knew better than older and more experienced men—but Uncle Hector was no fool where essentials were concerned, and he recognised Ford Onderley for a decent, upright man. Beyond that, Jessica must judge for herself, and make—and pay for—her own mistakes.

  Aunt Miriam’s acceptance of him was a little slower —signalised by the fact that she did not ask the accepted fiancée to stay to dinner, but remarked firmly, on the other hand, that Jessica was obviously tired by all the excitement and had better return to her room.

  Jessica raised no objection to this. Nor, except for a slight tightening of his mouth, did Ford.