Tell Me My Fortune

by Mary Burchell

  Her mother smiled faintly but protestingly.

  “I only wish he did, Leslie. I only wish he were one of us. I know I shocked you yesterday when I said I wished Katherine would fall in love with him and marry him. But when I think what it would mean to have him for a son-in-law, I can hardly keep myself from asking Kate if she doesn’t rather like him, after all.”

  “Oh,” Leslie said. Then she looked at the coral brooch she had absently picked up, and she felt her colour rise as she forced a protesting smile to her lips “Please don’t say anything like that to Kate—”

  “Oh, I shouldn’t really!”

  “It makes me feel a little jealous.”

  “Jealous, Leslie! Of whom, my dear? I don’t understand.”

  Leslie laughed nervously. And the nervousness was genuine, if the laughter was not.

  “Why does Kate have to be the only one cast for the role? Why shouldn’t I be considered too?”

  “You, my dear? But I thought—you told me—”

  “Oh, Mother, I don’t know really what’s come over me,” Leslie cried, with enough genuine fervour to make that ring true. “But aren’t people sometimes swept off their feet?” Reid’s useful phrase. “Can’t you imagine that Reid might seem overwhelmingly attractive to some girls? I mean crazily attractive. To the exclusion of everyone else.”

  “Yes,” her mother said slowly. “I can imagine exactly that. Only I shouldn’t have expected it to happen with you.”

  “Nor should I,” Leslie said breathlessly. “But he asked me to marry him just now, Mother. And I said I would.”

  “Leslie! Because you felt you should, or because you wanted to?”

  “Because I wanted to. Because I love him,” Leslie said with complete recklessness.

  And then her mother sat down and cried tears of such aching relief that Leslie could only stand and stare at her in unutterable dismay.

  CHAPTER SIX

  “DON’T, Mother,” Leslie said at last. “Don’t cry like that. It isn’t necessary. II thought you would consider my news good news.”

  “But I do, darling!” Her mother dried her eyes and managed a pale smile. “You mustn’t think I’m unhappy. I was crying with relief, I think. Relief and a sort of dismay that it can mean so much to me that my daughter should marry a rich man. Oh, Leslie, are you sure?”

  “Sure that he’s going to marry me?” Leslie smiled faintly in her turn.

  “No, no! Sure that you love him. But how can you be, in so short a time? It’s absurd even to talk of it. But do you feel truly that you will love him? It’s not just that marrying him would be such a wonderful, wonderful solution of our troubles?”

  “I’m not marrying him for his money. Mother, if you want my categorical assurance of that.”

  “I can hardly believe it.” Her mother clasped her thin hands together and smiled less uncertainly this time. “Even Morley couldn’t resent help from his brother-in-law.”

  “No,” Leslie said, and suddenly her lips went dry. For, in her eagerness to convince her mother, she had overplayed her part—laid the emphasis where no emphasis was due.

  The term “brother-in-law” had roused her to a realization of the hollowness of the comfort she was urging upon her mother. Engaged to Reid she might be, for so long or short a time as was necessary to bring Caroline to her senses. But there was no question of a marriage.

  Impossible to draw that delicate distinction for her mother. But Leslie could already see the complications ahead, already visualize the cruel disappointment which must follow on the false hopes she was raising.

  “Well, I can’t help it,” she thought desperately. “Let Mother take what comfort she can from it while it lasts. I suppose I can. come to some sort of arrangement with Reid. I have no pride where Morley’s good is concerned. If anyone could make Morley well, I’d be satisfied to have Reid pay, in any identity—my fiancé, my husband-to-be—anything.”

  Aloud, she said, “Go to bed, Mother dear. You don’t need to worry any more. Everything is going to be all right—you’ll see.”

  Her mother kissed her lovingly.

  “Leslie darling, you know I wouldn’t have you sacrifice your own happiness, even to give Morley the best chance in the world, don’t you? But if, in a little while, when you’ve given yourself some time to think things over, you are sure you love Reid, then nothing would make me happier. It isn’t only because of what it will mean to all of us, I think he’d make any woman he loved very happy.”

  “Do you, Mother?” Leslie smiled as she returned her mother’s kiss, but she spoke a little too absently, too impersonally for a girl who had just fallen in love. “I wonder what makes you sure of that?”

  “Reid himself, I suppose.” Her mother looked reflective. “He could make one unhappy too, I am sure, because of his obstinacy and his ruthlessness. But there’s an underlying generosity of spirit to which one could always appeal. If he truly loves you, you would be safe with him, Leslie. I know that.”

  “I’m sure of it,” Leslie said, but again there was that slight nervous laugh.

  “But all the same, dear, think a little longer before you become actually engaged.”

  “Oh, no,” Leslie, who was at the door, turned quickly for a last word. “No, Mother. He is set on our announcing our engagement as quickly as possible. I want that too.”

  And then she went away, before her mother could say more, aware that she had burnt her boats with a speed and thoroughness beyond anything she had intended.

  She thought of seeking out Reid, late though it now was, and telling him that they were already completely committed to their faked engagement. But she suddenly felt so limp and so emotionally weary that she knew she could handle no more scenes of this sort. Certainly no scenes with anyone of Reid’s vitality and exuberance.

  Tomorrow would be soon enough to tell him. Tomorrow would be soon enough to enter on the dangerous piece of make-believe which they had undertaken.

  In spite of a restless night, Leslie was up early and, having already seen from her window that Reid was out in the garden, she went downstairs and out into the bright morning air.

  “Reid.” She came up with him, where he was .standing watching, with a good deal of amusement, the indefatigable labours of a large striped spider.

  “Hello, there.” He threw a casual, friendly glance at her. “Come and look at this fellow. If we carry out our intentions with half his persistence we shan’t do badly.”

  ”Aren’t spiders usually supposed to be ‘she’?” Leslie said. But she came up and stood beside him.

  “You’re probably right at that.” He grinned, though he did not take his eyes off the spider. “That probably accounts for the persistence. I’m going to rely a lot on you in the coming weeks.”

  “You may,” she said quietly, and he glanced at her quickly.

  “You haven’t changed your mind, eh?” He smiled and drew her arm through his.

  “On the contrary, I’ve already made a good beginning with the job of telling the family.”

  “Good God!” His admiration was unmistakable that time. “And did they believe you?”

  “Certainly they believed me.”

  “I’m a little surprised that they should.”

  “Oh, no. In Morley’s case, it was only a question of accepting a first suspicion of the truth—I mean of what we wanted him to think the truth. And in Mother’s case—” She stopped, and then her voice dropped a little as she said, “Mother so terribly wanted to believe, poor darling!”

  “Because of your father?”

  “No. Because of Morley,” Leslie said. And then told him what her mother had told her the previous evening.

  He listened in silence. Then he said,

  “You know I will do everything he will let me do, don’t you?”

  It was almost matter of fact in its simplicity and its completeness, this undertaking of his. And suddenly she found herself remembering what her mother had said about his having an und
erlying generosity of spirit.

  She pressed Reid’s arm, with more intimacy and gratitude than she knew.

  “It isn’t incumbent on you, you know. Mother said that Morley probably would accept help from his brother-in-law. But you and I know that you’ll never really be in that position.”

  “Hell! What does that matter?” Reid retorted with careless impatience. “I’ve been trying to hand back some of this damned money to your family ever since I acquired it. Don’t spoil a good opportunity by saving it doesn’t really exist.”

  Leslie laughed softly. She was beginning to know by now that even when he swore it usually meant either that he was moved or in high good-humour. She could not imagine that he ever swore in temper.

  “Mother says you have an underlying generosity of spirit,” she said thoughtfully. “I think I see what she means.”

  “Nonsense.” He spoke a little roughly. “I usually get a good return for anything I do.”

  She looked sceptical and, for some reason, a trifle amused.

  “Is that so? What return are you expecting for helping me?”

  “Well, you’re obliging me pretty handsomely, aren’t you?”

  “By becoming engaged to you? I thought that was for our mutual pleasure and advantage.”

  He laughed reluctantly, gave her an odd glance and said,

  “I don’t know you in this mood.”

  “No,” Leslie said with a slight sigh. “I don’t know myself very well either. Perhaps I’m demonstrating that Oliver was wrong when he declared I was too nice and naive to keep a man like you in his place.”

  “He said that? The man’s a fool,” Reid declared contemptuously.

  Leslie flushed and pulled her arm away, indescribably annoyed by this insult to Oliver.

  ‘He is nothing of the sort! And he knows me a great deal better than you ever will,” she cried angrily.

  “Then he should know that you could manage most men with one hand tied behind you,” was the astonishing thing Reid said.

  “You think that?” Her anger was quenched in her surprise, and, to tell the truth, in a peculiar feeling of gratification too.

  “Of course,” he said, but a little disagreeably for him. “Shall we go in and receive the family’s congratulations?”

  “If you like.” They turned and strolled towards the house together. “But Mother may not have told them yet.”

  “Then we will tell them.”

  The family were already gathered at the breakfast table when they came in, Morley’s place only being empty. And when Leslie saw the ceremonious air with which her father rose to address her, she realized that he at least needed no telling.

  “My dear, this is wonderful news,” he began.

  But his wife caught his arm and said urgently, “Richard, I told you Leslie may not want it to be public property yet.”

  “We don’t mind,” Reid said, with a smile at her.

  “What isn’t to be public property?” demanded Alma, who had preternaturally acute hearing where semi secrets were concerned.

  “Dear Leslie and Reid—”

  “If I may be allowed to make my voice heard,” boomed Richard Greeve in rich, but slightly sulky, tones, because he was annoyed at having his speech of congratulations mangled like this, “I should like to congratulate my dear daughter”—he put a paternal hand on Leslie’s shoulder”—and my good friend Reid”—by reaching rather uncomfortably far he was able to clap his other hand on Reid’s shoulder”—on their engagement. I can only say that it is a marriage that will give me the very greatest happiness and satisfaction.”

  The news of Leslie’s engagement, viewed through the rosy spectacles of Alma and her father, proved something of an antidote to the news about Morley—broken now for the first time to Alma and Katherine. But afterwards Leslie’s elder sister caught her by the arm and drew her into one of the window alcoves, and demanded with some urgency,

  “You aren’t marrying Reid in order to repair the family fortunes, are you?”

  “No, of course not, Kate. Why should you think so?”

  “Well, you know we did talk over the idea of acquiring rich husbands a night or two ago.”

  Leslie laughed.

  “And you didn’t show any signs of being shocked by the prospect then,” Leslie reminded her. “In fact, you were rather frank about your plans for yourself.”

  “Oh, for myself, yes,” Katherine agreed almost naively. “But you’re made for something different. I don’t think you’d be happy, Leslie, if you married for anything but love.”

  “Well, I’m marrying for love,” Leslie retorted. And she spoke with a sudden fierceness, so that Katherine fell back, almost literally, in surprise, and somehow found herself unable to continue the discussion.

  It was an anxious, uncertain day, until Dr. Bendick and the specialist should have come and given their verdict on Morley. Leslie particularly, consumed with loving care for her brother, found it increasingly difficult to remember that she was also supposed to be the happy, newly-engaged girl, with sweet distractions to temper her sisterly anxiety.

  Only Reid’s watchfulness and, to tell the truth, his tact kept her from giving herself away on more than one occasion. He did also offer her some very real comfort when he heard who the specialist was whom Dr. Bendick had summoned.

  “Oh, Trevant is reckoned to be almost a miracle-man at his job,” he assured Leslie confidently. “Do you mean to say you’ve never heard or read about him?”

  “Only to remember the name. Is he really so good, Reid?”

  “He has a tremendous reputation—both as a personality and as a surgeon. A very handsome man, you know—rather like an elderly film star from all accounts—and something of a show-off. But a genius. Even his most jealous rivals concede him that.”

  When Sir James Trevant arrived, Leslie caught a glimpse of him before he was taken into Morley’s room, and the little she saw confirmed much of what Reid had said. The famous surgeon was a tall, handsome, picturesque figure. But there was about him also that indefinable aura of success and calm confidence which belongs only to the man who knows he cannot fail.

  Even so, Leslie remained in a state of nervous suspense, and she passionately wished it were she, rather than her parents, who would have a chance of speaking to him afterwards. Would her mother, in her anxious diffidence, or her father in his pompous attitudinizing, make it perfectly clear that no expense was to be spared in the effort to make Morley better?

  “The ideal would be, of course, to have Morley removed to Trevant’s own nursing home for a few months,” Dr. Bendick said after Sir James had left.

  “But I don’t know.” He fondled his chin meditatively and looked round sympathetically on his old friends, with an expression which showed plainly that Oliver had told him of their recent reverse.

  “Then please make the arrangements as soon as possible.”

  It was Reid who spoke, and Dr. Bendick swung round in his chair to regard him.

  Mrs. Greeve murmured a belated introduction, and her husband, in the tone of one who endorsed what his personal representative had said, remarked,

  “To be sure. Let the arrangements be made as soon as possible.”

  Leslie saw the faintest grim smile lift the corners of Reid’s mouth. But he emphasized his own words with an authoritative little nod to Dr. Bendick, and the doctor, rising with an extremely satisfied look, prepared to take his leave.

  Mrs. Greeve then remembered social and friendly obligations, and charmingly expressed their pleasure and congratulation on Oliver’s engagement.

  “Well, I don’t know, I don’t know. I suppose young people always think they know their own minds best,” Dr. Bendick said a little obscurely.

  Whereupon Richard Greeve, unable to resist the temptations of family competition even in the matter of engagements, smiled indulgently and remarked,

  “We too have had our share of surprises in this line. Our dear Leslie”—she had never been more dear
to him—“presented us this morning with a fait accompli. She is engaged to our young friend here.”

  Dr. Bendick, like most elderly experienced practitioners, was a shrewd man and a close observer of human nature. If his son’s engagement had surprised and a little disappointed him, Leslie’s engagement quite obviously astounded and troubled him.

  Instead of offering the congratulations which Richard Greeve evidently expected, he frowned at Leslie and said bluntly,

  “Very sudden, isn’t it, Leslie? What’s the idea?”

  “These things are sudden, my good friend,” declared his host genially, clapping him on the shoulder, because that was one of his favourite ways of displaying congratulation and pleasure. “We mustn’t let ourselves grow too old to remember that, you know.”

  Dr. Bendick glanced at his neighbour as though he thought him a likeable ass, which he did. But to the girl he had hoped to have as his daughter-in-law he repeated,

  “Isn’t this rather too sudden—too impulsive?”

  “I don’t think so.” Leslie managed to smile at him, though she knew he was much more difficult to deceive than her parents. “I know it seems like that. But as Father says, it sometimes does happen that way.”

  A little shaken by this encounter, Leslie found she very much disliked the prospect of having to give her news to Morley and submit to what she guessed would be the most searching cross-examination of all. This, at least, she told herself suddenly, she would delegate to someone else, and as the door closed behind Dr. Bendick she turned impulsively to her mother.

  “Mother, will you tell Morley about Reid and me? I don’t expect he ought to have many visitors or much excitement today. You’ll be able to judge the best time and the best way of telling him.”

  Her mother, knowing how close Leslie and Morley were, looked surprised.

  “Don’t you think he’d rather hear from you yourself, darling?”

  “No.” She was emphatic in her sudden nervousness. “I don’t want to explain and argue any more. I want just to enjoy my engagement.”