I wish you were an ordinary person. It frightens me to think of your money and position.'
' I'm just beginning to enjoy them. Spending money on you is the nicest thing I know. The trouble is you won't Jet me give you as much as I'd like.'
' I've taken quite enough already.' Her eyes went to the twelve-carat emerald weighing down her engagement finger.' This ring is so magnificent I'm scared to wear it.'
' You're going to be the wife of a rich man,' he said impatiently, 'and nothing's too magnificent for you. You must stop being ashamed of having money.'
' I'm not ashamed.'
' Then Why don't you wear the coat I gave you last week?' She smiled. ' Chinchilla is hardly what Vogue would recommend for a brisk country walk!'
' I'll grant you that point,' he conceded. ' But at least give me the pleasure of seeing you wear it when you come to London tomorrow.'
' Do I have to come?' she asked. ' Why can't Barry photograph me here?'
' He'll do a better job in his studio. I want a good portrait of- you, Lucy. It will be sent to all the newspaper agencies in the world.' Paul caught hold of her hand. ' You will come up tomorrow, won't you?'
' I'll do anything to please you, my lord.'
' Including wearing the coat?'
' Of course. From now on it will be my second skin!'
Barry's whistle of admiration as she entered his studio the next day made Lucy glad of Paul's insistence. He was right, of course.. It was ridiculous not to wear the best, if the best were within one's reach.
' You look beautiful, Lucy.'
She touched the silky collar. ' Most women would look beautiful in a coat like this.'
' Nonsense. Most women would look as though the fur was wearing them 1' Barry turned to adjust an arc light. ' I don't need to ask if you're happy. Your eyes are glowing like these lamps.'
' I never dreamed of such happiness,' she admitted. ' Sometimes I'm frightened by it.'
Barry took her coat and dropped it over the back of a settee. Then beckoned her down to the end of the large room.
He seated her on a velvet stool and started to adjust the battery of lights around her. ' Paul's a changed man since his engagement. He seems to have shed ten years overnight.'
She sensed the fondness in his voice and knew a fear that her marriage might come between them.
' You'll always go on being friends with Paul, won't you?'
He looked so astonished that she felt she had to explain. ' It's only that marriage sometimes breaks up a friendship. And I wouldn't want that to happen. You're the only man Paul trusts.'
' Don't worry,' Barry said seriously. ' I'll always be around, even though Paul did pip me at the post over you.'
Not sure he was joking, she decided to act as if he was. ' Don't start looking like a rejected lover. You only saw me as a model, not a wife.'
' A model wife! Now stop wagging your head and sit still like a good girl.'
Barry adjusted another lamp and then went on to talk of his latest assignment: photographing the capital cities of Europe for an American magazine.
'It's been done many times before,' he said, 'but I'm working on a different angle.'
' I'm sure you'll make a success of it. I only wish I could say the same for Murray.'
' How's he doing?'
' He's painting stacks of pictures, but he can't get a gallery to show them. His work is too new.'
' Paul says it's no good.' Barry clicked the camera lens. ' I've always felt that if Murray's painting was worthwhile, Paul would have been the first to encourage him. He's played patron to quite a few artists in his time.'
' He's allowed Murray to use a room in Charters as a studio. It was difficult for him to work in the cottage, the light didn't last long enough.'
'Your doing, I suppose?'
' Yes. But now I wish I hadn't.'
Barry leaned on the top of his camera and looked at her. 'Why? What's the problem?'
' I don't know. It's just a feeling I have.'
' Come on. Tell your Uncle Barry.'
'There's nothing to tell.' She twisted her fingers together. ' It's only that—that I keep wondering what will happen if my opinion of Murray is wrong and Paul's is right.'
' You don't need to wonder what will happen,' Barry said drily. ' He'll be sent packing.'
' With or without Cindy?'
'You leave Cindy to Paul. He's quite capable of managing her.'
' I don't agree with you. Murray's got a lot of influence over her.'
Lucy remembered her conversation with Barry a few days later when, back at Charters, Murray joined her for tea in the music room. Cindy was away for the day and Murray had spent it at the house painting.
'This is the life,' he said, helping himself liberally to smoked salmon sandwiches.
' I'm glad you think so.'
' Naturally I do. And so do you. You've managed to acclimatize yourself more quickly to luxury than I'd have given you credit for.' He grinned. ' But I've always believed it easier to adapt to luxury than to poverty.'
She bit back a sharp retort. It would serve no purpose to quarrel with him.
' I must say I never thought you had it in you,' he went on. ' Offering to plead my cause and then nobbling the main prize for yourself.'
' Is that remark meant to be funny?'
' It wasn't meant to be anything. I was merely stating a fact.' His smile robbed the words of some of their, sting. ' From, my point of view it couldn't be better. Paul's crazy about you and if you're on my side I'm sure he'll agree to let me marry Cindy.'
fHe won't. I've told you a dozen times, Murray. He insists that Cindy must wait, at least another year.'
' That's what he says now. But in three months you'll be his wife, and there are lots of ways a wife can make her husband change his mind!'
She could not prevent a look of distaste crossing her face, and Murray saw it and flushed.
' You needn't look at me like that,' he said sulkily. 'You're a woman, and you don't know what it can do to a man to want someone and not be able to have them. I can't wait a year for Cindy. It's a lifetime.'
Her sympathy for him returned, and with it came a resurge of liking. ' I wish I could help,' she said, ' but you know how obstinate Paul is.'
Murray shrugged and set his cup on the tray. ' Did Cindy say when she'd be back?'
' About six, I think. She went to town for a fitting.'
' More dresses!' he scowled. 'The money she spends on clothes in a month would keep mc in paints and canvas for a year.'
' It's her money.'
' That's where you're wrong.' Murray took the reply literally. ' It belongs to brother Paul.'
Lucy frowned. ' I thought Cindy had money of her own?'
' So did I. But she hasn't. She told me the whole story last night.' Murray stood up and walked idly round the room, pausing now and again to pick up an objet d'art and look at it: a Faberg6 jewel box, a Ming vase, an ivory statuette. ' When old man Harlow died he left everything to Paul, and it's entirely up to big brother's discretion what share of the money goes to Cindy. So you. see if she marries with her brother's consent, everything will be fine and dandy, but if she marries without it, and he Wants to be nasty, she won't get a penny.' He swung round to look at her, a delicate Dresden shepherdess balanced in one hand. 'You can see where that leaves me, can't you? You know as well as I do that Paul will never give me permission to marry Cindy. He hates my guts and he'll never trust me.'
' I'm sure that isn't true.'
' Yes, it is. Why should I kid myself? I tell you he'll never give me permission to marry her, and if we do so without his consent we'll end up in the workhouse !'
Involuntarily Lucy remembered one of her first conversations with Paul, when he had told her that even though he might threaten to disinherit his sister, he would never be able to carry it out. Should she tell Murray this? she wondered. It would at least give him peace of mind. Yet caution held her back, caution and an in
nate fear.
' If I didn't know you better,' she said calmly, ' I'd think you were only interested in Cindy because of her money—or perhaps I should say the money you thought she had.'
' Grow up, Lucy. How can I marry anyone without any money? Certainly not a girl like Cindy.' He laughed bitterly. ' Her idea of economy is a holiday in the South of France instead of Florida 1 Damn it, she doesn't know what it means to be poor.'
' She could learn.'
' Never! She's too spoiled.' He set the shepherdess down with such violence that Lucy feared for its safety. ' I was positive that if we eloped and I could show the Courts we were happy, that we'd stand a chance of breaking Paul's hold over her inheritance. But the way it stands now, Cindy hasn't got an inheritance.'
' You talk as if you're incapable of earning any money of your own. Why don't you get a job?'
' I'm a painter.' His contempt was crushing. ' And I'll never give it up.'
' Not even if it means losing Cindy?'
His face darkened and when he spoke his voice was thick with pain. ' Not even if it means losing Cindy. You've got to understand me, Lucy. Painting is my life.'
Lucy was troubled by his words, yet he looked so young and tormented that she found it impossible to condemn him. What right had she to blame Murray for putting his work before anything else ? Many of the greatest paintings and sculptures would never have been begun or finished if their creators had not had the same invincible determination to succeed.
'Couldn't you get a part-time job?' she suggested. ' In that way you'd be earning something and also have time to paint.'
' It wouldn't work. I must paint when I'm fresh, and when I want to—not when I have half an hour to spare. I don't——- ' he broke off as the door opened and
Aunt Beatrice came in.
' Ah, there you are, Lucy. Paul's secretary has just telephoned to say he's bringing some friends to dinner. They'll be here in an hour.'
' I'd better make myself scarce.' Murray turned to the door.
' That isn't necessary,' Aunt Beatrice said.
'It may not be necessary,' he replied, dropping a light kiss on the old lady's wrinkled brow, ' but it's a great deal more tactful. Your nephew can just about be polite to me when his sister's here, but if Cindy's late getting back and I'm at the dining table by myself…'
Whistling defiantly, he walked out, leaving Beatrice Harlow staring after him with regret. 'Poor boy. He's so unhappy. If only Paul weren't so hard on him.'
Lucy wondered whether to take Aunt Beatrice into her confidence, but this remark decided her against it. The old lady had never had any defence against Murray's charm, and nothing the young man did seemed to shake her confidence in him. To ask her advice would be a waste of time.
Dressing for dinner Lucy pondered on her conversation with Murray. He was no hypocrite—that much could be said in his favour—but all the same she was beginning to have grave doubts for Cindy's happiness. If he really did think more of his work than he did of anything or anyone else… All at once she longed to confide in someone and wished with all her heart it could be Paul. But to repeat Murray's confidences to him would only confirm Paul's prejudice against the painter, and because of her affection for Cindy she knew she could never do this.
As the days passed she made an effort to forget her conversation with Murray, but it remained in the back of her mind like a canker. Now, every remark he made held a double meaning, and time and again she found herself watching him with Cindy' and wondering how much of his affection was genuine and how much only an act put on in the hope that, if it were successful, he might forge a life for himself where money was no worry and where painting was the only thing in view.
***
Paul had set the date for their wedding for the first week in June, explaining that it was the only month he was sure of being free.
' June is so far away,' Lucy remarked when he told her.
' It's impossible to make it any sooner. I have to go to Europe and the States within the next few weeks.'
' Why can't we get married now ? Then I could come with you.'
' That's out of the question.'
She turned, scarlet with mortification, and Paul, instantly contrite, pulled her into his arms. ' Don't look like that, darling. It isn't that I don't want to marry you now, but I've always promised myself that when I did get married I'd have a decent honeymoon. If you come to Europe with me I'd be too busy ever to talk to you!'
' A honeymoon isn't important.'
' It is to me. I want to be alone with you with no problems on my mind. I want you to have a chance of getting to understand me.'
' I understand you already.'
' No, you don't. When we're lovers you won't have any doubts about me at all. You'll know so well that even though I may have to leave you for days or weeks, you'll never be afraid I'll stop loving you.'
' I'm not afraid now.'
' Is that why you' get upset when I sometimes say I can't come down to Charters at night?'
She conceded the point. ' I suppose I do wonder how important I am to you.'
'After a month alone with me you won't need to wonder. You'll know. That's why I'm determined our first weeks of marriage won't be disturbed by business.'
' I wish It was June already,' she burst out, and flung her arms round his neck. ' Oh, Paul, you make me feel so wanton!'
' I daren't tell you how you make me feel!' He nibbled her ear and their conversation—begun so seriously— ended in passion.
Alone the following day, Lucy admitted the truth of all Paul had said. No matter how she tried to make excuses for his work there were many times when she resented its intrusion on their life, and wished that his job was such that when he left the office he left his worries behind him.
' If only it were June already,' she thought, ' and I really belonged to him.' But it was still only April, the month of primroses, and Paul left for a two-week trip to Russia and Scandinavia.
The days of his absence dragged, mitigated only by an invitation from Barry who took her to see Tosca at Covent Garden. Watching the scene where Tosca believes her lover is unfaithful to her, Lucy wondered how she would feel if she were to lose faith in Paul. The thought filled her with such horror that she almost cried out, and indeed she must have made some sound, for Bany looked at her anxiously and caught hold of her hand. His touch brought her back to the present and her fears evaporated.
Afterwards they dined at the Mirabelle and Barry, in a more serious mood than she had ever seen him, told her of his childhood spent with dour, religious grandparents—his own parents having died in China—and then of his years at Oxford with Paul.
' Looking at me now it's hard to believe what a bad- tempered swine I Was,' he said. ' And I'd still be one if it weren't for Paul. He made me see what a piece of cake my childhood was compared with his.'
Lucy's fork paused half way to her mouth.1 ' I never knew Paul had been unhappy as a child?'
' He was devoted to his mother and he never got over her death. He was only eight at the time.'
Lucy could imagine how vulnerable Paul must have been at that age. She could almost see the small, pale face and the soft, silky hair, and she knew a longing to have him close and cradle his head on her breast.
Afraid she might ciy, she forced herself to speak again. ' How old was he when his father remarried?'
'Fourteen. And that's a tricky age too. But his stepmother was wonderful to him. Even when Cindy was born he was never made to feel unwanted. That's why he takes his responsibility to her so much to heart.'
' Yet he's never been kind to her.'
' You're not serious?' Barry was shocked.
' Yes, I am. I know she's always had everything she wanted, as far as money goes, but she's never had affection and understanding.' Afraid that Barry might think she was being disloyal, she went on: ' I don't think Paul was unkind, but he never had time for her.'
' That wasn't his fault. He was still at Oxfo
rd when his father died and he had to give up his studies and take over the business.'
' Was there no one else who could have stood in for him?'
' No. If he hadn't taken control then, he'd never have got it when he wanted it. When he first started the whole board was against him. They thought he was too young and impetuous, and they wanted to sell out to another bidder. Luckily they weren't able to, because Paul owned the bulk of the shares.'
' What happened?'
'Paul bought them out instead! It cost him every penny he had. But at least he got complete control and he could do what he wanted.'
Lucy could not help smiling. It was so like the Paul she knew. 'What happened then?'
' He worked night and day to put the company on its feet. I needn't tell you how well he succeeded—you know that for yourself.'
' It couldn't have been so easy.'
' It wasn't. He grew tougher and cynical and disillusioned.' Barry's voice was terse. ' He gained a lot, but he lost a lot too.'
' Paul's never told me any of this story himself,' she admitted.
' He will. You must give him time. It takes a while for a man to realize he's found a woman he can trust with everything.'
' I hope I'm not interrupting, darling, but I couldn't leave without saying hello to you.'
Barry looked up with an exclamation, and Lucy, following his gaze, saw a tall, slender woman standing by their table. Her first thought was that she had never seen such a striking-looking face, for the woman's skin had the milky whiteness of alabaster and her hair the darkness and sheen of a raven's wing. It was worn in a style that heightened its depth of colour: smooth at the crown and brushed into gleaming bouffant waves on her cheeks. Her features were small yet beautifully modelled, the nose short and straight, the mouth full and painted, in defiance of fashion, a brilliant crimson that echoed the crimson of an intricately draped dress.
' Well?' the woman drawled, glancing at Lucy quickly and then fixing large brown eyes on Barry. 'Aren't you going to introduce me?'
Barry stood up, hardly bothering to hide his reluctance. ' Lucy Granger,' he said stiffly, ' this is Sandra Pearce.'
For an instant Lucy's mind was blank, then the name echoed unpleasantly in her mind and she realized this was the woman Paul had once Wanted to marry.
Rachel Lindsay - Love and Lucy Granger Page 12
