'No, I don't mind your talking like this,' Jeanette replied, and she meant it. Whether or not they would be friends was uncertain for, convinced that she could not endure to see Craig and Diane married, Jeanette was already toying with the idea of breaking her contract and returning to England with her brother at Christmas. 'I don't know why Mark told Craig these things about me,' she added, faintly embarrassed.
'I expect it came out naturally, in the course of conversation. After all, Mark and Craig are very good friends - they certainly were in their younger days - and Mark probably felt he must explain why you were coming over here.'
'Craig - Craig knows the reason for my coming?' Mark must have told him every little detail, Jeanette concluded, not without surprise. While she owned that it was natural for Mark to have mentioned the tragedy of Ned's death, it seemed very odd that he should have related so many intimate details of her life to Craig. The only circumstances under which she could imagine his doing so were if he should be asked outright - and Craig certainly would not be interested enough to do that.
'Craig knows you came out here because you were so unhappy, that your brother suggested it, thinking it would help you to forget.' She paused, then added, 'But it hasn't helped you, has it, Jeanette?' Her voice was sweet, and low; Jeanette could not possibly take offence.
'Yes, it has helped, Diane, but....'
'But what?' Still that low sweet tone, though it now contained a hint of persuasion, too. Jeanette felt choked; she could not explain to Diane, despite the distinct hint of encouragement, the unspoken assurance that she would find, this girl a sympathetic listener. 'Perhaps you don't know it,' went on Diane at length, 'but Craig worries about you. He thinks you're a nice girl and it's a shame that you adopt this attitude towards marriage.'
He thought her a nice girl... and felt she should marry ... Jeanette's lips quivered and for a moment recalled the many occasions when he had shown impatience with her. These had puzzled her at first, but gradually she had begun to suspect that they might have sprung from some knowledge of her past imparted to him by her brother. Her suspicions had been correct, as Diane's words now proved. She recalled his saying that Ned would not have wanted her to live in the past, to spoil her life by refusing to marry anyone else. Jeanette felt she fully understood now; Craig was just the sort of person who would have no patience with anyone who bemoaned their fate, who would not fight-to lift themselves out of the rut of their misery and find the courage to make a new life.
Looking up, Jeanette realized that Diane was waiting patiently for some response to her comments, and she said, with a break in her voice, that she could never marry. A sudden frown crossed Diane's brow and she flicked a glance to Craig, who was still deep in conversation with Mark.
'I don't know why Craig should worry about me,' Jeannette added, noticing her glance and also remembering Diane's earlier statement. It seemed so very odd, sitting here, carrying on this sort of conversation with the girl whom Craig was soon to marry.
As for Diane herself, she was lost in thought and Jeanette knew she hadn't heard her last remark. The frown was still present on her brow and when at last she broke the silence her voice held an odd mixture of impatience and concern.
'My Roy,' she began, turning her attention once more to Jeanette, 'he loved me very much - and because he loved me, he wouldn't want me to go on and on, living with his memory. He would want me to find happiness. Your fiance... do you really think he would want you to forfeit all that life has to offer? Would he wish you to renounce marriage?' She shook her head and added gently, 'Forgive my outspokenness, Jeanette, but I think the time has come for you to sort yourself out. Life has so much to offer. You can't go on like this; you're so young, and it isn't natural for you to persist in this resolution never to marry.'
But even before she had finished Jeanette was .shaking her head.
'I can't explain, Diane,' she whispered huskily. 'I shall never marry, never. But I can't explain,' she said again. 'Not to you above all people.'
'Not to me?' Diane looked at her askance, the frown deepening. 'That's an odd thing to say, Jeanette.' Again her glance flickered to Craig; he looked up and smiled, affectionately. Diane seemed to give a deep and almost angry sigh.
'Do you really mean that?' she asked, and Jeanette nodded her head firmly.
'I mean it, Diane. I have no wish at all to get married,' A flicker of a smile touched her lips. 'It's kind of both you and Craig to be so interested in me, but there's no need. I'm - I'm quite content as I am.' She tried to sound convincing, tried to deepen her smile, but she knew she failed. However, to her relief Craig and Mark were both looking across, their own discussion at an end, and the two girls were drawn into a more casual conversation in which, now and then, Diane and Craig would indulge in some personal banter, teasing each other, as lovers will. Jeanette was beginning to wonder how she would get through the rest of the evening when Mark, catching her eye, said gently,
'You look tired, Jeanette. Would you like to go home?' He turned. 'You won't mind, will you, Craig?'
'It's far too early,' Diane put in, her eyes on Mark. 'Don't go yet - you're not really tired, are you, Jeanette?' she added, turning to her with a smile.
'I - well—' Was Diane merely being polite? - or,was she genuinely wanting them to stay? It seemed very odd that she hadn't jumped at the chance of being alone with Craig. I would have done, Jeanette owned to herself. Aloud she said, 'I can't honestly say I'm tired.' She smiled wanly at Craig, who added his own request to that of Diane.
'That's settled, then,' declared Diane, embracing them all with that lovely smile. 'I don't know how everyone else feels, but I'm dying for some fresh air. Can we go for a walk, Craig?'
'It's too cold.' There was an almost icy wind blowing down from the Black Sea, he went on to say, and that appeared to be the end of the matter, as far as he was concerned. But Diane pouted, saying it wasn't too cold at all, and hinting that he was too lazy to bestir himself. This was a mood entirely new to Jeanette; her eyes were on Craig, watching intently for his reaction, though her thoughts had strayed to those times when, with her, he had arbitrarily brushed aside all opposition to his will.
But now, noting Diane's protesting gaze, and the almost childish pout of her pretty mouth, Craig smiled indulgently and made no further attempt to have his own way. How he must love her! For Jeanette knew for sure that it must go very much against the grain for Craig to submit to the will of another person, especially that of a woman. Would Diane enjoy having all her own way? Jeanette wondered, watching her eyes light with a sort of teasing triumph as Craig agreed to go for a walk. But Jeanette felt certain Craig's indulgence was only temporary; most likely he pandered to Diane on account of what she had so recently suffered. Jeanette just couldn't see him as the manageable, pliant type of husband; on the contrary, having had experience of his dominating and coercive moods, she could imagine his wife having to resign herself, from the very first, to his absolute authority.
They had to step out briskly, because of the cold, and although Jeanette was enjoying the walk she soon discovered, much to her dismay, that this was to be one of those rare instances when she was to have trouble with her leg. They had not proceeded far when she began to limp. Craig noticed it immediately, and said at once that they must turn back. Diane, deep in conversation with Mark, did not at first understand the reason for Craig's decision and offered another objection.
'Jeanette can't go on,' Craig said firmly, and after a small hesitation, 'Look, there's no need for you two to come back, if you're enjoying your walk. I'll go back with Jeanette.'
For a brief moment Jeanette stared at him in wonderment, surprised by his offer. Didn't he mind leaving Diane? Then the explanation became clear. He probably did mind, very much, but Jeanette was his guest — and Craig was a stickler lor etiquette.
'Are you sure you don't want us all to come back?' Diane asked, trying to peer at Jeanette in the darkness.
'No, you certainly mustn't
come back - but I'm an awful nuisance,' she apologized, feeling she should offer to go back alone, or ask Mark to accompany her. 'Ive spoilt it for everyone.'
'Nonsense,' Craig put in, rather curtly. 'I wasn't at all enthusiastic about walking in the first place, so it's no hardship for me to return home with you.'
Mark was clear anxious, but Diane, in her usual impulsive and friendly fashion, had already slipped an arm through his as if taking for granted his willingness to continue the walk with her.
'Come on, then, Mark. Let Craig take Jeanette back.'
'We won't be long,' Mark promised. 'And if you don't feel any better after the rest, I'll go round and fetch the car to take you home from Craig's.'
'There's no need, Mark. I can run you both home in mine.'
'I'm so sorry, Craig,' murmured Jeanette as they left Diane and Mark. 'It hasn't troubled me for ages; it would have to start now.'
'My dear girl,' he returned with some asperity, 'I've already said it's no hardship for me to turn back with you. Please don't let me have to repeat it again.'
She fell silent then, the impatience in his voice convincing her more than ever that she was causing him trouble and inconvenience.
'Does it hurt?' he asked after a while. 'You seem to be limping pretty badly now.'
'No, it doesn't hurt too much. It's a sort of dull ache, but the doctor said it would be like this. In another month or so I'll not be feeling any pain at all.' Inevitably he must be thinking again of her wilful disregard of his advice, thinking that she more than deserved all that had come to her.
Fortunately, they hadn't gone far, so they soon reached
the house again. On entering the sitting-room they were met with the pungent smell of wood burning as the juniper logs crackled and glowed in the hearth, shooting tiny points of fire up the wide, brass-cowled chimney. The only other illumination was the soft and muted light from a small table lamp away in a comer. Craig's hand went up to the main switch, then fell to his side again as he followed Jeanette into the room.
'On there,' he said abruptly, indicating the couch. 'Put your feet up.'
Some unfinished knitting lay on the couch; Mrs. Fleming's, evidently, and one glance revealed that she had come to the end of her wool.
'Your mother is sitting there,' Jeanette said, making for a chair. 'I think she's gone for some more wool.'
Craig was by the fire and he turned, a log of wood in his hand.
'Move it,' he said. 'Mother can sit somewhere else.' He threw the log on the fire and picked up another.
'I'll be all right on the chair.' Jeanette sat down, reluctant to vex his mother by taking her place.
Impatiently Craig put down the log and proceeded to move the knitting.
'On here,' he ordered, and then, almost glowering at her, 'Why must we always have these arguments?'
'Your mother might not like—'
'Jeanette,' he said darkly, advancing purposefully towards her, 'get on to that couch before I put you there myself!'
She obeyed with as much speed as her leg would allow; Craig slipped off her shoes and she sat propped against the cushions, her legs stretched out, fueling unaccountably helpless, and savouring the exquisite pain of his attention while at the same time relaxing, content to be managed. He leant over her, his dark eyes kindling.
'This is the result of your foolhardy determination to ignore any advice I may consider it necessary to give, I told you not to go with Rustem.'
Advice? It had been an order, and, piqued by it, she decided there and then to set his will at defiance, to let him see that she would do exactly as she pleased. How galling now to be forced to own to his wisdom, to have to lie here unable to utter a word in defence of her action. Strangely, though, she felt no resentment; on the contrary, his kindling glance made her feel miserable and in an effort to draw him out of this forbidding mood she admitted that she had made a mistake in not taking notice of what he said. This, however, did not have the desired effect, for he went on. to say, with unchanged severity and impatience of tone, that it was always the same whenever he proffered her advice or told her what to do.
'Oh, no, Craig; not always—'
'Look at you just now. What was the sense of standing there arguing about where you should sit?' Automatically, he brought her forward to move a cushion into a more comfortable position; she lay back again, staring up in wonderment at his action. 'I might as well tell you that if I'd had to put you here myself you'd have gone across my knee first! - for I've just about come to the end of my. ...' He tailed off, aware of his mother's tall and austere figure in the doorway. Jeanette flushed hotly, wondering how long she had been there, and how much she had heard.
It seemed an eternity before the silence was broken. Mrs. Fleming appeared to be incapable of movement, and continued to stand there, in the doorway, her eyes narrowed, a flush spreading across her arrogant face, a flush which Jeanette felt certain stemmed from anger. Jeanette herself had never experienced greater discomfort and embarrassment, but Craig was totally calm and self-possessed as he waited for his mother to speak. There was a sudden snap and the room was flooded with light. Mrs. Fleming came forward, mechanically twisting the ball of wool in her fingers, her eyes moving slowly from Craig to Jeanette, and then back again to her son.
'Something wrong, Craig? Is Jeanette ill?'
Jeanette's flush deepened; she was being deliberately ignored by Craig's mother, whose back was now turned towards her.
Craig noticed the slight; his eyes glinted like steel and his voice had a coldly metallic ring as he explained why he and Jeanette had turned bade so soon after starting out on their walk.
'Mark and Diane have gone on for a while,' he added. 'There was no need for them to return. They were enjoying the walk.'
'But surely it was Mark's place to look after his sister?'
A frightening little silence followed. Clearly Craig was having difficulty with his temper, for two little white patches had appeared at the comers of his mouth. However, when he spoke his voice was low and controlled, and Jeanette guessed that she was seeing an example of the diplomacy which her brother had mentioned yesterday when they were talking about Craig and his mother.
'There's nothing seriously wrong with Jeanette, so it was quite unnecessary for Mark to turn back. As I've said, he and Diane were enjoying their walk.'
'Didn't Diane mind being deserted like that?'
'Deserted?' An arrogant lift of Craig's brows supported the question. 'I don't quite understand you, Mother. I left Diane in Mark's Company.'
It was Mrs. Fleming's turn to suffer embarrassment; she half turned to throw Jeanette a glance of aversion as if considering her entirely to blame for her own uncomfortable position.
Jeanette's face was pale now; she looked up solemnly at Craig and murmured, apologetically,
'I feel much better. I think I would like to walk along and meet the others. They should be on their way back by now.' She sat up, looking about for her shoes. Craig told her to stay where she was.
'I'll run you home just as soon as Mark gets back. And if I were you I should go straight to bed. That leg of yours needs rest.' Catching her eye, he gave her a faintly mocking smile. No need to wonder at his thoughts.
'Yes, I shall go straight to bed,' and she cast him a glance, from under her lashes, which dearly said, 'in spite of what you're thinking.'
His smile broadened, but retained its hint of mockery. Jeanette waited for the sarcastic rejoinder which was clearly on his lips, but he was suddenly aware of his mother's cold yet interested stare and he merely said, abruptly,
'Sensible girl, the rest will do you good.' And then, saying he would go and bring the car round to the front door, he left the room.
Mrs. Fleming lifted up her knitting from the chair where Craig had put it, and sat down.
'Forgive me, my dear, if I seemed taken aback when I came in,' she said, picking up the two ends of her wool and preparing to join them. 'It was such an odd sort of conver
sation to be taking place between — mere acquaintances.'
Acquaintances? More like well-swom enemies, half
the time! and as for a conversation... no conversation at
all, reflected Jeanette, flushing at the memory of the angry threat to which Mrs. Fleming alluded; her son had done all the talking.
'Craig was only - only teasing me,' she stammered rather lamely, recalling that, there had been nothing in the least teasing in Craig's manner; on the contrary, he looked as if nothing would have given him greater satisfaction than to carry out his threat - right there and then.
'I should hope he was,' Mrs. Fleming returned, 'though he certainly didn't sound as if he were. I would never have suspected Craig of such frivolity. I think the sooner he is married and settled down the better. He's been on his own far too long.'
Jeanette swallowed a hard little lump in her throat and could find nothing to say to that. Mrs. Fleming fell silent, too, becoming involved with her pattern. But after a while she spoke again; coolly, and without any apparent interest.
'Mark was telling me, at dinner, that you received your injury in a climbing accident.'
'Yes, I did.' Jeanette sat up and reached for her shoes.
'You've done some climbing before?'
'That was the first time.'
'How very unfortunate - for you to have an accident on your first venture.' Mrs. Fleming joined her wool and let the ball roll on to the floor. 'Did you not have an experienced person with you?'
'We did, yes - and he shouted a warning, but I didn't know what he meant.' Jeanette cocked an ear, listening for the car. How long would Craig be? she wondered, anxious to bring this polite conversation to an end.
'So it was a properly organized expedition?' Mrs. Fleming raised her eyes from her work. Jeanette frowned slightly, puzzled.
'Certainly it was. Our leader, a young Turk, is the son of a famous climber.'
'So it was a mixed party ? Your brother didn't say, but I did wonder.' She held up her work, apparently absorbed in the pattern. Jeanette's frown deepened. Where was this leading? 'Tell me, my dear, what happens on a trip like that? Obviously it takes several days. Do you stay in hotels, or climbing huts... or what?'
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