CHAPTER SIX
DURING the next few days Beverley lived in a state of painful indecision. She kept on telling herself that few emotional problems are improved by being dis cussed at length, and that the heart-to-heart talk has accounted for more broken friendships and romances than almost anything else. But the longing to speak frankly to Geoffrey to ask him to define his exact attitude towards Sara was sometimes almost irresistible. To her inmost soul, she longed for some sort of reassurance some statement from him which might possibly admit a one-time affection but which would also establish beyond all doubt that no feeling for Sara still lingered. And yet, suppose she did tell him of her doubts and fears, her conjectures and beliefs? If these were groundless, and if he had, in fact, never really returned Sara's love, could anything be more embarrassing or undignified than the position she would then be in? i As for the other possibility the much stronger probability that he had indeed at one time loved Sara, what right had she to ask him to admit the fact? "It isn't even my business if he loved her once but doesn't any longer," Beverley assured herself, with a splendid detachment which reached no further than words. "What's past is past. If it is all over " But there, of course, was the nib. Was it all over? Or did Geoffrey still hanker after the girl who was divided from him by practical circumstances? Was he, . in fact, marrying herself, as second-best, in order to console himself for the loss of the girl he really wanted? When she was actually with Geoffrey, Beverley was considerably reassured, for his manner to her was as affectionate and intimate as it had always been. It was when she was away from him that she questioned herself in tormenting detail about the real state of 87 affairs. And, during the hours that she sat sewing in her light, pleasant room at the top of Huntingford Grange, there was all too much time to think things over. Sara made no further reference to their revealing conversation. She remained polite and friendly although, like her mother, not intimate. And she was undoubtedly as pleased as Madeleine with the completed dresses for Lady Welman's charity dance. In addition, like Madeleine, she expressed genuine and friendly interest in the fact that Beverley too was coming to the dance. She did not ask if Beverley's fiance would be accompanying her, but she must have passed on the news of the engagement, for Madeleine offered warm congratulations and said she supposed Geoffrey Revian would also be at' the dance. Madeleine was far more expansive than her elder sister. She used to come and talk to Beverley quite a lot sometimes about Beverley's affairs, as when she enquired about the engagement, but mostly about her own theatrical hopes and aspirations. "It makes them seem more real when I talk to you about them," she told Beverley. "I always remember the calm way you listened when I first told you I wanted to be an actress, and how you spoke as though anything were possible, if only one were sufficiently determined." "Did I speak like that?" Beverley was amused. "I hope I didn't encourage you unduly in something quite unpractical." "Oh, no. You merely gave me a new slant on how to look at one's ambitions," Madeleine assured her. "I'm always thinking now of just how I might manage to have at least a year in London at the Academy. I'd know, after that, if I were really any good and I think I'd abide by their decision." Beverley said nothing, but reflected that few who are once bitten by the urge to act or sing ever accept the discouraging verdict of others. They are always going to give themselves just one more chance and 88 one more year. However, her comments were not necessary. Madeleine ran on quite happily on her own steam. "Of course," she said,'"once Sara is married, with a flat in town, as well as Eithorpe Hall, things will be simpler." "But is she going to have a flat in town?" Beverley looked up from her work. "Oh, I expect so. In fact yes, of course she must! Everyone wants that," Madeleine-declared comprehensively. "Besides, think how useful it would be for us all." Beverley wondered if this view had been presented, in so many words, to Franklin Lowell and, if so, what his reaction had been. But, whether it had or not, Madeleine's casual statement made it increasingly obvious that most of the Wayne family's hopes and plans did indeed depend on Sara's marrying well. Toni, too, of course, learned very soon of Beverley's engagement, and she rushed into the room on her return from school, still panting from the rapid ascent of two flights of stairs. "Is it true, Miss Farman?" she enquired, with dramatic brevity. "Is what true?" Beverley looked up and smiled at her. "Are you really going to many Geoffrey Revian? "Yes. We've known each other' for a long time, you know." Beverley explained, in as matter-of-fact a tone as she could, "and now we have decided to get married." "You aren't wearing a ring." Toni drew near and inspected Beverley's hand a trifle disapprovingly. "No. He's having his grandmother's ring reset for me. He designed the new setting himself, and it's really lovely." "Is it?" Toni stood and looked at her, and Beverley guessed that the little girl was busily sorting out some-awkward contradictions in her own mind. Then at last ' she said, "Miss Farman " "Yes, Toni?" 89 "You know what I told you about Sara and Geoffrey Revian, the first day you were here." "I remember you did tell me something that was worrying you." "Well, when I told you I saw them with their arms round each other I guess was mistaken." "You mean you didn't see them like that?" Beverley could not quite disguise the eagerness in her voice. "No, I don't mean that. I did see them, but people do sort of hug each other for other reasons besides being in love, don't they?" "I suppose they might." Beverley endeavoured to sound as though she were speaking quite academically. "But you also said that Sara was crying." "Maybe I was mistaken about that too,"' said Toni soberly. "Maybe she just had something in her eye." "That's possible of course," agreed Beverley, hoping that her tone carried more conviction to Toni than it did to herself. "Anyway, I shall forget all about it now," declared Toni, brightening immensely all at once. "If Geoffrey Revian is going to marry you, there can't be anything between him and Sara, can there? And in that case. it's all right for her to marry Franklin, and everyone will be happy." Oh, blessed simplicity of youthful logic! Beverley wished with all her heart that she could feel the same happy conviction that all was now for the best in this best of all possible worlds. But at least Toni seemed unlikely to indulge in any more worrying on her own account, which was all to the good. x That evening Geoffrey gave her her ring. They had been out together, climbing the beautiful rising moorland slope which lay beyond Binwick, and presently they sat down on the still warm turf, in the soft evening breeze, and looked back on the village, lying below in its sheltered hollow. It was then that he felt in his pocket, with a slight, conspiratorial smile, and produced the ring in its new setting. 90 "Oh, Geoffrey " she leaned over to look at it, so happy in its beauty and reality that almost the last' vestige of her fears departed "how wonderful! It's even lovelier than the sketch suggested." "It's pretty good," he conceded. "But then it's for a very special person." And, slipping the ring on her finger, he kissed her and said, "Now you're really mine." "I always was," said Beverley, gravely regarding her ring. And at that he kissed her again and said, "When are we going to be married?" She had the most absurd impulse to say, "When I am sure that you don't love Sara Wayne better than me." But was this the moment to spoil with unworthy suspicions or suggestions? He had asked her to marry him. He had given her this beautiful ring in token of the fact. And now he wanted her to choose the very date of their wedding. What sort of cad would she be assuming him to be if she suggested at this point that perhaps he loved someone else? . "Oh, Geoffrey " she turned and hugged him in a sudden access of hope and confidence "whenever you say. Except," she added more practically, "that I must finish my work for the Waynes first. They're relying on me, and I couldn't let them down, even for my own wedding." "Of course not," he agreed, and she wondered if it were only her imagination which made his voice sound rather expressionless. "But is the one situation really dependent on the other?" "Well yes. Until Sara's wedding is over" he sat up suddenly, but she saw he was merely brushing a spider off his sleeve "I'll be busy on clothes for her and her sisters. After that, I'd like some time to make a few things for myself. Even a dressmaker likes to have a trousseau, you know." And she laughed. He
laughed too she thought quite gaily, though she could not quite see his face, as he had turned his head and was looking away down the hill. 91 "I'll put in some intensive work myself, meanwhile," he declared lightly. And then she remembered Franklin Lowell's offer, and she thought this was as good a time as any for mentioning it. "Geoffrey " she tried to pick her words carefully "would this be the right moment for you to have a London exhibition, if that were possible? To show your work particularly your portrait work to a larger public, I mean." "Any moment would be the right moment," he assured her, with a laugh and a shrug. "But you know as well as I do that it isn't a practical possibility. An exhibition, to be successful at all, requires quite a considerable outlay. And I think" he turned and touched her cheek lightly "the expenses of getting married must come first." "But if someone else paid the expenses ?" "Who else is going to?" He looked puzzled and amused. And then, at something in her expression he was suddenly alert instead of casual. "What do you mean?" There was a sharper, more eager, note in his voice, "Franklin Lowell offered to pay the expenses of a London exhibition of your work, as a wedding present to us both." "Lowell did?" Geoffrey frowned. "You're joking!" "No, I'm not." "But why should he make such an offer?" The colour came and went in Geoffrey's face, but whether with excitement or a sort of anger Beverley was not quite sure. "He said it was because he admires your work and thinks I'm nice," replied Beverley exactly. "He meant it very kindly." "Nonsense," said Geoffrey. "Men of Lowell's type don't go about doing unrequited acts of kindness. They expect something in return." "Oh, that's not true!" cried Beverley angrily. "He's truly generous, and I think he likes making big gestures." "Only so that he can pose as a fine fellow, and 92 feel that other people are under an obligation to him." "Geoffrey, how can you say such things? There was no suggestion of that at all. And, anyway, why should he want to have you under an obligation to him?" "I tell you because it makes him feel a fine fellow," said Geoffrey. But he grinned at her suddenly and seemed to find the whole subject more amusing than annoying, after all. "I must say he has a very fiery champion in you." He pinched the tip of her ear. "I didn't know you were such friends." "We're not exactly. At least he was interested to hear that I was the model for that picture he has. You know the one of me in the blue and ' white dress. And, somehow, we got talking, from that point. And he and Sara took me over .to Eithorpe to see it again. Then on the way home he -asked about our future prospects " "With Sara there?" he asked carelessly. "No, no. We had left her at Huntingford, because she had a bit of a headache and didn't want to drive any further." "But she knew about our engagement?" "Yes. I had told them both, while we were still at Eithorpe." "I see. Go on." "Well, then he said how much he admired your work, and that he was sure that a London exhibition would put you on the map, so to speak. I explained that this was rather beyond our immediate range, and he made the offer I've told you about." "Just like that? out of the blue?" "Yes. But he did add that there might be some difficulty in making you accept, as he realized you didn't like him," remarked Beverley rather severely. "He said that?" Geoffrey laughed. "Yes. But he also said that it didn't matter, because it didn't alter his admiration of your work." "Or his liking for you?" suggested Geoffrey shrewdly, but he smiled at her. 93 "He was kind enough to add that," admitted Beverley demurely. "In fact, the offer was more to please you than to help me?" Geoffrey leaned forward and kissed her. "All right I don't mind. In fact, I suppose I'd : rather have it that way." "Why?" she asked curiously. But he did not answer her. He just-sat there, frowning thoughtfully, and evidently turning over the offer in his mind. "Geoffrey you will at least consider it, won't you?" she said pleadingly. "It was so well meant." "I am considering it," he assured her. "Not, so much for the noble motives behind the offer as because it is something I've wanted for years. He's right, of course. With reasonable luck, it would alter my whole position." A light of hope and excitement shone in Geoffrey's eyes. A light she had not often seen there, for life had not handed him many of these unexpected chances."Oh, darling " she put out her hand and stroked his arm "I wish you could have the break you deserve, at last." "I wish I need not owe the possibility of it to Franklin Lowell," he replied, with a slight face, but he put his hand over hers and pressed her fingers. "Anyway, I shan't look at it that way. I'll consider that I owe the chance to you." He drew her against him and kissed -her. "For the offer was made to you for the very good reason that you're a darling." She laughed and returned his kiss. This was not the moment to split hairs about the exact reasons which lay behind Franklin Lowell's offer. It was enough that Geoffrey seemed prepared to accept it. And his ring was on her finger. Beverley looked down at it now, spreading out her fingers, the better to see the sparkle of the stones and the curious and beautiful arrangement of the setting. "It's the nicest ring anyone ever had," she said. "Be sure you wear it on Saturday at Lady Wel-' 94 man's dance. I want everyone to know we are engaged," Geoffrey declared. "But of course! I'll wear it always now," Beverley declared. And although she did not know it, there was something almost defiant in her tone. Then, as they got up to retrace their steps homewards, she said, "May I tell Franklin Lowell that the offer is accepted? I think he would like to know." "Yes. Why not? But " Geoffrey looked amused again, and just a little curious "are you in regular contact with him? When are you likely to see him?" ."Oh, I don't know. Perhaps not until the dance. But if I do see him before then, I'd like to be able to say something." "I leave it to you," Geoffrey told her lightly. "It's between you and him. And, since I'm not a jealous or suspicious sort of fellow, I daresay it's better that way." She smiled, because she knew that was meant to be a joke. But the words "jealousy" and "suspicion" had too personal a significance for her to find them really amusing. Beverley had not really expected to see Franklin Lowell before the dance on the Saturday. But on Thursday evening there was a knock at the front door, and when she went to answer it, she found to her surprise that the master of Eithorpe Hall was standing outside with a basket of fruit in one hand and a raffia bag which seemed to contain a couple of plump chickens in the other. "Hello," he said. "I was passing this way and thought your mother might like these." "But how kind of you!" Beverley pulled the door open wide. "Do come in, won't you? or are you in a hurry?" He was not, it seemed, in a hurry, for he came' in immediately. And as Aunt Ellen was standing in the kitchen doorway, somewhat open-mouthed at all this, he said, "May I bring these in?" and marched straight into the kitchen and deposited the fruit and chickens 95 on her well-scrubbed table, much to her consternation. "Oh, really " Aunt Ellen fluttered about, flicking non-existent dust off her bright pots and pans "it isn't very fitting. The kitchen's in such a mess." This Was a palpable misstatement, since everything was always in apple-pie order wherever Aunt Ellen ruled. And, glancing round, Franklin remarked, "It all looks fine to me. I like a good cottage kitchen." And, sitting down on the side of the table, he swung one leg and smiled at Aunt Ellen, as though he found her young and beautiful. Now, people often told Aunt Ellen how capable she was and how they didn't know what her sister and niece would do without her. But no one ever looked at her as though she were young and beautiful. And Franklin Lowell's smiling glance had the most extraordinary effect upon her. She bridled slightly and coloured up, and then she said, in the softest and most friendly tone Beverley had ever heard from her, "Well, if you like it, you're welcome to stay in it, while I go and see if my sister's awake and ready to see anyone." "Don't disturb her on my account," Franklin said. But she had already fluttered off, with an air of wanting nothing more than to please the handsome male thing in her kitchen. To his, lasting credit, he made no attempt to exchange a slyly amused smile with Beverley. He merely remarked, "Your aunt is very kind and hospitable." "Yes," agreed Beverley. And to her lasting credit, she did not see fit to add that Aunt Ellen was not always that way. Instead, she took the opportunity to say, "I spoke to Geoffrey last night about your very kind offer." "Oh, yes?" He shot her a bright, enquiring glance. "And, though at first I think he had the feeling that he ought n
ot to accept so much from anyone " thus did she tactfully recast Geoffrey's early objections "in the end he was unable to refuse such a wonderful, generous suggestion." "Good!" "I can't thank you enough." She held out her hand to him. "We can't thank you enough." "You've done so already," he took her hand and held it lightly in his for a moment. "You're a sweet child. We'll go into details about the whole scheme sometime next week." "But we aren't being married for some while. There isn't any hurry," she assured him. "On the contrary, I think it's the kind,of present which is best given as soon as it can be arranged," he replied. "If we can turn your Geoffrey into a successful and prosperous portrait painter before your wedding day, so much the better." She laughed incredulously. "You make it all sound like something out of a fairy story," she declared. And then Aunt Ellen came back to say that her sister was awake and would be very pleased to see him. He stayed no longer thaa ten minutes, since it was obvious that Mrs. Farman had had enough visitors that day already. But, even so, he left behind him the strong impression that an energetic and kindly wind had blown through the house. "It's to be hoped' that girl is good enough for him," was Aunt Ellen's singular comment when he had gone."Who? Sara Wayne? She could hardly be prettier or more charming," Beverley declared. "Looks aren't everything," replied Aunt Ellen, and it was obvious that she had returned to normal. On Saturday evening, Beverley dressed for the dance with a light heart and a sense of excited anticipation. It was not often that treats of this kind came her way. And, although she had been so busy with dresses for the Wayne girls, she had still found time to make a new dress for herself. It was of honey-coloured-organdie almost the same shade as her hair and through it ran a line of shining gold, which caught the light as the skirt 97 spread in billowing folds from an incredibly slender waist-line. . , . . -i"You look adorable, ,my darling," her mother declared, when Beverley presented herself for inspection. "If I were a young man, I'd fall in love with you on sight No wonder Geoffrey wants to marry you.It was a lovingly prejudiced verdict, Beverley knew, but it put her in the most delicious state of content and did lovely things for her social morale. Then Geoffrey arrived, looking extraordinarily handsome m the unfamiliar grandeur of evening clothes, and his admiration was at least as gratifying as her mother s. Geoffrey had, in Aunt Ellen's words, done the thin" properly," and they had a hired car to take them to the hideous, but conveniently large mansion where Lady Welman's dance was to take place. It was as is usually the case at a charity dance quite a mixed gathering, but there were few people there whom Beverley knew, and she was pleased to be greeted with something like enthusiasm by the party from Huntingford. .Both the Wayne girls looked breathtakingly lovely in their new dresses and, with a certain amount of innocent pride, Beverley realized that their clothes were commanding almost as much attention as their charming selves. Sara was escorted by Franklin Lowell, of course, and Madeleine was partnered by her brother. , . , , Beverley had not seen much of Andrew Wayne since that first afternoon, when he had driven her from the bus-stop to the house, and she strongly suspected that he could not quite remember who she was However, he firmly claimed acquaintance with her 'and evidently had no intention of being regarded as anything but an old friend. A tribute to her appearance which she found both amusing and exhilarating. It was the most enchanting evening, so far as Beverley was concerned. Geoffrey, with whom she had hardly ever had an opportunity to dance before, proved to be an admirable partner, and she also found herself in demand with several other people, including 98 both Franklin Lowell and Andrew Wayne. In fact, in a modest way, she was a success. A heady and delightful experience against which none of us are proof. Half-way through the evening she was dancing with Andrew Wayne when he said to her, "You know, it wasn't until I had a chance to consult Madeleine that I really knew who you were. And I can't tell you how that tantalizing bit of mystery added charm to your presence." "Thank you." Beverley smiled at him. "I thought you didn't recognize me. I hope the illusion isn't spoiled now you know me." "On the contrary. I'm now intrigued to know how anyone so decorative can also be clever." "Clever?" "Well, you made those gorgeous dresses that my sisters are wearing, didn't you?" "Oh that? yes. I'm a good dressmaker. I don't know that I'd claim more." Beverley laughed. "But you designed the dresses too, didn't you?" "In a way yes. They said what they wanted, and I turned their wishes into practical form." "You know, you shouldn't be hiding your light under a bushel in a remote village," Andrew Wayne declared earnestly. "You ought to start up on your own in town " "Without capital?" She smiled at him and shook her head. "Well, then, you ought to team up with one of the big fabric firms, in.some way." He expertly-swung her clear of a couple who seemed to be in some difficulties. ' "That's more easily said than done," Beverley told him, but she was aware of a glow of gratification that anyone should rate her work so highly. "I'm going to speak to my uncle about you," declared Andrew Wayne. "He's on the importing end of the line himself, but he has all sorts of connections. He's always telling me, in a cross sort of way, to prove my initiative and bring him in news of something or someone good in the trade. I'm going to tell him about you." 99 "No? Really? are you?" In her surprise and pleasure, Beverley almost- halted, with the result that the clumsy couple, who were still trundling along in the rear, bumped into them, a heavy foot descended on the edge of her dress, and there was a small but ominous sound of tearing. "Oh, excuse me!""No, it was my fault I stopped " "I say terribly sorry any damage done?" There was a flurry of excuses and apology, which dissolved as the couple were swept on again. But Beverley knew too much about the construction of her own dress not to realize that some running repairs had probably become necessary."I'm afraid I'll have to drop out for a few minutes." "Why?'Did that clumsy oaf tear your dress?" Her partner guided her skilfully to the side of the room."Only a few vital gathers at the waist." She laughed philosophically. "But I'll have to go to the dressingroom and catch them up again. Too bad! the conversation was getting extraordinarily interesting." "We'll continue it later," he assured her. "I remember exactly where we left off."And then she slipped away upstairs to the improvised dressing-room where a severe but efficient elderly maid of Lady Welman's not only produced the necessary needle and thread, but insisted on doing the repair for her."I'm used to a needle and thread, madam," she told Beverley, who refrained from saying that so was she. "There!" The maid snipped off her thread neatly. "No one will see it now. That's the sort of thing that happens at these mixed affairs," she added primly, apparently under the impression that no one in good society ever stood on the hem of someone else's dress. Beverley thanked her and ran downstairs again, meaning to return immediately to the ballroom. But suddenly, through an open doorway, she had the most beautiful glimpse of a moonlit garden. And, irresistibly attracted, she stepped outside, for a breath of the cool night air. 100 Before her stretched shadowy, tree-lined paths, curiously in contrast to the ugly house behind her. And, with the haunting lilt of a Viennese waltz drifting out from the ballroom, it seemed to Beverley that a nostalgic touch of glamour and charm added magic to the scene,Almost without thinking what she was doing, she began to follow one of the paths at random, revelling in the delicious freshness of the air after the heat of the ballroom. It was surprising, she thought, that more couples had not found their way out here too. And then she saw that at least one couple had. For at the end of the path, out of the direct light of the romantic moon, stood two people clasped in each other's arms.The dress of the girl was unmistakable. Beverley had made it herself, and she could not fail to recognize it as belonging to Sara Wayne.Well, if Franklin Lowell liked to make love to his fiancee in the garden, who could blame him? The night wa_, &L.fiiciently romantic. Then the man .raised his head, so that she saw him quite clearly for a moment. And it was not Franklin Lowell. It was Geoffrey. 101
The girl in the blue dress Page 6
