The girl in the blue dress

by Mary Burchell

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  "YOUR father? Oh, Geoffrey, I am sorry." In that first moment, she thought o ly of his distress. "I wont keep you. You must go at once, of course." "Walk up the street with me." He slipped his hand round her arm and pressed it, as though he found some sort of reassurance from the contact with her. "Yes, of course. Are you going to take the bus into Castleton?" , .,,"No. I'm hoping Barton will have the village taxi free I was going up to enquire when you arrived." They walked up the village street together, and she tried to think of something comforting to say, for she saw he was badly in need of some sympathy and support. , ... - .Until then, she had never thought of there being any bond between Geoffrey and his father. The disagreement between them had been so deep, and its existence so long, that it had not occurred to her that, even in an emergency, either of them could feel differ- ently. But blood, she realized now, is a strange thmg lt was obvious that Geoffrey was deeply moved by what had happened. ."I'm glad he asked for you," she said at last. It shows he was really fond of you in spite of every"Yes. Yes, that's what I thought. It makes me feel rather awful now. As though I ought to have found some way of bridging the gap before." "But you did try, didn't you?""Not very persistently." Geoffrey shook his head and looked even more unhappy. "I was always afraid of appearing to be after his money.""Well I suppose some pretty hard things were said between you, and one does have one's pride," Bever "That's what I told myself. But then something like this happens, and you wonder what pride matters, 116 beside the fact that the old man was lonely and obstinate, and quite incapable of making the first move." "He has made the first move now," Beverley pointed out. "I know. And that only goes to show how much he must really have wanted us to get together again. I could kick myself." "Don't be too harsh on yourself." She pressed his hand against her. "It's difficult to see things in their right proportion at a time like this. Just get there as quickly as you can, and try to make him understand that you want to be friends as much as he does." This was a poor sort of consolation, Beverley knew, but it was the best one could do with words. And just then thev arrived at what was known in the village as "Barton the taxi" a composite term which included Mr. Barton himself, his small house, garage and large car of ancient vintage. Fortunately Barton the taxi was disengaged, and only too pleased to drive Geoffrey into Castleton, especially when he heard the address to which they were to go. His prominent, red ears positively quivered with interest, as though tuning themselves in to some dramatic story which would inevitably be unfolded. "You wouldn't come too?" Geoffrey caught Beverley .by the hand again, just as she was about to say goodbye to him. "Willingly, if I thought I could be of any use," she said. "But I don't think your father wants to see anyone but you just now, Geoffrey. This evening belongs to him alone."" "Yes, of course. You're right." He kissed her hard. "But if for any reason you want me later, just send Barton back for me." "Very well." Then Geoffrey got in beside Mr. Barton, and, with a certain amount of bucking and spitting, the taxi drove ,off. Beverley slowly retraced her steps homeward, reflecting soberly, as she went, on the great amount of 117 family unhappiness which could be avoided if only '- obstinacy and pride were not such common human failings. "You're back early," observed Aunt Ellen as she re-entered the cottage. "Is something wrong?" This would have been Aunt Ellen's automatic suggestion, whatever Beverley's reason for returning early, and it was slightly annoying to have to admit that, on this occasion at any rate, Aunt Ellen was right. Beverley therefore merely said briefly, "Geoffrey had to go and see his father," and went into her mother's room. Aunt Ellen, however, knew at least as much about the private affairs of most people in Binwick as they knew themselves and sometimes more. So she immediately assessed the momentous quality of this simple statement. "See his father?" She followed Beverley. "Geoffrey has gone to see his father? Did you hear that?" She skilfully drew her sister into the circle of interesting news and discussion. "Geoffrey has gone to see his father, and, to my certain knowledge, they haven't spoken for years. Why should he go now?" "His father sent for him." Beverley sat down by her mother's bed and ran her hands through her fair hair. "He is very ill it seems he had a heart attack and may not live long and he wanted to see Geoffrey." "That means he is going to do something about ' his will," declared Aunt Ellen, divided between the , rival attractions of having Geoffrey cut off with a s shilling or her niece's fiance endowed with a fortune. - Characteristic pessimism, however, triumphed over even family feeling, and after a moment she added, "He was always a hard man, Peter Revian. He's going to tell Geoffrey that he's leaving it all to charity, you mark my words.""I think he just wanted to make sure that he saw Geoffrey again," Beverley replied simply. "They must have been closer than I ever supposed. At least, at one time they must have been: I don't think I have ever seen Geoffrey more moved or distressed." 118 "Well, the situation is moving," her mother said thoughtfully. "And particularly it's sad to think how much time has been wasted when they could have been friends again." "That's what I feel. Mother. But you can't be wise for other people." "It's difficult enough to be wise for oneself," remarked Aunt Ellen a sober truth which no one could dispute. "Have you thought how this may affect you, Beverley?" "Me?" Beverley looked startled. "How do you mean?" "Well, if there is some sort of reconciliation, and old Revian leaves Geoffrey everything, he'll be a rich man instead of a poor one." "I suppose he would be yes," Beverley agreed slowly. "I hadn't thought of that." "You're too unworldly," Aunt Ellen told her. "No, she isn't," declared Beverley's mother. "She merely thought first of the human side of things, which was quite right. But it is a fact, dear, as Ellen says this could make a great difference to you and Geoffrey. Your prospects could be infinitely brighter." "You don't know," countered Aunt Ellen cautiously. "Perhaps only his prospects "will be brightened. Geoffrey might decide he wanted someone else, more socially desirable, if he found himself a rich man." Beverley stared at her aunt, indescribably shaken at having her inmost fears so unexpectedly put into words, even though it was no more than natural for her aunt to prophesy thus. But Mrs. Farman cried impatiently, "Oh, Ellen, you do have the most uncomfortable and ridiculous ideas! Why should Geoffrey want someone else, for heaven's sake? He has been in love with Beverley for years." "Well perhaps you're right." Aunt Ellen seemed impressed by her sister's vehemence, even to the extent of admitting a glimmer of light into the general gloom of her prognostications. "But one never knows," she reiterated, on principle. Still Beverley said nothing. She managed to smile 119 slightly, as though associating herself with her mother's protest while not really taking Aunt Ellen seriously. But she was aware of a terrible chill at her heart. For, absurd though Aunt Ellen's suggestion might be, as a general view, there was still the particular aspect, about which her aunt and her mother knew nothing. If, in fact, Geoffrey did suddenly find himself a rich man, how was that likely to affect the situation between him and Sara Wayne The rest of the evening dragged slowly by. But, although Beverley stayed up later than usual and the light in the front-room window advertised the fact there was still no news of Geoffrey when she finally went to bed, not long before midnight. It was Saturday the following day, which meant that Beverley did not go to Huntingford Grange, and was, therefore, at least available for any news as soon as it came.Thanks to the village grapevine (as represented by the milkman and the postman) Aunt Ellen was able to report that Geoffrey had stayed in Castleton for the night, and that Barton the taxi had returned quite early the previous evening, with the news that old Mr. Revian was supposed to have rallied a little. "How did Barton know that?" enquired Beverley curiously."I suppose he asked someone at the house how the old man was," replied Aunt Ellen, with a simple understanding of how these things were done. "But that would be early in the evening, of course. It's around midnight and the early hours that old people are at their lowest." It was obvious that, so far as she was concerned, Mr. Revian was already prepared for his funeral, and . when Geoffrey arrived at last, about eleven o'clock, she automatically composed her features into an expressio
n of condolence. ' Geoffrey, however who arrived in a chauffeur driven Rolls-Royce, instead of in Barton the taxi looked almost eager, and certainly a good deal happier than when Beverley had last seen him. And he came 120 in with an air of briskness and optimism much at variance with Aunt Ellen's muted gloom. "Oh, Geoffrey he's better, isn't- he?" exclaimed Beverley, as soon as she saw him. "You look quite different." "Do I?" Geoffrey smiled and kissed her. "Well, I feel different. I can't tell you how different! It's true that the old man is quite a bit better, though not by any means out of the wood yet. But oh, darling " hehugged her so tightly that she gasped and laughed "in some extraordinary way, everything is all right between us again." "Everything?" "Well we haven't talked of absolutely everything, of course," he admitted "Only the old bitterness and misunderstanding seem quite gone. He's much gentler and more tolerant. I felt like a boy again! And it made me remember things I'd forgotten for years." "What things?" She stood smiling at him, indescribably happy in his new happiness. "How we were good friends in the school holidays," Geoffrey said slowly. "And he used to show off a bit to his friends because I could draw and paint better than their kids could. Oh it all sounds rather silly and trivial, but such a lot of one's early life is made up of such things, I suppose." "But of course! And a lot of any parent's happiness is made up of such things, too, I imagine." "I guess so. He was so happy to talk of old times." Geoffrey smiled again, as though recalling something that had pleased him immensely. "He isn't allowed to talk much at a time, of course. But I think it did him good to have me recall things. And now, Beverley, he wants to see you." "To see me?" She was a little taken aback. "Does he?" "Well, of course. I told him I was engaged to be married, and he was delighted and said he must see you for himself before well, anyway," Geoffrey amended hastily, "he naturally wants to see the girl I'm going to marry." 121 "How nice." She smiled slowly, and she felt a warmth in her heart where there had been a chill ever since Aunt Ellen's words of the previous evening. For, somehow, the idea that Geoffrey's father wanted to see her and, even more, that Geoffrey had spoken so positively of her as the girl he was going to marry carried more reassurance with it than even his actual proposal had done. "When does he want me to come?" she asked. "Now. Or, at least, as sdbn as you can," Geoffrey explained. "He was resting when I left, but he said he hoped to see you during the day. I thought that, if you could come back with me now, you'd be available whenever he did feel like seeing a visitor." "Yes, of course. Sit down, Geoffrey, and Aunt Ellen will bring you some coffee. I won't be more than a few minutes getting ready." Beverley went first into her mother's room and explained briefly what had happened, and then went to her own room to change into something suitable for a visit to one's future father-in-law. Here Aunt Ellen came to her having supplied Geoffrey with her invariably excellent coffee. , "So you're going to meet Geoffrey's father at last?" She was agog at the news. "It will be an important meeting, Beverley. You want to make a good impression, if .you're not to undo all the good this reconciliation, has done." "I hope to make a good impression," replied Beverley a trifle dryly, as she slipped out of her morning-dress, and opened the wardrobe to consider what she would wear. "Something quiet, dear," urged Aunt Ellen behind her. "In keeping with the seriousness of the situation. But not black. That always seems so previous, as one might say." "I don't intend to w&ar black," Beverley assured her. "I shall wear my grey dress, with the white collar and cuffs." "Grey?" Aunt Ellen shook her head doubtfully. 122 "Half-mourning, you know. Doesn't it look a little well ?" "No, it doesn't," retorted Beverley firmly. But, almost hypnotized by Aunt Ellen's views on decorum in dress, she added a scarlet belt which could in no way be classed as half-mourning. "That's better," declared her aunt, in as nearly a satisfied tone as she ever produced. And Beverley went downstairs again, ready to accompany Geoffrey. It seemed strange to step into a sumptuous car with Geoffrey, and to have a respectful chauffeur calling him "Sir" and evidently regarding him ,as an important person. For so long Geoffrey had been the slightly bohemian, easy-going figure in her life. Now he was, willy-nilly, being invested with a sort of dignity and importance which made him seem a little like someone else. It was nearly an hour's drive into Castleton, and Geoffrey had plenty of time to tell her more of the meeting between his father and himself. How the estrangement of years had melted in the warmth of a real reconciliation, and how his father had even gone so far as to ask with some eagerness about his progress in the world of art. A subject which, in the old days, had been absolutely taboo. "I told him about the exhibition Franklin Lowell is arranging," Geoffrey recalled with a smile. "And he seemed quite annoyed that anyone else should do something for me. He said something to the effect that there was no need for Lowell to interfere, and that he would 'see to all that' himself." "But we couldn't be so ungracious as to fling back Franklin's offer at him now," protested Beverley anxiously. "No, no, of course not." Geoffrey brushed that off easily. "There is always a way of explaining these things. What is important is that the old man showed clearly that he wanted to give me any support that is necessary. And if he recovers " Geoffrey stopped for a moment, and Beverley quickly put a reassuring hand over his. 123 "He may well recover, my dear. He has already rallied so well." "Yes I know. I keep on telling myself that. And there's much more will to live in him, now that things are all right between us." . "Of course." "If he recovers," repeated Geoffrey, more confidently this time, "I think he means to take an active interest in whatever I am doing. And if I really pulled off a successful show of my pictures, he is in the mood to lap the whole thing up and enjoy it as much as myself." Beverley smiled and said he could hardly ask more. "It's difficult to take in how everything has changed in a matter of hours." Geoffrey passed his hand over his face, as though brushing off something which had obscured his vision until now. "This time yesterday, all the horizons were limited. And now " he laughed and gave himself a little shake "I'm only just beginning to take in what this could mean." She said nothing. She wondered in just what terms he saw his horizons widening, and if Sara Wayne had suddenly entered the picture of the unexpected future that stretched before him. But there was no possibility of finding out anything about that, and, in any case, they arrived just then at their destination. The chauffeur hurried round and opened the door of the car, and Beverley stepped out and stood for a moment regarding the solid, handsome house which had once been Geoffrey's home. There was a slightly old-fashioned air about it, but there was no doubting that it was the home of very .prosperous people. Again it was incongruous to imagine Geoffrey in connection with this place, just as it had been to see him at ease in the luxurious car. And, as Beverley entered . the house, she was aware of a sort of nervousness ~ mingling with her natural interest. "Come, darling " Geoffrey led her into what she took to be a morning-room, which was furnished in a pleasant, if rather solid style. And here, a good deal to her surprise, she was presented to a handsome, but severe-looking lady with grey hair. 124 This is my aunt, Mrs. Mercer," Geoffrey explained, and Beverley found herself being greeted politely rather than cordially. With difficulty, she bit back the exclamation, "I never even knew you had an aunt!" And suddenly she thought how little she really knew of Geoffrey's family background, in spite of all the years they had been friends. In those early days, the whole subject of the family estrangement had been too painful for her to ask many questions, and, although Geoffrey had poured out his hopes and fears to her, somehow he had never given her a clear picture of the home and family he had left. Now, in some strange way, he seemed to be slipping back into a scene which to her was quite alien, and in this unfamiliar scene even he seemed unfamiliar. With an effort, Beverley controlled her rising nervousness, and while Geoffrey went to see if his father were ready to receive them, she made what conversation was possible with a complete stranger who showed no special wish for them to become any better acquainted. It is difficult, of course, to assess the wheels within wheels which exist in any family. But Beverley thought it not improbable that Mrs. Mercer had been the most im
portant person in her brother's life during recent years, in which case she was not particularly likely to welcome anyone else either her nephew or his fiancee if she thought they might upset an arrangement which was to her own advantage. The exchange of civilities was becoming rather uphill work by the time Geoffrey reurned, with the news that his father was awake and ready to receive Beverley. "It won't be more than a short visit," he explained, "because he tires easily. But he is very anxious to meet you, Beverley." Together they went up the wide, handsome staircase to a room with double doors. Geoffrey knocked softly, and a nurse in a stiffly starched uniform admitted them. It was a large room, handsomely furnished but curiously impersonal. There was nothing impersonal, however, about the grey-haired man propped up in the 125 bed. Ill though he obviously was, he dominated the scene, and the penetrating glance which he directed upon Beverley as she crossed the room missed abso- lutely nothing about her, she felt sure. I In some indefinable way, he was extraordinarily like ': Geoffrey. But a far more decided, clearly drawn version of Geoffrey. The family resemblance was unmistakable, but the difference in temperament was unmistakable too. "So you're the girl Geoffrey is going to marry?" He r took Beverley's hand and looked at her searchingly. "Yes, Mr. Revian," Beverley said. "Well, you're pretty enough." That was a plain statement rather than a compliment, she saw. Beverley smiled. "He knows prettier girls than I am," she assured Geoffrey's father. "I don't think that's his principal rea- i son for wanting to marry me." "No?" The man in the bed smiled too then. "What - is, then?" ] "I don't know. You would have to ask Geoffrey that. ] I only know my own reason for wanting to marry him." "And that is ?" "That I love him," Beverley said simply. At which Geoffrey came and put his arm round her. "She looks a good child," the old man said to his "I son. And then, to Beverley "So you think you can manage my boy?" "As much as anyone should be managed by another person," Beverley conceded, again with a smile. 3 "he's difficult, you know. He's my son, so he is almost bound to be," he added, with pride rather than regret, Beverley thought. , "We're all difficult, Mr. Revian, until someone finds the key to us," Beverley replied gravely. "Quite a student of human nature, eh?" he said, but not unkindly. "Who are your people?""No one very special," Beverley told him, without embarrassment. Then she explained briefly about her father and mother, and old Mr. Revian frowned thoughtfully. 126 "Then your grandfather must have been Angus Trenton?" "Yes, he was." "I remember him when he was Vicar of St. Stephenin-the-Woods. Best man in the pulpit that I ever heard, and a grand worker in the parish too. If you have half his good sense and character, you'll do very well for my boy. Better than anyone with a fancy name and not much between the ears." "Oh, thank you!" Beverley smiled and blushed. "I won't make any special claims, on the strength of being the granddaughter of Angus Trenton. But I will do my best to be a good wife to Geoffrey, on my own account." "No one can promise more," replied the man in the bed, and raising his hand, he patted her cheek. "You'll have to go now." His hand fell back slackly on the counterpane, as though even that slight effort had been too much for him. "I tire easily. But I'm glad to have seen you. And I hope to see you again. Who knows ?" But he shut his eyes after that. And, with a light touch on his hand, which was half a goodbye, and half a caress, Beverley turned away. Geoffrey accompanied her out of the room and down the stairs once more. And, on the way, he put his arm round her and gave her an approving hug. "He liked you, Beverley!""I liked him," she replied simply. "I I hope there will be many opportunities of knowing him better." "Well " Geoffrey sighed "at least he is holding his own, at the moment. Come and have some lunch now. And perhaps later " "Oh do you think I should stay to lunch?" Beverley said doubtfully, as she remembered the lack of warmth in Mrs. Mercer's manner. "Why, of course. Why not?" Geoffrey looked surprised. "I didn't want to appear to to make myself at home here, when I'm quite a stranger as yet. I thought " 127 But Geoffrey would have none of that. So Beverley stayed to lunch a well-served and admirably cooked meal and again made what contribution she could towards some uninspired and very formal conversation. Geoffrey had seemed to think she might be asked tor again by his father. But when, early in the afternoon the nurse reported that her patient was asleep and would certainly not be seeing anyone else that day, Beverley said that she must go home. "You stay here, Geoffrey. Your place is here, she told him. "But I have stayed as long as I should, and, anyway. Mother will be expecting me back. I ought to catch the three-thirty bus.""What's the matter with the car?" he asked rather impatiently. , . ."Your aunt said something about going out this afternoon," Beverley reminded him. "I'm sure she will need the car, and frankly I would rather go by bus than ask her to make any re-arrangements. I've been going by bus all my life " she smiled at him mischievously- "so there's no need to look on it as a hardship now. "All right." He smiled too then. "I'll walk down to the bus-stop with you."He seemed to be feeling the need for her presence, and it touched her and pleased her immensely that this was so. Not since the old, happy days before Sara Wayne had come into her life, had she felt so truly . necessary to him, so much a part of his plans. . Undoubtedly his father's expressed approval had something to do with this if only because it made him, see his marriage as something which titled perfectly into the new pattern of life which was opening tor him. But in addition, there was this eager, half-boyish dependence on her in trouble which was touchingly and deliriously reminiscent of the old days. As they stood waiting for the bus, he unselfconsciously held her hand in his. And when it arrived and she turned to say goodbye to him, he kissed her hard and said, .- "Thank you, my darling, for all your support. : She kissed him in reply and climbed into the over128 crowded bus, hardly noticing that anyone else was there, or that she was going to have to stand in discomfort among a shopping-laden crowd, at least for part of the way. What did a little thing like that matter beside the fact that Geoffrey loved her and needed her? That his father approved of her and had virtually set his seal on the marriage. How small and unnecessary her fears and anxieties of the last few weeks now seemed. She had tormented herself for nothing. There were two or three other stops before the bus actually left Castleton, and gradually the number of passengers thinned, until Beverley found herself a seat near the front, where she seemed likely to sit in happy solitude. At the last stop in the town, however, a few more people joined the bus, and one of them came running to the front to drop into the seat beside Beverley. "Hello, Miss Farman," said Toni's clear and rather penetrating voice, "what are you doing in Castleton on a Saturday afternoon?" "I might ask you the same thing." Beverley turned to smile at her, for she was fond of the youngest Wayne. "You don't go to school on Saturday, do you?" "I should think not " Toni dismissed such a gruesome idea with emphasis. "I've been to spend the morning with Wendy Tulley, and they asked me to lunch, and was I glad!" "Really?" Beverley was amused. "Was it such a good lunch, then?" "Oh, it was all right, you know." Gastronomic niceties did not find a place in Toni's interests yet, it was evident. "But it wasn't that. I was glad not to be at home today, because something perfectly awful has happened, Miss Farman." "Has it?" Beverley remained magnificently calm before this tragic announcement, because she had had previous experience of the things which ranked as disasters in Tom's estimation. "What is it?" "I don't know that I'm supposed to tell anyone." Toni dropped her voice and glanced round the bus. "But I 129 guess it doesn't matter telling you, because in a way you're almost family. And, anyway everyone will have to know soon. Sara has broken off her engagement,Miss Farman. And you simply can't guess what a to-do there is about it." 130