Orphan Bride

by Sara Seale

  She was clearly very fond of him.

  “Here’s my orphan, Piggy,” he said, when, surprisingly, he had kissed her. “I’ve no doubt you’ll keep her in order just as you used to keep me.”

  Piggy said primly, “How do you do, Jennet? I trust Julian has explained that I live very simply and you will not get here the same comforts you no doubt receive at Pennycross.”

  “No, yes—I mean, it’s very kind of you to have me, Miss Piggy—Miss Piggot,” stammered Jennet, confused.

  “I think,” she said, “you had better call me Piggy, like Julian and all my other charges. Well, Julian, you are no nearer finding any work to do, I gather.”

  “That must wait for a little while, I’m afraid,” he replied, smiling down at her with affection, and Jennet thought with surprise that it was the first time she had felt Julian possessed real fondness for any one person. They talked for a little. Piggy enquired meticulously for Emily and Homer, the state of Julian’s health, and the weather prospects for to-morrow’s ceremony, then Julian said he must be going.

  “I’ll call for you at nine o’clock to-morrow morning,” he told Jennet. “It will be a tiring day, so go to bed early. You’ll see that she has a glass of hot milk before she goes to bed, won’t you, Piggy?”

  Piggy stood listening with an enigmatical expression. “It’s odd to hear you giving schoolroom orders, Julian,” she said dryly. “I should have thought Jennet was quite old enough to look after her self. Good-night, my dear boy.”

  He grinned, nodded casually to Jennet, and limped out of the room.

  “And now,” said Piggy, “I will show you where you are to sleep, and you may wash your hands, and read a book if you wish before supper, which will be at seven o’clock. Come.”

  Jennet was a little dismayed at the prospect of a solitary evening with this prim, quick-tongued little woman. But it proved to be quite easy. Piggy liked to talk about Julian. Sometimes she mentioned other pupils, but her conversation always returned, to Julian. He, of them all, had been her favorite, and Jennet learned to her surprise that he paid the rent of her little flat.

  “I’m glad to see that he has an interest at last,” she told Jennet, when, the supper things cleared away and washed up, they sat together in the failing light of the June evening. “He may treat you like a child, my dear, but you are helping him to adjust himself all the same. Julian has very little knowledge of women. His mother, and then that girl—unfortunate experiences, both, and of course, as a child, he was spoilt.”

  “Did you spoil him?” Jennet asked with surprise.

  Piggy looked up from the wool mat she was crocheting. “We all spoilt him a little, I think,” she said reflectively. “You see, his mother took scarcely any notice of him. And he adored her of course, as children so often will love the person who takes the least trouble over them.”

  This was a new picture she was getting of Julian. Jennet found it difficult to imagine him as a small boy with the needs and disappointments of other children, but for Piggy it was plain, he had never grown up.

  “He never speaks of the time from fourteen onwards,” Jennet said slowly. “Did something happen then?”

  Piggy glanced at her sharply.

  “Has he never told you? Well, I don’t suppose it matters, now. His mother eloped with someone when Julian was fourteen. It was a very unpleasant case altogether and the divorce got rather a lot of publicity. Julian was just going to his public school and the whole affair affected him very deeply. He was devoted to his mother, as I told you.”

  Jennet was silent, her eyes filled with pity, then she said:

  “It must be terrible to have your home broken up—worse than never having had any parents.”

  “No,” said Piggy unexpectedly. “Nothing is worse than never having had any parents. Every child is entitled to love and affection some time during its early years. Julian had that.”

  Jennet thought of the Thompsons, of that same love and affection which had embraced them all and, for a little while, herself.

  “But what you’ve had,” she said gently, “you miss so much more than what you’ve never had.”

  Piggy looked at her with kindness.

  “Perhaps,” she said. “Yes, Jennet, perhaps you are right. Now you must go to bed, dear child, and do not forget to switch off the electric light in your room before you get into bed.”

  Jennet was ready well before time the next morning. “Aren’t you coming?” she asked Piggy a little wistfully.

  She felt at home with Julian’s governess.

  “No, my dear, I shall hear it all on the wireless, and I dislike crowds. Ah, here is Julian on the minute. I will say he was always a punctual child.” Piggy opened the door, wished Julian a good morning, and observed without comment that he was dragging his foot more than usual. This would be a tiring day for him.

  “Ready?” he asked Jennet abruptly. “Good girl—let’s go then.”

  He swept her out of the flat before she could make adequate farewells, and had little to say during the slow drive to the nearest point where he could leave his car.

  “We’ll have to walk now,” he said then. “Keep close to me and hang on to your bag.”

  The stands on Horse Guards Parade were already full of people. As they took their seats, an elderly man with a leonine head of white hair joined Julian and asked to be presented to Jennet. His name conveyed nothing to her, but he was attentive and easy to talk to, and took much trouble in pointing out anything of interest. Jennet thought the man stared at her rather rudely, and once he asked her to take off her hat and turn her face in profile to him, which she did with some surprise. Later he went back to his friends and then Luke joined her, his blue eyes twinkling.

  “Is that the new hat?” he asked, his head to one side. “I must say I applaud Cousin Julian’s taste—very becoming. Old Jeremy seemed very taken with you, too didn’t he?”

  “Who is he?” Jennet enquired. “He seems rather strange. He stared so, and once he made me take my hat off. I thought perhaps he didn’t like it.”

  Luke laughed.

  “Never heard of Jeremy Pritchard? He’s an extremely well-known portrait painter. That’s why he stared. I expect he wants to paint you.”

  “Me? You’re joking!”

  His face crinkled up in its many wrinkles.

  “You’re very unspoilt, aren’t you, Jennet? Very unspoilt, and very charming. What did you and Julian do last night?”

  “Last night? Nothing. Cousin Julian went out to dinner and I went to bed. I’m staying with his old governess.

  “Staying with Piggy? That’s not very lively for you.”

  “Oh, do you know her?”

  Luke laughed.

  “She used to rap me over the knuckles as well as Julian when we were children. But this is all wrong. Hey, Julian! Do I understand you have a young lady up for the weekend and leave her to do tatting with Piggy her very first evening? I thought you’d be taking her out to dine and show her the sights, or I’d have offered myself.”

  Julian joined them in the window, frowning.

  “I had another engagement,” he said brusquely. “Besides, Jennet was tired. She’d been travelling all day.”

  “Well, I think that’s too bad, Cousin Julian. And is she going to be packed off to bed like a small child to-night, because if she is—”

  “Of course not,” Julian broke in, looking annoyed. “We’re dining in the flat. Jeremy Pritchard’s coming, and you can join us if you like.”

  “Alas!” mourned Luke with mock regret. “I have a date with a lovely to do the town, otherwise I should have been charmed. But dining at home—! I should have thought the child would like to have gone somewhere gay.”

  “We’ll have had quite enough by then,” retorted Julian.

  Luke shook his head, then turned his attention to the parade.

  There was a new stir in the waiting throngs, mounted police clattered up and down, and in the distance came the faint ro
ar of cheering, which swelled each moment.

  Soon the brave procession came into sight, a brilliant splash of scarlet, impeccably drilled, and led by a slight figure on horseback. Jennet watched, wordless with excitement, as the pageant unfolded below her. At last it was , over, and she sat back with a contented sigh.

  “Terrific!” exclaimed Luke, his eyes bright with appreciation. “How we do put up a show when we give our minds to it. And now, I insist that you two join my party for lunch.”

  Jennet enjoyed herself, despite the fact that so many fashionable strangers were present, and Julian might be keeping a watchful eye for gaffes. When their orders were being taken he did lean across the table and say: “You had better let me choose for you, Jennet,” but he was sitting too far away to do more than that, and Luke on her right saw to it that she was not left out of the conversation.

  She was amused by Luke’s open flirtation, with the attractive girl to whom he was evidently acting escort for the day. Julian would never do that. His rather sombre good looks were at first glance an attraction, and he took trouble to exert himself as host, but there was a chill behind his pleasantries, and his dark eyes as he listened to some woman’s idle chatter often held the hint of impatience that Jennet knew so well.

  “Who’s the child?” she heard the girl on Luke’s right ask under cover of the conversation. “It’s the first time I’ve known Jealous Julian to take another female around since the burning days of Kitty. Is she really his cousin?”

  “A ward of his aunt’s, I believe. Yes, a kind of a cousin,” Luke replied, and turned to wink at Jennet.

  “He’s very possessive, but then he always was. I don’t envy the girl,” replied his companion.

  “Sour grapes, my sweet?” said Luke softly, and she gave an angry shrug.

  “Don’t be ridiculous! You know I’ve never been interested in Julian Dane.”

  The coffee and liqueurs were finished and someone asked:

  “Well, what’s everyone going to do now?”

  Julian pushed back his chair.

  “Personally, I’m going to spend a quiet afternoon in my own flat,” he said, and caught Jennet’s eyes. “Jennet, I’ll take you back to Piggy’s and you can rest till dinnertime.”

  There was a chorus of dissent.

  “Have a heart, Julian,” protested Luke, ignoring Jennet’s embarrassed tugs at his sleeve. “Cleo and I are going to a film. We’ll take Jennet along with us if you don’t want to barge around.”

  The girl called Cleo looked anything but pleased at the prospect of having her tete-a-tete spoilt, and Jennet knew what these others seemed to have forgotten that Julian was probably in pain and wanted to rest his leg.

  “Oh, please,” she said, uncomfortably aware that she was suddenly the focus of attention and Julian was not pleased. “I don’t mind what I do. I’ll go back to Piggy’s, Cousin Julian.”

  Too late she remembered that he had told her to call him Julian, and she saw his mouth tighten. But Luke, either for reasons of perversity or a genuine wish to amuse her, was insistent.

  “Come on, you old spoil-sport, let her come with us,” he said. “We’ll return her to store at six or half-past, and that will save going all the way out to Piggy’s.”

  Julian got to his feet.

  “Very well,” he said, disliking so much fuss, “Jennet must please herself.”

  It was not a very gracious form of permission, and Jennet would have liked to do whatever he wished, but she saw it was better not to prolong the unimportant discussion any longer, and unwillingly she decided to go with Luke and his annoyed companion.

  They were standing on the pavement, waiting for Cleo, who had retired to make up her face, when a voice suddenly shouted out of the crowds

  “Jen-ny! Jenny Brown!”

  Jennet whirled round. She would have known that voice anywhere. Milly White, in a tight emerald-green jumper, her hair frizzed in little curls all over her head, was pushing her way towards them, followed by a young man.

  “Milly!” cried Jennet with all the gladness in the world in her voice.

  Milly slapped Jennet soundly on the back.

  “I knew it was you, in spite of your posh hat, and I said to Bert: ‘There’s Jenny Brown. She and me wear the old school-tie of Blacker’s Bairns, didn’t I, Bert? Then I saw Mr. Dane, and I knew I was right. How are you, Mr. Dane? I hope our Jenny-wren satisfies your dear aunt?”

  “Very well, thank you, to both questions,” replied Julian gravely, while Luke looked on with a delighted eye.

  “Oh, Milly, I’ve thought of you such a lot,” Jennet said, and neither man had heard such a nostalgic emotion in her voice before. “Tell me what you’re doing now. When did you leave Blacker’s?”

  “Well, after you got yourself adopted, I was kind of lucky. I’m behind the counter in Sparks and Spicer in Oxford Street, art, jewellery and haberdashery. You must come up and see me some time and we’ll have a good laugh at our old college days. Oh, and I must tell you about Matron’s pep-talk when I left. What do you think she said...”

  She pulled Jennet aside and they stood, arm-in-arm, laughing and exclaiming. Luke glanced at Julian’s grim face and murmured: “One of your prospective brides? Well, well!”

  Julian made no reply but tapped Jennet on the shoulder with his stick.

  “I’m afraid we must be moving on,” he said politely. “Goodbye, Miss White. It’s nice to have met you again.”

  “Oh, bye-bye, Mr. Dane.” Milly joined her Bert, hovering a little embarrassed in the background. “Don’t forget, Jenny—Sparks and Spicer. I’ll be looking out for you.”

  “Oh, I will,” said Jennet fervently. “I’ll come the very first opportunity I have. Goodbye.”

  As they moved away, she turned to Julian with an eager question, but Cleo joined them at that moment, and Julian raised his hat.

  “Well, here we go our separate ways,” he said. I expect you about six, Jennet. Au revoir!”

  She looked after him a little wistfully. She knew he had not been pleased at the meeting with Milly.

  “Quite understandable, you know,” Luke murmured in her ear. “he’s probably considering the might-have-been.”

  “Who’s considering the might-have-been?” asked Cleo crossly. “Really, Miss Brown, with all due respect to your feelings, I think your cousin has become an awful boor.”

  “He’s been walking a lot and he was in a lot of pain,” said Jennet quite sharply, and Luke grinned.

  “Quite right, Galatea, you stick up for, the old curmudgeon.”

  “Why do you call her Galatea?” asked Cleo suspiciously.

  Luke placed a hand under each girl’s elbow and propelled them gently along the pavement.

  “Never mind, my poppet, you wouldn’t understand,” he said. “Now we three are going to find a nice restful cinema, and then you and I will hold hands because Jennet is much too well brought up to think of such a thing.”

  It was raining as they came out of the cinema. When they reached Julian’s block of flats, Luke took Jennet up in the lift to make sure she got the right floor, then, with a wave of the hand, disappeared from view, leaving her alone in the corridor.

  Julian opened the door to her, and his first words were: “For heaven’s sake! You look like a drowned rat! Where’s your hat?”

  She held it out to him.

  “I took it off so that it wouldn’t be spoilt. I’m not really very wet.”

  “Well, come in. Better have spoilt the hat than messed up your hair for the evening.”

  “You always were extravagant about hats,” she told him demurely, and he smiled a little unwillingly and switched on the electric fire.

  “Sit on the floor and dry it out. You look very like the little skinned rabbit I took from the orphanage eight months ago. Did you enjoy your film?”

  She curled up on the floor by the fire and shook the raindrops out of her hair.

  “Very much, except that I think I spoilt the other girl’s
afternoon.”

  Julian grinned.

  “I shouldn’t be surprised! Good old Luke—must have two strings to his bow. It was nice of him to amuse you though. I’m afraid I’ve not been a very good escort.”

  “You’ve been very kind,” she said, quite without reproach. She had never expected Julian to give up his time to her. “Did you rest this afternoon?”

  “Lay on the sofa with a nice thriller and went to sleep, I’m afraid.”

  “Oh, do you read thrillers?” It was the last thing of which she would have suspected him, and it seemed suddenly to make him more human. “You might have chosen one for dictation sometimes.”

  He looked at her curled up on his Chinese rug, and his face softened. The fine hair was beginning to curl at the ends, and her face was flushed from the heat of the fire. “Dictation was meant to be instructive,” he told her. “Did I force improvement on you very hard, Jennet?”

  She turned her back to the fire and flung back her head to the heat.

  “I don’t know. I expect I needed it. Wasn’t it funny meeting Milly like that? Would I have time to go and see her at Sparks and Spicer before I go back?”

  His expression altered.

  “No, you wouldn’t,” he said, “I’ve changed my plans and I’ve decided to drive you down to Pennycross tomorrow.”

  “Oh!” There was intense disappointment in the exclamation. “I thought—couldn’t I stay a few more days? It’s such a change.”

  “And spend the week-end in Piggy’s flat? Not much of a change, I shouldn’t have thought. Wouldn’t it be pleasanter to go down by road with me than travel by yourself?”

  “Yes, Cousin Julian,” she said with a sigh, and he made a gesture of impatience.

  “I thought I’d asked you to drop this Cousin Julian business,” he said. “I shall have Luke and everyone else doing it, too, if I’m not careful!”

  She turned over again, hiding her face from him with a soft curtain of hair.

  “I’m sorry, but it is difficult to remember. First you were Mr. Dane, then you were Cousin Julian, and now you’re just Julian. It makes me feel kind of familiar.”