"My dears!" cried Xenia Cantlin's pretty, slightly affected voice. "What are you doing in this part of the world?" And there she was, not looking a day over thirty-five, in a belted beaver coat and an unmistakably Parisian hat.
"We're on our way home," Norma explained, as they shook hands. "We live in this road, you know."
While Justin Yorke, for his part, returned the greetings with something less than the cordiality with which they were offered, and then le ant back on his stick, surveying the very charming spectacle of Xenia registering surprise and pleasure and incredulity all at once.
"You don't mean to say you live here? Why, how extraordinary," she cried. "I have just been looking over a furnished house in this very road, and have decided to take it, because Paul and I have to come out of the place we're in at present. Isn't it odd, the way things turn out? We shall, be almost next door neighbours, just as we are in the country."
And, while Justin Yorke ceased to lean on his stick and straightened up rather abruptly, she smiled at him with a charm which just might have concealed a hint of malice.
Not, Norma was sure, that she really knew the full significance of what she was saying. She merely remembered that Justin Yorke had been horrid over his ward's friendship with her boy, and now she was mildly enjoying "scoring off him." The coincidence of her having come to the same road was a genuine one and not even so very much of a coincidence when one thought how few districts specialized in well-furnished houses to let.
While these thoughts were following each other rapidly through Norma's mind, she was aware that her guardian was commenting with cold politeness on the convenience of the district, and otherwise making himself reasonably agreeable to Xenia.
Then she bade them good-bye, and rounded off the encounter by saying brightly: "We shall be seeing quite a lot of each other, I dare say. Paul will be pleased when I tell him, Norma."
In slightly strained silence, Norma and her guardian walked the short distance to their gate. Then, as he held it open for her, he said: "I take it you didn't know about this beforehand?"
"No," Norma said, a little rudely. "I have no premonitions about coincidences."
And there the matter rested.
So far as Norma could see, her guardian was neither worried nor specially annoyed by the information Xenia had given them. Only, something less than a week later, he looked up from his correspondence at breakfast and said: "I hope you won't be disappointed, Norma, but I'm afraid we're going to have to return home much sooner than I expected."
"You mean leave London? How soon?"
"I hardly think we can manage it this week. But certainly sometime next week," her guardian said. "I have some business in the north which requires my personal attention."
He spoke quite casually, and there was nothing improbable, of course, in what he was saying. But Norma had the same flash of angry insight that she had experienced when he first spoke of her living at Bishopstone and his living at Munley.
She felt the colour rush into her face, and then leave it just as abruptly. Then she said, coldly and clearly: "It's because of Paul, isn't it?"
"My dear child" her guardian looked up, and his voice too was cold and clear" you are flattering Paul Cantlin quite unduly if you suppose that I make or unmake my arrangements according to his movements."
Her angry accusation sounded ridiculous then, of course, and she wished passionately that she had never made it. It seemed as though her guardian guessed as much, because he quite kindly covered her discomfiture by saying: "It's very disappointing for you, I know, for us to have to go when there is still so much going on. But Bishopstone can be quite lovely, even at this time of the year."
"I'm sure it can," Norma said hastily. "Anyway, I love Bishopstone any time of the year. It doesn't matter at all."
It was her way of saying that she was sorry she had made such a faux pas just now. And he accepted it as such. So that only to herself could she think how bitterly, bitterly disappointing it was to have to leave London just as she was on the point of seeing Paul again quite legitimately.
Even when she was by herself, she tried not to think that perhaps that hasty accusation had been correct. It was bad enough to have to miss Paul, without adding to that a suspicion which would spoil her happy relationship with her guardian.
She hoped that, perhaps even now, the Cantlins might arrive at their new home just before she and her guardian left. But it was unlikely that a transaction which had only been begun on the afternoon they had met Xenia would be put through so soon.
And so it proved. When Norma and her guardian left once more for the north, on a bright, usually warm March day, there was still no sign of the Cantlins.
Bad luck, of course. But even bad luck could be borne. What was unbearable was the idea that it might have been good management.
Mrs. Parry seemed austerely pleased to see them. A least, she returned Norma's warm greeting with a sort of surprised cordiality, indicative of the fact that she thought Miss Norma a really nice girl, though rather given to over-dramatizing a situation.
"Norma," A joyful recognition which came over her as she greeted the dear familiarities of Bishopstone.
"It was lovely in London," she told her guardian.
"But this is really home."
He smiled, genuinely pleased, she thought. And no doubt he took that as a final indication that she bore no resentment about their sudden departure from London.
On that very first evening, Richard telephoned to say how glad he had been to hear of their early return, and, pleased though she was to hear his voice, Norma realized that the equivocal position which had grown up in London was about to be transferred to Bishopstone, unless she herself did something about it.
It was impossible to say much over the telephone, of course, but she decided, then and there, that she would have a frank talk with him as soon as possible, before he could hope too securely that she loved him in a way which, she knew now, she never would.
"When can I see you, Norma?" his voice was saying. "Make it as soon as possible. Tomorrow sometime?"
It had better be to-morrow, she supposed. But she was not quite sure when. "I'll ring you in the morning, Richard, and make it sometime to-morrow," she promised. "Probably early in the afternoon."
And, as she came away from the telephone, she was looking unusually serious, recalling with real pain the expectant pleasure in his tone.
Her guardian looked up as she came back into the drawing-room, and smiled slightly at her extreme seriousness.
"Well?" he said. "What is making you so solemn?" "Oh nothing. At least" she began to pour out their coffee. "That was Richard on the phone."
"So I guessed."
"How did you guess?"
"Why, merely by asking myself who would be most anxious to ring up and express his pleasure at your return, of course."
"Oh, yes of course. He is very pleased about our return."
"My dear, I am sure his pleasure is almost entirely confined to your return," her guardian said amusedly. "I don't expect him to be enraptured about any of my movements."
"Well, I wish he were not quite so interested in mine," Norma exclaimed a little breathlessly.
Her guardian took his- coffee cup in silence, and Norma found she very much disliked the quality of the silence.
"Why, Norma?" he said, after a pause.
"Well, the situation's getting a bit out of hand," Norma explained earnestly. "Now that I've had time to think things over I know that, though I like Richard tremendously, I shan't ever want to marry him. I wish now that I'd been more emphatic in the beginning, only I just didn't know and"
"Perhaps you don't really know now," her guardian' voice suggested smoothly.
"Yes, I do know now. That's the point." Norma stared down into her coffee cup. "And so I can't let things go on any longer in this doubtful state. I'll have to tell him to-morrow, as nicely as I can, that there isn't any hope of my marrying him."
Agai
n there was silence. Only this time it was long! and Norma found she simply could not look. up and face her guardian's eyes.
Then he said, very coldly and quietly: "I don't think I should do that, if I were you." And in that moment Norma knew just exactly why most people were a little afraid of Justin Yorke.
CHAPTER NINE
WITH an effort, Norma looked up at last, and she thought she had never seen anything quite so cold and brilliant as the blue of her guardian's eyes.
"Why did you say it like that? You made it sound almost a threat."
He didn't scornfully deny that. He merely said: "I was making it perfectly clear that I thought you would be unwise to refuse to marry Richard."
"From what point of view?"
"From almost every point of view, Norma. Richard Inworth is an admirable match."
"I don't want an admirable match," Norma said slowly. "I want, one day, to marry a man I love and who loves me. That's all."
"My dear, you are almost embarrassingly-naive."
Her guardian smiled coldly. "Life simply doesn't happen in those over-simplified terms. Richard Inworth is devoted to you, and you don't deny that you 'like him tremendously', was, I think, the term. He is a decent, straight, honourable fellow, more than reasonably wealthy and a baronet. If you married him, you would not be far away from mea circumstance which I believe would please both you and me. What more do you want?"
"You haven't mentioned the one real reason why you want me to marry him, have you?" Norma looked at him now unflinchingly. "In all that speech, you haven't once mentioned the only thing which weighs with you."
"I don't think I understand you." Her guardian's eyes narrowed very slightly.
"All that you really care about is that Richard should marry someone who will persuade him to leave "
Munley, isn't it. You don't really mind about my happiness or his happiness at all "
"That isn't true. I care very much about your happiness," her guardian interrupted sharply. "But I think you will be very happy married to Richard."
"But suppose I know I shan't?"
"I think you have your head full of romantic nonsense, at the moment, and you aren't in a very good condition to judge. You're little more than a child and"
"I'm not a child any longer ," Norma said, speaking slowly again, as though she were thinking aloud. "I dare say I was when I first came here. But no one could live with you and not grow up." Her guardian raised his eyebrows. "That's not a reproach. It's just a simple fact," Norma stated, quite gently. "It's true, what people say of you, that you're a ruthless and determined man. But it's also true that no one could have been a better guardian or more imaginatively kind."
His face changed slightly and he silently held out hi hand to her. And, after a moment, she came to him and put her hand in his.
"You were determined, from the beginning, that I should marry Richard, weren't you?" she said.
"I am still determined," he told her softly.
And, with a slight shiver, Norma recalled Paul's saying that if ever her interests clashed with those of her guardian, he knew who would go to the wall.
She looked down at the strong, beautiful hand holding hers. "You once said that you wouldn't force me to marry Richard," she almost whispered.
"I think what I said was that I could not force you to marry Richard."
"But that's just what you're trying to do! You know I can't bear it if you're coldly displeased with me. You're indicating by every means you can that, if I will marry Richard, I shall remain your dear ward always, but that, if I won't …." she hesitated. Then she said, with a sort of fearful curiosity: "What will you do, if I won't marry Richard?"
"Better not put it to the test, Norma," he said with a smile. But it was not a reassuring smile.
"You wouldn't send me away from you, would you?"
"I might."
'No" She fell away from him.
"I don't know that I should want a perpetually rebellious ward with me," he said carelessly.
"It's not rebellious to want to choose my own husband."
Her guardian didn't answer that.
"Is it?" Norma pressed.
"My darling, the ultimate choice lies with you," her guardian said, almost lightly.
"But, if I don't choose the husband you want, you won't even pretend to love me any more, will you?"
"I have never pretended to love you," he said rather coldly.
"You mean it's been real?"
Again he didn't answer. And suddenly she came and dropped on her knees beside him, and it was such a natural gesture of appeal that it was not even melodramatic.
"Listen if I did marry Richard, and I did persuade him to live with me at Bishopstone and let you have Munley, and then it wasn't a success, after all, would you be happy at Munley, knowing I was miserable in the home you made me love so dearly?"
"You wouldn't be miserable," he said coldly, but she saw the fingers of his hand curl round the arm of his chair.
.. But you can't know" She leant her dark head against his arm. "How can you take the responsibility of forcing me into a marriage that suits you? Don't you don't you mind what happens to me?"
"You know I mind," he said rather harshly.
"But I don't! I don't know a single thing about you," cried Norma. "I guess and wonder and hope and fear. People tell me all sorts of things about you, and I angrily deny them, not knowing whether they're true or false and"
"You what?" he said quietly.
"Well, I can't bear to have things said against you, and"
"Not even if they're true?" "No. Not even if they're true."
"Like the time you were angry because the Bawdley woman said I was like Satan and you hadn't even seen me," he said slowly.
"Y -yes. Rather like that. Only more so now, because I have seen you."
"You little fool," he said softly, and she thought he kissed her hair. "There, get up. I don't think I like to have you kneeling to me."
"II wasn't actually kneeling to you. At least, it wasn't meant to be a supplicating attitude," Norma explained, rather shocked at the idea.
"Very well." He pushed her gently away from him, and stood up himself.
She watched him anxiously, wondering whether the conversation were really to be broken off there.
"What are you going to do about it?" she said softly at last.
And, for the first time in his life, Justin Yorke said:
"I don't know what I'm going to do." And then, as , though the strangeness of that jarred on him, he added
impatiently: "You'd better go to bed."
She wanted to say that it was nothing like time to go to bed, but she realized that what he meant was that she was to go away and leave him to his own thoughts. So perhaps to show there were some things in which she could be an obedient ward she said: "Very well," and turned away.
At the door, she glanced back at him, and saw that he was watching her with a curiously speculative expression, and, as their eyes met, there was an odd current of understanding between them.
"What did it matter ," Norma thought, "that they, had been speaking like enemies five minutes ago?"
And, without a word, she ran back and kissed him.
He too said nothing, but held her rather close for a moment. Then he pushed her away gently, as he had before, and she went away out of the room.
Once in her own room, she walked slowly up and down, and up and down, trying to imagine what would be the outcome of this evening's discussion.
That she would not marry Richard was certain.
Whatever her guardian said, she knew now that to allow herself to be persuaded or stampeded into marriage with him would be fatal to her happiness and, incidentally, grossly unfair to Richard.
But how far would her guardian go before he admitted he was beaten, or in the expression of his anger, when he knew that he was beaten?
If he had had her at Bishopstone only in a coldly experimental mood, to see if Richard c
ould be made to fall for her, what would he do with her, now that the experiment had failed? Dismayedly, Norma tried to make herself face the fact that he might not want to keep her at Bishopstone.
He had not been entirely serious, and had probably only been teasing her in his horrid way, when he said that he might send her away from him. But, on the other hand, there might be an element of truth in the idea. It would not be unreasonable if he decided to have her teamed to earn her own living and live elsewhere.
"Not that I mind earning my own living," thought Norma. "Only I don't want him to send me away in anger."
Even much later, when she was in bed, the fresh realization of her changed circumstances kept sweeping over her in chilly waves of misery. She was not to be Justin Yorke's dear and indulged ward any longer. She was simply the infuriating young woman who had absolutely refused to fall in with what was probably the most cherished scheme of his life, It was late when Norma fell asleep, and, even then, she had strange, restless, agitating dreams, in which both Richard and her guardian were very angry with her. Only Paul appeared inexplicably at one point and said it was quite all right, because she could be employed as a housekeeper in the new house where he and Xenia were to live. And, after that, she was frantically trying to find Mrs. Parry, so that she could learn the duties of a housekeeper.
It was late when Norma woke, and sunshine was pouring into the room.
At the first sight of the brilliance of the morning, her spirits rose. Then she thought of the various problems which lay ahead explanations to Richard, and the final struggle with her guardian and, late though it was, she got up reluctantly.
Downstairs, however, she found that at least one crisis had been postponed, for her guardian had had breakfast already and, according to Mrs. Parry, had gone out riding.
"Did he look quite cheerful, Mrs. Parry?" asked Norma, who didn't like to inquire if he had looked in a good temper.
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