‘I ... I told you how good her clothes were, Nell—well, she took me to Harrods and sort of took over completely, and I lost my head and...’ Kate paused and turned stricken eyes to Eleanor. ‘It wasn’t that I was ashamed of us, Nell, you must believe that, but being with Margot and having the assistants treating me like Royalty, I found myself pretending I was used to it, you know, keeping up appearances. Oh, it all started off in fun, but then I was carried away by the lovely clothes and everyone saying “You must have that” and Margot saying “Guy will love you in that” and it was as though the person in the mirror wasn’t me at all! And then, as the parcels began to mount up, I began to be frightened. It dawned on me how expensive everything was, but when I tried to tell Margot that I thought I was over-spending she just laughed and said “Doesn’t everyone, darling, and isn’t Guy a good cause?” I felt sick then, and couldn’t wait to get back to the hotel, and when I added up what I’d overspent...’
‘How much?’ asked Eleanor quietly, feeling sick herself. Kate bit her lip and in deep misery mumbled: ‘Over eighty pounds!’ She turned and clutched Eleanor’s arm. ‘Oh, Nell, what am I to do? Eighty pounds! I can’t ask Father for any more money—the wedding is going to cost an awful amount, and besides, he’d be so disappointed in me. He’d not say so, but I know he would be. He didn’t want me to be engaged, he doesn’t think I’m old enough to be married, and he’s always trying to make me understand that vanity is such a paltry thing, that outward appearance is worthless! And look how I always go on at Dodie about not caring enough with her clothes ... what a smug fool I am!’
Eleanor listened aghast. Eighty pounds! Her thoughts in a tumult, she carefully controlled her facial expression and said as calmly as she could: ‘Would it be possible to return any of the items?’
Kate shook her head miserably. ‘I’ve already thought of that. It would look so odd, and Margot knows what I bought and it’s all been put down to Mrs. Slade’s account.’
‘Are you sure you can’t tell Father? He isn’t an ogre, you know. He’d understand.’
‘I know he would, but he had all that worry over Mother and I know it’s a struggle bringing us all up, and Dodie will have to go on to university, she’s so clever...’ Tears trickled silently down Kate’s cheeks.
‘What about Guy?’ pursued Eleanor gently. ‘He loves you, Katie.’
‘How can I go and ask him for money before we’re even married, Nell? That would only confirm his family’s doubts about me. Oh, I’m introduced as a “sweet girl”, but I’m not their choice of a bride for Guy. I’ve not bothered about it before because I know I can be anything Guy wants me to be—I’ll work hard and help him, but I want to start off with a clean sheet. You do understand, don’t you, Nell?’ Kate besought her anxiously.
‘Yes, I understand.’
‘Do you ... have you any ideas, Nell?’
‘One or two, but they need thinking over carefully. Dry your eyes, Kate, I can’t deliver you back to Guy looking like this.’
Kate obediently mopped up and the sisters began to walk back the way they had come. Kate took a deep breath.
‘I do feel better, now I’ve told you, Nell.’ She gave Eleanor a hug. ‘What a comfort you are! You’re the best sister anyone could wish for. I’ve told Margot all about you and she’s longing to meet you tonight.’ She smiled at Eleanor’s surprised look. ‘Yes, tonight! When Edward Mansel telephoned Guy they found out they know each other, isn’t it funny? At least, Edward knows Margot, their families mix.’
‘When I mentioned Guy’s name, Mrs. Mansel said she knew the Slades,’ reflected Eleanor. ‘Well, if we’re going to be looked over, we shall wear our prettiest dresses tonight and show London what Yorkshire can provide in the wav of beauty!’
Kate squeezed her arm and grinned. ‘Margot went on quite a bit about the Mansels, especially Edward ... I think she likes him.’ She flashed Eleanor a quick glance before saying airily: ‘I told her you know them well. Very well, in fact.’
‘What have you been saying, Kate?’ asked Eleanor warily.
‘I was jolly annoyed with Margot going on and on about us living in the wilds, making out we were country cousins, you know the sort of thing?’
‘Yes, I know. And?’
‘There’s no need to sound like that, Nell. All I said was that you’d known them for years—and that’s partly true, Mother’s known Mrs. Mansel for donkey’s years, and surely you’ve been with them long enough to be called friends?’ Kate demanded crossly.
‘I expect I have.’
‘I mean, you’d call Edward Mansel a friend, wouldn’t you?’
‘We aren’t enemies,’ conceded Eleanor with a short laugh.
‘There you are, then!’ Kate picked up a ball that had rolled towards them and threw it back to its owner. ‘Tell me about Vanessa and Edward.’
Eleanor, glad to see the colour back in her sister’s cheeks, was quite willing to keep her mind off the awful eighty pounds.
‘Vanessa’s small, pretty and has short curly hair. She’s full of life, and can give the impression sometimes of being superficial, but she’s not. I like her.’
‘Oh, dear,’ groaned Kate, ‘she scares me already.’ She tilted her head. ‘And Edward?’
‘Rather remote and too sure of himself. I prefer to feel that a man is vulnerable somewhere, purely for fellow feeling.’
‘That doesn’t sound like the Edward Margot knows,’ protested Kate. ‘She says he’s good-looking, dresses superbly, knows what he wants and is able to get it.’
Eleanor laughed. ‘Oh, we know the same Edward, I think.’
Kate wrinkled her brow. ‘He’s thirty and not married?
‘Marriage doesn’t form an important factor in everyone’s life, you know, and Edward doesn’t have to beg for female company.’
‘Yes, that’s what Margot said. Quite a cool customer, I gather.’
‘Very cool. I wouldn’t like to fall into Edward’s bad books,’ declared Eleanor fervently. ‘But he can be amusing and charming, and when he makes the effort, he’s good company.’
‘Let’s hope he makes the effort tonight. Who else will be there?’ asked Kate eagerly.
‘Hugh Latimer, a friend of Edward’s. He’s not tall or good-looking, but he’s a very nice man, easy to talk to and kind.’
‘Aren’t the Mansels kind?’
Eleanor hesitated. ‘It’s not a word that instantly springs to mind in connection with them. They don’t suffer fools gladly.’
Kate pulled a face. ‘I wish I hadn’t asked about them. I feel terrified now!’
Eleanor laughed and gave a shiver. ‘I’m feeling cold—come on, let’s run!’ and catching each other’s hands, they reached their point of separation, breathless and laughing.
The Mansel town house was a tall, elegant, three-storied gabled property. The man who opened the door to Eleanor’s ring introduced himself as Hickman and said he had been expecting her. Following him up the stairs, Eleanor was told that Vanessa had rung, and he showed her into a pleasant bedroom where her small overnight case stood by the window.
‘Mr. Edward dropped it in,’ explained Hickman, seeing her surprise. ‘I understand that Mr. Latimer will be railing for you at seven-thirty as Miss Vanessa is going to the theatre from the shop.’ He turned at the door, saying deferentially: ‘May I suggest, Miss Ferrers, that you have a tea-tray, here in your room, as it will be some time before you eat this evening.’
‘Thank you, that sounds a lovely idea,’ lied Eleanor, and he left her, promising to return with the tray.
The thought of food appalled her, but when it came, she forced herself to eat something and thankfully drank two cups of scalding hot tea. The problem of where to find eighty pounds had been going round and round in her head since leaving Kate, and as she took a look at herself in the mirror her white face compelled her to shut her mind and try to rest, or else the evening would be in ruins.
But to shut her mind was easier said than done.
The more she thought about it, the more convinced she was that Kate should tell Guy, and it-worried her that this was evidently beyond her sister’s capabilities. If I found myself in trouble, she reflected, would I feel the same way? She sighed. Oh, I don’t know, of course, but I hope that I’d be able to open my heart to the man I loved. What was the point of spending the rest of your life with someone from whom you had to hide things? she argued, as she tossed and turned on the bed.
She had still found no solution by the time she was ready to leave. Looking critically in the mirror, Eleanor gave thanks for the discovery of cosmetics. A subtle application or warpaint had disguised her extreme pallor and if she smiled and made an effort, she thought she could pass without comment. Her dress was of fine pleated chiffon, with flattering cape sleeves, in three layers. The colour, a deep bronze, brought out the copper tones in her hair, which she had brushed and now framed a face which could confront the world with reasonable composure.
When Eleanor and Hugh arrived at the theatre, they found they were the last, and the dreaded meeting with Guy was smooth and easy among so many introductions. Margot Slade was attractive, in a hard, glittery way, and Eleanor was glad she could dislike her on sight. Margot’s partner was a good deal older and apart from their introduction, Eleanor had no occasion to speak further to him all evening.
Kate, following her sister up the stairs, murmured excitedly:
‘Isn’t it a marvellous theatre, Nell? I’ve heard of Drury Lane, of course, but never imagined it to be like this. Guy says he doesn’t know how they managed to get tickets because the show is supposed to be a sell-out, but I know how—one look at Edward is sufficient!’ She cast a quick look at him walking a few yards ahead of them, and rolled her eyes comically. ‘I think you need glasses, sister dear. He’s a dish!’
‘You haven’t told Guy about...?’ Eleanor asked hopefully, and Kate shot her an agonised look.
‘No! Nell, I told you I can’t!’
‘Kate, I’m sure it would be better if you did,’ began Eleanor, and seeing her sister’s distress, added soothingly: ‘No, all right. Forget it.’
‘Come along, you two, stop whispering,’ and Guy came between them, smiling. ‘No secrets are allowed.’
‘Nonsense!’ exclaimed his cousin Margot. ‘Wedding plans are full of secrets, Guy darling! We’ve lots of lovely secrets, haven’t we, Kate? Lovely trousseau secrets! What a pretty wife you’ve chosen, Guy.’
‘Yes, I have, haven’t I?’ answered Guy, with a proud smile, putting his arm round Kate, who smiled radiantly back.
‘Your programme, Eleanor.’
She turned and found Edward by her side, face inscrutable as his dark head bent to her, guiding her to their seats.
Eleanor supposed the play to be good. She applauded loudly at the end and said the appropriate words in praise. Two days later it could have been in a foreign language for all she could remember it. That evening she was only completely aware of three people. Edward—polite and watchful, Margot Slade—curious and probing, and Guy—talkative and merry. Guy. Self-revelations take their toll under any circumstances. Eleanor’s emotions, already taut and brittle over the thought of meeting him, and further shocked by the knowledge of Kate’s dilemma, became even more confused and mixed as the minutes slowly ticked by, leaving her more and more desolate and numb. The meal was a trial of superhuman effort to appear normal ... delicious food had to be forced down and conversations maintained. The evening was interminable, yet it had to be suffered.
At last, when Eleanor thought she could stand no more, the lateness of the hour was remarked and the party broke up. She found herself, in the bustle of last-minute travelling arrangements, left with Edward as the only passenger in the Jensen, and was jolted out of her apathy to ask tiredly:
‘Where’s Vanessa?’
Edward stared ahead, concentrating on driving, and after a pause so long that Eleanor thought he hadn’t heard, said:
‘We’re expecting an early delivery tomorrow, so she’s sleeping at the flat—I thought she’d told you. You’ll not mind staying in the house without her? The Hickmans are downstairs.’
‘No, I won’t mind,’ Eleanor replied. She glanced at him, wondering at his tone. Something had upset him. His voice was dipped and out of keeping with the usual indolence that Edward affected and there was a rigidity of jawline that boded ill for someone, and she was thankful it was not her. She closed her eyes. Edward’s silence suited her.
If only her head would stop aching and her thoughts quieten! But she knew they wouldn’t. She shrank from self-analysis, but it was inevitable. Seeing Guy and talking to him throughout the evening had rapidly revealed that he was nothing to her other than a prospective brother-in-law. The revelation, instead of lightening her spirits, plunged them to the depths. How, she demanded of herself, how could she fall in and out of love so easily? Was she so shallow? Had she been catapulted into love by his good looks and attractive personality? Flattered because he had noticed her in the first place? Could the grand passion, the heartbreak, be healed by the absence of a few weeks?
The questions hurtled round and round in her head until she could scream, and behind them all lay the enormous burden of eighty pounds.
The house was in darkness as Edward opened the front door. Eleanor followed him slowly into the study, slipping off her coat and stifling a yawn. He switched on a small table lamp, which cast a warm glow round the room. There was something odd about the continuing silence between them, and although she was really too tired to cope, Eleanor felt that she ought to make an effort.
‘Thank you for this evening, Edward. It was kind of you to take so much trouble to give Kate a good time. She enjoyed herself thoroughly.’ Her voice trailed. ‘And ... so did I.’ She couldn’t think of anything more to say and was slightly unnerved by Edward’s stillness. He brooded for a moment longer by the lamp, its light casting a weird shadow on to his face, and then he turned to the highly technical piece of stereo equipment, twiddled a few knobs and after satisfying himself with the soft, dreamy music that came forth, walked towards her.
‘You didn’t dance with me this evening.’
Eleanor couldn’t see his expression, his face was in the shadow and his voice gave nothing away, and yet the feeling persisted that something was wrong. She gave a tentative smile and said awkwardly:
‘You didn’t ask me.’
‘No, I didn’t, did I?’ he replied quite brusquely, and drew her into his arms and they began to move slowly round the small confines of the room.
The incongruity of the situation, plus its unexpectedness, was enough to make Eleanor stiff and awkward in his arms, and she wasn’t surprised when their steps slowed to a standstill, and she broke away with relief.
Edward walked impatiently and switched off the music. ‘There’s some talking to be done between us, I think.’ He crossed and poured a drink. Eleanor stood where he had left her in the middle of the room, blinking uncertainly.
‘There is?’
He looked over his shoulder and said caustically: ‘I’ve already had experience of your acting abilities, Eleanor. Please don’t over-strain the wide-eyed innocence.’
She was suddenly, acutely aware that he was angry, and that the anger was barely controlled. She rubbed her forehead in confusion as he returned to stand before her, offering her one of the glasses in his hand. She shook her head. ‘No, thank you, I...’
‘You’ll drink it and do as you’re told,’ he told her crisply. ‘It’s brandy and will do you good. I don’t know what’s been the matter with you tonight, but I don’t want you fainting at my feet and expecting sympathy.’
Eleanor took a deep breath, drastically wide awake. ‘That’s the last thing I shall expect from you, Edward,’ she was stung to reply, taking the glass roughly, her eyes bright with a rush of stupid unshed tears. ‘And nothing’s the matter with me!’
‘Good. I’ll put your wan face and lack of appetite down to the excitement of the evening
, and leave other possible reasons for the moment. Drink up.’
‘I wish you’d stop treating me like your little-sister!’ she retorted crossly, nevertheless taking a sip, and Edward, doing the same, his eyes never leaving her face, said evenly:
‘Maybe that’s where I’ve gone wrong.’
Eleanor stood still, a flicker of shock running through her at the look on his face. He was still very angry, and it seemed, amazingly, that the anger was projected against herself.
‘W... what do you mean?’
‘I mean, my dear Eleanor, that it has been brought to my notice tonight that you are not in any shape, way or form, my little sister.’ There was a pause and then he took her glass and placed it with deliberation on the mantel with his own.
‘I can see you’re angry...’ she began, her voice trembling despite the effort to keep it steady.
‘I was, but I’ve now realised that there are compensations.’ Edward reached out and gently caressed her cheek, travelling lightly, persuasively down her pale, slender neck, along the line of her shoulder and down her arm to take her inert hand in his. He lifted it to his lips, kissing the throbbing vein at her wrist, and all the time his blue eyes were holding her own.
Her hand felt on fire.
‘Why are you doing this, Edward?’ she asked in a low voice.
A dark brow lifted quizzically. ‘Why? Come, you do yourself an injustice, my dear. You shouldn’t compare yourself to the chocolate-box prettiness of your sister. Good bones, a melodious voice, and expressive eyes appeal to me much more.’
Eleanor shook her head in silent protest as Edward drew her slowly and effortlessly into his arms, holding her against the long length of his body. A few moments ago, when they were dancing, she had been rigid in his clasp, now the strength had left her, drained mysteriously away, and she would have fallen had she not been given his support. She went to speak again, the words dying as his mouth came down on hers.
After a long moment she breathed: ‘Let me go, Edward ... please.’
His drawling voice came to her from a distance.
Country Cousin Page 6
