Country Cousin

by Jacqueline Gilbert

  ‘We’ve already agreed on that,’ he said briefly, ‘and recriminations are useless.’

  She took a deep breath and continued more steadily: ‘Do you remember telling me that I could decide whether or not to tell Kate that it was you who had provided the eighty pounds? Well, I thought and thought, and in the end decided I would tell her. I was so thankful and deeply grateful to you, Edward,’ she felt her colour rise and carried on quickly: ‘I felt that she should know who it was had helped her out of the mess. I think she’d have guessed in the end anyway. I told her you didn’t want any thanks, that I had thanked you on her behalf.’ She shot him a look over her shoulder and saw that he was lying back, eyes closed, his face telling her nothing of his thoughts. She kept her voice as expressionless as she could. ‘I should have explained in more detail, I’m afraid. I didn’t say that I was working for you to pay it back. Rightly or wrongly I thought that Kate ought to do something in that direction—oh, not for the money, but for her own good, and I knew she would be more likely to do that if she thought that she was indebted to you. So I just told her there was no hurry and no need to worry. I see now that it was a mistake. I’d forgotten how old-fashioned we Ferrers are. You see, in her relief that everything was going to be all right, Kate confessed to the parents.’

  ‘Good heavens! Why on earth couldn’t she have done so in the first place?’ demanded Edward.

  Eleanor shrugged. ‘The reasons she didn’t still applied. All she had to do was confess, not ask for money.’

  ‘Go on,’ he drawled. ‘Why was it a mistake?’

  ‘It will be difficult for you to understand, I think. You’ll have to put yourself into a hard-up parson’s family to do so.’ She frowned, seeking the right words. ‘To us, Edward, eighty pounds is a great deal of money, and a great deal of money to give anyone. The fact that you did so, to me, seemed an enormous gesture, and a significant one.’ She gave him another swift glance. ‘Your generosity could only be attributed to one thing.’ She swallowed. ‘That you ... loved me and...’

  ‘Considered myself to be part of the family already,’ he murmured lazily, a flicker of amusement showing as he saw her look of surprise. ‘Go on,’ he prompted again. '

  ‘There’s not much more to tell. They waited for me to say something in my letters home and when I didn’t my mother wrote slightly ambiguously to yours, which set your mother thinking...’

  ‘I’ll bet it did!’

  ‘... and then she must have met up with Margot Slade. Your mother rang back home and they more or less confirmed each other’s theories. Anyway, what with one thing and another, your mother...’

  ‘Took over and planned to force the love-birds out into the open in her own indomitable way—the success of which we know only too well!’ Edward rose and took up his briefcase lying on the table. ‘We’re no better off for knowing, but it tidies things up. We can write finis across the whys and wherefores. And as you say, it all appears remarkably predictable.’ While he was talking in that slightly mocking way he had, Edward reached inside the briefcase and brought out a small box. ‘There’s one thing more to complete the picture. Luckily Van helped with your finger size, I hope it fits.’ He held out his hand for her own. Eleanor looked first at the box and then at his face and said in an appalled voice:

  ‘I don’t ... I hadn’t thought there’d be a ring!’

  The seconds stretched out between them.

  Edward said: ‘If there’s an engagement, there’s a ring, Eleanor. You know what a stickler I am for efficiency and authenticity, and you’ve gone this far, you can’t balk at a little thing like a ring!’ He held it to the light. ‘I thought you’d like an antique setting, and rubies seemed appropriate. It didn’t cost the earth, I hasten to add, in case you should feel guilty for my bank balance—although I quite realise that money, in the ordinary sense, wouldn’t count with you.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ asked Eleanor, lifting startled eyes to his face.

  He gave his familiar twisted smile. ‘I haven’t known you all these weeks without learning something of the way you feel. You love beautiful things, but people count with you.’ He slipped the ring on her finger before she could protest. ‘Good. It fits.’ He studied her hand for a moment. ‘Do you like it?’

  ‘It’s very beautiful,’ she said quietly, seeing her hand in Edward’s and the deep red stone on her finger in a peculiarly detached way. ‘Why were rubies appropriate?’ she asked suddenly.

  ‘Mmm...?’ He dropped her hand and walked away, saying carelessly: ‘Oh, there’s a proverb, more than one, about rubies ... but your red dress probably instigated the choice.’ He turned. ‘I can change it if you...’

  ‘No! I like it, truly, and anyway ... it doesn’t really matter, does it? I mean, I won’t be wearing it for very long, will I? It’s not as if ... it means anything.’

  ‘Exactly,’ he said laconically. Eleanor bit her lip and plunged on.

  ‘Edward, there’s something else you must know. My parents’ first thought, when Katie told them who had provided the money, was to scrape some from somewhere and send it to you. Kate persuaded them to wait until they heard from me, they were reluctant, but agreed. I ... explained about my job and they feel rather better about it all, but I have to pass on their thanks to you.’ She took a swift look at his face. ‘I know you don’t want their gratitude, but I’m afraid you’ll have to put up with it. My father is telephoning this evening. W—will you speak with him, Edward?’’

  ‘Oh, yes, I’ll do what’s expected.’ He looked at his watch. ‘We’ll drive over to the Crescent and I’ll wait while you change into your slinky red number, and then we’ll go and eat.’ He gazed at her critically. ‘I have the feeling you haven’t done much of that today, and some exquisite French cooking at a small restaurant I know seems in order. We’ll try and rope Hugh and Vanessa into the scheme, we can pretend we’re celebrating the ring. How does that sound?’

  It sounded, thought Eleanor, following him out of the flat, as if once Edward took something on, he saw it through to the bitter end. It also sounded as if he didn’t want to be alone in her company any more than she did in his.

  On the edge of sleep, that night, she sat up in bed and switched on the light. It was ridiculous doing it now, she thought, flicking the pages until she found what she was looking for; tomorrow would have done.

  In the once more darkened room, Eleanor closed her eyes, trying again for sleep, but the proverb seemed to be imprinted on her lids.

  ‘Who can find a virtuous woman? for her price is above rubies.’

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  ‘Oh how bitter a thing it is to look into happiness through another man’s eyes.’

  William Shakespeare

  Christmas was highlighted for Eleanor by a long telephone call home on Christmas morning, but she found herself thrown into a whirl of social events that kept her busy and which, to her surprise, she enjoyed, and the holiday passed quickly. The snow obligingly stayed to make Christmas a white one, but was soon washed away by February rains.

  As the weeks passed, Eleanor hoped that she would become used to their pseudo-engagement, but she did not; the strangeness of wearing the ruby ring on her finger was enough to be a constant reminder of the game she was playing.

  During business hours it was easy, but when they were with other people and had to pretend it was always a shock when Edward made a loving remark or gesture. However, it was obvious that everyone else accepted the situation as being genuine and looked on with fond and indulgent benignity. Everyone, that is, except Felicity. Once or twice she was included in their arrangements and although she was all honey and sweetness on the outside, the green eyes held a special message for Eleanor which she could not fail to interpret. Miss Maddox was not going to allow a ruby ring to stand in the way of something she wanted.

  Vanessa was now working full-time in her own shop, but as Mrs. Fellows, the lady who had so conveniently broken her leg, returned, her help was not missed.r />
  One evening in mid-February Edward informed Eleanor that he had organised private art tuition for her. As he chose to tell her this when they were in the company of his parents Eleanor could only murmur a suitable response. However, when Eve and James retired for the night, leaving the two of them alone in the study, Eleanor decided to tackle him further on the subject. They had all been to the theatre and Edward had opted for coffee before driving back to his flat. Eleanor loved the study, with its browns and golds, the mellow wood panelling on the walls making the room warm and masculine. She pulled the heavy curtains across the windows and busied herself with the coffee tray.

  Edward lay all his length on the huge settee, having thrown off his evening suit jacket and bow tie, the top of his shirt being comfortably unbuttoned. His hands were behind his head and, eyes closed, he was listening to some Chopin.

  ‘Shall I put another on for you?’ Eleanor asked, when the record came to an end.

  Edward put his cup on the hearth and relaxed back into his previous indolence. ‘No, I don’t think so, unless there’s something you fancy?’ but Eleanor shook her head and carefully replaced the record into its cover.

  ‘By the way, thank you for my rose, Edward,’ she said, glancing down at the single red rose on her dress, and feeling a compassion for the half-opened flower quickly unpinned it, slipping it carefully into a small posy bowl filled with early crocus.

  ‘A rose for a Rose,’ murmured Edward, and Eleanor, who had hitherto not cared for her second name particularly, thought she might change her mind.

  The scene was intimate, peaceful and cosy, and she was loath to break the companionable atmosphere, but she felt compelled to do so, and rather reluctantly began:

  ‘Edward, about these art lessons...’

  ‘I thought it wouldn’t be long before we talked about “these art lessons”,’ he said lazily, lashes lifting to reveal cool blue eyes.

  ‘You knew jolly well I couldn’t say anything in front of your mother and father,’ protested Eleanor indignantly, settling herself on the hearthrug, the flimsy chiffon of her evening dress spreading itself round her like the delicate petals of a blue flower. ‘I’m supposed to be working in the shop, not studying art!’

  ‘You can do both, I suppose?’

  ‘If I do that I’ll have to take a cut in salary,’ she declared firmly.

  ‘Very well.’

  She looked at him suspiciously. The reply was carelessly given.

  ‘Now, why have you agreed without a battle?’ she asked thoughtfully, and he smiled mockingly.

  ‘I’m an astute business man, my dear.’

  ‘Oh, yes?’ she answered sceptically. ‘I happen to know that you’ve paid Mrs. Fellows’ wages in full all the weeks she’s been away with her broken leg. Hardly the action of an astute business man with his eye on his money, would you think?’

  ‘Well, let’s say that as we’ve managed to steer clear of battles for some time now, I want things to remain peaceful for as long as is reasonably possible.’

  Eleanor wished she could read his face, but it was shadowed. Should she also bring up the subject of breaking off their engagement? The last time she had tentatively done so he had suggested it should be planned, like a military operation, and said he would let her know when the time was ripe. She hadn’t much faith in his suggestion as he had been in a particularly sardonic mood at the time. It had not been mentioned since, and somehow, the evening had been such a happy one she didn’t want to spoil it. She took the empty coffee cups back to the tray, still undecided.

  ‘There’s a present there on the desk for you,’ Edward said casually.

  She turned in surprise. ‘For me?’ and as Edward nodded, she frowned and said worriedly: ‘You know we agreed...’

  ‘You agreed,’ he interrupted smoothly, eyes closed once more, hardly interested in her reaction. ‘You wouldn’t have me labelled Scrooge, would you, Eleanor? I have my reputation to consider, and besides, you shouldn’t take away my pleasure by squabbling. Go on, open it,’ he ordered carelessly, adding disconcertingly: ‘and don’t let the fact that it’s from me spoil your pleasure.’

  Eleanor stood quite still, gravely contemplating him. One arm was behind his head, the other hung limply down, resting on the thick, long piled carpet. The rise and fall of his chest was steady and his face was in deep repose. Giving an undecided sigh, she picked up the parcel, which was large and heavy, and brought it back to the hearth, where she knelt to open it. Everyone likes surprises and Eleanor was no exception, and even though she knew she ought not to be receiving presents from Edward, it was exciting pulling off the string and opening up the brown paper. When that had all been dealt with she sat back on her heels, her face lighting up, hands clasped in delight.

  ‘Oh, Edward! Heavens, how marvellous! I’ll never be able to live up to it!’ and she explored eagerly the boxes of oil paints, brushes, assorted canvases and finally, the collapsible easel.

  ‘Will it do?’ he asked lazily.

  Eleanor laughed. ‘Will it do, indeed!’ She turned helplessly to him. ‘Edward! Did you buy up the shop?’

  The dark lashes lifted. ‘No. Just asked for the necessary basics for an up-and-coming young artist.’

  ‘You really believe I can get somewhere, don’t you?’ she said slowly, a strange and wonderful glow .sweeping over her. ‘And knowing you, it won’t be just any teacher you’re sending me to—it will be someone good.’

  ‘Mark Ives,’ agreed Edward, smiling faintly at her perception. ‘I’ve already given him some of your work to look at and he’s extremely interested in you.’

  Her cheeks flushed with pleasure. ‘You have? Oh, how good you are, Edward! For someone who doesn’t like to be thanked, you make it very difficult for me.’

  ‘I can’t bear waste,’ he said laconically.

  ‘Then I can’t waste my thanks,’ Eleanor declared, her natural warmth moving her to lean over and impulsively place soft, tremulous lips to his. Light and brief as the kiss was, contact was shattering. Drawing breathlessly away, her hands supporting her weight on his chest, she gazed wide-eyed into his face, feeling the rapid thumping of his heart, equalling her own, beneath her palms. For a long moment their eyes held and then, with a sharp intake of breath, Edward pulled her to him, crushing her body to his, lips hard and demanding.

  With one accord they slid slowly to the floor, bodies compliant and yielding to the obstacles in their path, instinctively supple. They reached their destination, settling on the shaggy-piled hearthrug, and Eleanor’s hair fanned out like a halo, the firelight throwing a warm glow on Edward’s dark head as he bent over her.

  As his kisses became tender, soft, demanding sweet promises, exploring new territories, Eleanor reached the point of no return, now knowing that she loved him. She gave him her lips responsively, innocently and generously declaring her love, thrilling to the strong weight of his body, quivering to his touch.

  Afterwards, in the still, small hours of the night, as she lay and tortuously relived those bitter-sweet moments, the memory both thrilled and frightened her, for she had been swept along on a tidal wave where there was no room for sense and reason, and the knowledge overwhelmed her. Had Edward asked, she would have given herself completely to him—and he must have known, could not have failed to know.

  What would have happened she couldn’t guess ... probably what did happen, without any outside help, for Edward was no callow youth, physically swayed by his emotions against reason. His sense of occasion would have been offended, and his intuitive perception and capability for self-preservation would have brought him to his senses sooner or later.

  The telephone finally made them both aware of their surroundings and they lay still for a moment, listening to its shrill ringing. Edward raised himself on to one elbow and looked down into her face, his own suddenly withdrawn and remote, and she closed her eyes, turning away, unwilling for him to read there what her heart desperately longed to tell him. He sat up and reached
for the telephone, and through half-closed lids Eleanor watched him hungrily, visually devouring every inch, every facet of him as though she would never be able to look upon him again. She saw him react to whoever was on the other end of the line, answering in murmured monosyllables, once giving a low laugh, his free hand smoothing back the fall of hair from his forehead, then tucking in his shirt that had somehow become adrift, rising to his feet as he did so.

  Somehow! She gave an inward hollow laugh, remembering how her hands had revelled in caressing the bare smoothness of his back beneath the crisp cotton of his evening shirt, feeling the lean strength of his body beneath her palms. Remembering this, and how his own had drawn tumultuous feelings from the very depths of her being as they caressed and held her close, swept her with excruciating pain, and she sat up and leaned her head on the arm of the settee, gazing with unseeing eyes into the fire.

  She heard the click of the telephone as it was replaced and felt the reverberation of his tread as he returned, sensed the tall, brooding figure looking down at her in the pause that followed.

  ‘The devil with playing a part,’ he said at last, ‘is that after a while you begin to believe in it.’ He reached down and took her hands, gently lifting her to her feet. ‘I am, after all, only human, and you are a very attractive leading lady.’ As if she were a child, he carefully covered her shoulders, calmly smoothing the neckline of her dress back into place where it had been disarranged, replacing a strand of hair clinging to her cheek and generally putting her together again as new. Eleanor allowed him to do so, knowing she would never be the same again, that all his efforts for normality were useless. As his fingers impersonally touched her skin, icy cold now where so recently she had been afire with his kisses, she wondered whether she had dreamed it all, whether this was the same man who, a few minutes earlier, had been demanding the compliance which she had been so willing to give.