He lifted her chin, forcing her to look into his eyes, observing the effect of his words, and added wryly:
‘I should have realised that that warm and generous heart of yours would be the undoing of us both. Gratitude is a dangerous game to play, my dear, and leaves a bitter taste in the mouth.’
She raised her eyes, looking at him properly for the first time, and contemplated him gravely.
‘Then we won’t play that game, Edward,’ she replied, marvelling at her composure, ‘for it would be a shame to spoil our newly-found peace, wouldn’t it?’ She smiled faintly. ‘Don’t worry, Edward, I do know the rules of the game, you know.’
‘Do you, Eleanor?’ Edward said heavily, holding her look and frowning slightly. She nodded and picked up his tie which he had cast aside earlier in the evening.
‘May I?’ she asked, holding it up. ‘I’m quite good at it, you’ll find.’ She reached up and gave a laugh. ‘You’ll have to sit, Edward, you’re too tall for me.’ He sat on the arm of the settee and allowed her to skilfully tie his bow tie, first of all doing up the two top buttons.
‘I think you have a set of rules all of your own, Eleanor,’ he murmured, as her fingers touched his neck and her hair swung against his face.
‘Oh, I don’t think so,’ she replied, stepping back to admire her handiwork. ‘I’m not at all unique, and you know there are lots of your girl-friends who would be able to do your tie just as well.’
‘And you don’t consider yourself one of my girl-friends,’ stated Edward evenly.
‘No,’ Eleanor said thoughtfully, and gave another small smile. ‘I can’t classify myself as one. A girl-friend implies freedom of choice. Everything we’ve done together you’ve been coerced into.’ She flicked him a quick look and his face was inscrutable, his eyes dark and hooded. ‘I do know how awful it’s been for you, Edward, having to put up with me. It must be a bore, and a strain on your other friendships. Can we put an end to our engagement now, do you think?’
At her words Edward paused in his task of shrugging on his jacket and looked at her steadily.
‘We must discuss it some time,’ he agreed, his voice sounding suddenly tired, ‘but not tonight.’
‘Very well.’ She looked round for her shoes, which had somehow become lost. Somehow. No, she wouldn’t think of that, not here, not when she was doing so well, keeping her pride intact.
‘That was Felicity on the phone,’ said Edward, handing her the shoes.
‘Oh, yes?’ she responded, with just the right amount of interest, thinking how ironic that it should have been Felicity who had brought them both back to their senses. Almost prophetic, although she didn’t believe in such things.
‘She was confirming the house-party at her place next weekend. Van and Hugh have also been invited.’
‘That will be fun.’ The shoes, strappy evening sandals and very fiddling, were finally on, and she turned to him with a smile. ‘Goodnight, Edward. Thank you for my present. I shall have to work hard and show you that I deserve your faith in me.’
‘Goodnight, Eleanor. I’ll see to the fire and the lights.’
With a swirl of blue chiffon she swiftly left the room.
The following morning was filled with resolutions. Forget Edward. Forget Mark Ives and the chance to study. Go home.
The day suited her mood, being dismally wet and turbulent. When she reached the shop, Eleanor found that Edward had gone to Paris, but he had left the address of Mark Ives on the pad, together with other instructions pertaining to her job. She wasn’t very busy and was glad when Mrs. Mansel came in, latex on in the morning, bringing with her some new stock which she had recently purchased at a sale.
Eve looked at her closely. ‘My dear girl, you look tired to death! You shouldn’t let my thoughtless son keep you up so late in future!’ She smiled and patted her cheek fondly. ‘It’s time you two were married and in your own house, instead of having to pack the old fogies off to bed so that you can have some peace together.’
Eleanor smiled wanly and murmured that she was all right. Eve pursed her lips.
‘I’ve put a great restraint upon myself and not asked questions—but have you set a date yet?’
Eleanor swallowed painfully and felt her cheeks redden. ‘No. We thought we’d let Kate get hers over with first.’
‘Well, don’t keep Edward waiting too long, my dear. ''He’s not the most patient of men. I’m surprised he hasn’t rushed you to the altar before now.’ She looked sharply at her. ‘In fact, I’ve never believed I’d get Edward into a church for a full wedding. You aren’t tiptoeing off to the Registrar’s Office and doing it on the sly, are you?’
Eleanor forced a laugh and shook her head. Eve always made her feel terrible, the guilt lying heavily where she was concerned. So obviously delighted with their engagement, she was in for a bitter disappointment when it was broken off, and that must be soon. But she could not do anything until she had discussed it with Edward, and he was not available. One part of her bemoaned the delay, while the other, the weak feminine part, was glad, ridiculously glad that she had a legitimate excuse to stay on a little longer—how humiliating love could be!
Eve clucked like a mother hen all morning over her washed-out appearance and persuaded Eleanor to go home and rest that afternoon, convinced the girl was about to sicken for something. Eleanor thought ruefully that she had already sickened and fallen, and would have liked to assure her kindly hostess that hearts did not stop beating no matter how bruised they were.
She knew she wouldn’t sleep, even though she was consumed with weariness, for her mind was over-active, a jumble of questions and answers. She decided to do something constructive and washed her hair, finishing it off by sitting near the fire, drying it, Sykes at her feet.
The bull-terrier hated Edward’s absences and to her surprise attached himself to her and condescended to be comforted. Eleanor knew very well that as soon as his master returned he would switch his allegiance immediately, but she was ridiculously touched and welcomed his heavy weight on her legs. Her hair was nearly dry when the door bell rang and Hickman’s steady step along the hall could be heard. Eleanor listened to the voices and was ready with a warm smile as the door opened.
‘Hullo, Hugh, do come in. I’m so pleased to see you, I was getting lonely and in the doldrums.’ She glanced over his shoulder at Hickman, who was waiting in the background. ‘May we have tea, please, Hickman, with some of those lovely pastries that Mrs. Hickman excels herself with?’
‘I thought I could depend upon you, Eleanor,’ said Hugh comfortably, as Hickman disappeared. He closed the door, took off his coat and joined her at the fire, rubbing his hands and holding them out to the flames appreciatively. Seating himself in a nearby chair, he took off his glasses, which were rain-splattered, and wiped them on his handkerchief.
‘What a miserable day,’ he observed. ‘Why are you lonely? Where is everyone?’
‘I’m not supposed to be here myself,’ confessed Eleanor, ‘but Mrs. Mansel has sent me home, with orders to rest. I feel a fraud, really, as I’m all right, only a little tired. Edward is away, he’s had to go to France.’
‘And you miss him,’ stated Hugh quietly.
Eleanor felt herself colour. ‘Sykes too, poor old thing,’ she replied, scratching the dog’s ear.
‘I thought Vanessa might be here. I rang her shop, but Ron Mann said she was out, gone to a sale some hours ago.’
‘Yes, that’s right, I remember now. Ron was going over to relieve her,’ said Eleanor. ‘She was going to fly to this sale and...’
‘Fly?’ Hugh put on his glasses, and replaced his handkerchief, frowning slightly.
‘So you see, you’re a welcome visitor. I haven’t seen you since...’
‘Are you sure that Vanessa’s flying?’ Hugh demanded, not listening, his question making her aware that he was no longer sitting relaxed in his chair.
‘Why, yes, I think so,’ she began, and seeing the look on his face c
ontinued uncertainly: ‘I understood her to say that there was something special she wanted at this particular sale.’ She frowned, trying to remember. ‘Somewhere in Oxfordshire, I can’t think of the exact place.’ Her anxiety was growing. ‘What is it, Hugh?’
He crossed to the window, peering out, his usually impassive face stern. ‘It’s not flying weather, not for small craft.’ He turned abruptly. ‘When did she go?’
‘Early this morning, I think. The weather wasn’t too bad then.’ Eleanor hesitated, but he’d have to know sooner or later. ‘Philip Nolan picked her up and they went straight to the aerodrome.’
A pulse flickered in Hugh’s temple as he stood silent for a moment. Taking another look out of the window, he walked to the telephone and began to dial.
‘Perhaps they decided against going,’ suggested Eleanor, although not very hopefully, knowing Vanessa.
‘Perhaps,’ Hugh replied briefly.
‘Or if the weather worsened, they might have decided not to fly back.’
Hugh didn’t reply and after a few seconds of intent listening, replaced the telephone. ‘The weather forecast is more rain, visibility poor with high winds, no change in outlook.’ He began to re-dial. Eleanor heard Hickman outside and went to the door to take the tray from him, smiling her thanks. She placed it on a low table and began to pour out. She could hear Hugh’s voice, short and clipped, asking for information about Vanessa’s flight.
‘What do they say?’ she asked uneasily, trying not to listen to the rain beating on the windows.
It was touch and go whether they went, the weather was fair at that time, but it seems that with Vanessa’s usual impetuous manner she prevailed upon Nolan to take a chance on conditions staying the same.’ His voice showed exasperated anger. ‘Why on earth Nolan didn’t refuse...’
‘He must have thought it safe,’ said Eleanor gently. ‘And we don’t know what’s happened the other end.’
‘If the luck holds out once it should never be pushed further. Wretched girl! To risk her life for such a paltry reason! I knew something like this would happen some day. It was just a question of time.’
‘What sort of pilot is Philip?’ asked Eleanor, handing him a cup. ‘A good one?’
‘One hopes so,’ said Hugh grimly, absently taking a drink. ‘He’ll need to be on a day like this.’ He walked to the window and looked out again into the abnormally dark afternoon. ‘I’m sure the wind’s rising.’ The telephone rang and Hugh clattered down his cup and crossed quickly to answer it.
Eleanor began to feel very worried now. If calm, dependable Hugh was panicking, then things must be serious. His face was brooding as he returned to her side.
‘That was the aerodrome again. They’ve made inquiries and it seems they took off for the return journey. If everything went according to plan, they should have been back an hour ago.’
Eleanor shivered. ‘What can we do?’ she asked miserably.
‘Nothing. Just wait.’ Now that Hugh knew the worst he seemed calmer and completely in control, although his face was drawn and set. They drank the tea, but food was unthinkable, and twenty minutes of desultory conversation seemed interminable, and when the telephone rang, making them both jump, they sprang to their feet and Hugh snatched it up. He listened, a frown on his face, answering in monosyllables. Eleanor stood by his side, a hand on his arm, fearing the worst. When the call was finished, he took her hand.
‘They’re all right. They had to make a forced landing and Nolan’s broken a couple of ribs and they’re keeping him in a nearby hospital. God knows how she made them, but Vanessa was allowed to return to London on the understanding that she had medical attention. She must have begged a lift in. That was the Social Worker from Guy’s asking for someone to fetch her. She has cuts and bruises and a suspected broken wrist.’
Eleanor fell into his arms and burst into tears of relief, laughing even as she did so.
‘Hugh, how awful it’s been! Poor Van. You’ll go to her?’
‘Yes.’ He handed her his handkerchief and she wiped her eyes, saying ruefully: ‘How predictably feminine I am!’ She tucked the linen back into his top pocket. Hugh glanced at his watch before putting on his coat, saying reassuringly:
‘It will take me at least an hour.’
‘Give her my love.’
He smiled briefly and felt in his pockets for his car keys. ‘A similar thing happened to me not so long ago, although we didn’t crash. It’s nerve-racking. She’ll probably have delayed shock, so have her bed warmed and she can go straight up if necessary. I’ll be as quick as I can.’
At the window, Eleanor watched the Porsche out of sight and then settled down to wait. As the room darkened she switched on a small lamp, preferring the room to be subdued, suiting her mood. Her vigilance was at last rewarded as Hugh’s car drew up outside again. She saw him get out and open the passenger door, and then Vanessa emerged, her arm in a sling. Eleanor ran to the front door before they had time to ring.
‘Van darling, how thankful I am you’re all right!’ she exclaimed.
Vanessa gave her a tremulous smile and walked on ahead into the lounge. Eleanor, aghast at the whiteness of her face, looked at Hugh, who was hovering in the doorway. ‘She looks dreadful,’ she whispered in dismay.
‘The wrist is broken, and they want her back at the hospital tomorrow for the permanent plaster. I’ll call for her.’ Hugh was most un-Hugh-like, his own face was colourless and his manner stiff and forced. ‘Get her to bed, Eleanor, will you?’ He hesitated, said a short ‘goodnight’ and left abruptly. Eleanor closed the door, wondering at the oddity of his manner, and hurried into the room after
Vanessa, who was standing gazing into the fire, her body drooping wearily.
‘Hugh was most peculiar,’ Eleanor began, and then seeing Vanessa’s face, said gently: ‘What is it, darling? Are you in pain?’
Vanessa turned despairing eyes to her and gave a bitter laugh.
‘Oh, I’m in pain, but not quite the sort you mean!’ Her face crumpled and she fought for control. ‘Do you remember me once saying that I wanted to make Hugh angry, just once, to see what it was like? Well, now I know.’
‘Do sit down, Van, I’m sure you should,’ urged Eleanor, and Vanessa sank to the carpet, brushing her good hand wearily across her eyes. ‘Does your head ache?’ Eleanor asked, kneeling by her side.
Vanessa gave a mixture of a sob and a laugh. ‘It does, but not as much as my heart! Poor old heart! Oh, Nell, you should have heard him! So cold and polite—not Hugh at all!’
‘He was worried, Van, we both were. We didn’t know what had happened to you for ages.’
‘I tried to tease him out of it,’ continued Vanessa dully, ‘I usually can, and he lost his temper and said the most awful things—and then I lost mine.’ Sobs shook her.
‘You care what Hugh thinks of you, don’t you?’ Eleanor said softly.
Vanessa wiped her tears, little girl fashion, on the sleeve of her jumper, and said crossly:
‘Oh, yes, that’s the ridiculous part of it—the laugh of the year! You’ve guessed, of course, and I don’t mind you knowing.’ She shot Eleanor a guilty look and said hurriedly: ‘I was pleased about you and Edward for your own sakes, but there was part of me that was thankful you were no longer free. I thought Hugh might fall for you, you see, and I wouldn’t have blamed him, you’d suit him much better than I would.’
‘I don’t love Hugh, you idiot,’ retorted Eleanor firmly, ‘and he doesn’t love me. I like him enormously—although the way he’s upset you now, I’m not so sure.’
‘Don’t blame him, Nell. He was right in everything he said.’ Vanessa thrust a hand through her hair. ‘He was so blisteringly angry, I didn’t dream he could be.’
‘He’d no business to go on at you when you’ve been through all this. I’m surprised at him,’ said Eleanor wonderingly, ‘especially as he was telling me earlier that something similar had happened to himself. He should have known...’
‘It was then that I first knew how I felt about him,’ broke in Vanessa. ‘He was with Edward and they were missing for two hours in fog. I was worried about Edward, of course, but suddenly I realised how desperate I was for Hugh, and I’d known him all my life!’ She turned to Eleanor, who was again shocked at the sight of her face. An ugly bruise was beginning to show up on her forehead and she was deathly pale. Eleanor wanted to suggest that Vanessa go to bed, but knew that now she had begun to talk, she had to finish.
‘What did you do then?’ Eleanor prompted gently.
‘Oh, I tried to tell myself I’d imagined it all—it rather knocked me for six. I began to go out with anyone, as an antidote, but it didn’t work—in fact, it only made things worse. And I knew how hopeless it all was. Hugh sees me as a little girl, he knows me too well. Then you arrived and I was beastly to you. I was so wrapped up in myself that I couldn’t be bothered, and then you got on so well with him, I could hardly bear it, I was so jealous. He treated you as an adult, he only indulged me. What made it harder was that I began to like you.’ She sighed. ‘There’s a refreshing honesty about you, Nell, I couldn’t help liking you, the same, I suppose, as Edward couldn’t help loving you.’ She smiled wearily. ‘You do see how complicated my life was? Anyway, it was then that I decided to change my tactics. I concentrated on old Phil, the same age group as Hugh, to see if that would make him realise that I was no longer a child. There was no chance of hurting Phil, his heart’s already engaged elsewhere, only she’s in America at the moment. He fitted the bill beautifully.’
Country Cousin Page 16
