I cannot believe that there was a shop in Paris which was worth looking into, of which she was unaware, but though such an exercise was not at all in my line, a hermit must have enjoyed it in Audrey’s company. And I never would have believed that I could take any interest in women’s wear, but when she grew excited about some silk or satin, spread out on a velvet board, I found myself infected and wondering how it would suit her and wishing I had the right to make it hers.
Of course we were ‘on parade,’ but nobody could have been sweeter or seemed more natural. She made it hard to remember that we were playing a game, taking my arm at the crossings and always sharing with me whatever she saw. And when I walked into a florist’s and, finding that they could speak English, selected a basket of roses and gave her name and address, she caught my hand in hers and held it against her heart – the tenderest gesture, I think, that ever a woman made.
But one thing I never did. When I was calling her ‘darling,’ I never looked into her eyes. I never dared do that, because I could not answer for what she might see in mine.
When I fell in love with her, I cannot pretend to say – I think, perhaps, the first time I saw her, in Mansel’s flat. But when that afternoon she stepped out of the aeroplane, then I knew I was mad about her, body and soul. In a way, this made it easy to play my part, for when I had kissed her lips, I was doing as I desired – though I felt rather badly about it, because I seemed in a way to be stealing a march. But what worried me ten times as much was the fear lest I should do something to make her suspect the truth, for that would be the end of a relation that meant the world to me, and though by force majeure we worked alone together for week after week, we should never again be easy with one another.
The position, of course, was absurd: I was free to make love to Audrey; but when I did so, I did so with my heart in my mouth.
By her desire, I did not put on dress-clothes, “for I must do you credit,” she said, “but I will wear a hat.” So I put on a dark-blue suit and hoped for the best, But when she appeared in the doorway in black and gold, then I knew that it did not matter how I was attired, for, once they had looked upon Audrey, no one would notice how anyone with her was clad.
I got to my feet and bowed.
“All right, St John?”
“Let me put it like this. I shall be the best-hated man in Paris, before the evening is out.”
Audrey smiled.
“You’re quite good, when you try,” she said. She turned on her heel. “And now come and do me up. That’s the worst of this dress.”
I do not wish to labour the point, but I was not then accustomed to fastening women’s clothes: yet twenty-seven ‘bobbles’ had to be wheedled through loops for the length of her spine. Since the loops were too small to admit them, the ‘bobbles’ would not go through, but when I pointed this out, my lady merely observed that that was as it should be, for then, once the ‘bobbles’ were in, they could not come out. Thus encouraged, I set to work, and after the first two or three, I got on very well, but our dinner arrived when six remained to be done, and we had to adjourn to her bedroom to finish them off.
Here I should say that, while there was only one bathroom, we each had a room to ourselves: mine, I suppose, was really a dressing-room, but at least it had a bed in it, and that was as much as I asked.
Whether anyone watched us that evening, I do not know, but, if they did, any doubts they had of Audrey’s business in France must have been cast forever out of their minds.
When the music-hall show was over, we drove to Montmartre, to eat an excellent supper and dance till two. I cannot answer for the company which we kept, but I can say with truth that none that I ever was in so well interpreted the spirit of revelry. The worship of Folly and Pleasure was unabashed; yet all were so gay and artless, so friendly and laughter-loving in all they did, that had some prelate arrived to rebuke their sins, I think he would have remained to share their bonhomie.
Audrey, of course, attracted much attention, and I do not think I should have been human if I had not been proud of the honour I seemed to have. She played up with a will, and I went the way of my heart – to give such a joint performance as I shall never forget. ‘Present mirth hath present laughter.’ And though I knew very well that the higher I soared the greater must be my fall, I fairly drained the cup which Fortune had put to my lips and let the frowning morrow take thought for itself.
Sure enough, I had my reward.
As we were dancing a valse—
“John, my dear,” breathed Audrey, “I think we’ll go after this.”
“Just as you please, my darling.”
I felt her lean back on my arm.
“Have you enjoyed tonight, John?”
My head came round to face hers, two inches away.
“My God, what d’you think?” said I – and looked into her eyes.
For a moment she met my gaze squarely. Then she looked down and away. The damage was done.
At once I strove to repair it.
“A few nights like this,” I murmured, “and I should get very good.”
Audrey spoke over my shoulder.
“You’re very good now,” she said.
With her words, the music slowed down and a moment later the dance was over and done.
“Thank you, madame.”
“And you, John dear.”
She slid an arm through mine, and I led her back to our table and called for the bill.
Three minutes later, perhaps, we were back in the car.
“Are you very tired?” said I.
“Not particularly. Why? D’you mean you don’t want to go home?”
“I don’t question my orders,” said I.
“I’ll give you that,” said Audrey. “You’ve – worked very hard tonight.”
I shrugged my shoulders.
“As long as you’re satisfied.”
She made no answer to that, and we never spoke again until we were back in our suite.
Then she asked me to order some water, and when I had done so, she took her seat on her sofa and lighted a cigarette.
“All very well,” she said, “but I want to get down to things.”
I nodded.
“Amiens on Friday,” said I. “I think it would have been safe to go there tomorrow, instead.”
“So do I. But it can’t be helped. When Jonah says what he wants, he means what he says. So tomorrow we’ll go to Versailles – all the lovers do that.”
“I’m in your hands,” said I, and stifled a yawn.
Audrey opened her eyes.
“The quick-change artist,” said she. “Don’t wait up for me.”
“I’m waiting for the waiter,” said I.
“God give me strength,” said Audrey. “And what’s biting the evangelist now?”
“Sorry,” said I. “It’s reaction. I’ve had a difficult day.”
“Have you, indeed?” flashed Audrey. “And what about me? Hugged and kissed by a man that I hardly know, and, instead of doing him violence, I have to fawn upon him and slobber back.”
Here a knock fell upon the door.
“Play up – sweetheart,” said I, and called “Come in.”
The waiter came and went.
As the door closed behind him, I got to my feet.
Then I walked up to the sofa, and bent my head.
“Do me your violence,” I said.
My lady searched my eyes.
Then—
“Give me some water,” she said, “and don’t be a fool.”
“Or a cad. I’ll do my best – but I haven’t much hope.’
And, with that, I turned to the tray.
When I returned to her, I found she was up on her feet.
As she took the glass from my hand—
“I hate to ask you,” she said. “But if I’m to sleep tonight, you’ll have to undo this dress.”
I put my hands on her shoulders and turned her about.
“I’ll undo what I
’ve done,” said I. “A symbolical act. How many fools would sell their souls for the chance?”
“Well, gently does it,” said Audrey. “I can’t help being a girl – and I value this frock.”
“God forgive you for that,” said I. “But I wouldn’t if I were He.”
She did not answer me, but stood very still; and though my hands were trembling, I was so resolved to be deft that I think they could have been trusted to set a watch. Be that as it may, I had my way with the ‘bobbles’ in half the time it had taken to put them into their loops, and I never once touched her skin or, so far as I know, snapped a thread of the most inconvenient confection that ever a woman put on.
“That’s that,” said I. “Will you go to bed first? Or shall I?”
She drank her water and put the glass back on the tray.
“As I’m half undressed,” she said, “I’m afraid I must ask you to wait.”
“Very good,” said I. “Sing out when you’re through with the bathroom, and I’ll start in.”
She shrugged her dress on to her shoulders and left the room, and I flung myself into a chair and covered my eyes.
I confess that I felt sick of life.
A sudden storm had arisen out of a halcyon day – a savage, senseless squall that had carried us whither it listed and left us leagues apart. All my dreams had been shattered within twelve hours, and my very pleasant fortune replaced by as grim a prospect as anyone could have devised. Once a relation is soured, the only thing to do is to sever it out of hand: but we could not sever our relation; we had to work together – perhaps for months. To spend your life with someone with whom you are in love, who does not love you, can only be a bitter-sweet business, when all has been said and done: but to spend your life with someone with whom you are in love and on very bad terms – well, if such an outlook appalled me, I think I may be excused. It must, of course, be remembered that Lady Audrey Nuneham was a very exceptional girl. She was undeniably lovely, her charm was very potent, her spirit was very high – and, when she was out of humour, her tongue was a sharp sword.
A quarter of an hour went by before she lifted her voice.
Then—
“All clear,” she cried, and, before I could make any answer, I heard the slam of her door.
Though I knew that I should not sleep, it seemed best to retire. I did so heavily – to find my bed unready and the coverlet still in its place. I stripped it in some impatience, but when I could find no pyjamas, no slippers, no dressing-gown, then it dawned upon me that the servants had naturally expected that I should spend the night in the other room. My things were there, of course – and the door was shut.
The discovery did me good. For Audrey must have seen them and have purposely let them lie – to put to inconvenience the man with whom she was cross. And that was not the way of a great heart; that was the way of a jade.
I took out clean pyjamas, performed my usual toilet and went to bed. What is more, I went to sleep. My wounds had been salved by the thought that my idol had feet of clay.
I do not know how long I slept, but I know that something woke me and I started up on an elbow and sought for the switch.
“It’s all right,” breathed Audrey. “It’s me. Don’t put on the light.” I gave up my search for the switch and lay very still. “I waited such ages for you to come for your things, and then I realized that you must have done without them and gone to bed. So I had to come to you. I mean, you see, we couldn’t have parted like that.”
I propped myself on an elbow and felt very much ashamed. But, whilst I was searching for words, a warm arm slid round my neck and her cheek came to rest against mine.
“Why did we quarrel, St John?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I’m sorry. It’s – the last thing I wanted to do.”
“Or I, my dear. I’d been so happy with you.”
I found her fingers and put them up to my lips.
“I’m afraid I broke down,” I said. “I’m not a very good actor, and actors who can’t really act sometimes get carried away. And when they realize that – well, then they break down.”
“You silly St John,” said Audrey. “If you could act at all, I shouldn’t be here.”
“I don’t understand,” said I.
“I know. Never mind. But always be natural with me. I’ll tell you where to get off. And please forgive what I said. I said it to make you angry, and I take every syllable back.”
I held her fingers tight.
“I – I wasn’t too charming,” I said.
“You were simply odious,” said Audrey. “You can be, you know. But only when you’re acting – so please give it up.”
“But—”
“Whoever wakes first calls the other. Good night, St John.”
As she moved, I turned my head quickly, and brushed her face with my lips.
“Good night, Audrey – my darling.” She caught her breath. “I thought there was no one like you, and now I know.”
“Sleep well, St John.”
And then she was gone, and only her perfume was left.
5: Close Quarters
When English people drive to the Gare du Nord and take a train which is going to one of the Channel ports, it may be fairly assumed that they are about to return to the country which gave them birth. But some such trains stop at Amiens…
Audrey and I reached the city before mid-day.
We put our luggage into the cloakroom, inquired the way to the cathedral and left the station on foot. After a few minutes’ walk, we entered the famous shrine. For a quarter of an hour we examined the treasures of glass and stone – to say nothing of those of wood, which, honestly, I liked better than anything else. I never saw anything finer than the carved-oak stalls of the choir, and when I learned from some book that the men who made this magic were paid three-halfpence a day, I perceived that the progress of which mankind is so proud, may well be known to the gods by another name.
Then we came out of the church – by another door, to see that four cars had been berthed a little way off. One was a business-like coupé, painted an elephant grey, and Bell was standing by this, with a hand on its door.
A moment later we three were within the car, and Bell was picking his way up a crowded street.
“No news, Bell?” said Audrey.
“Not at the moment, my lady – from London, I mean, But everything’s all right here. I’ve found a nice little villa – it’s nothing much to look at, but inside it’s very clean. And it’s got a very good garage that takes two cars.”
“What about the cooking?” said Audrey.
“I have a cook-general, my lady. She’s very willing and quiet and I don’t think she’ll talk. I’ve followed her twice to market, but she doesn’t seem to have any friends. She buys what she wants, but she never stops to gossip, as most of them do.”
“Isn’t he marvellous?” said Audrey. “Bell, I’d love to have seen you stalking the cook.” Bell, who was very reserved, permitted himself to smile. “And now for the burning question. What have you said about us?”
“I’ve called you ‘Madame,’ my lady, from first to last. I said that ‘Monsieur and Madame’ were coming today. But she never asks no questions: she’s not that sort.”
“Good for you,” said Audrey. “But you mustn’t call me ‘my lady,’ or that’ll tear everything up.”
“Very good, madam,” said Bell.
“You mentioned two cars,” said I.
“This and another, sir. The other’s the best of the two. This one’ll do all you ask, and do it well. But – well, the other’s a Lowland.”
“Oh, I can’t believe it,” said Audrey.
“Mr Chandos’ orders, madam. In fact, he arranged it all, and I only did as he said.”
Audrey, sitting between us, returned to me.
“Have you driven a Lowland, John?”
“Never,” said I. “But I’ve heard they’re terribly good.”
“A Lowland,”
said Audrey, “is alive. Whatever action you take, a Lowland’s response is so swift that sometimes it actually seems as though the car must have known what you wanted to do.”
“Poor Mr Plato,” said I. “He’s not going to have a look-in.”
“There are times when I hate you,” said Audrey, and left it there.
The villa was very well placed, for it stood at the end of a road on the skirts of the town, and a lane, which was little used, ran down by its side. The principal entrance, of course, was facing the road, but doors from the stable-yard gave into the lane. The latter led into the country without any check, and since, within two miles, it met a main road, was affording a way of approach which suited us down to the ground. The garden was walled and the villa itself was low, and indeed I sometimes think that the fellow for whom it was built must have been about some business which he wished to keep to himself. In a word, it was just what was wanted – by someone without the law.
The house looked ramshackle, and, frankly I should not have cared to winter beneath its roof; but within it was very pleasant and though there was only one bathroom, this had been recently made and fully deserved its name.
For some reason best known to himself, Bell had made up his bed in the harness-room: but I think the truth is that, though he waited upon us from morning to night, during the hours of darkness he liked to be near the cars, for on the Vane and the Lowland our enterprise hung. Had anything happened to them, we should have been awkwardly placed, for they were both picked cars, and to get them into the country had not only taken time, but had cost eight hundred pounds. Both cars could have come in for nothing on any day in the week, if Chandos had been content for them to bear English numbers and GB plates: but such things distinguish a car in a foreign land, and Richard William Chandos did nothing by halves.
Like master, like man. No matter what it cost him, Bell would leave nothing to chance. I have shown that he was efficient as very few servants are: as I shall show, his sense of duty was high: but a rarer quality still was his amour propre.
After luncheon I took the Vane and drove along to the station to take our luggage away. And while Audrey unpacked her clothes and Bell was dealing with mine, I studied the large-scale maps of the country which we were to learn.
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