The Unknown Mr. Brown

by Sara Seale

  Victoria stooped to pick up a cushion and restore it unhurriedly to its proper place, then she said deliberately: “What’s the matter, Kate? It’s not like you to have doubts without foundation. Is it John?”

  “That was my worst mistake. I should have known better than to ask him because I felt you should have a party. It made a dull evening for you and a not very profitable one for him.”

  “It wasn’t dull, just a little out of my element. I think John’s in love with you.”

  “I know. He’s a dear and good and dependable and I owe him so much for his care of Timmy, but sometimes—”

  “Sometimes those very virtues work against him.”

  “Yes, they do, but how can you know?”

  “I don’t really, but I can imagine. Scottie was rather like that, you know, and Father never really appreciated her. I like your John. I don’t find him dull.”

  “Neither do I, oddly enough. I’m past the age of demanding pretty speeches and scintillating wit in an admirer, and John would make an excellent husband. His own marriage was a failure, so he wouldn’t expect too much.”

  Victoria considered this aspect carefully before answering. She could not altogether feel that riot to expect too much was a virtue, but on the other hand, her own upbringing had taught her the virtue of security and having someone in the background to depend upon, even though it was only the intangible presence of Mr. Brown.

  “Well,” she said then, “I wouldn’t know about marriage, of course, but I would think there should be something more than just mutual tolerance.”

  “Mutual tolerance is very important, let me tell you, but then you’re young and romantic fervour would naturally come first. Don’t look as though I’d insulted you, darling—it’s only right at your age to think no further than falling in love and living happily ever after.”

  “I don’t think I do—think much about falling in love, I mean. If I marry I would certainly hope to feel rather more than mutual tolerance for my husband, but I’ve already learnt that other people seldom have the same needs as oneself.”

  “Well, don’t go ascribing false needs to the self-sufficient Mr. Brown on account of one uncharacteristic gesture. I doubt if the flowers mean any more than a belated act of conventional politeness,” Kate said, speaking more brusquely than she meant because Victoria’s uncertain future had begun to trouble her.

  “Of course not. All the same—” The telephone rang, cutting short Victoria’s response, and Kate went to answer it, rather relieved that these slightly disturbing exchanges should be broken, but impatient with John Squires, whose voice she expected to hear, for thinking it necessary to apologise for the party’s failure. But it was not John, and she handed the receiver over to Victoria, saying a little irritably:

  “It’s Robert for you. A little late with his birthday greetings, but at least he remembered to send a card.” She did not leave the room but resumed the small chores she had started at the beginning of their conversation. If she listened for any betraying nuances in Victoria’s replies, it was quite unconscious, but Victoria, remembering the look on Kate’s face that Sunday afternoon, felt awkward as she answered Robert’s father frivolous enquiries as to how the party had gone.

  “It was a pity you couldn’t be here,” she said a little coolly. “It would have been so much nicer for Kate to have even numbers.”

  “By which do I gather that the worthy doctor paid all the attention to you and none to poor Kate?”

  “Certainly not. In point of fact—”

  “In point of fact, it’s you and not Kate who would have benefited by my presence for the feast. Did you play gooseberry?”

  “Really, Robert! You have a very good conceit of yourself. As to your last remark, I had no chance to do anything else since it was my party.”

  “Kate’s listening, is she? Well, what shall I say to provoke further tantalising observations from your end? Didn’t the conscientious Squires rise to compliments or avail himself of any chaste avuncular salute?”

  “No, he did not. Why are you being so nosey, not to say infuriating?” Kate gave a faint, unmatronly giggle and Victoria made a face at her.

  “Naturally I’m nosey about what goes on in my absence. I have prior claim in the matter of chaste salutes. Are you being unfaithful to me?”

  “Have you been drinking?” she snapped back so sharply that Kate looked round in surprise.

  “No, no, I’m most regrettably sober, not having had your excuse for champagne,” he answered. “I was only trying to imagine the festive scene. If there was no excitement beyond Elspeth’s doubtless lordly offerings, what did you do with the rest of the evening?”

  “We watched television,” said Victoria primly, and felt herself colouring at his burst of ribald laughter.

  “Well, well ... I should certainly have been with you to put a stopper on that. And did you have some nice presents?”

  “Very nice, and thank you for your card. Did you choose it yourself?”

  “Certainly. I thought hearts and flowers very appropriate.”

  “Did you? I can’t think why.” But the mention of flowers distracted Victoria from thinking up retorts to put him in his place and she added in quite a different tone of voice: “And what do you think, Robert? I had five dozen gorgeous red roses from Mr. Brown by special delivery.”

  “Did you indeed? So the Sphinx has spoken at last, has he? And that, of course, made your day, and probably encouraged unlikely fancies,” he answered, and the mockery in his voice came to her very clearly over the line.

  “It made my day, certainly, but I’m a little old now to cherish unlikely fancies,” she said, and Kate, with a quick glance at her face, at last left the room.

  “Of course you are twenty and done with the foolish pretence of childhood, but no doubt you have changed them for other and more romantic expectations suitable to your new estate.”

  “You,” she shouted down the telephone trying to disguise a sudden desire to cry, “are as unfeeling and—and beastly as you were that day in court, mocking and—and brow-beating just for kicks. Why don’t you pick on someone your own size?”

  “Has Kate gone?” he asked with seeming irrelevance. “Yes? I thought she must have or you wouldn’t have dared to talk to me like that.” But he must have heard the tremor in her voice, for his own suddenly lost its provocative raillery and became gentle. “Don’t think badly of me, dear Victoria Mary. The habit of levity grows upon one as a necessary defence. I have no wish ever to hurt you by banter, so bear with me kindly if you will.”

  His capitulation was so unexpected and the warmth in his voice so beguiling that her tears waited no longer.

  “Are you crying?” Robert asked after a long silence, and when she answered “No” in a suspiciously shaky voice, he swore softly at the other end of the line.

  “Now I’ve spoilt the day for you. Go on hating me if it eases you my child. One day I’ll hope to show you a different Robert Farmer. Till then, dream your dreams and fight your dragons to your heart’s content. Good night, now, and a belated but very sincere many happy returns.”

  He had rung off before she had time to thank him or adjust her mood to his and as she turned to replace the receiver she saw Kate standing in the doorway watching her.

  “Well, have you made your peace?” she asked, but her voice held none of its usual indulgence and Victoria was again reminded that where Robert was concerned Kate had very definite reservations.

  “I suppose I should know him better by now than to take his teasing seriously,” she answered evasively.

  “Yes, you should. And that could apply to other things, too. It would be a pity if you allowed your head to be turned for want of a little worldly experience.”

  Victoria stared at her, the tears still bright on her lashes, and felt the colour begin to creep up under her skin.

  “Kate,” she said gravely, “I’m not so inexperienced that I’m likely to read more into a casual incident than was
intended.”

  For a moment Kate looked embarrassed as if she had not expected to be met with such a direct response, then she rubbed her eyelids as though they ached and sat down on the arm of a chair.

  “I’m sorry, Victoria, I shouldn’t have said that,” she replied, sounding suddenly tired. “I’m very fond of Robert, you see, and I wouldn’t like him to be hurt all over again.”

  All at once Victoria lost her temper.

  “Why can’t you come straight out with it and tell me not to trespass?” she demanded. “If it gives you any comfort, Robert is the last man who would turn my head, so don’t let a casual kiss disturb any personal claims. If he flatters himself he’s made an easy conquest then you can disabuse him in no uncertain terms. I’m sorry you happened to witness that incident, but don’t lose any sleep on his account or mine.”

  “Oh, dear! I have made a mess of things!” Kate said, looking defeated and rather surprised. “I’m afraid you’ve completely misunderstood my well-intentioned efforts, but, unlike everything else today, I seem to have made errors of judgment.”

  She sounded so tired and unsure of herself that Victoria immediately felt ashamed of her outburst

  “I’m sorry,” she said, “I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that, Kate. You’ve made me feel so much one of the family that it’s difficult sometimes to remember my place.” That made Kate laugh and she stretched out a conciliatory hand.

  “What an idea! Your place is here at Farthings and has nothing to do with employment. And if you can bring yourself to accept Robert along with Timmy and me, I for one will be grateful to you.” It was graciously spoken, Victoria thought, considering the probable state of Kate’s affections, and she would have liked to assure her that far from leading Robert Farmer up the garden she had every intention of discouraging further opportunities when next he came to Farthings. But too much had already been made of a situation that should never have arisen and she could only smile apologetically and take herself off to bed.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  IT was June before Robert paid them another visit and despite her hope on the last occasion that pressure of work would keep him away, Victoria found that she had missed him. Kate’s circle of acquaintances was small and consisted largely of young marrieds with growing families which kept them too busy for cultivating more than a casual neighbourliness, and sometimes Kate would look at Victoria a little ruefully and apologise for the dullness of country life.

  “I’ve let myself drift since Jim died, I suppose,” she said on one occasion. “Timmy occupied so much of my time when he was a baby that it was easy to drop out, and now I’m just selfishly content with my own company and the peace and pleasant monotony of Farthings. But you should be having fun, admirers like other girls and justifying the expense of that finishing abroad.”

  “You needn’t feel anxious on my account. It’s still a novelty to have anchorage after years of being pushed from one select establishment to another and very restful,” Victoria replied, sounding old-fashioned and a little pedantic, and Kate frowned.

  “Well, I suppose that’s natural considering the unusual circumstances, but I can’t feel the aim of all this careful preparation was to bury you in the country where chances to benefit by it are few,” she said, and Victoria laughed.

  “Well, I wasn’t being prepared for a London season and the chance of an eligible husband, if that’s what you’re thinking was the aim—unless of course it was Mr. Brown’s original intention and the idea just died on him.”

  “That’s possible, I suppose, and rich cranks who indulge in the whims of the moment are notoriously unreliable.”

  “Do you think Robert knows who he is?”

  “Rob? I shouldn’t think so for a minute, and he’d know better than to abuse professional etiquette by pumping old Chappie to satisfy your curiosity.”

  “Yes, of course. Only sometimes he’s so ribald about poor Mr. Brown that I’ve wondered if he thinks he doesn’t exist.”

  “Well, whatever he may think, five dozen roses would seem to settle that doubt. Have you had any reply to your letter of thanks?”

  “Only from the solicitors, but they never do more than acknowledge mine. I had thought that as this was something more personal, they might have mentioned it, but I expect the roses, like the cheques, were just so much routine to them. When is Robert coming down again?” She asked the question casually enough, but Kate glanced down at her curiously. She was lying on her back in the long grass by Kate’s deck chair thoughtfully chewing a piece of clover and there was a withdrawn look about her as if she was indulging in one of her private fantasies.

  “I don’t know,” Kate said, careful to sound equally casual. “Why? Have you missed him?”

  “I suppose I have—like the way one misses a tooth when it stops aching.”

  “Well! Robert would be flattered!” Kate exclaimed, not knowing whether to be relieved or mildly indignant. “I must certainly remember to pass that compliment on.” Victoria giggled, unabashed, and rolled over on her stomach.

  “Well, you know what I mean. An irritant keeps you on your toes even while you wish it would stop. I have the same effect on Robert, judging by his behaviour, so I’m sure he’d understand.”

  It was not the sort of remark to give Kate any real clue as to the measure of Victoria’s feelings, but she had to admit to a superficial element of truth. It was, she thought, unfortunate that owing to Mr. Brown’s liking for wrapping his protégée in cotton wool, the only man she was likely to get to know well should be her own cousin.

  “Oh, well,” she said a little helplessly, “if you feel Robert is neglecting us, you’d better write yourself and suggest a visit. I had a notion that his reasons for stopping away were not entirely unconnected with yourself.”

  “I could hardly do that since it’s your house and he’s your guest,” Victoria answered with a polite air of rebuke and impatiently tucked her hair behind her ears to stop it from tickling her.

  Kate observed those faun-like features with interest, remembering Robert’s teasing, and said lightly: “A guest in his own house, not mine,” and Victoria gave her a quick enquiring look.

  “Well, it’s yours for the present, since you pay rent,” she replied, and would have liked to follow up the statement with queries about the future of Farthings when Kate’s lease was up, but it might be premature to press for an answer, neither did she particularly relish a too definite reply.

  “Yes, of course. Still there’s always been an understanding that he should treat the place as his home, so he’ll come without being asked when the mood takes him,” Kate said with an air of closing the subject, and Victoria thought she sounded a little short.

  During the week, however, it was easier to avoid the unwelcome thoughts which these chance remarks could cause to flourish unsatisfied. Kate, on the final chapter of her latest book, was closeted with her typewriter for long hours, and Victoria, in sole charge of Timmy, delighted in sharing in his games and inventing fresh amusements of her own.

  John Squires, who privately considered Kate’s concern for her son excessive, if understandable, approved the ease and youthful casualness with which Victoria handled the boy.

  “You’ll make a charming mother when your time comes,” he told her once when he had met them in the village and paused for a chat. “You’ll not grow old in heart like so many women. Do you want children of your own?”

  “Oh, yes, but first I have to find a husband,” Victoria replied demurely, but her eyes were dancing. She had always found it very easy to get on with the doctor when she had him to herself.

  “Well, that shouldn’t present any difficulty. If I was a younger man—” he said, shamelessly dismissing Kate’s image in an effort at gallantry which Victoria found rather touching.

  “You say the nicest things, John, but I know where your true heart lies,” she said affectionately.

  “Do you indeed? Well, it’s your prospects we’re discussing, not mine,
and I have to admit there’s not much choice to be had in these parts. How long will you be staying with Kate?”

  “As long as she’ll keep me—if that is, the solicitors allow it. It’s supposed to be a trial run, you know.”

  “Ah, yes. The omniscient Mr. Brown who pays the piper and calls the tune.”

  She looked at him and her eyes were startled.

  “Yes, I suppose that’s the whole answer,” she said, sounding surprised. “Well, in less than a year the piper will have been paid off and that will leave me to call the tune.”

  “So ... and what are your plans?”

  “I haven’t any. It wasn’t any use making plans for earning a living. My suggestions were either stamped on or there was a last-minute postponement. It was really a most unexpected concession to be sent here, but I suppose Kate’s credentials were so exemplary that no objections could be raised.”

  “Or your Mr. Brown is shrewder than you think. Not much chance of unwelcome competition in a village as remote as this.”

  “Competition? But there’s nothing personal in the arrangement. I’ve never even met him.”

  “For all that, I understand a pretty observant eye has been kept on your activities. If admirers are to be discouraged, Farthings is a pretty safe place for a young girl’s first job.”

  “Yes, I suppose it is, only there doesn’t seem much point, does there, if when the Trust is wound up I’m free to do what I like?”

  “No, it doesn’t sound very logical, but who’s to know what twists and quirks govern the actions of rich eccentrics with a taste for power?”

  Victoria giggled: “You make him sound rather sinister—a kind of Svengali chuckling in the wings and casting spells.”

  “Farmer hasn’t been down for some time. When is he next expected?” John observed casually.

  “I don’t know. I believe the lists are very heavy for this term,” Victoria said, and he glanced at her speculatively.