by Sara Seale
Both Robert and Victoria did their best to keep him amused and ward off the probability of a scene at bedtime, but Elspeth’s preparations in the kitchen together with Victoria’s efforts to get him settled for the night in good time betokened something special in the way of a party from which he was to be excluded, and he took refuge in the only form of protest he understood.
Neither Victoria’s blandishments nor his godfather’s offer of a pickaback up the stairs could persuade him into compliance, for both of them were now out of favour, and he was making such a noise that none of them heard a car pull up outside or were aware of John Squires following his usual practice of entering the house unannounced until he spoke from the doorway.
At the time Victoria could only regard his intervention as mercifully opportune, for Timmy’s tears stopped instantly and, with very little persuasion, he allowed himself to be hoisted triumphantly on to the doctor’s broad shoulders and carried hiccoughing up to bed, but when he came down again to announce a little brusquely that the boy was quiet and ready to be tucked up for the night, she was not so sure.
“I used to flatter myself that I could always coax Timmy back to reason, but I seem to have lost my touch,” Robert said, smiling a little wryly at the doctor, but John did not smile in return.
“Children are extraordinarily sensitive to atmosphere. The boy probably sensed he wasn’t wanted,” he said rather shortly. Robert raised a quizzical eyebrow but made no comment and Victoria protested indignantly:
“We’ve been leaning over backwards to keep him amused, but he got wind of the party and that finished it.”
“What party?”
“Oh, not a real one—at least in a way it is. Robert had the idea of giving me a second party because he couldn’t get down on my birthday.”
“I see. A private celebration to make up for the awkwardness of the first. Well, I looked in for a while in case you should be lonely, but I can see I needn’t have been anxious.”
She could not understand why he should sound so stuffy, but it seemed clear that he had evidently been aware that Kate’s party had been a mistake and she did not want him to feel hurt.
“It was a lovely party and not awkward at all. It was only Kate who minded because she didn’t know any young men to make up the numbers,” she told him anxiously, and was at last rewarded with an unwilling smile.
“That’s nice of you, my dear—all the same, it’s time you met young people of your own age and weren’t obliged to fall back on Kate’s old cronies for your entertainment.”
Robert was busy mixing drinks and had his back to them, but he said over his shoulder:
“If that was a crack at me I take exception to being dubbed an old crony.” He turned as he finished speaking, holding out a glass of sherry to the doctor, a faintly malicious twinkle in his eye. “You won’t, I trust, be too disapproving to accept my wine and drink Victoria’s health.”
“Oh, dear ...” Victoria thought unhappily. “Robert’s in one of his infuriating moods ...” That the two men were incompatible she had put down to their conflicting interests in Kate, but although John Squires’ sentiments could well be guessed at, Robert’s were less easily divined.
“Well now, since my cousin isn’t here to set the conversational ball rolling, what shall we all talk about?” Robert asked, imitating the bright, encouraging accents of the professional hostess. “Victoria, you aren’t drinking.”
“I’ll have mine later,” she said rather hurriedly. “I must go up and settle Timmy and then it will be time to change my frock.”
She thought Robert gave her rather a sardonic look as she turned towards the corner staircase in the parlour which was a short cut to the bedrooms and heard him say, just as she reached the top:
“You really shouldn’t try to cramp my style by bracketing me with your own age group, my dear chap. I’m no beardless youth, I’ll admit, but optimistic mammas still regard me as an eligible parti.”
Really, she thought, suppressing an unseemly giggle, Robert could be quite impossible when he set out to provoke!
To her relief, she found Timmy sleepy and obligingly ready to forget his grievances. With an extra cuddle and the promise of something saved from the party to provide a treat for the morrow, he was content to let Victoria go without demur. She wondered how the two men were faring over their drinks, but she did not go down again and very soon heard John’s car start up and, later, the sounds of water running into the bath accompanied by the familiar explosions emitted from the ancient boiler and Robert shouting down to Elspeth for fresh towels. He banged companionably on her door on the way back to his room to let her know the bathroom was free, and she went to perform her own ablutions, unconsciously renewing yesterday’s game of pretence. With just such trivial domestic intimacies would she feel cherished were she mistress of Farthings, part and parcel of the masculine belongings and children’s toys which she had mentally scattered about her make-believe home. It did not seem strange that Robert should now be playing an unrehearsed part in the fantasy, for although her imagined master of the house had been no more than a faceless figment in her mind’s eye, Robert was not only very real but would one day claim the place as his own.
When she was dressed she stood in front of the long glass as she had on the night of her birthday and surveyed herself critically. She wore the same white dress, remembering how she had wished he could have seen her in it, and tried to view herself through his eyes. Would he find her pleasing, she wondered with recollections of his reputed fastidiousness, or was he too familiar with the image she had chosen to present to him to look upon her as a woman? It was, she supposed, unreasonable to desire his approval when she had shown so often that she was indifferent to it, but today had not been like any of the others.
The evening was all she could have wished it to be. Robert, who had put on a dinner jacket to grace the occasion, made every effort to charm her and succeeded so well that she found herself wondering why she had ever thought him cold and bitter-tongued.
“You were very rude to poor John who had only looked in out of the kindness of his heart, thinking I was alone,” she admonished him as they went to dinner.
“Poor John was, I fancy, harbouring unworthy suspicions and deserved all he got,” he retorted unrepentantly, and she giggled.
“Don’t flatter yourself,” she said. “He’s only concerned with Kate’s good opinion, not yours.”
“Exactly. Now stop taking me to task. It’s not becoming in you when I’m only trying to please,” he said with mock severity, and seated her at the table with ceremonious courtesy.
He must have inspired Elspeth with a sense of occasion, Victoria reflected, for not only did she serve them an excellent meal but had set out the best china and glass and placed an old many-branched candelabrum in the centre of the table to add the elegance of candle-light to their feasting.
“What a shame Kate’s missing all this,” Victoria said, much impressed by all the festive touches, and Robert raised a sceptical eyebrow.
“Do you think so? Be honest, Victoria Mary, and admit that a small celebration a deux is infinitely more pleasing to you.”
“How conceited you are!” she countered, but her smile held shy agreement and her eyes were bright with anticipation.
“But of course,” he retorted, his keen regard capturing each changing expression and getting much enjoyment from her naive responses. “Conceit is an essential part of one’s armour if one wants to survive the rat-race—or if it comes to that, convince others of one’s worth.”
“I shouldn’t have thought you cared enough to bother,” she said, busily intent on extracting the very last morsel from her lobster, thermidor.
“Ah, but then you’re not acquainted yet with my secret aims and desires and the need to establish a footing—you really can’t dig any more out of that empty shell, my dear child—didn’t they teach you to restrain your unladylike greed in that Paris establishment?
“Yes, the
y did, but I don’t count you as polite society, so you must bear with my manners fop just this once. Who do you want to establish a footing with? I should have thought you were well able to call the tune.”
“Would you, indeed? And I’m not sure that I take it as a compliment to be excluded from polite society.”
“Then you should, Robert. It only means that I’m at last feeling at home with you, and—and isn’t that furthering this better acquaintance you’ve talked so much about?”
“In that case, I’m both touched and honoured,” he replied gravely, “so don’t take it amiss any more if I tease. Your first dislike for me was natural enough in the circumstances, but you’re too old to carry a childish grudge into adult life, you know.”
“Yes, I suppose I am, but it isn’t easy to shed first impressions. Mr. Brown has dominated so much of my life in a remote kind of fashion, and you were all mixed up with the start of it.”
“So you turned Mr. Brown into the traditional Fairy Godfather, and I was naturally cast for the Demon King. I should, I suppose, be flattered at having made an impression at all, though it was hardly the equivalent of a schoolgirl crush—or was it?”
He added the last provocative query so softly that she was taken off guard. She did not, however, immediately retaliate with outraged, denials but sat staring absently beyond him while she deliberated with that thoughtful gravity which so often took him by surprise.
“I wonder if it could have been—in a topsy-turvy kind of fashion,” she said then, slowly.
“Well, Victoria Mary, you never cease to astonish me!” he said, sounding for once a little at a loss. “I would never have expected you to appreciate the psychology of that, much less admit it.”
“Wouldn’t you? That side of my education wasn’t neglected, you know. The French take a deep interest in what makes them tick and we had to read up the accepted works in order to be able to converse intelligently at imaginary select dinner parties,” she retorted, helping herself lavishly, from a dish of salted almonds, and his smile, if appreciative, was a trifle wry.
“Dear me! How alarming that sounds! And what else were you required to store away for the edification of imaginary guests?”
“Oh, the usual things—current affairs, the arts, of course, and the latest play or book. We were expected to be reasonably well informed on any topic of social interest, but never to air our views to the discomfort of the gentlemen.”
Robert burst out laughing.
“Well, that should rule you out of court!” he said. “I’ve noticed precious little consideration for the gentlemen when you’ve had views to air.”
For a moment she looked startled, then, she sighed. “You’re quite right, of course, Robert,” she said, reaching absently for another almond. “I suppose I never thought of you in that category.”
“I see. You’re informing me now that I’m no gentleman.”
“Of course not! I meant the sort of young gentleman Madame imagined would be taking me out to dinner.”
“Well, I’m taking you out to dinner now even though we’re having it here at Farthings. Next time I’ll arrange something smarter and more conventional, so you’d better get in trim for a proper display of all these social graces.”
“Next time?”
“Certainly. This is just the curtain-raiser. On the next occasion you’ll get the full treatment—the latest in fashionable restaurants, attentive waiters and a still more attentive host!”
“But—” she began, her eyes growing bigger and bigger, but he reached for the bottle in its basket of ice to top up her champagne and said firmly:
“Now don’t come out with the old statement that Mr. Brown doesn’t encourage followers. It’s time that gentleman ceased to be a convenient excuse, unless, of course, you have personal objections which you’re too polite to say.”
“Oh, no,” she said very seriously, watching the bubbles dancing merrily to the surface as he filled her glass, “I would find it most exciting to be entertained by you, Robert. I’m sure you’re very expert at the job once you’ve made up your mind the end in view is worth your while.”
“Well I’m not altogether certain that was intended to be complimentary, but let’s drink to our better acquaintance just the same,” he said with a wry little smile, then raised his glass to her and, for a moment, his eyes were grave and enquiring, belying the lightness of his words. She lifted her own glass in silent reply to his toast and her eyes held a shy promise of acceptance of which she was quite unaware.
Afterwards she could not remember very clearly how they had passed the rest of the evening, only that there had been sweetness between them and a growing sense of communion.
They talked, covering a multitude of subjects; sometimes they just sat in companionable silence; once he stretched out a hand to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear saying he found its faun-like resemblance vastly intriguing, and his fingers lingered, tracing the lines of her neck and bare shoulder with a delicate touch. The old house settled about them with its familiar nocturnal creaks and whispers and the first pale shaft of moonlight crept slowly across the floor. Elspeth could be heard moving from kitchen to dining-room laying the breakfast things for the morning, but she did not disturb them, and presently they heard her go upstairs to bed.
“And we, I suppose, should do likewise,” Robert said, getting lazily to his feet. He stood looking down at Victoria curled up in the big chair, clearly reluctant to move, and held out both hands to her.
“Come along, my child. This is only a beginning and tomorrow is another day,” he said, and pulled her up into his arms.
She stood expectantly between his hands, blinking up at him, her eyes already clouded with sleep, and reached up a hand to explore the sharply chiselled outlines of his prominent bones.
“I’ve often wanted to do that,” she said.
“Have you, indeed? And why, might I ask, since you apparently found me so objectionable?”
“Only to make sure I wouldn’t cut myself if I did,” she retorted with a sleepy smile, and he caught her straying fingers, imprisoning them firmly against his chest “What impudence! For that you should be made to pay forfeit,” he exclaimed, but when she obligingly offered him her lips, his mood changed. He cupped her upturned face gently between his hands and said softly:
“Have you understood, I wonder, that I’ve been making tentative love to you all evening?”
“Oh, yes,” she answered serenely, “and most of the afternoon, too, I think.”
“Oh, you do, do you? And have I made any progress?” But her new-found consequence was weakening. Tonight she had been delicately courted with the sophisticated accompaniments of food and wine and the attentions of a man probably well used to easy conquests when he troubled to exert his charm, but she had no measure by which to gauge the depth of his intentions. He had teased her and kissed her, but made no demands on her charity other than that repeated desire for a better acquaintance, and she became painfully aware that the answer to his question must betray more than she was prepared to acknowledge, even to herself.
“Dear Robert ... if by making progress you mean am I suitably impressed by your well-planned celebration, then you’ve certainly earned full marks,” she said, but refused to meet his eyes, and his smile held a trace of appreciative irony.
“Very nicely evaded, Miss Hayes, and I’m encouraged by such early signs of maturity. It’s possible, though, that you have mistaken my intentions,” he said, and was amused by the confused uncertainty with which she tried to withdraw from him. “Now, don’t jump to extremes. As I told you this afternoon, my intentions are strictly above board, so there’s no need for maidenly scruples.”
“I’m not given to them!” she replied with scorn.
“You relieve me mightily! In that case, you’ll doubtless take any future slip on my part in the spirit in which it is meant.”
“What sort of slip?” The conversation was becoming confusing, or she was too sleepy and
too content in her new-found felicity to follow him.
“Oh, just the occasional lapse into unrestraint which can overtake the impatient lover.” He spoke lightly enough, but she was suddenly wide awake. Surely even Robert wouldn’t carry his mockery to these lengths.
“Are you joking?” she asked, and the quizzical amusement immediately died out of his face.
“No, my bewildered sleepyhead, I’m not joking—just feeling my way. Do you find it so difficult to visualise me in the light of a lover?” he said, and the tenderness which she found so difficult to resist was back again in his voice.
“No—oh, no,” she replied; then, because her conscience would continue to prick until she could silence those early unconfirmed suspicions, she added with naive abruptness: “But what of Kate?”
“Kate?” He sounded faintly surprised, then one eyebrow rose a shade cynically. “Well, I shouldn’t advise a spate of girlish confidences at this early stage. Kate takes her responsibilities seriously and tends to be over-anxious.”
“That isn’t what I meant.”
“No? Well, whatever you meant, you can safely leave Kate to draw her own conclusions.”
It was not, Victoria thought, a very enlightening reply, and short of asking him point blank if Kate had once been in love with him there was nothing more she could say to clarify the situation. She stood there a little hesitantly while he closed the windows and switched off the lights, and wished she had not rubbed off some of the evening’s magic by mentioning Kate. Perhaps Robert, too, was aware that something had been spoiled, for he opened the long window into the garden again and said:
“Come out for a few minutes before I lock up. It’s a perfect night for making promises under the stars.”
She went with him willingly, grateful for that touch of fantasy which seemed to bring him closer, and in the moonlit garden with shadows etched sharply across the dewy lawn and the warm air sweet with night-scented stock and new-mown grass, the magic returned.
