by Sara Seale
“Very true, but that’s not quite what I meant. I was only implying that I find a touch of feminine inconsistency in you encouraging. Long associations, however unsentimental, have deep roots. Would you have married Farmer?” She finished the last of her sherry and placed the empty glass on a table beside her with careful deliberation.
“Perhaps,” she said, sounding a little regretful. “It was such a pleasant, undemanding relationship ... we made a family without the ties of necessity and—and it was so good for Timmy to have a man about the place. I just drifted.”
“And now?”
She sighed, looking a little rueful. “And now there’s Victoria, and I’ve no means of gauging how deep that’s gone. Robert played a silly trick which had unfortunate results and perhaps it jolted her out of a mood that was merely infatuation, in which case, it was just as well. The young have tender feelings, but not a great sense of proportion. It takes time to get one’s emotional sights into focus.”
“Not necessarily. That young woman, thanks to her unusual circumstances, has acquired quite a philosophy. Does Farmer know she’s leaving you?”
“Not unless she told him when she wrote, and I don’t imagine she did.”
“H’m ... interesting to observe the reaction.”
“It will be more than interesting if he suspects his name has been introduced for the purpose of softening up Mr. Brown,” Kate retorted with a brisk return to tactness, and John got to his feet saying it was time he was off.
“Don’t you lose your sense of proportion, my dear,” he said with a twinkle. “It isn’t likely Victoria would have given anything away other than her own feelings. She’s hardly on confidential terms with her Invisible Man.”
“No, I suppose not, I’m beginning to suspect he’s really at the root of half the trouble,” Kate snapped back impatiently. “If he’d declared himself in the first place and given the poor child some sort of anchorage for her starved affections, she wouldn’t have fallen for the first man to take a flattering interest in her. Mr. Brown, whoever he may be, has a lot to answer for in my opinion, and it would give me great pleasure to tell him so to his face.”
“A sentiment I heartily endorse,” he replied with a grin. “It seems unlikely either of us will get the chance, however, since I have a shrewd suspicion that he intends to remain a mystery to the end. Good-bye for now, dear, troubled Kate, and whatever this weekend may bring, let things take their course. You know where to find me if I’m wanted.”
As evening approached Victoria found herself listening for the sound of a car drawing up at the gates which would give her time to make herself scarce and allow Kate to offer a welcome in private, but after all, she was caught unprepared. She had run downstairs in her slip to retrieve the dress she had been ironing in the kitchen and forgotten at the very moment Robert walked into the house.
“No need to be bashful on my account. It isn’t the first time I’ve been greeted by a lady in her underwear, he observed as she turned to run back upstairs, and at the remembered little flick of mockery in his voice she sat down rather abruptly on the bottom tread.
“I’m not the bashful type,” she managed to retort with a comforting flash of the old spirit, “and I can well believe that you’re fully acquainted with the details of feminine underwear!”
“I’m glad to see you haven’t lost your gift for repartee, I’d feared I might be treated with cool disdain which would have been very dull,” he said, and advancing further into the hall, laid a florist’s beribboned creation on the brassbound chest.
Victoria stared at the flowers in growing indignation and exclaimed: “Oh no!” then became aware of his brows raised in quizzical amusement while he stood looking down at her with eyes that were suddenly a little cool.
“Don’t jump to unwarrantable conclusions,” he said with a very slight drawl. “The flowers are for Kate, on whose behalf you thoughtfully drew my attention to too long an absence.”
“Oh, I see. Well, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll find my frock and go and finish dressing.”
“Find your frock? Are you in the habit of mislaying your garments, or am I to assume I’ve arrived at an inopportune moment and there’s a follower lurking somewhere in hiding?”
“I wish I could truthfully say there was,” she flung back at him, trying to struggle to her feet but finding herself slipping on the polished boards.
“Dear me! And what would Mr. Brown say to that?” he countered, then reached down a helping hand. “Allow me to assist you before that very brief trifle you’re wearing rises any higher for decency or the good of my blood pressure.”
He lifted her up, paying no attention to protests or resistance, but he did not at once let her go and held her lightly but firmly between his hands while his eyes searched her upturned face with a disconcerting hint of tenderness.
“Dear, belligerent Victoria Mary ... had you been bracing yourself against this moment?” he asked her softly. “You should know me better than to suppose I would take advantage of past indiscretions. I have my own way of dealing with awkward situations, so don’t hold my manner against me.”
The hostility which he had aroused in her so deliberately to see her through that moment he had spoken of melted away, leaving her weak and once more vulnerable. If the past indiscretions he had mentioned were intended to refer to a mistaken infatuation on her part or a perverted sense of humour on his she had no means of guessing, but she knew now with depressing certainty that whatever the future held for her, she must go on loving him. Perhaps, she thought with a flash of saving humour, he would one day become just another image on which to feed her imagination, like Mr. Brown. Perhaps she had, from lack of masculine knowledge, already invented a personality for him which did not in fact exist.
“What are you thinking to cause those wrinkles of perplexity?” he asked, and she slipped neatly out of his grasp.
“Nothing of any consequence,” she replied, recovering her composure. “Please go into the parlour and wait for Kate and allow me to finish dressing. Elspeth won’t be pleased if I keep her very special dinner waiting.”
“Oh! Is it a celebration?” he enquired innocently, but there was a look in his eye which boded no good and she stepped aside with relief as Kate came hurrying down the stairs, exclaiming:
“Of course it’s a celebration! You’ve neglected us for too long, Rob, and we’ve become browned off with other’s company. Have you forgotten to put on a dress in your haste to be first with a welcome, Victoria, or am I just out of step with the latest fashion?”
Victoria smiled mechanically without replying and escaped to the kitchen, but as the door closed behind her she heard Robert say still with that note of mockery:
“Do I detect a slight flavour of pussiness, dear cousin, or do I merely flatter my masculine ego?”
Kate made some laughing reply which Victoria did not catch and their voices died away as they went into the parlour and shut the door.
Upstairs in her room Victoria lingered over the finishing touches to her appearance in order to give Kate time for whatever she might have to say to Robert in private, but it soon became clear that Timmy’s demands had taken priority and a visit to the nursery was now in progress, judging by the squeals and laughter drifting down the passage which would leave little margin for confidences before Elspeth sounded the gong for dinner. It was as good a way as any of bridging the gap, Victoria thought as she joined the nursery party, but Timmy, sitting up in bed amidst a litter of string and paper wrappings, gave his mother no time for the tactful explanations she had doubtless reserved for a more propitious moment.
“You won’t let my Toria go away, will you, Uncle Rab?” he demanded.
“Is she going away?” Robert said after a brief pause, and his eyes rested for a moment on Victoria standing uncertainly in the doorway.
“She won’t if you say she’s not to. It’s that Brown person making spells again. He’s really a wizard, you know.”
“D
on’t be silly, Timmy, he’s nothing of the sort,” Kate said rather sharply. “And if Victoria wants to leave us, Uncle Rob can’t stop her.”
“Can’t you, Uncle Rab? But I heard you say—” the boy began bouncing up and down with excitement, but Robert interrupted, at the same time pressing him firmly back on to his pillow:
“Never mind what you thought you heard me say, young man. One doesn’t repeat what isn’t intended for one’s ears, and it’s time you settled down and went to sleep, anyway.”
Back again in the parlour, with drinks at their elbows he said to Kate:
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I’ve hardly had a chance since you arrived, have I?” she protested with some truth.
“No, but we’ve spoken on the telephone.”
“Only to fix up this week-end. Besides, I imagined if Victoria wanted you to know, she would have told you herself.”
“Did you, Kate? Well, it’s of little consequence. When does she want to leave?”
“You don’t sound very surprised. As usual, we are waiting upon Mr. Brown’s pleasure.”
“I see. And what if he continues to disregard his protégée’s whims?”
“I don’t think he will this time, since I’ve made my own wishes clear.”
“I see,” he said again. “Have you and Victoria fallen out?”
“In a manner of speaking, but I do honestly believe a change is called for. You’re largely to blame Robert. If you were really serious when you told me you wanted to marry her you’ve gone a very odd way about things, and I don’t imagine that’s the impression she has given Mr. Brown.”
“Oh? Do I take it then that I’m the villain of the piece?”
“I’ve no idea, I’m not in Victoria’s confidence. You’d better ask John,” Kate said rather shortly, and his eyebrows rose.
“Dear me! Am I to assume that the faithful doctor is in danger of transferring his affections?”
“I wouldn’t know,” she replied with an unconvincing air of indifference, “but she certainly took his advice in the matter of providing Mr. Brown with a more substantial reason for leaving. Whether he, or the lawyers, take a serious view of the situation is yet to be known, but I for one think, it’s time that gentleman took his responsibilities more actively. It wouldn’t hurt him to pay us a casual visit without letting on who he is.”
“Very true, but for all you know he may have done just that. Now I come to think of it I wonder it’s never occurred to Victoria’s lively imagination. You could both of you have gained much entertainment by inventing hidden identities for casual callers, or the vicar—or even the doctor with his fatherly interest and good advice. Now there is a man who might well feel impelled towards philanthropy without letting his noble intentions be known,” Robert said with rather disconcerting enjoyment, and she smiled, though without much amusement.
“Very likely,” she retorted, “but John, though he’s comfortably off and has a good practice, can hardly be described as a rich tycoon, and Mr. Brown’s little whim must have cost him plenty.”
“No more than the keep and education of the daughter of any well-to-do parents, and you’ve no valid reason for inventing rich tycoons,” he said, getting to his feet as Victoria came into the room.
“We were discussing the probable or improbable identity of your patron, Victoria. Has it occurred to you that the attentive Dr. Squires might well fill the bill?” he continued, pouring her a glass of sherry.
“For heaven’s sake! Don’t go putting fresh nonsense into the poor child’s head!” Kate exclaimed, observing the gleam of interest which momentarily brightened the girl’s eyes, but Victoria was used by now to Robert’s methods of getting a rise and became aware at the same time that Kate was not enjoying this latest flight of fancy.
“That of course would be a very happy ending if it were in any way likely, but even my fertile imagination hasn’t grasped at that straw,” she said, and caught Robert’s faint smile of appreciation as he handed her the sherry.
“I don’t know that the worthy doctor would care to be likened to a straw, but we’ll let that pass,” he said, observing with interest the indignant glint in Kate’s brown eyes, and Victoria, also noticing, gave him a chilly glance.
“John Squires is good and kind and worth ten of you,” she said, and his eyes held a fleeting twinkle.
“I bow to your superior knowledge,” he replied with mock humility. “And now let’s settle for a pleasant weekend and a return to less controversial matters.”
Once seated round the table, Robert steered the conversation into mundane channels with considerable skill, and insisted on Elspeth being summoned to the dining-room to have her health drunk.
“Och, get away with you, Mr. Rab! Have you no better excuse for a toast than a plain body that’s paid to cook your vittles?” she retorted with uncompromising bluntness, and her eyes dwelt for a moment on Kate but lingered longest on Victoria, who sat, her face pale and politely attentive in the candlelight while she remembered the almost identical details of that last special occasion. As if he had guessed her thoughts, Robert said softly:
“Only the champagne is missing. I should have thought of that, shouldn’t I, Elspeth?”
“Aye, you should, but one wine is as good as another for the purpose. Have you no other tricks up your sleeve, Mr. Rab?” Elspeth said. “It may be the last chance you’ll have for wishing Miss Toria well.”
“Thanks for the reminder,” he replied casually, “but since I understand Miss Toria’s departure still requires the sanction of authority, I will give you Mr. Brown—may his schemes prosper and his shadow never grow less!” He solemnly raised his glass and drank, and almost without volition, Kate and Victoria followed suit, but Elspeth set her glass down on the table unfinished and made for the door.
“And that’s a toast I’ll no’ be troubling with! Shame on you, Mr. Rab, for making fun of an occasion that should be serious! Mr. Brown, indeed! If any such pairson exists, he’s no better than a bogle to frighten the bairns with!” she exclaimed, her accent broadening in outrage, and she stalked out of the room.
For a moment there was an astonished silence, then Kate and Victoria succumbed simultaneously to giggles.
“Oh!” gasped Kate, wiping her eyes. “Poor Mr. Brown—just a bogle to frighten the bairns with!”
“Many a true word spoken in jest,” observed Robert, whose laughter had been rather more perfunctory. “Haven’t you been obedient to orders for rather too long, Victoria Mary?” He did not speak with any great seriousness, but her merriment was quenched.
“I’ve had no choice,” she replied gravely. “Besides, debts have to be paid in whatever coin is stipulated and, bogle or not, I have nothing but gratitude for Mr. Brown.”
“And to what extreme might that carry you?” he asked, his manner suddenly as sober as hers, and Kate, conscious that she was momentarily redundant, murmured some excuse and left the room.
“Well?” said Robert, absently snuffing out a guttering candle between finger and thumb.
“I don’t know,” she said nervously, scooping up breadcrumbs into neat little piles beside her plate. “It would depend on what was asked, but as the only demands have been purely functional all these years, I’m not likely to be put to the test, am I?”
“Oh, you never know! Even the most amiable of Shylocks has a habit of exacting his pound of flesh,” he replied with a lightness that was far from reassuring, and she looked across at him with widening eyes.
“Do you mean he might be a money-lender? I never thought of that,” she said, and he pushed back his chair with an irritable little jerk.
“No, I don’t,” he replied, beginning to snuff out the remaining candles. “I was speaking figuratively, as you are quite intelligent enough to know. Now, we’d better abandon this unrewarding topic and go and join Kate who, with the best of intentions, has made a tactful, if unnecessary withdrawal,” he said, and blew out the last of the candles.
<
br /> The curtains had been left undrawn across the windows since the evening was very sultry and something of daylight still remained, but with the dousing of the candles the room seemed suddenly dark and Victoria, groping her way to the door, stumbled against Robert. He put out a hand to steady her, holding her against him for a moment, and she said a little breathlessly:
“What are you after, Robert? Why are you treating everything as if it didn’t matter?”
“Don’t you know?”
“Not really—unless you’re trying to let me down lightly. I wasn’t planning to treat you to—to sentimental recriminations when I asked you to come down.”
“Weren’t you? What a pity. Still, there’s no reason why you should suppose I feared recriminations, was there? After all, it was you who turned me down.”
“Yes ... yes, I did, didn’t I?” she said, sounding rather surprised, then confused memories of the insulting implication of that untimely proposal stiffened her weakening resolve.
“You could hardly,” she said, trying to wriggle out of his suddenly tightened grip, “have expected me to fall into your arms with gratitude at a rather obvious attempt to soothe my feelings.”
“I’m not the type to deal in soothing syrup, as you should know by now,” he retorted, his voice a little rough above her head, “but you chose to be bloody-minded in order to save your silly little pride and you’ve only yourself to blame if the whole thing’s backfired on you.”
“What do you mean, backfired? Are you flattering yourself that I have regrets?”
“Well, haven’t you? I should hate to think that all this sound and fury has no more reality than the one-sided imaginary scenes you probably indulge in with the absent Mr. Brown.”
“How dare you mock at my dreams? How dare you mock at Mr. Brown who, if nothing else, has cared enough to give me the start in life my father had planned for me?” she burst out, and heard him sigh as he gently released her.
“Dear, stubborn little ostrich—I would never mock at your dreams, but they’re sometimes more pertinent than you think. As for Mr. Brown, I’m of the opinion that it’s high time that gentleman revealed himself or left the field to less exalted persons. I, for one, am beginning to find him a bore.”
