Teachers Must Learn

by Nerina Hilliard

  When the time eventually came for the party to break up she determinedly sought Anthea’s glance, although her tone was quite casual when she spoke.

  ‘Don’t forget I shall be expecting you for lunch tomorrow, Anthea.’

  Anthea shook her head. ‘As if I could forget!’ she replied lightheartedly, quite as if she had not a care in the world.

  ‘I’ll probably be bringing her over,’ Stephen added, as casually as Laurel had spoken.

  ‘Quite the attentive fiancé,’ Roberta murmured with a smile. ‘But then you always were attentive, weren’t you, Stephen?’

  The amused, sympathetic tone did not deceive Laurel in the least She saw the icy gleam in the elder woman’s eyes, almost imperceptible, it was true, but quite definitely there. Perhaps she was the only one who saw it, yet she was quite sure it was not imagination, especially with the meaning that had lain hidden behind those few words.

  ‘Who wouldn’t be attentive if Laurel was the girl concerned?’ Stephen retorted, with what his supposed fiancée thought was an extremely well-acted glance of affection, and she was surprised to find herself feeling grateful to him for it, because Roberta’s beauty and sophistication had such a dampening effect on her. She could not see how any man, if he had fallen a victim to it, could ever properly recover.

  An odd little silence fell and then, with a feeling of breathless horror, she realized that everyone expected Stephen to kiss her goodnight, before Ned drove Barbie and herself home.

  ‘Sorry, but it seems inevitable,’ he whispered as he took her into his arms.

  She knew a moment of sheer panic as he bent his black head down to her, but before she could do anything out of character such as trying to turn her head aside, his mouth was on hers, teasing and almost provocative, making her actually want him to kiss her; and that it seemed was what he had been aiming at, for the next moment he was kissing her altogether differently and her tremulous lips, parted by the insistence of his, were quite unable to do anything but respond. At first she was indignant at being coerced into such a flagrant betrayal of everything she had said about him, then with a sinking heart she realized what had really happened.

  She had fallen in love with Stephen Barrington and there was not a thing she could do about it.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Laurel awoke with the feeling that she had done something quite irretrievable, but for a brief moment, until full comprehension returned to her sleep-befuddled senses, she could not think what it was—then she remembered and sat bolt upright in consternation.

  Stephen!

  It all rushed back in a quite overwhelming flood as she remembered a man’s lips on her own, faintly provocative, as if he smiled while he kissed her, belying the mock apology he had made only a moment before. It would be just like Stephen to see the absurd humour of the situation. He had not been smiling the second time he kissed her, though. It had been that kiss which had been her downfall, collapsing all her defences without the least bit of preparation beforehand; and when he had at last lifted his head, he had murmured, so softly that only she heard him:

  ‘Tell me after that that you hate me and I’ll call you a liar!’

  She had not had the courage to look at him, because she had no doubt whatsoever that she would have met a completely unrepentant grin that dared her to deny that she had enjoyed it.

  Enjoyed it? That was about the silliest, most tame description that could have been applied to such an experience. After the first shocked indignation she had felt as if she had been drawn without warning into a living electric current. It had hit her with such shattering force that for one crazy moment she had almost been lost enough to sink down into complete, enchanted bewitchment. It had only been the fact that in one split second she had realized what had happened to her that had enabled her to make a snatch at her reeling self-control. She did not have a hope of pretending in future that she disliked his kisses, but at least she had managed to hide from him the full extent to which she had been affected.

  A little shiver of pure horror went through her at the thought of how very nearly she had betrayed herself. On Stephen’s side it had probably been caused largely by the memory of her remark while they were dancing that if she had to be kissed she did not see why she should not enjoy it, coupled with the fact that he had an audience to play up to.

  On her own side, though, it was not something that could be passed off as a momentary weakness. Sleeping on her discovery of the night before had not made the slightest difference. It had not been the least bit of good telling herself, before she dropped off to sleep, that she could not have chosen a more unlikely man to fall in love with, that the whole thing was quite impossible and would only cause her a lot of unhappiness. The fact remained that, when she awoke in the morning, she found out quite definitely that, whether she liked it or not, she was still in love with Stephen Barrington—and she was quite sure that she did not like the idea, because it was one of those dead-end avenues with heartbreak at the end of it.

  She swung her legs out of bed with a fervent prayer that Stephen had not had the least inkling last night of just what his kisses had done to her. If he was still unsuspicious she only had to take good care in future that he remained that way, but if he had received the slightest hint that she was by no means impervious to his attraction as she made out, the impossible situation they were in would become all the more unbearable, for herself at least. She had no doubt that Stephen himself would be able to carry it off with his usual self-possession and savoir faire, but every time she saw him she would feel like crawling into a dark hole in the ground and curling up into a miserable little bundle, hoping that the heavens would fall and hide her abject humiliation, especially after some of the things she had said to him.

  Apart from all other considerations, she was disgusted with herself for allowing it to happen. The only thing that helped was that it had apparently crept up on her unawares and people did say that, even if its onslaught was recognized, there was no defence against love. It was just one of those things over which human beings had no control, even though some of them might have to hide it, when the little laughing god had reduced them to unconditional surrender. She was, in a way, a little stunned by the discovery that she had ended up by loving a man she had been quite sure she disliked only a few days ago. Even yesterday there had been moments when she had felt the desire to hit him—very hard. He would probably annoy her again and again in the future, but that would not alter the fact of her love for him.

  And, of course, there was Roberta Fransom.

  She busied herself getting ready for Anthea’s projected visit in the hope that it would keep at bay thoughts that had become painful as well as humiliating with the introduction of Roberta into them, but it did not help much. She still found herself wondering how much Stephen had loved the beautiful red-haired woman and whether Roberta still had the power to weave a spell over him, the ability to bring him back to her a willing slave to an attraction he could not fight.

  Once she had believed he was incapable of loving anyone, but now she was not so sure. She had a swift flash of memory, seeing him again as he had stood on the terrace at Castelanto, the mockery erased from his dark face for one instant of time, leaving it stark and lonely, before he quickly eased the mask back into place. It must have been Roberta, the memory of what she had done to him, that had brought the expression of bitterness to his face, remembered pain that the years had not quite been able to erase—and if she had hurt him once, she would do so again, because no woman could hurt a man in such a manner if she truly loved him.

  For the first time she began to be glad of her fake engagement, because it seemed some measure of protection against the beautiful Roberta, for how long she did not know. She was fiercely determined that Stephen should not be hurt any more if she could prevent it, although how she could possibly have any power to do so was beyond her. Even though it was quite stupid, she still felt the desire to protect him, knowing that it was the la
st thing in the world he would allow or desire. She was able to conjure up too easily a quite painfully accurate vision of the jeering derision his face would wear if he guessed she was harbouring such ideas.

  Probably her desire to protect him was rather ridiculous. Stephen Barrington was quite capable of taking care of himself. If he still felt attracted to Roberta, he would doubtless weigh up what she was and assess that against his desire for her, knowing that this time she must have some genuine affection for him, because she was rich in her own right now.

  She sighed and shook her head, because it all seemed quite beyond her. The only thing she was sure of was that falling in love with Stephen Barrington was the last thing she should have done.

  Over breakfast Ned teased her about her engagement and Laurel found it surprisingly easy to keep up the pretence. She wanted to tell him just what had happened, but she decided not to do so, because she knew that Stephen would not want anyone to know what had prompted Anthea’s amazing announcement, and she could not tell Ned that the engagement was a fake without also informing him of the reason for it.

  Anthea arrived at lunchtime, looking somewhat subdued and accompanied by Stephen. Laurel felt her heart give a little lurch she was quite unable to control, because so suddenly he had come to mean more to her than she had ever dreamed he could.

  Lunch went off lightheartedly. Stephen was the perfect example of the teasing, affectionate fiancé, and although Laurel tried hard to detect any sign that he might have realized what had happened to her last night, there was not the least hint of it. The danger of that might be when they were alone and she was glad that moment was to be postponed for some little time yet.

  Immediately after lunch Ned took Stephen off somewhere around the plantation, but Laurel was quite sure that the idea was not his, although the suggestion had certainly come from him. Stephen was just as adroit as his sister when it came to manoeuvring people. He knew quite well that she would want to speak to Anthea alone and he was more than a match for his sister had she shown any desire to postpone the moment of explanation. Anthea, however, made no attempt to try to outwit him.

  She leaned back in her chair, a ghost of her old, irrepressible smile on her lips, but at the same time there was something tense about her attitude. She was defiant and challenging, as if she realized the enormity of what she had done, but still did not regret it in the least.

  ‘Well?’ she said, with just a faint tinge of trepidation in her voice. ‘You might as well let fly. I’m used to it by now. Stephen has already wiped the floor with me.’

  Laurel made a hopeless little gesture with one hand. ‘Why on earth did you do it?’

  Anthea dropped her gaze. For one moment her composure seemed to break. She looked young and defenceless and when she glanced up her eyes were quite unshielded.

  ‘I told you once that I would do anything to stop Stephen being hurt again, and ... and I was desperate.’

  ‘Roberta Fransom was the woman he was engaged to before?’

  Anthea nodded, showing no surprise that Laurel had heard of her brother’s previous engagement.

  ‘It was stupid, I suppose,’ she admitted, ‘but I challenged her outright with coming to Ladrana to try to get Stephen back and she admitted it. I ... I think I went a little crazy for a moment.’ Her great blue eyes pleaded for understanding and she bit her lip almost fiercely as she went on. ‘I didn’t know how Stephen felt about her, but I was sure she would never make him happy, after the way she had acted when they’d been engaged before.’ She paused again and then added quietly, ‘If you can bear with me for a moment I think I’d better tell you just what did happen, then you may be able to understand why I acted like I did.’

  ‘All right,’ Laurel agreed, just as quietly.

  ‘It happened some years ago. Stephen had gone to England on holiday. I was at school there at the time and the first time he came to visit me we had a wonderful time together. He was altogether different then, not cynical, a little wild, I suppose. All the older girls at school fell head over heels in love with him at first sight and I just basked in the glory of having him there. I absolutely adored him and ... I suppose I still do, even though he’s changed such a lot,’ she added in a low voice. ‘Then after a little while he didn’t come to see me so frequently and one day he brought Roberta with him. I suppose I was a little jealous, but I honestly tried to like her, for Stephen’s sake. I called myself all sorts of names, telling myself that I was just jealous and horrible, but I couldn’t like her, however much I tried. Stephen was crazy about her, but I seemed to know somehow that she was not sincere, perhaps because I loved him so much myself.’

  She shrugged. ‘Anyway, they became engaged and Stephen was just walking on air. Young as I was, I was afraid for him—then the crash came.’ She broke off again and twisted the fragile handkerchief she held. ‘A rather bad storm struck one of the islands a little further north. It had a name very much like Ladrana. You know how garbled these things can become. It wasn’t important enough to merit an official news item, but it managed to find its way back to England somehow or the other and Roberta eventually received a twisted version that said Ladrana had been hit by a hurricane, everything completely flattened on the island and everyone there ruined.’ She made a contemptuous little gesture, her eyes hard. ‘Even if it had been true, it would have taken far more than that to ruin Stephen.’ Her lips twisted bitterly, with the same contempt that had been in her gesture a moment ago. ‘Most gold-diggers are thorough, but apparently Roberta wasn’t too well versed in her “career”—she was very young then—and she thought that the estates on Ladrana were all that Stephen owned. She was a bit of a coward, too, because she didn’t stop to find out from Stephen himself whether he really had been ruined by this supposed hurricane. Perhaps she loved him as much as she’s capable of loving anyone besides herself and thought he might persuade her to marry him, even if he didn’t have any money. The first intimation Stephen had that it was his money she had wanted and not so much himself was when he saw a notice in the paper that she had married someone else by special licence.’

  ‘How awful for him,’ Laurel said softly, as Anthea paused. Her eyes were darkened with pain, as if she shared the hurt bewilderment and disillusion that must have struck so deeply at the man she loved.

  Anthea’s soft lips hardened again. ‘I always felt it would have been far worse if she had married him and he had found out afterwards what she was like.’ She leaned forward suddenly and caught Laurel’s hands in her own. ‘She wants him back now—and that’s the last thing that must happen.’

  ‘But suppose Stephen still loves her ... that Roberta loves him...?’

  ‘Roberta is quite incapable of loving anyone but herself,’ Anthea retorted, with such scorn in her young voice that Laurel found herself unable to do anything but agree.

  ‘She must have some affection for him to try and get him back,’ she pointed out, still putting up a fight, even though she thoroughly agreed with Anthea without the necessity of persuasion. ‘After all, she has money of her own now. Quite apart from putting both Stephen and myself in an embarrassing position, you should have given him a chance to make up his own mind what he was going to do. If he still loves her, it will be with his eyes open to what she is.’

  ‘Then you don’t like her either!’ Anthea sounded triumphant and satisfied, but she quickly became earnest again, her hands adding their own mute pleading to her words. ‘Oh, Laurel, can’t you see that she mustn’t have him back? She’s shallow and selfish. Stephen deserves far better.’

  In spite of herself, Laurel could not help a little thrill of pleasure that Anthea should think she was suited to the brother she adored, but it did not alter the complete certainty she felt that, left to himself, she would have been the last person Stephen would have chosen to become engaged to and no doubt he would heave a heartfelt sigh of relief when this mock engagement came to an end. On the other hand, she fully agreed with Anthea that Roberta was not
the woman he should marry. No woman who had ever thrown over a man for purely selfish reasons, as Roberta’s desire for a wealthy husband had been, could ever be trusted with his happiness again.

  ‘Yes, he does deserve better,’ she said slowly, hardly aware that she had spoken aloud until Anthea’s fingers gripped hard on her own again.

  ‘I know you hate me getting my sticky fingers into other people’s business,’ she pleaded earnestly, ‘but this time even you must admit that it was justified—although I suppose I did go to extremes,’ she added with a wry little grimace at what Laurel privately thought went beyond a mere extreme. ‘It was all I could think of on the spur of the moment. I just had to do something to stop Roberta getting her claws into him again!’