Once You Have Found Him

by Esther Wyndham

  “Thank you,” she said. “If I can think of anything I will let you know.”

  “What about my coming up to London to see your father?”

  “Oh, no, no, please not, not on any account. I must handle this myself.”

  “As you like. But it’s wonderful that we needn’t be embarrassed with each other any more, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, wonderful,” she echoed. But it didn’t feel wonderful. She had been so happy with him earlier that morning and now suddenly her happiness had all evaporated. She didn’t understand herself.

  He too, in spite of his words, seemed suddenly to have lost some of his gaiety.

  “Is there someone else too?” she could not help asking.

  “It would have been impossible anyway,” he replied, and she did not know whether he had answered yes or no to her question. “Even if I had fallen madly in love with you and you had been heart-free it wouldn’t have worked.”

  “Why not?”

  “I couldn’t marry a rich girl. It seems all wrong to me. I want a wife who’s got nothing, to whom I could give everything. I’ve got very old-fashioned ideas about marriage.”

  “But if we had fallen in love and I had discovered that you felt like that I would have given up everything,” she said.

  “I couldn’t have let you make such a sacrifice, and, besides, it would have been a sort of pretence. And, anyway, you have had everything. It wouldn’t be any fun giving you things. I thought when we were in that shoe shop just now what fun it would be going in there with one’s own girl and buying her something she had never had before.”

  “But there’s so much you could have shown me. I have seen so little of the world—nothing at all of Europe.”

  “It wouldn’t be much fun for you travelling around in Bumble, staying at cheap pensions, when you are used to luxury liners and Ritz hotels.”

  “Oh, but it would.” It was a cry from the heart. “I mean, it would be fun for any girl,” she added hastily. “One doesn’t always want the luxury life ... Do you really mean that if you fell in love with a woman with money you wouldn’t marry her, you‘d let it stand in your way—even if she gave it up for your sake?”

  “Yes, it wouldn’t work. She would never be really contented in the home I could provide for her.”

  “What, Hanbridge Court?”

  “No. I shouldn’t keep the house up. I don’t feel about it in the same way Father does. It’s not my idea of the perfect way to live.”

  “What is your idea?”

  “What, when I am married?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’d like to keep on the flat in the Temple. Turn Dennis out, of course, so that there would be room for my wife. And then have a little cottage for week-ends which we would run entirely ourselves. We’d have one great big living-room with the kitchen leading out of it so we’d eat at one end, work in the middle and sleep at the other. The bathroom, by the way would lead out of the sleeping end. And then there’d be just a couple of rooms and a bathroom for the children up above ... I think we’d probably have a great barn in the garden that we could turn Into a playroom ... And then the garden itself would be quite small so that we could look after it ourselves—shrubs and bulbs, easy to manage—merging into woodland ... A bluebell wood. Do you think it sounds nice?”

  “I think it sounds heavenly.” Her eyes were shining. She had never looked prettier.

  “And how will you live?” he asked.

  “I? Oh! Oh, I haven’t thought it out as you have. It all seems so far away.”

  “We must do something for you, Erika ... But now I suppose we had better go or we shall miss the first race.”

  Poppy wouldn’t have cared if they had missed all the races. She would have liked to sit there talking to him forever.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  ARTHUR BINGLE was jubilant that afternoon at the races. As soon as possible he manoeuvred Poppy away from the others and told her with glee, “Daphne has noticed, and she minds. Keep up the good work. Tonight at the ball will be our big opportunity.”

  Poppy winced with disgust. Her mind had been full of dreams of Romilly, and to be brought back like this to reality was extremely unpleasant.

  That day after the last race they all went back to Hanbridge Court for a swim, where some other neighbors joined them. Poppy had just got out of the pool and was drying herself when Lady Hanbridge called out to her from the house that she was wanted on the telephone by her father. It was perhaps the worst moment so far of her whole visit. “I’m just coming,” she called back.

  How could she carry off this conversation with her supposed father? It would be easier if she were alone, then she could pretend to have a sore throat and talk in a croaking voice, but what if Lady Hanbridge were in the room? Had he just rung up to have a friendly chat or was Erika’s mother worse? If Erika’s mother was worse and they needed her what was she to do? Here Arthur Bingle could help her. He would be able to get a message through for her to Erika. For the first time she was almost glad that he knew her secret.

  Arthur in fact was already prepared to help. He had heard Lady Hanbridge calling out to Poppy, and now, as unobtrusively as possible, he followed her back to the house. When she got there, Lady Hanbridge, who was sitting out in the portico, said to her, “Take the call in Charles’ study where you won’t be disturbed.”

  The house was empty and it was an easy matter for Arthur to slip into the study with her without being seen. “Leave this to me,” he whispered. “I’ll handle it for you.” He picked up the receiver and she waited tensely beside him. “Hallo,” he said. “Is that Mr. Hanbridge? This is Romilly speaking ... Yes, she is just beside me, but I am going to talk for her because I'm afraid she's lost her voice ... No, it’s nothing serious. Just too many late nights if you ask me! She asks me to tell you that she is enjoying herself enormously ... Here, she’s saying something ... What is it? ... Oh, she wants to know how her mother is ... Look here, she insists upon speaking to you herself...” He covered the mouthpiece with his hand. “Talk to him but talk in a rasping whisper,” he said.

  Poppy took the receiver fearfully. “Hallo,” she croaked. The voice on the other end of the line sounded loud and anxious. “What is the matter with you, child? Are you ill?”

  “No, no. As Romilly said, too many late nights. I’m having a wonderful time ... How is Mother?”

  “She seems very well at the moment.”

  “I’m so glad. Will you give her my love.”

  “She sends hers to you ... I’m anxious about you, my girl. You don’t sound yourself.”

  “Really I’m all right.”

  “Are you happy?”

  “Very.”

  “Are they all being kind to you?”

  “So kind.”

  “They’d better be ... Have you seen a doctor?”

  “Really it’s nothing—just a frog in my throat. Romilly exaggerated.”

  “Well, take care of yourself ... We’ll expect you when we see you on Monday, is that right?”

  “Yes, that’s right.”

  “Good-bye, child.”

  “Good-bye.”

  She put down the receiver. “Phew! that was awful ... Do you think it was all right?”

  “Perfectly all right.”

  “Thank you for helping me.”

  “I told you you might need me ... What have you been able to find out for me about Romilly’s feelings?”

  “I have found out one thing. He would never marry a rich woman, and Mrs. Cunningham appears to be rich.” This thought had been at the back of Poppy’s mind ever since her conversation with Romilly in the Dolphin and Anchor that morning.

  “That means nothing. Under the terms of her husband’s will her income stops the moment she remarries. Then she won’t have a penny, and Romilly knows that ... What else?”

  “Nothing,” Poppy replied with a sick sense of disappointment. “I must go and dress. It would be thought very strange if we were found here toget
her.”

  Unfortunately for Poppy, as they opened the door of the study that led into the hall, Romilly appeared through the door of the drawing-room.

  “It was my father on the telephone,” Poppy found herself saying brightly. “Mother is better.” There was absolutely no explanation she could give as to why Arthur should have been with her in the study. She believed that Romilly looked at her very coldly as he replied, “I am glad.”

  “By the way,” he said, addressing Arthur, “could you help us tonight? Could you take two of us in your car?” There had already been some discussion as to how they should get to the ball this evening. It would be necessary to take a driver because the cars were parked a good way away from the entrance to the Castle. Lord and Lady Hanbridge were not going and the young people were going in their car driven by the butler who acted as chauffeur on occasions, but there would not be room for all of them. Arthur had a chauffeur and was picking up Daphne Cunningham.

  “Of course, gladly,” Arthur answered now. “I’ll take Erika and anyone else you like.”

  “No, Erika is coming with us, but I should be very much obliged if you would take Philippa and Dennis.” There was no arguing with this decision nor did Arthur attempt to do so, but he looked far from pleased. “Very well,” he said shortly. “I’ll pick them up at about ten.” Poppy could have hugged Romilly in gratitude, but she tried not to look too delighted for fear or arousing Arthur’s animosity.

  Poppy had already made up her mind what to wear that evening. Florence had told her that it was to be a really smart occasion, and that all the men would be wearing white ties, so Poppy for once was not afraid of being overdressed in Erika’s clothes. The dress she had decided to wear was, she considered, really beautiful. She had tried it on that morning and was enchanted with it. It was of white organdie, the bodice fairly plain, the waist nipped in tightly but the skirt billowing out in a cascade of crisp white frills.

  She was making up her face that evening in front of the glass before putting it on when there was a knock on her door. It was Philippa in a dressing-gown. “Erika,” she began rather timidly, “can I ask a tremendous favor of you?”

  “Of course. Anything.” She was very pleased to see Philippa. She felt greatly drawn to this young girl but could not make as much of a friend of her as she would have liked because of the falseness of her own position. All the same she could not help but be glad that Philippa should turn to her for any kind of help.

  “It’s really for Nicole,” Philippa went on. “She hasn’t got anything at all suitable to wear for tonight and we were just wondering...”

  “If she could wear something of mine? But of course.”

  “Oh, you are an angel. My clothes don’t begin to fit her, but I’m sure yours would ... May I go and get her?”

  “Yes, do.”

  While Philippa went off to fetch her friend, Poppy took a couple of other evening dresses out of the cupboard and laid them on the bed beside the white one which she herself was going to wear. There was one rather pretty midnight-blue dress embroidered in silver which she hoped would appeal to Nicole.

  In a few moments Philippa, accompanied by Nicole, who was also in a dressing-gown, reappeared. “Oh, it is so kind of you,” Nicole murmured in her charming broken English.

  “Can she choose?” Philippa asked.

  “Yes, I’ve put them out on the bed.”

  “Oh, but this is so beautiful,” Nicole exclaimed in rapture, at once going for the white dress. “May I really wear this one?”

  “Which is that?”

  Nicole picked up the white dress and held it up against herself. “It is the most beautiful robe de soir I have ever seen.”

  “May she really wear that?” Philippa asked. “She may get it dirty.”

  “It doesn’t matter if she does. It can be cleaned.”

  “You are a double—no a treble, quadruple, angel,” Philippa declared.

  “Yes, you are an angel,” Nicole echoed happily. “What are you going to wear yourself?” Philippa asked.

  “That blue dress.”

  “What a good thing Nicole didn’t choose that then. You shouldn’t have put the one you were going to wear yourself among those she was allowed to choose from.”

  Poppy did not say, which was the truth, that Nicole had chosen so quickly that she had had no time to tell her which one she was going to wear herself. All she said was, “I do hope it will fit you.”

  “Oh, I am sure it will,” Nicole replied as she pranced away with it.

  When Florence came in to see Poppy dressed before she went down to dinner, she exclaimed in dismay, “But you were going to wear the white!”

  “Don’t you like this?”

  “Yes, it is very nice but I was looking forward to seeing you in the white one!”

  Poppy couldn’t help laughing at her disappointment. “I’ve lent the white to Miss Nicole,” she said.

  “Oh, you shouldn’t have done that, miss. Did she know you were going to wear it yourself?”

  “Of course not.”

  “That was Miss Philippa’s doing, I’ll be bound.”

  “She didn’t know. Now, Florence, you are not to say a word. Promise me? Or you will go and spoil it for everybody. She is so pleased with it, and I’m sure she’ll look lovely in it.”

  “Not as lovely as you would.”

  “It's very sweet of you to say so, but it’s much more suitable for her. It’s really a young girl’s dress. I’m too old to wear white.”

  “Nonsense, miss.”

  Nevertheless, in spite of what she had said to Florence, Poppy was disappointed not to be wearing the white dress that evening, and when she came downstairs and saw Nicole in it, she could not help feeling a slight pang. Nicole looked quite enchanting. Philippa was also looking particularly pretty that night. There was no doubt that ball gowns did suit women better than any other form of dress.

  They were all assembled now in the drawing-room except Romilly, and Poppy felt a restless impatience for his presence. Nothing was the same when he was not there. Supposing she was told at that moment that he was not coming? The whole evening would go flat and dead. In spite of her dread of having to flirt with Arthur she was intensively looking forward to this evening which must bring her at least one dance with Romilly.

  He entered the room just at that moment saying, “I hope I’m not late. I couldn’t get my beastly tie to behave itself. Oh, these clothes, they are not fit for humans.”

  “If only you knew how nice you looked in them,” Lady Hanbridge said. “I don’t know why men do so little nowadays to make themselves look attractive. I sigh for the days of ruffles and silk waistcoats. Men must have been irresistible then.”

  “I find them irresistible now,” Philippa said, and everyone laughed.

  “Look what a bevy of beauty you have here,” Lady Hanbridge said to Romilly, indicating the three girls.

  It so happened that the girls were standing in a group by the open french window. Romilly stood and looked at them critically each in turn, and much to her annoyance Poppy found herself blushing. She wondered if he had any idea how attractive he looked standing there. She could understand that full evening dress for a man must be terribly uncomfortable to wear, especially on a warm summer evening like this, but it would surely be a compensation if only they could realize how attractive they looked, when thus dressed up.

  “I give the prize to Nicole,” Romilly said at last. “She has got on one of the most beautiful dresses I have ever seen, and she looks adorable.”

  “Oh, but it isn’t mine,” Nicole hastened to inform him, going pink with pleasure. “Erika has lent it to me.”

  “Why didn’t you wear it yourself?” he asked Poppy.

  “I think Nicole looks much nicer in it than I would have done.”

  “It certainly suits Nicole,” he said.

  Philippa was delighted that her friend was having such a success, and all her hopes of a romance between her and Romill
y revived. Up to date it had been Timmy who had paid Nicole the most attention.

  Arthur Bingle and Daphne came just before ten and stayed a little while as they did not want to get to the ball before half past. Lady Hanbridge’s heart, as well as Poppy’s sank when she saw Daphne. She looked radiant in an exquisite embroidered Dior dress. Moreover, she had had a hairdresser down from London that evening. When a woman looks particularly well it is nearly always because her hair is looking its best. Daphne was determined on conquest that evening. Not only did she intend to conquer Romilly once and for all but she was also determined to regain Arthur’s undivided devotion which had been wandering in the direction of the South African girl. She had become accustomed to having Arthur as her slave and she intended to keep him in subjection. He was her property and she was not going to allow anyone to take him away from her—least of all this redheaded innocent from abroad with so much more money than taste. But the very fact that the South African heiress seemed to like Arthur had enhanced him considerably in her eyes.

  She was charm and sparkle that evening—an irresistible flame for any stray moth. She made a particular effort to charm Lady Hanbridge but the latter knew that if all the men left the room her flame would immediately die down to a dull apathy. Philippa had said about her mother that she was an angel who disliked nobody. This was true up to a point. She instinctively took the charitable view of everyone she came across and found it harder to dislike than to like, but where a possible daughter-in-law was in question she set a much higher standard than for a friend or mere acquaintance. She strove hard to show no favoritism among her children, but she knew in her own heart that she loved Romilly best. She could not help herself. He was her first-born, and the love she felt for him was so great that sometimes it was almost agonizing. If he married Daphne Cunningham she would do her best to accept her for his sake, but the match would make her utterly miserable. Strangely enough, of all the girls she knew, Erika was the only one whom she felt she would whole-heartedly welcome into the family—and that must be an instinct because she really did not know her at all. It was even more strange that her husband felt the same because he was harder to please than she was.