‘Adore! Adore! Adore!’ Daniel’s voice was no longer calm. He moved his body restlessly on the bed. ‘That’s the feelings you reserve for gods. It’s love that has happened to us, Bridget…love, and that’s what we’ve got to talk about. You love me, I know you do. You could go on denying it to your last breath and it would make no difference; I know right here.’ He pulled her hands to his chest and thumped them against himself. ‘You couldn’t marry Peter feeling like you do.’
‘I could, Daniel, I could. What’s more, I’ve got to marry Peter.’
‘Got to?’ He screwed up his eyes.
‘Yes, got to. You don’t understand; it would be hard for you to because you don’t know Peter. He’s never known any real happiness in his life. He’s been persecuted by his mother; his father was an invalid and he worked for him for years, then he was saddled with her. What money he saved he lost. He lost his job. He talks very brightly about politics and all the rest, but at bottom he is sad, and hurt, and frightened. Yes, frightened of life. If I did this to Peter I would never know any real happiness—apart from what I would feel about Dad, and Mother, and Aunt Katie. There’s four people, Daniel, balanced against the two of us.’
He stared at her, holding her eyes. She didn’t look beautiful to him at this moment. It was an odd thing about her face; sometimes it looked beautiful, at others almost plain. But he had never loved her, or wanted her, as much as now. His voice quiet again, he said, ‘Will you answer me one question truthfully? That’s all I ask, give me a truthful answer. Now this is the question…Do you love me?’
He would not allow her eyes to move from his, and when she did not speak he whispered, ‘A truthful answer, Bridget.’ He watched her lips tremble and her teeth bite into them; then her eyes closed tight, and when the tears pressed from between the lids she was in his arms, and when his mouth found hers she returned his kiss as she had done on the night of the party, but as she did so her tears swamped his face.
And now he kissed her eyes until his mouth was salt. Then the moan that started deep within her forced its way upwards, and when it reached her throat she gave a stifled cry and buried her face on his shoulder.
‘Bridget, darling, don’t. It’ll be all right, you’ll see. You must leave it to me. Just leave it to me. I’ll break it gently, let it creep up on them as it were.’
He, was moving his mouth in her hair, talking to her, soothing her. His words were muffled, but not so muffled that she did not hear him when he ended, ‘One thing I’m certain of, you’re mine and they’re going to know you’re mine. You’re not going to sacrifice yourself for any of them. After all, Great-Grandmother is due to die any day; ninety-three, she can’t last much longer, and what price sacrifices for her then? And your father and mother; they have each other. As you said, they adore each other, so in that case you don’t mean the whole of life to them. And that leaves Peter—and, as I look at it, Peter, like myself, is on the outside, so let the best man win…’
She struggled up from his grasp and stood with her head back, wiping the tears from her eyes with her fingers. Then, groping in an inside pocket of her coat for a handkerchief, she passed it roughly around her face before saying, brokenly, ‘Daniel, it’s no use, I won’t do it. Even if you went and told them, it would still be no use; I wouldn’t do it. You haven’t the faintest idea of our family life.’
‘Damn and blast your family life and the whole lot of them!’
The tears slowly ceased their flowing. She blinked away the moisture on her lids to see him more clearly, and she saw him, not as the Daniel she knew, as the Daniel she had fallen unreasonably in love with, but as the man in the picture on the gallery wall, the man who had taken Aunt Katie down, the man who had persecuted her. The face was dark, stiff, the eyes coal-black and glistening. But as she gazed at him the resemblance to the picture faded; she watched him bow his head and hold his brow in his hand as he said, ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it. I…I just wanted to say that you cannot put the family before me, before us. It’s our life. They’ve lived theirs, the joyous years anyway. We must have our chance of happiness, and I know now that I’ll never find happiness without you.’
The look in his eyes weighed down her head, and there was anguish in her voice as she whispered, ‘And I could never find it with you, Daniel, because they’d always be between us. I…I’m not made like…that, I couldn’t be ruthless.’
He gazed at her dumbly. He could have ridden roughshod over any feeling she had for the man she was going to marry; for all her talk about him he knew this. It was her family who were the obstacle between them; her mother, not so much her father, and above all her Aunt Katie.
Aunt Katie, his great-grandmother. When he was with Katie and looked into those great eyes of hers he felt he loved her, that in some way he belonged to her; but now he knew that she, more than any of the others, stood between him and Bridget, and he hated her for it, and would go on hating her—that is, if he didn’t win her over to his side. He meant to try; he wasn’t finished yet.
When, her head still bowed, she said, ‘I must go back,’ he took her firmly by the hand and led her downstairs. If it meant fighting them collectively or singly, he would fight, clean or dirty, but he was going to have Bridget…
Half an hour later, when he got out of the car on the rise of the hill overlooking the village, he said to her, ‘No matter what you say, Bridget, I’m coming back. Now listen to me and don’t forget what I say. I’ll send a postcard—a picture one, you know. I’ll send it to Great-Grandmother enquiring about her health. No-one will suspect anything then, will they? But when she gets it you’ll know that I’ll be at the house’—he lifted his head—‘that following weekend. I’ll get down on the Friday night until the Sunday night; and if you don’t come to me on the Saturday, then you can expect me at Loreto on the Sunday…Now, you hear?’
‘Daniel. Daniel.’ She was beseeching him, and in answer to this he put his hands through the window and pulled her face roughly to him and kissed her—a short, hard kiss—then, looking into her eyes, he said, ‘I’m a fool; I should take no notice of you. I should go straight down now and tell them how things stand. That’s what I should do.’
Silently she looked up at him and he withdrew his head and stood stiffly, watching her while she drove away.
Before leaving the garage Bridget opened her handbag, took out her mirror and dabbed at her face with a powder-puff; then, wetting the sides of her forefinger with her tongue, she pushed back her lashes and, finally, nipped her lips and cheeks hard to bring colour into them. Then of a sudden she leant against the garage wall and muttered into her hands, ‘Oh my God! Oh my God! What am I going to do?’
And the answer was given to her as soon as she entered the hall, for Catherine came hurrying down the stairs. She came towards her with outstretched hands. Her face bright yet unsmiling, she said, ‘I know this is no time to be exultant, but I can’t feel sorry. Peter’s just phoned to say his mother passed away half an hour ago.’
Chapter Eight
A week later the card came for Katie. It arrived on the Wednesday and bore the Kent postmark. It was very brief. It said, ‘My Dear Great-Grandmother. I do hope you’re keeping well. I return to Cambridge a week on Friday. If it is at all possible I will look in on you before then; if not, perhaps I may come down some time during the term. My love to all at home, Daniel.’
After Katie had read the card she looked at Catherine and said, ‘He’ll come. This is just a way of telling us he is going to come.’
‘He may not, Aunt Katie; it may be quite innocent…’
‘Oh, Catherine, don’t be silly. You know yourself there is something going on, you said so.’
‘Yes, I know.’ Catherine shaded her eyes for a moment. ‘I just don’t want to believe it, that’s all.’
‘She hasn’t been herself since he was here at Christmas, not a laugh in her. There’s something going on between them. I feel it, Catherine.’
‘No, Aunt Kati
e, I wouldn’t think that. Bridget would never do anything underhand; she’s as straight as a die. She’d tell me, she tells me everything. You know she always has.’
‘Yes, yes, she always has, until she met a Rosier…’
‘Oh, Aunt Katie! It’s just because of the name. It puts all kinds of ideas into your head. I understand…I understand perfectly.’
Katie let her head rest against the high chair and her gaze turned inwards as she said, ‘It isn’t only the name, Catherine; there’s something about him I can’t explain. It’s just a feeling. But there’s a determination there; behind that smiling manner of his he’s got iron in him, like the other one had. Oh! Oh!’ She shook her head. ‘I don’t mean he’s like him, God forbid. But there’s something there that disturbs me. Yet, you know, Catherine, I like him. I could say I love him, and not just because he’s Sarah’s grandson; just for himself…But he’s not for Bridget, is he?’
Catherine looked down tenderly at Katie as she said, ‘No, Aunt Katie, he’s not for Bridget. Peter’s for Bridget. Always has been. She’s admired and loved him since she was fifteen. And he understands her. What’s more, they both speak the same language, whereas Daniel…well, he could be a foreigner, he’s so different in his ways and outlook. No, you’re right, Aunt Katie, he’s not for Bridget.’ She sighed and turned away, and as she went to leave the room Katie gazed after her; then called to her, ‘Catherine!’ And when Catherine turned round she said, ‘I’m going to speak to Peter.’
‘Oh no, Aunt Katie! Not yet. Just let things be. We could be making a mistake, an awful mistake, and if Peter was to speak to Daniel what then? Bridget would never forgive us. No; let things be for the time being. Please, Aunt Katie.’
At eleven o’clock on the Sunday morning, when Catherine, answering a ring on the doorbell, saw Daniel standing there smiling warmly at her, she put her hand to her throat and before she spoke to him she said to herself, ‘She was right. She was right.’
‘Hello, Catherine.’
‘Hello, Daniel. Come in, come in.’
‘No doubt you’re surprised to see me.’
‘No, no.’
‘I felt a bit bored and I came down yesterday to see how they are getting on with the house. I’ve got men in, you know, now, and I couldn’t be so near and not pop down.’
As Catherine looked up into Daniel’s face she saw that behind the smile he was flustered. In the ordinary way there should have been no need for an excuse for his visit—he was coming to see his great-grandmother. ‘Give me your coat,’ she said. ‘I’ll hang it up.’
‘That’s all right. I’m big enough to wait on myself, and I should know where it goes by now.’ His voice was higher than usual. He quickly took off his coat and went across the hall and into the cloakroom. And when he had gone from her sight Catherine stood nibbling at her nails until he appeared again, and then she said, ‘Aunt Katie has just come downstairs; she’s in the drawing room.’ She went forward, adding, ‘Tom had to go out, but he won’t be long.’ She entered the drawing room without mentioning Bridget and, her own voice high now, she said, ‘I’ve got a surprise for you, Aunt Katie. Daniel’s popped in.’
Katie was sitting to the right of the fire, and she would have had to turn her head to see who was entering the room. But she didn’t turn her head, she waited for him to approach; and when, having first stood facing her, he bent down and put his lips to her cheek, saying, ‘Hello there. Surprised to see me?’ she looked up into the dark, shining eyes and said, ‘No, Daniel; I was expecting you. I said…I said as much to Catherine. I said I wouldn’t be surprised but Daniel will pop in.’
‘Oh well, that’s all right.’ He smiled broadly from her to Catherine; and Catherine, wetting her lips, said, ‘Would you like a hot drink, coffee or something, Daniel?’
‘I would. Yes, I would, Catherine. It was cold coming down…Where’s Bridget, by the way?’
‘Oh! Oh, she’s gone with Peter to some friends at yon side of Hexham. He’s in the antique business—I mean Peter’s friend. They’re seeing about some furniture.’
She watched the smile seep from his face and the dark red glow come up under his skin. She watched the eyes flash as if in response to some angry impulse from within him. She watched him turn and look down on to Aunt Katie for a moment, but Aunt Katie was looking towards the fire and she was saying, ‘Sit yourself down, Daniel. Sit yourself down.’
‘Will she be away all day?’ He was looking at Catherine again, and she replied quietly, ‘Yes, I’m afraid so, Daniel.’
‘She…they won’t be home until this evening then?’ His voice was lighter now, and to his enquiry she said, ‘You can never tell what time they’ll be back after a day at Hexham.’
Daniel sat down and Catherine went out of the room, and Katie, still looking at the fire, said, ‘Peter’s been given a new lease of life since his mother died. And not before time, for if ever a man deserved a break it’s him.’
There was a pause before he said, ‘His mother died after all?’
‘Yes, she died after all.’ Katie looked at Daniel now. ‘She was buried just a few days ago, and at long last he can think about living his own life. They’ve got the house—there’s no trouble that way; I could have given him a house years ago, but he wouldn’t hear of it, he’s that kind of man—but the furniture that his mother had gathered about her I wouldn’t have offered to the bairns for a bonfire, if you know what I mean, and Bridget could never have lived with it; so they are clearing it all out and starting from scratch. Don’t you think that’s sensible, Daniel?’
Daniel stared into the wrinkled face before him, into the brown eyes lying in the deep hollows, and he wondered just how much she knew and how far she would use her strength against him, the strength that lay in her age, the strength that was fed by the gratitude of all those in this household. As he continued to stare at her he felt that she wasn’t real, she was something from the past; even her dress bore out this illusion, for she was attired as a woman of fashion would have been thirty years earlier. She was wearing a brown velvet gown with a high neck trimmed with a lace collar. The dress reached her ankles, and her feet, resting on the footstool, looked narrow and neat. Her hair was dressed in what his mother would call farmhouse-loaf style, all gathered up to form a rise in the middle. Her hands, which were big and capable looking—rather outsize hands, he thought—lay one on top of the other in her lap…But she was real, and she was formidable; and, what was more, she was determined that he wouldn’t have Bridget. Of that he was certain now. He could see himself talking his way round Catherine and Tom, but not around this old woman. He would never talk his way around her; he would, as he knew all along, have to fight her.
When the door opened and Tom came breezily into the room Daniel felt a sense of relief, and as they greeted each other warmly he thought, Tom isn’t in on this. He knows nothing about it, suspects nothing either way. And this was borne out when he said, ‘Oh, Bridget’ll kick herself for missing you…What do you think about the news of his mother going? They’ve told you?’
‘Yes, it was very sad.’
‘Sad my eye!’ Tom jerked his head and went towards the fire. ‘She played wolf for so long, that one, that I bet when she found herself dead there was no-one got a bigger surprise.’ He laughed and bent over Katie, pushing her gently by the shoulder, and she laughed back at him and caught at his hand and slapped it, saying, ‘You’re a wicked man, Tom, a wicked man.’
Tom now turned to Daniel and said, ‘I was just thinking yesterday that your time’s running short at Cambridge. Will you be sorry when you’re finished?’
‘In a way, Tom, but I’m seriously considering staying on in a teaching capacity. I think I would like that.’
‘Won’t you miss your folks?’
‘Oh, I don’t think I’ll have time to miss them, for once the manor is habitable they’ll come storming over in droves just to sleep in an English mansion.’ He laughed as he ended, ‘We’re frightful snobs about
such things, we Americans.’
‘Oh yes, so I’ve heard.’ Tom shook his head solemnly for a moment, then grinned, saying, ‘But that’ll be grand, Daniel, to have you around, simply grand.’
As Catherine entered the room carrying a tray Tom went towards her and, taking it from her, said, ‘Did you hear the latest? Daniel may take up teaching at the college and live at the manor. What do you think of that?’
‘Oh, there’s nothing settled,’ Daniel put in quickly. ‘It’s just a sort of an idea. It all depends…’
As his voice trailed off Katie asked quietly, ‘On what does it depend, Daniel?’ She was looking at him, and he stared back into her eyes as he replied, ‘On many things, Great-Grandmother, such as my relatives wanting me to stay—and Tom here assures me they do.’ He glanced at Tom. ‘And…and settling down, you know, getting married.’
‘Oh, you thinking of getting married, Daniel?’
‘It’s a natural thought, Tom.’
‘Oh, I’ll say, I’ll say it’s a natural thought all right. Is it somebody back home?’
‘No, nobody back home, Tom.’
‘Oh, then, you’ve got your eyes on somebody this side of the water?’
‘You could say that, Tom.’
‘Well, I never. Would you believe that, Catherine! And there were all the lassies at Ivy’s party pinning their hopes on you. I heard you were a wow. Ivy hasn’t stopped talking about you since…’
As Tom chaffed, Katie and Catherine exchanged glances, and the look in Katie’s eye said, ‘What did I tell you?’ And Catherine thought, men are stupid, even men like Tom; they can’t see things right under their very noses. Yet would she have seen things so clearly if it hadn’t been for Aunt Katie? No, it would never have dawned on her. Now Tom must be told. That would be another one who would be unhappy. If only Daniel hadn’t come into their lives, or, having come, he had borne any other name in the world but Rosier.
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