The second collection of 3 great novels by Mary Burchell

by Burchell, Mary

  Having made this momentous decision—for momentous it was for one whose life up till now had been gove^-ned by strict discipline and the general principle that anything that would not DC approved by a full ooard of governors must be regarded as inadmissible—Leoni completed her journey home, where she was welcomed by all the family like someone returning from foreign (not to say dangerous) parts.

  It was really great fun sitting around the fire and giving an account of one's first day. Leoni, who had never been used to an audience of this sort, was enchanted by the good-natured questions and comments, which suggested that her little personal affairs were of interest.

  "I Know the Robinson sort exactly,'^ Trudie assured her. "There's one in nearly every big office. You just show her where she gets off."

  "Nonsense! Don't make an enemy unless you have to," advised Valerie. "There are better ways of knocking down a stone wall than running your head against it."

  This struck Leoni as unexpectedly good advice from the slightly languid Valerie.

  "Well, I certainly don't want to make any enemies," she began.

  To which Hugh remarked dryly, "You always have to make a few. But Val's right. Don t make them unless you have to. Or rather, don't make them without a really good reason."

  "My real enemy's our maths mistress," cried Pauline at this point, having been longing to make her contribution to the conversation for the last five minutes. "You wouldn't believe what a pig she is. She—"

  But to Leoni's surprise a concerted groan went up from the rest of the family, and Valerie exclaimed beseecningly, "We get this every Wednesday night regularly, Leoni. Wednesday is their weekly maths test, and we get the backwash in the evening."

  "Well, Leoni doesn't know anything about it," declared Pauline in an injured tone. "It's very interesting for her."

  "It simply couldn't be," Hugh assured her before Leoni could reply on more indulgent lines.

  "You tell me later on," Leoni said. "I daresay the others don't want to hear it again, but I'd like to hear about it when we 're on our own sometime.''

  Pauline was completely appeased, though the others warned Leoni that "sne didn't know what she was in for."

  **I haven't any time tonight, really," Pauline explained. "Because IVe got French homework and that always takes me ages—'*

  "Takes me ages, you mean," interjected her brother good-naturedly, out Pauline ignored that.

  "—But we'll have a nice talk tomorrow evening, Leoni. Would you like that?"

  Leoni was just about to say obligingly that she would when she realized, with a quick stab of nervous excitement, that here was the point at which she made her casual announcement about going out.

  "Well—not tomorrow, I'm afraid," she said steadily, though she wondered really why her voice didn't tremble. "I'm going out tomorrow evening. At least—" she turned to Mrs. Dagram, who was darning industriously throughout this conversation "—May I go, please? One of the men at the office wants to take me to the theater. I know him quite well. I—I met him at the Vandeems—I've known him quite a—a long time." That was true in a way, she supposed.

  Mrs. Dagram looked up then, and gave her the rather level glance that one associated with matron, and Leoni immediately thoueht, / will tell her who it is—but after tomorrow evening. *

  "Will he be able to bring you right home, Leoni?"

  "Oh, I—I think so." That point had simply not presented itself to Leoni.

  "I shouldn't like you coming home last thing at night without someone, while you know so little about London. And at the same time, if a boy lives the other side of London, it's rather a shame to expect him to come right out here so late. What about it?"

  Leoni—somewhat stunned by the picture of Lucas as "a boy who lived the other side of London," said she was sure she would be brought right home.

  "Very well. If you're sure about that, of course you can

  go-"

  Leoni drew a deep breath of relief—checked halfway by the sound of auntie clearing her throat. What on earth was she going to say now?

  But all auntie said was: "What are you going to see?"

  "Going to see?"

  "Yes. Didn't you say this boy was taking you to the theater?"

  "Oh—" The very minor matter of what play they would see, compared with the tremendous fact that she would spend the evening with Lucas, had hardly bothered Leoni*s tnoughts. "I don't really know. At least—he said I could choose what I liked, but I don't know much about it. I've never been to a theater."

  Auntie gave a "tch, tch" of mingled pity and contempt. Pity for one who knew so little about the theater, and contempt for one who showed so little disposition to remedy that lamentable state of affairs.

  "You'd better go to see Veronica at the Coronet," stated auntie emphatically.

  But Trudie cried, "Oh, auntie! Not everyone shares your tastes."

  While Valerie said: "Sophie Rayter takes the leading part and auntie adores her.'

  "I'm not so silly as to adore anyone," snapped auntie. "But I know a great actress and a great personality when I see one. However, of course, Leoni can do just as she pleases. Go to some silly musical comedy or anything else she likes."

  "But I don't want to do that," Leoni exclaimed, only too glad to be able to combine her own wishes with pleasing the difficult auntie. "If you say this—this Sophie person is really awfully good in Veronica, I '11 choose that. I 'm glad to have advice from someone who really knows.''

  While bitterly deploring the description of her favorite as "this Sophie person," auntie was not proof against having her advice taken in this wholehearted manner. So she contented herself with the double-edged comment, "I think you'll enjoy it—//you get in."

  After that, to Leoni's inexpressible relief, the subject was changed, and she really dared to hope that her evening was safe.

  There was one other problem remaining, however, and on this she decided to consult Trudie. So at bedtime she called Trudie into her bedroom and asked earnestly, "What does one wear when one goes to the Savoy?"

  "Everything one's got. Why?" inquired Trudie.

  "Oh!'* Leoni looked greatly dismayed. "But I shan't have time to come home from the office and change, and—"

  "Come home from—My goodness! Are you expecting to go to the Savoy?" exclaimedTrudie.

  " I am going to the Savoy,'' Leoni told her.

  "Great Scott! Is he spending all his week's money on you?" inquired Trudie, greatly impressed.

  This was very awkward, Leoni saw.

  "Oh, I think he's got plenty," she declared, as casually as she could. "Anyway, he suggested the Savoy, and I said yes."

  "I bet you did!" exclaimed Trudie.

  "But there's this question of dressing," Leoni reminded her anxiously.

  "Oh, yes. Of course." Trudie immediately became extremely businesslike and Leoni saw, to her amusement and relief, that this was a problem after her own heart.

  "You'll have to wear that black frock—" Trudie walked around her critically. "It's nicely cut, anyway, and black's always safe. I suppose that collar comes off?"

  Leoni admitted that it did.

  "Good! Then I'll lend you my sequin collar and cuffs. You can change them over at the office. And Val must lend you her little fur jacket. It's not any special animal that I'd like to identify, but it looks nice. I expect it's our old friend the rabbit, in some form or another. Do you mind if I do things with your hat and make it look a bit more dashing?"

  Fascinated, Leoni declared she didn't mind what Trudie did with her hat.

  Fifteen minutes later, her faith was fully justified. With a needle and thread, a length of veiling which she produced from one of her drawers, and some ruthless cutting, Trudie produced from Leoni's serviceable felt quite the smartest little hat she had ever possessed.

  "Trudie, it's marvelous!" declared Leoni.

  "It is rather nice, isn't it?" agreed Trudie, turning it around on her hand. "Now we'll see about Val'scoat."

&n
bsp; "But I don't expect she'll want to lend it," protested Leoni.

  "Why not?" asked Trudie. "The family must rally around properly when an invitation to the Savoy's in question. You 'd do the same for one of us, wouldn 't you? "

  "Of course—if I had anything.'*

  "Well, there you are," Trudie said, and went off to consult Valerie about the coat.

  She returned—in so short a space of time that Leoni could not possibly suppose there had been any argument about it—triumphantly bearing a very pretty little brown fur jacket, and a really beautiful set of sequin collar and cuffs.

  "Here you are. I bought the collar and cuffs out of my first week's money because I just couldn't resist them. Aren't they super?"

  Leoni said fervently that indeed they were, and then Trudie showed her how to fix them on.

  "There, now you'll be all right," Trudie declared. "You won't exactly hit the headlines in Vogue, but you'll do him reasonable credit. Is he someone very nice?''

  "I think so," Leoni said.

  "And very well off?"

  "I—yes, I think he must bef"

  "He's not married, is he?" enquired Trudie with brisk common sense.

  "Oh, no. No, certainly not."

  "That's all right then. There's no sense in running around with a married man, and anyway it's a bit mean. But I expect they told you that, even in an orphanage."

  Leoni felt bound to admit that this had not entered into her general instruction at the orphanage, but added that she held the same view as Trudie anyway.

  Trudie expressed herself as satisfied, waved away any thanks on Leoni's part, but rather unexpectedly kissed her good night.

  This made Leoni feel somehow that she ought to tell Trudie all about Lucas Morrion. But as Trudie was obviously extremely sleepy by now and not at all anxious to stay and hear about anyone, no opportunity offered itself

  So Leoni quieted her tiresome conscience once again and, until she went to sleep, lay in bed thinking how nice she was going to look in Valerie's coat, Trudie's collar and cuffs, her own frock, and the hat that had been transformed.

  In some ways Leoni 's second day at the office was a good deal more agitating than the first.

  To begin with, it was very difficult to keep her full attention on her work, with the exciting evening in prospect. Then there was the thought that at any moment Lucas might come in, and—since he had indicated quite clearly that he did not intend any barrier to exist between them—he would no doubt greet her in a manner that would be difficult to explain to Miss Robinson, if not to the other girls. In this Leoni displayed great ignorance of the general office management since Lucas seldom, if ever, descended from the directorial Olympus to the typing office, but she was not to know that, of course.

  In addition, she was sent to take dictation for the first time. She felt certain that this could only be for either Lucas or his father, and suffered a moment of extreme panic. But she found almost immediately that her humble services were merely required by one of the junior managers—a nervous young man who was so extremely put out by having anyone but the typist to whom he was used that he dictated at a speed that Leoni could have taken down with great ease in longhand.

  By the end of the afternoon she felt quite extraordinarily tired—from emotional strain rather than overwork, she felt sure.

  *'Coming now?'* inquired Miss Coran, as they put their work away.

  **No. I—as a matter of fact I'm going out tonight," Leoni explained, wishing one didn't have to feel such a cheat about a simple evening out. But could one possibly say, *'No. Mr. Morrion's takmg me to the theater"?

  Decidedly one could not. So it had to remain an anonymous business.

  "Oh. Anything interesting?" inquired Miss Coran casually.

  "Dinner and a theater," Leoni said, trying not to sound as though this were the very first time she had done anything so exciting.

  "How nice. What are you going to see?"

  Leoni said she hoped and thought they were going to see Veronica.

  "Oh—Sophie Rayter. You'll have a job to get in unless the boyfriend's willing to run to orchestra seats," Miss Coran mformed her. Leoni murmured something noncom-

  mittal, and wondered what Miss Coran would have said if she had known that it was her employer to whom she was thus cavaUerly referring.

  When the others had gone, Leoni carefully donned her borrowed plumes, and surveyed as much of the result as was visible in the office mirror. As usual, excitement had lent a color to her cheeks and a brightness to her eyes that were by no means unbecoming.

  So it was with a feeling of considerable satisfaction that Leoni left the office—consulting a friendly policeman outside on the best way to get to the Savoy. She had not dared to ask Miss Coran for instructions, after discovering the effect which the one word Savoy had on Trudie.

  Later, sitting in her bus, Leoni reflected for the first time on the fact that Lucas had made no suggestion that he should accompany her direct from the office. Probably this was out of consideration for herself^ Leoni decided. Perhaps a girl who was taken out to dinner by one of the directors got herself talked about. With a little sigh, she wished suddenly that she were as shrewd and knowledgeable assay Trudie. Being brought up in an orphanage made it very difficult sometimes to judge people's motives—or even to decide what one should do oneself.

  To enter the Savoy for the first time in your life is always an experience. To enter it, knowing that the man you are most mterested in is waiting for you there, is a romantic adventure. No part of the thrill of it was lost upon Leoni. She was hardly even nervous as she stood lookmg around the brilliantly lighted lounse. It seemed to her that she stood on the edge of a lovely, sophisticated fairyland.

  And before she had time to feel scared or alone, he came toward her—dark, smiling, handsome—rather an arrogant and difficult Prince Charming, but attractive enough for the role.

  "This is delightful, Leoni,*' he said, apparently meaning that it was delightful of her to come out with him. "Come and have a cocktail and tell me about yourself. I suppose we might regard this as the first outing with your 'askmg-out-to-tea'uncle."

  She laughed to find that he had remembered her childish expression exactly. And then something caught in her throat, and she found that the laugh was not so very far

  away from tears. She was glad there was no necessity for her to say anything as he found them seats and ordered drinks, so that she was able to get over the little quiver of nostalgic emotion and to find time to wonder what he could possibly suppose she would have to tell him about herself

  But before that was put to the test, there was something else to settle, it seemed, for he turned to her with a smile and said, "Oh, what theater are we choosing, by the way? I might ring for seats now and make sure of them before we have dinner.**

  "I—rd like to go and see Veronica at the Coronet, please,'* Leoni said, hoping she sounded casual and knowledgeable, and not like a breathless beginner, trembling with excitement before her first play.

  To her surprise, he very slightly narrowed his fine eyes, and gave her a quick, penetrating glance.

  " Veronica, eh? Why do you want to see that?**

  She wondered confusedly if she only imagined that his tone had suddenly become cool and slightly guarded.

  "Well, I—heard it was good. And—and I want to see Sophie Rayter.*' Nervousness made her sound just a trifle defiant.

  There was a slight silence, perhaps because the drinks arrived at that moment—but it was an odd little silence, too, Leoni thought, and the arrival of the drinks hardly accounted for that.

  When the waiter had been paid and dismissed, Lucas picked up his glass and looked rather unsmilingly over it at his companion. "So you're curious to see Sophie Rayter,'* he said slowly. "All right, you shall," Then he gave her a quick little smile that bade her take up her glass, too.

  Leoni drank her cocktail and tried to look as though she liked it, which, in point of fact, was not the case at all. A
nd then he left her for a few minutes while he went to telephone to the theatre.

  Leoni had a slight uneasy feeling that Lucas had not, for some extraordinary reason, at all liked her choice of play, but she could not imagine that there was any serious reason for his regretting her choice.

  As he came up to her, she smiled at him and asked eagerly, "Was it all right? Did you get them?"

  *'Oh, yes." He smiled in return a little as though it were impossible to resist her youthful eagerness. "I got the seats all right.*'

  "Please tell me—I ought to have asked this before—didn't you want to go to Veronica?.''

  "Why, certainly." He was cool and quite imperturbable about that. "It's an excellent play, marvellously acted. A very good choice on your part.'

  She didn't say that the excellent choice was auntie's. Instead she blurted out what was in her mind.

  "I thought—I thought somehow you weren't very pleased about my choosing that."

  "You're quite mistaken." He smiled straight at her, but she knew with certainty that the smile was very cool that time. "Shall we go and have dinner now?"

  She came with him into the Grill Room, wishing now that she had not enlarged on the subject of the play. Or was she just imagining things—allowing her natural nervousness to present difficulties to her which did not in reality exist?

  For the next ten minutes she decided that this was indeed the case. Nothing could have been more friendly than the half-teasing, half-indulgent way he consulted her over their meal, seeing to it that she had exactly what she wanted, and yet giving her a good deal of advice on the things she could not possibly know.