The second collection of 3 great novels by Mary Burchell

by Burchell, Mary

  Leoni, remembering Julia's usual standard of punctuality, said she thought it would be better to come to the hotel, and Julia—no doubt with the same consideration in mind-said too true, and would Leoni be there about eleven o'clock?

  "Yes, I'll be there," Leoni promised. "And then do we go into the country from Waterloo?"

  "Not the country, exactly," Julia explained. "Just beyond Woking. It doesn't take long."

  "It was very kind of your friends to ask me, too," Leoni saidgratefully.

  "They aren't friends. Only relations," Julia said with a nice distinction.

  "Relations? Oh, I didn't know that."

  "Didn't you? Oh, didn't any of us explain?" Julia asked carelessly. "It's just Uncle Henry and Aunt Muriel, you know. Lucas's people. I thought you knew."

  "No," Leoni said slowly and rather carefully. "No, I didn't realize that."

  "I'm afraid I didn't realize it, either," Norman explained. "I passed on the invitation as being from friends."

  "It doesn't matter," Julia said amiably. "They're quite nice, both of them, and it's a lovely place. I expect you'll like it. Lucas will be there, too, no doubt, but that needn 't spoil it."

  "No," Leoni agreed gravely; "that needn't spoil it."

  And then she got into Norman's car, and they headed home.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  It was rather difficult to make light conversation after Julia's announcement, but Leoni did her best on the drive home. It was not a very long drive, fortunately, and there was plenty of conventional comment to be made about the cabaret they had just seen. Even so, she wondered if Norman—who was not lacking in perception—drew any conclusions of his own from her slightly disjointed talk.

  If so, he concealed the fact. He left her with a kindly— almost an affectionate—good night, and the promise that they would repeat the evening at some not very distant date.

  Once upstairs in her own room, Leoni meant to review the situation, make new decisions, examine fresh possibilities. But she found, as she undressed, that her thoughts were running around and around in an enchanted little circle, and the only coherent words that emerged were, 'Tm going to see him tomorrow! I'm going to see him tomorrow!"

  It was nine o'clock before she woke up, and bright cold sunshine was streaming into the room. Leoni dressed with all speed and ran downstairs. Sunday breakfast in the Dagram household was, as Trudie put it, a purely continental affair. Hot rolls and coffee and you had them when you liked. All you had to do was to put your own rolls in the oven, and pour yourself coffee from one of the big Thermos jugs on the dining-room table.

  Trudie herself was just finishing her breakfast when Leoni came in, and was already dressed for a day's walking with her latest attendant swain. Trudie, though not pretty by any stretch of the imagination, had an attraction of her own and was never without either companions or admirers.

  She was also always unfeignedly glad that anyone else should have as good a time as she did herself.

  "So you're going out for the day, too?'* she said, putting large lumps of butter on small pieces of roll. *'That's good. Which of the boyfriends is it today?"

  "Neither. At least—I mean—I'm going out with Juha and her mother."

  "Oh. Well, Julia's your special friend, isn't she? I expect you '11 enjoy yourself."

  "Yes," Leoni said, helping herself to coffee. "I'm sure to enjoy myself." And tJien, as though strict truth dictated the giving of a little more information, she added casually, "I shall probably be seeing Mr. Morrion, too. The one who took me to the Savoy, you know. His mother is Mrs. Vandeem's sister. We're going down to his home for the day."

  "That should be fun," Trudie said, hastily swallowing her last piece of roll. "I must fly. I promised to meet Brent at the train stop at quarter past. Bye bye. Have a good time." And, gathermg up her knapsack, kissing her mother, tapping the barometer and waving to her father, all en route to the front door and without apparently interrupting her progress, Trudie dashed off up the road at a smart pace.

  A quarter of an hour later Leoni followed, at something less than Trudie's speed, and with no signs whatever of the eager excitement that consumed her.

  Mrs. Vandeem believed in comfort in all things, so it was by taxi that they went to Waterloo, and in a first-class compartment that they left it.

  "I've only got a single for you, Leoni, dear," Mrs. Vandeem explained. "No doubt Lucas will be driving back tonight and might just as well take you. Julia and I are staying for the night and going on home direct tomorrow."

  Leoni murmured something to the effect that that would be very nice, but her heart began to beat rather fast.

  So she was not only going to spend the day in his home. She was to drive back in his exclusive company this evening. She could take it all with a clear conscience. It was none of her own arranging. Whether she liked it or not-well, that was not quite the right wording, of course. Whether she thought it right or wrong, she was to have him

  for hours and hours! It was no wonder that Julia remarked, "Well, you look cheerful enough, I must say.'*

  "It's such a beautiful day!" Leoni exclaimed.

  "Why, yes, I suppose it is—if you like below freezing point," Julia said, mspecting the day from the window of the train with something less than approval.

  (Xitside Woking station Lucas was waiting for them in his "«ar. He was reading the Sunday Times and was looking Quite agreeably ready to wait for his relations most of the aay.

  "Hello, Lucas, dear," Mrs. Vandeem said, kissing him whether he liked it or not, "I hope you haven't been waiting long. Somehow it wasn't possible to catch an earlier train."

  "I'm sure it wasn't," ne agreed, tucking a rug over her knees and opening the door into the back of the car for the girls. "But as mother said you expected to be here about half-past eleven, I knew quarter-past twelve would be a good time to start my vigil. It worked out splendidly."

  "And what would you have done if we d been on time?" demanded Julia pertly.

  "Had a stroke. My constitution isn't up to such shocks," retorted her cousin agreeably.

  "How naughty of you, but of course quite true," Mrs. Vandeem observed regretfully. "Oh, you know Leoni, don't you?" She waved a faintly introductory hand in Leoni's direction. "Yes, of course you do. She's in your office. But you mustn't talk shop. It's the poor child's weekend, after all."

  Lucas agreed gravely to respect this prohibition, without bothering to point out that it might be difficult for them to find a common ground on which to talk "shop."

  He had contented himself with a smile of welcome for Leoni, keeping most of his conversation for bantering replies to aunt and cousin.

  From her seat behind Mrs. Vandeem, Leoni had an excellent sideways view of him as he drove the car. He was hatless, and his thick dark hair was not quite as tidy as usual, so that there was somehow an air of slight informality about him that made him more endearing and less awe-inspiring.

  He was wearing brown tweeds—very well cut but not at all new—and his cream shirt made a sharp line between the

  brown of his coat-collar and the brown of his slightly tanned neck. While she listened to Julia's high-spirited babbling she watched Lucas and the quick change of expression on his face—and she wondered how she had had the resolution to snub him on Wednesday evening.

  About a quarter of an hour's drive brought them to a pleasant square stone house, set far back from the country road, with a screen of magnificent oaks in front. The short driveway up to the house was also bordered with trees, and drew an exclamation of pleasure and admiration from Leoni.

  "Oh, wait until you see the back of the house," Julia said. "I always think that's ten times prettier. It has a marvelous lawn and flower beds running right down to the river's edge, and there are trees there too, of course. Across the river is the old forest of Windsor. It somehow seems a pity that it's all at the back, only of course one can't very well turn it all around the other way now."

  "Not," Lucas agreed, "withou
t diverting the course of the river, too."

  The inside of the house proved no less attractive than the outside, and Leoni was very kindly welcomed by old Mr. and Mrs. Morrion. Mrs. Morrion, she saw, must be a good deal older than her sister, and in any case she had nothing of Mrs. Vandeem's lively and energetic outlook. Quite obviously her whole plan of existence centered around her son, and Leoni was touched and a good deal surprised to see with what unvarying, affectionate consideration he treated her. Somehow, had not thought of Lucas in the light of a dutiful—one might even say an indulgent—son. But certainly that was his air toward his mother.

  He seemed on rather less intimate terms with his father, but perhaps that was because old Mr. Morrion's first interest was evidently his own health, and after that—but rather a long way after—his business. Lucas didn't appear to loom very large on the horizon of his interests.

  "So you're one of my staif now?" He regarded Leoni not unkindly with bright penetrating eyes, which showed where Lucas got his fine eyes. "Good hardworking girl, I hope."

  "Don't be silly. Uncle Henry," said Julia before Leoni could answer for herself "Who wa^its to be asked if they're

  hardworking on a Sunday? It's almost going against the Bible."

  Mr. Morrion was extremely annoyed at this unwarranted criticism, and asked if anyone—by whom he evidently meant Mrs. Vandeem—was capable of controlling that girl of'ToorVandeem's."

  Rather unexpectedly Lucas said no, of course not, because most people liked her best the way she was.

  "Well, I don't,'* declared Mr. Morrion, but he pulled her hair with avuncular indulgence, to show that his wrath was short-lived. "I'm glad I don't have to have her in my office."

  "Miss-Robinson might buffet her into shape," Lucas said thoughtfully, though Leoni privately felt tnat the reverse might be the case.

  "Ah, she*s a good, hardworking girl, if you like," Mr. Morrion declared with satisfaction, though Leoni could not help thinking that he must be referring to Miss Robinson as she had been when she entered the firm twenty-five years ago, rather than Miss Robinson as she was now.

  "Leoni is a good girl, too," Lucas said quietly. "You may be quite satisfied with her appointment, father.

  The discussion of Leoni's office career was left at this

  Eoint, as lunch was announced, and they all went into a big, alf-paneled dining room, where there was an enormous wooa fire, and bay windows, which looked out over the garden to the river.

  "There! Isn't that nice?" Julia demanded. "But you ought to see it in summer, of course."

  "It's lovely even now," Leoni declared with sincerity, and Mrs. Morrion said kindly that she must come and see it later in the year.

  "If it isn t too cold, I'll take you out later on and show you the stretch of the river just here," Lucas said.

  "Much too cold," declared Mrs. Vandeem and Julia in unison at the same time as Leoni said, "I'd love it."

  "I'll take you." Lucas smiled across at her, so that she thought, / neer realized before that his smile can be almost sweet, when he isn 7 being cynical and hard.

  Lunch was a very pleasant meal. Leoni didn 't take much part in the conversation, being rather shy at finding herself the only member outside the family circle. But she was by

  no means overlooked and, more than once, Lucas asked her directly for her opinion on something that was being discussed.

  She wondered whether that easy promise to take her along the river would be difficult to carry out, with such determined planners as Mrs. Vandeem and Julia around. But after lunch the party fell into perfectly natural groups. Mr. Morrion frankly proposed to take his afternoon nap-without which, it appeared, his digestion could not be relied on to function satisfactorily—while Mrs. Morrion wanted to show Mrs. Vandeem and Julia several alterations in the furnishing of the house and additions to her wardrobe (for she seemed a worldly lady in these matters) which had taken place since they were last there. Leoni was, of course, very welcome to take part in this display, but Lucas seized the opportunity adroitly.

  "Would you like to get your coat and come out now?" he asked her, and Leoni nodded eagerly and ran off to fetch her coat, suddenly happy at the thought that, if her new coat—bought for her to start on office life—was not exactly a French model, at least it was a nice fluffy blanket cloth and more or less the same blue as her eyes.

  From the glance he gave her as she rejoined him in the hall, she thought he was not unaware of these modest attractions.

  Opening a glass door at the end of the hall, he led the way into the garden, turning to give her his hand as she descended the slightly worn stone steps. Without comment he somehow retamed her hand in his as they started down the garden path to the river bank, and Leoni began to ask herself if all her anguished—though perhaps halfhearted-efforts to put a gap between them had really been taken at all seriously. Perhaps his mind was running on the same lines, because his first remark was abrupt and to the point.

  "When I phoned on Wednesday you didn't tell me it was with Julia that you were going out last night. *'

  "Didn't I?" She tried to sound casual, blushed, and knew that she must look guilty. "I ... I went out with her and Norman Conby. We ... we went dancing," she added, a little unnecessarily, in the nervous belief that a full, if belated, explanation was the only possible thine now.

  "Yes, I know. Julia told me. He glanced at her and

  Take Me With You ^^^

  smiled. "Do you know—*' he drew her slightly toward him by the hand he was holding "—I didn't really quite believe in that prior engagement when you first told me about it."

  "D-didn't you? Oh, but why not?" She tried to sound surprised.

  I think," he said slowly, "because you didn't intend me to believe in it.^'

  "Oh, that's not very kind of you! You make me sound very rude." She wondered if her protest sounded as hollow to him as it did to her.

  "No, my dear." He spoke rather gently. "Not rude at all. Only—conscientious and trying to do the right thing."

  She was absolutely silent, and he went on quietly and deliberately, "You wanted to indicate as tactfully as possible that you didn't intend to come out with me again, aidn't you?"

  With a painful effort of will, Leoni nodded slowly.

  "Well, Leoni, the indication is accepted. Don't look so serious, child." And he smiled at her, but as her head was bent she missed that.

  "It ... it isn't that I don't want to come," she exclaimed breathlessly and unwisely. -

  "No?" The single word left her free to say more or not, as she pleased. But it was beyond Leoni to leave things unexplained again.

  "You see, I can't help feeling that-that-" Trudie's rather crude words returned to her "—that it's a bit mean to run around with a married man."

  "Oh, I see." If he wanted to smile he certainly suppressed the impulse completely. "Mean to yourself or to the—the married man?"

  "Oh, neither. I think it's mean to the wife," Leoni asserted with simple candor.

  "To the—Oh yes, of course. A good, safe, general rule," he agreed dryly.

  She glanced at him, and thought she had never seen him look so hard and cynical.

  "Lucas!" she exclaimed on impulse, "don't look like that!" And she came close to his siae, slipping her arm into his and holding it rather hard.

  "Like what?" He looked faintly surprised then.

  "Oh—hard and bitter and ... miserable."

  "I am hard and bitter and ... miserable," he said slowly, as though a little surprised to have his feelings described so accurately.

  "Dear, I'm so sorry.'* It was suddenly quite natural to be speaking to him like this. '*Is it... is it such a dreadful business, this marriage with Sophie?"

  "Well...." He absently pressed the arm which held his. "Look here, Leoni, there's nothing much more caddish than the unhappily married man pouring his awful matrimonial woes into the ears of some nice sympathetic little girl, and—"

  "I'm notjust some nice, sympathetic little gir
l."

  "No?" He smiled faintly. "What are you then?"

  "I ... I'm one of your oldest friends," she said with a determined smile, though she really felt more like crying.

  He laughed softly and, stopping, took her face gently between his hands and looked at her.

  "Bless you, darling," he said. But he didn't kiss her, though Leoni thought he was going to, and wanted him to almost more than anything else she had ever wanted in her life.

  "Won't you—won't you tell me a little more about it—just between old friends?" she said coaxingly.

  He let her go and, drawing her arm through his again, strolled on.

  "I don't know that there's really very much to tell, Leoni. I was mad about her when I met her first in Paris. She was

  ?iuite a bit older than I, of course, and already with the ascinating aura of success around her. I asked her a dozen times to marry me—so I can't pretend it was anything but my own fault. Then I inherited a great deal of money, you know. I don't know whether I should say that had anything to do with it—but the next time I asked her to marry me she said yes instead of no."

  Leoni drew in her breath sharply but she didn't actually interrupt him.

  "She absolutely refused to have it made public, however—insisted that she was ten times more popular as an unmarried star, and I don't doubt she was right. I didn't really care what people thought or knew, so long as I could have her with me, and I was ready to agree to any conditions she liked to impose. We were married in Paris, quite

  secretly, and never at any time did we set up any sort of home together.*'

  **Lucas, what a frightful arrangement! **

  He shrugged. "I took it on entirely of my own free will-don *t forget that.'*

  "You must have been pretty youne and silly," Leoni said gently, and at the almost maternal note in her voice he laughed softly and pressed her arm against his side.

  "Well, at least I was very headstrong and obstinate. Of course, in spite of all the care we took, a certain amount of rumor began to circulate, particularly after we came back to England. I suppose the general idea, among people who knew anything about it, was that we were having a prolonged affair. Naturally the general public knew nothing and, to all intents and purposes, Sophie remained as she wished to be—an unmarried star."