The second collection of 3 great novels by Mary Burchell

by Burchell, Mary

  "I'll think it over," Harriet said curtly.

  And before he could say anymore she ran up the steps and let herself into the house.

  Only, when she had closed the door again she leaned against it, trembling with a fear out of all proportion to the occasion. And unable to keep back a few of the tears, which had been threatening her all evening, she gave one or two soundless little sobs and fumbled for her handkerchief.

  As she did so, Lin came out of the study and flashed on the hall light.

  "Hello. I thought I heard-Harriet! What on earth is the matter?"

  He was beside her in a moment, his arm around her and his free hand reassuringly clasping hers.

  "What is it, my dear? Have you been frightened or something?"

  "No," she whispered, feeling indescribably silly and

  indescribably comforted. '*It's all right. I ... I thought everyone was in bed."

  "Everyone else is. And I was just going.*' He led her into his study while he was talking to her and, seating her in a chair by the dying fire, he stood looking down.at her with afifectionate concern. "Can't you tell me what's wrong?"

  Oh, if she could! If only she could!

  Instead, she had* to grope about in her tired and harassed mind for some explanation that would not only be plausible, but would be in line with the attitude Brent was forcing her to take up. She couldn't just plead that Brent had been offensive or alarming or objectionably unmanageable, because, in the very near future, she was going to have to behave as though she liked his company.

  "It ... it really wasn't anything much." She forced herself to a rueful and shamed little laugh. "I wouldn't have allowed myself the silly luxury of a few tears if I'd dreamed that anyone was about. It ... it was rather a disappointing evening, and—"

  "I think you'd better tell me just what Brent did," he interrupted dryly. "Once and for all. I do not intend to have him insult or upset you."

  "Oh, he didn't! It wasn't anything like that."

  "No?" Lin was evidently a good deal surprised by her emphatic denial.

  "No. He—we—oh, it was a specially pleasant and delightful evening, right up to the end. And then we—we had some words on the way home. Rather—rather a stupid quarrel. I don't know why I let it upset me so much, but—" her voice trailed away. And then she added a little feebly, ^'Well-well, there it is."

  "But do you mean to say—" he looked astounded and not especially pleased "—I know it's not my business, but do you mean to say you cried over a minor quarrel with Brent Penrose?"

  "Oh, I know it ... it sounds silly."

  His face darkened, and some of the friendly concern went out of it, to be succeeded by all the signs of his having received a most unpleasant surprise.

  "I hadn't realized that... that Brent's behavior meant all that much to you," he said, rather stiffly. And then, "I'm

  afraid I should apologize for trying to make you enlarge on a private matter.! rather put my foot in it, didn't I?"

  **No. No, not at all, she assured him miserably. But, because she could not possibly explain the real situation to him, she had to let him go on thinking whatever seemed to him to be a reasonable—though unwelcome—explanation of the scene.

  There was an awkward little silence. Then she got up and said, **ril go up to bed now. Thank you for being kind. I'm ... rmsoriylwassosilly."

  "Don't mention it," he said formally. But whether he meant his kindness or her silliness, she was not quite sure.

  She went to bed, feeling that fate could hardly deal her any more blows.

  Next day, of course, life went on as usual. Or almost as usual. To all appearances, nothing momentous had taken place. After all, that small scene with Lin could hardly be considered momentous.

  And yet—Harriet knew that some subtle change had come about.

  As everyone, except Mrs. Mayhew—who rose late—breakfasted together on Sundays, Harriet was able to take an early opportunity of considering whether her scene with Lin was to have any repercussions. And before the end of the meal she feared that he had put all too serious a construction on her so-called concern over a difference with Brent.

  Although he was perfectly friendly to her, she could not help noticing that he devoted so much of his conversation to his sister and the children that he really had very little occasion to speak to her at all. At any other time, of course, she would hardly have noticed this, but today every detail had its anxious significance.

  During the day, she assured herself several times that she was imagining things. But the aext day, and for several following days, the horrid conviction grew upon her that Lin's deepening friendship had received a considerable check.

  On the Thursday of that week, Lin had promised to take the afternoon off and to drive Betty and the children out to some ruins that the children had often heard about from their mother. It had been a favorite picnicking spot when

  she and her brothers had been young, and, ahhough the weather precluded anything in the nature of a picnic just now, the twins—and, under their able coaching, Rick, also-had clamored to be taken to see the place.

  When Thursday came, it was found that Betty had developed a cold.

  "I aon't want to disappoint them now." She looked pityingly at her disconsolate offspring. "Do you think you can manage them on your own, Lm?"

  "Of course!" began their uncle confidently.

  But Mrs. Mayhew interrupted with a better suggestion.

  "Let Harriet go, too. I daresay she would like the trip, wouldn't you, dear?"

  There was not an immediate and enthusiastic agreem^ent from Lin—who could, of course, just have been waiting to hear her opinion, or could have been deliberately withholding any encouragement. But among the children there was no lack of enthusiasm.

  "Oh, yes, do come!" cried Delia hospitably.

  While Gerald said, "Auntie Harriet can come in our chariot."

  And the baby tried to stand on his head, while he chanted "Auntie Harriet come, too! Auntie Harriet come, too!"

  "That seems to settle it." Lin smiled politely at her. And Harriet ran off to get ready.

  There was the usual discussion about who should sit where in the car, the twins declaring that they wanted Harriet in the back with them, and Harriet saying that she thought one of them should go in front, so that she could have Rick with her in the back.

  It was Lin who settled the question uncompromisingly.

  "Aunt Harriet is coming in front with me," he informed the twins, "and you can take young Rick between you and see that you all behave. The first one that starts jumping up and breathing down the back of my neck gets thrown out and has to walk home."

  The children giggled delightedly at this prospect, and peaceably accepted his ruling.

  At first, Harriet turned sideways, so that she could talk to the children over the back of the seat. But they soon became absorbed in some guessing game, which required the closest attention to everything that passed them on the road. So she

  settled more comfortably in her seat, and, as she did so, Lin said in something much more like his old tone, "Tm glad you were able to come this afternoon. *'

  *'Oh, so am I!" There was no mistaking the eager pleasure of her response, and he smiled to himself in a satisfied way, as he negotiated a rather awkward turning.

  *'I was wondering if you would like to come with me to the theater one night next week. There *s quite a good repertory company at Barndale, and they're doing that new Fergus Jamieson play which made such a sensation in London last autumn. Did you see it?"

  "No. No, I didn't see it. '* Harriet wondered if her correct, almost formal phrases were adequately concealing her desire to sing with joy. '*I should love to go if... if—*' She was going to say, "If you have time," but realized that this too obviously reflected the mood of humility that overwhelmed her, so she hastily changed it to, "if you can get tickets. *' , "Well, I got a couple for the first night, as a matter of fact, I on the chance of your being able to come.'' I
"How lovely," Harriet said. And this time there was no I disguising the fact that she would have liked to sing with

  It seemed to Harriet, after that, that the expedition was the most enchanting that had ever been undertaken by three excited children and two happy grown-ups.

  For Lin was happy. She could not doubt it. For that afternoon at least, he cast aside the shadows of his broken engagement, and the formality that had seemed to follow on his belief that she found Brent attractive. He was gay and lighthearted with the children, and a most understanding and informative uncle about the many things they wished to know. The twins were at an age when the search for miscellaneous knowledge is insatiable, and they made him take them over every inch of the ruins and tell them—or reconstruct for them—every incident that had happened there.

  Rick, though curious by nature, had had more than enough long before the end. And presently he and Harriet went back to wait in the car while the others completed the grand tour. He was tired, and a little cold, so that he was very willing to forget that these days he was a boy, rather

  than a baby, and climbed on to Harriet's lap and went to sleep.

  Lin, coming back somewhat ahead of the happily dawdling twins, found them sitting there in the front seat, Rick curled up in Harriet's arms fast asleep, and Harriet, with her cheek resting against his soft, feathery hair, at least half asleep too.

  It was the sound of Lin's laugh that roused her.

  "Oh, hello." She sat up and blinked a little. "I believe I was nearly asleep.''

  "Well, go back to sleep if you want to," he told her indulgently. "You both look very contented there together."

  She smiled at him, still a little drowsy and would almost have obeyed his injunction. Only, just as her lashes drooped again, she became aware that he was looking at her with the most extraordinary degree of concentration. As though, in some way, he saw her for the first time, and, in so doing, ex{>erienced some tremendous revelation.

  He turned away almost immediately and, fumbling with the hood of the car, appeared to become immersed in a minute examination of the engine, which had behaved perfectly during the drive.

  She was not sleepy anymore. She felt keenly, tinglingly awake, as though something in Lin's glance had ignited some answering spark in her. It was as though they had both trembled on the brink of a momentous discovery and then had turned away, a little dazzled by the radiance of what they had glimpsed.

  "Lin—" she said softly, and hardly of her own volition. "Lin—" And then she was terribly afraid that she had imagined the whole thing.

  But he looked up from his examination of the car, and, .although he was very calm now, she saw she had not imagined anything. The moment of revelation had passed, leavmg him shaken and slightly bewildered, but his eyes were still those of a man who had looked for a moment just a little beyond the boundary of practical vision.

  He turned from what he was doing and took a step toward her.

  And at that moment the twins came panting up the last

  few yards of the slope, and Gerald asked cheerfully, "What's the matter, uncle?''

  *'The—matter?" For once his uncle looked at him as though he were entirely superfluous. "Nothing. What should be the matter?"

  "Oh, I just thought—you had the hood of the car up. I was wondering if something had gone wrong with the works."

  Lin glanced back absently at the still-raised hood of the car.

  "The car?" he said. "Oh, no. There's nothing wrong." Turning, he proceeded to fasten the hood into place again. "No, there's nothing wrong. Everything is—extraordinarily all right."

  And Harriet saw that he was smiling to himself, as he helped his young niece and nephew back into the car.

  CHAPTER TEN

  In contrast to the first anxious days of that week, the last ones were blissfully happy to Harriet.

  Not only was Lin's reserve entirely melted but, since the" afternoon expedition, he seemed to have added a new quality to his manner toward her, which could only be described as tenderness. His concern for her welfare, his interest in her small affairs, were those of someone to whom she had suddenly become personally important.

  It was a change so slight, and yet so important, that she alternated between doubt whether she imagined it, and delicious certainty that she had not.

  Nothing—not even her anxiety about Brent's future intentions—could dim the radiance of this ever new and ever wonderful discovery. And, as though the fates had indeed relented, and intended her to have some compensation for the misery she had endured, Brent telephoned late on Friday to say that, unfortunately, he would not be able to take her out on the Saturday evening, after all

  In the confidence of her new-found happiness, she almost told him that she could not care less. But because the very sound of his voice reminded her of the insecurity of her position she said merely that it was quite all right. And, to her relief and surprise, he rang off almost immediately.

  Perhaps, thought Harriet hopefully, the difficulties that Dilys*s departure were supposed to precipitate, were already upon him. And that being so, it was not too much to hope that he might soon be leaving the district—which should mean the end of her troubles, and the beginning of something so wonderful that she hardly dared to formulate it even to herself

  Her evening at the theater with Lin was all that she had known it would be. Even if the play had been dull and feeble, she would still have enjoyed herself But, as it happened, the evening was perfect in this respect, too. An excellent play, the company she would have chosen above anyone else in the world, and the knowledge that her own supreme content was echoed in Lin. There was nothing else Harriet could have asked.

  Unless it was the certainty that this happiness was to continue.

  Afterward, she was to marvel at her own naive confidence and optimism. In words that could hardly be mistaken. Brent had warned her that she was in what he called a vulnerable position. At the time, she had understood the implied threat and been terrified. And yet, before the sunshine of her present joy, that terror and understanding had melted. She basked in her fool's paradise, and no one had ever enjoyed the experience more.

  Her only regret was that the visit of Betty and the children was coming to an end. But there were promises of an early return visit and, even in the moment of departure, something happened that served to heighten her awareness of promised joy.

  Betty, who was not an especially demonstrative person, kissed her goodbye, and said, with friendly candor, "Look after Lin, as well as mother. I 'm glad they both have you. *'

  And, if that meant anything at all, it could only mean that Betty had noticed her brother's growing preference for Harriet and approved it.

  Even though the house seemed silent and a little sad without the children's voices echoing through it, Harriet felt singularly lighthearted that afternoon after they had gone. Mrs. Mayhew was lying down, and only the distant sound of Priscilla singing an extraordinarily lugubrious hymn broke the stillness. Alone in the front sitting room, Harriet industriously mended linen and built golden castles in the air.

  When she first heard a car turning into the driveway, she thought Lin must be coming home early. But it was followed, not by the sound of his key in the door, but by the ring of the door bell. And, while Priscilla desisted from her

  vocal exercises and went to answer its summons, Harriet had time to feel curiosity—and then apprehension.

  By the time Brent was shown in by the eternally admiring Priscilla, she had made the complete and disturbing transition from her mood of guileless content to one of sharpened anxiety.

  "Hello, I thought I might find you alone at this time in the day," was Brent's greeting. And this time there was nothing provoking and impudent about it. It was a statement of fact, carrying the implication that it was necessary that he should see her alone.

  "Won't you sit down?" Harriet said. And even as she said it she knew this was not to be an occasion of conventional chitchat and social nothings. Br
ent looked unusually serious and purposeful.

  He accepted tier invitation, however, sitting down in the chair opposite her and stretching out his long legs in front of him m his habitual attitude of relaxation. But, almost immediately, she noticed, something jerked him out of his usual nonchalance and he sat up again, leaning forward, his arms on his knees and his hands lightly clasped between them.

  Yet, when he spoke, all he said was, "I was sorry to have to cancel Saturday. I couldn 't help it."

  "It didn't matter," Harriet told him composedly. And then, on an impulse of defiance which she couldn't quite explain: "I went to the theater on Monday, with Lin, instead."

  "Is that so?" Brent very slightly narrowed his eyes so that they were no longer soft and matinee idolish. "Well, I'm afraid I'm going to have to put a stop to outings with other men."

  "You-what?"

  It was not often that Harriet's eyes flashed. But in that moment there was such a blaze of anger in them that Brent caught his breath on an admiring little laugh.

  "Sorry! It really does sound rather oflficious, if you don't quite-"

  "Officious!" cut in Harriet. "It's the most impudent nonsense. If you think you 're going to dictate when and with whom I go out, you're very much mistaken. When I went out with you before, it was simply—simply—"

  "That you dared not refuse,'* he finished brutally. *'And the same thing holds good today, Harriet."

  She paled slightly, but she held on to her courage with both hands.

  "You are wrong to suppose that I would allow you to dictate every detail of my life, on a threat of blackmail,'* she said coldly. "I don*t know what important issue you hope to force, simply by holding that—that ambiguous letter. But, if you wish to use it at all, I suppose you would hardly waste it on so small a matter as trying to interfere with my social comings and goings. It's been rather stupid of you to try to force the point too far."