The second collection of 3 great novels by Mary Burchell

by Burchell, Mary

  And yet—so strange and indestructible a thine is hope, that there were times when Harriet allowed herself to imagine that there might come a day when she was free, and all the misunderstandings were explained away, and Lin looked on her, not with hurt and furious bewilderment, but with understanding and tenderness. She never visualized the steps by which this was to be brought about—indeed, if she even tried to, she became depressed by the wretched realities of the situation—but, just as one hopes illogically and baselessly to draw the lottery ticket that will win a fortune, so Harriet hoped that one day everything would somehow come all right.

  When Lin had been away nearly a month, she began to wonder, with mingled hope and anxiety, just what his attitude would be during his customary few days at home,

  The matter was never put to the test. He wrote to his mother to say that the accumulation of work during his prolonged absence from London would prevent his leaving town for some time. He was very sorry—but there it was.

  And when Mrs. Mayhew told Harriet this, her face was unusually grave and stern. So that Harriet could not possibly escape some sensation of guilt and the knowledge that her employer thought her responsible for her son's absence.

  Mrs. Mayhew was a tolerant and understanding woman, but it must seem to her that Lin's behavior could only be explained by Harriet having raised his hopes and then

  dashed them. Besides, she had a strong vein of family pride, and Harriet guessed that it must seem to her incomprehensible and ridiculous that Brent Penrose should be preferred above her son.

  This being so, how much longer would she wish to have in her house a constant reminder of this absurd state of affairs? A reminder, moreover, which seemed to make the place unbearable to her son.

  When this is all over, and Brent has released me and given me the letter, I shall probably have to go away, Harriet thought, with sad realism. Mrs. Mayhew is too Just to blame me outright for what has happened. But if her son feels he can't return home while the mere companion is there, it*s asking a lot of her to expect her to keep the companion rather than her son. I suppose I shall have to pretend that Maxine needs me, or that I ve been offered a wonderful job elsewhere or something.

  But first, of course, she would have to go through the farce of breaking her nonexistent engagement, and to suffer the additipnal humiliation of appearing to be a silly, capricious creature who didn't know her own mind for three months together. By the time she had played out her distasteful role in full, the Mayhews would probably both feel that they would be glad to see the last of her.

  Meanwhile, on the surface, life went on pretty much as usual. Until one early afternoon in June when Harriet was summoned to the telephone.

  It was Brent's voice that addressed her—but with a quaUty of urgency in it that she had never heard before.

  " Is that you, Harriet? "

  "Yes."

  **I must see you. I want to talk to you alone. Can you come over here to see me?''

  "Right away, do you mean?"

  "Yes. Right away."

  "Couldn't you come here instead?" she objected. "It's a little awkward—"

  "No. I can't be absolutely certain of having you to myself then, with no chance of interruption. Hurry up, there's a good girl. You can manage it all right, if you try. You don't often ask the old lady for time off."

  This was true, of course, and Harriet knew that it would

  be no more than a matter of form to ask Mrs. Mayhew if she could spare her for an hour or two. So she agreed. And, having told Mrs. Mayhew where she was going, she walked across the fields, by the short way, to the luxurious bungalow that the Penroses had managed to acquire—no one ever knew quite how—on a long lease at a phenomenally low rent.

  Brent must have guessed she would come that way. For before she had reached the garden gate he had come out to meet her.

  As she came up to him, Harriet saw that she had not imagined that note of urgency in his voice. Something in his expression confirmed it, and made her realize that there were times when the casual, philandering Brent could be very much in earnest.

  "What is it, Brent?*' Following his lead, she came over and sat down in one of the expensive cane chairs, which were grouped under the big cedar tree in the garden. "Have you had some—some disturbing news?"

  He nodded.

  "About Dilys and Roddy?'*

  "Dilys? Oh, no." He seemed to have forgotten that for weeks and weeks now the affairs of his sister and her husband had been the subject of rather anxious speculation. Then, as though suddenly recalling something or secondary importance, he added, "Oh, yes, as a matter of fact, I did have a letter from Dilys this morning. They're in Cape Town, and everything in the garden seems wonderful—"

  "Brent! I'msoelad."

  "But that wasn t what I wanted to tell you."

  "No?" Anxiety, which never lay far below the level of her consciousness, showed in her eyes. "What is it, then?"

  "It's about me—my affairs. I'm afraid I'm going to need your help, after all. Or rather, of course, Lin's" help." At her mstinctive gesture of protest, his mouth hardened unbelievably. "That was the arrangement, jou know. '*

  "Yes, but—well, what do you want me to do?"

  "You'll have to go to London—"

  "London? I can't possibly. I am here to look after Mrs. Mayhew. I can't just suddenly—"

  "You must make some excuse. Good heavens, one can always make an excuse! You have a sister there, haven't

  you? Well, then she can be ill—dying—whatever you like. But it*s imperative that you go to London. It probably wouldn't be necessary for you to stay over more than one night. You can make some arrangement for Mrs. Mayhew. The mother of that girl—what's her name? Priscilla—would come in for one night. Or the vicar's sister, if he's got one, or somebody's maiden aunt. It doesn't matter. But you must go to London tomorrow—"

  "Tomorrow!"

  "Yes, yes. Of course. I'd have made it today, only it would be too late to get anything done when we got there, even if we did go today—"

  "You didn 't say you were coming, too."

  "Well, I am coming, too. All I want of you is that you should prepare the ground for me. I can't coach you in the intricacies of the position. What you have to do is to see Lin for me, show all the distress you can muster and beg him to do all he can for me. Don't look so sick about it. This was what you undertook to do, if it became necessary."

  "Yes, I know. But-"

  "But what?"

  What indeed! She made a helpless little gesture, which was nothing but a sign of her despairing realization of the difference between theory and practice. She had felt sufficiently terrible when she had undertaken to do this if it ever became necessary. But that was nothing to the chill despair that engulfed her now that it had become reality. Now that she actually had to face Lin in less than twenty-four hours and beg him to do something distasteful, for the sake of Brent, whom she loved.

  "Ifldothis-"

  "There is no question of'if,' Harriet. This is what you undertook to do, and if you try to back out on me now—well, anyway, I 'm sure you won't.''

  "Well, then—vv/ie/i I have done this, what happens next? Where do you come in?''

  "Why, first you stage your scene of distress and pleading—and for heaven's sake, Harriet, do the thin§ well—and speak to him in general terms about interceding on my behalf Then, when you've melted him, you arrange for him to see me, so that I can make a clean breast of the whole thing." She saw Brent was already almost enjoying the

  artistic details of his role of semi-penitent. "After that there's nothing for me to do but explain in detail how he can help me. That's why it's necessary for me to see him myself You couldn't absorb all the details of the position at such short notice."

  "And suppose I don't succeed, and he won't see you?"

  "But you must succeed, Harriet. If you don't, I shall know you didn't really keep your word, but just scamped the whole thing. I know you re capable of making a s
cene that will stir him. If you don't I shall show him Dilys's letter. You remember that, my girl!" He laughed, with quite genuine amusement. "It will spur you on to fresh heights of eloquence and probably make you able to produce some frightened tears, which will be quite in keeping with the distressed fiancee."

  "You are a beast!" she exclaimed fiercely.

  "Nonsense, Harriet." He actually laughed. "It's just that I see the thing in all its proper detail."

  She was silent. She felt like telling him that she dared him to do his worst—that he could show Lin the letter, for there was nothing left between them to spoil and it could not alter the situation.

  But she knew that she could not face that. Further deterioration of the situation might not be possibk. But, even if she never saw Lin again, she could not bear to have him read that letter and believe that she had deliberately tried to estrange Dilys from him so that she might make him notice herself She had put up with much in her relationship with Lin. But that final indignity and injustice she could not bear.

  "When do we go to London?"

  The single, almost sullen, question marked her capitulation and he drew a quick breath of relief

  "Tomorrow morning, by the nine-thirty from the Junction. I'll drive us through there, which will cut out all that dawdling on the local Ime, and we can garage the car for a couple of days until we return. You 'd better go back now ana tell Mrs. Mayhew you've had a telegram from your sister. I can supply you with a form and a used telegraph envelope, if you want something to clutch in your hand. You might say that— "

  "I am not saying anything on the lines you suggest,"

  Harriet stated coldly and distinctly. **I believe you lie just for the sheer love of lying. It doesn 't take fne that way. I shall simply say that you want me to go to Lx)ndon with you on some very urgent business and—'*

  "Oh, but, Harriet! Will that wash?"

  "Of course it will. Why not?"

  *'Oh, I don't know. It seems so—so feeble, somehow."

  She laughed shortly.

  "It's just your natural aversion to the truth which makes you feel that way. You can leave me to deal with the question of explaming my absence in my own way. What time will you call for me tomorrow morning? "

  "Eight o'clock."

  "Eight o'clock? All right. I'll be ready."-

  "Good girl!" he said. And the heartiness with which he said it was the measure of his relief at having achieved at any rate his principal objective.

  As she walked back across the field, Harriet forced herself not to look more than one stage ahead. She would not think about the journey to London or the interview with Lin. She would keep herself calm, and merely consider what she was going to say to Mrs. Mayhew.

  When it came to the point, she said what she had told Brent she would say—the truth.

  "I know it's terribly inconvenient and sudden, but Brent is in some sort of trouble," she explained earnestly to Mrs. Mayhew. "He has to go to London tomorrow, and he needs me with him. He wants me to see someone who can help him. Someone with—with whom I should have much more weight than he would. An old friend of mine."

  That last was the only deviation from the strict truth that she permitted herself And Mrs. Mayhew did not query her explanation in any way.

  'Of course, my dear, if it's so urgent, you must go. Will you be away long? "

  "I hope not more than one night. I daresay Priscilla's mother would come in for once."

  "It really isn't necessary." Mrs. Mayhew smiJed. "If you remember, Priscilla ^nd I managed perfectly well during ,the week before you arrived. And Mrs. Court stays quite late."

  "I would be happier if I knew there was someone else,"

  Harriet said. And her affectionate anxiety was so patent that Mrs. Mayhew yielded, and told her to make what arrangements she pleased.

  It was a busy evening. An absence of even a couple of days, at such short notice, raised several minor proolems with which Harriet had to deal. But she attended to everything, coolly and meticulously. She was glad to do so. It gave her so little time then to think of other things.

  She even remembered to send a telegram to Maxine, telline her that she would be in London on business and would stay the following night at the flat, if that were convenient. She knew that it would be convenient. If Maxine had been asked to put up a family of six at three hours* notice she would have contrived to do so with the assistance of her—amazingly—always willing friends.

  Not until Harriet got into bed that night did her thoughts have really free rein. And then there was only one supremely important fact, which swamped all others in her consciousness.

  Tomorrow I shall see Lin.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Brent had one virtue. His worst enemy could not have accused him of unpunctuaUty—particularly where his own interests were concerned. And at eight o'clock precisely, on the following morning, he called for Harriet.

  She was ready, having already gone to Mrs. Mayhew*s room to bid her goodbye. It seemed mean, somehow, not to ask if she had any special message for Lin. But that, of course, was impossible.

  Brent smiled at her brilliantly as soon as she came to the door. And really, to judge from his air, they might have been setting off on the most lighthearted expedition. He was, she knew, peculiarly susceptible to externals, and probably the brightness of the day served to raise his spirits. But even so, she marveled that his anxieties sat on him so Ughtly.

  She remembered what he had said about his "shameless optimism," and she thought, That's just what it is. He is certain that I am going to get him out of his mess, and he is not in the least worried because the method is unscrupulous.

  As they drove through the blossoming countryside, in the full beauty of an early June morning, Harriet thought how intensely she could have enjoyed it all if her mind had been free from worry. But there was no chance of forgetting what lay ahead. Brent, with an air of good-natured determination, insisted on going over the details of his simple plan of action.

  "We should be in town soon after midday," he told her. "And you must telephone Lin at once, asking him to see you."

  "Suppose he is busy and can't see me?"

  "Nonsense. He will fit you in somehow."

  *'He may be in Court all day."

  "Then you must arrange with his secretary that he rings you as soon as he returns to his office. Or else leave a message that you will telephone him at home this evening. Don't raise difficulties, Harriet. We'll deal with them as they come along. The only thing you have to remember is to maice it sound so urgent that he will put off everything short of a summons from the Lord Chief Justice."

  "How exactly do I do that?" Harriet inquired dryly.

  "Good heavens! Use your imagination a little. You're worse than Dilys," he told her, with amused scorn. "Say that you've come up from home on purpose, because what you have to discuss with him simply couldn't wait. Hint that something rather serious has happened at Fourways. Suggest-"

  "I'm surprised you haven't thought of teUing me to say Mrs. Mayhew is ilf," Harriet commented sarcastically.

  "No, no! Nothing as definite as that. He'd simply be irritated when he found out that it wasn't true. And that would put him in a bad mood for the interview right away. I'm afraid your natural powers of deception are very poor, Harriet." And he laughed, as though the whole thing were a joke, instead of a matter of deadly seriousness for both of them.

  At the station, he looked after her with exceptional care, seeing to it that she had a comfortable corner seat and was supplied with papers and magazines. She supposed, with passing amusement, that all this was just as natural to him as the less likable side he could show. If only he had been bom very rich, with no responsibilities—if such people ever really existed—how charming he would have been, reflected Harriet grimly.

  The journey could not, in any circumstances, have been enjoyable for her. Part of the time she stared at one or other of her newspapers, pretending to read. But whether she did that or gaz
ed out of the window, her thoughts were the same. / am going to see Lin—to speak with him. But what I have to say will take him still farther away from me. It can 7 be anything but a misery and humiliation. But I am going to see him.

  When she had done this journey in the opposite direction

  it had seemed long and strange. Now it was frighteningly short. Long before she felt able to deal with any situation they were rushing through the depressing outskirts of London. And presently they drew into the smoky terminus, and Brent was saying, "We'll find a telephone booth, and call from here. With luck, we should catch him before he goes to lunch.'*

  They had to wait outside a row of occupied telephone booths, Harriet outwardly calm, but secretly feeling her nerves tighten with each additional second of delay. Brent spent the time looking up the number of Lin's office. And then, when at last one of the horrid little booths was free, he said, "Now, Harriet!" and she knew, with a dreadful lurch of her heart, that this was the moment.

  He dialed the number for her and then handed the instrument to her. And she seemed to stand there for minutes, clutching the thing unnaturally tightly, while the blood beat loudly in her ears, and the horrible, stale, tobacco-laden atmosphere of the telephone booth seemed to press on her face like an anesthetic mask.

  Then a pleasant, brisk, feminine voice repeated the number in her ear and added unexpectedly, "Can I help you?"

  She had an hysterical desire to exclaim, "No. ^fo one can help me. I've got to go through with this thing myself" But, instead, she repliea in a perfectly ordinary and sensible-sounding voice, "Might I speak to Mr. Mayhew? I have no appointment with him, but I'm just up from his home in the country. The name is Miss Denby.''

  The pleasant voice requested her to hold on a moment, which suggested that at least he was in his office. Then there was a whirring and the click of a fresh extension being plugged in, and Lin's voice said, quite naturally except fpr Its slight note of surprise,'' Is that you, Harriet?'' .