The second collection of 3 great novels by Mary Burchell

by Burchell, Mary

  "I haven't sufficient influence with Geraldine to'take her

  0 task' for anything,'' he said gravely.

  *'Well, someone mfluenced her to be kind and generous," rhea insisted with a puzzled frown. '* Unless

  "Perhaps it was just a case of her better nature prevail-ng," Varlon suggested, still with that half-mocking gravity.

  But Thea rejected that without even a comment.

  "Someone mfluenced her to be generous," she repeated.

  "Unless—Mr. Varlon, may I ask you something fright-iilly personal and—and rather impertinent?"

  "I expect so."

  "Well—" she stroked Darius with a nervous vigor, which le obviously resented "—is it Geraldine's own money that ;he 's spending on me?''

  "How should I know the answer to that, child? Geraldine joesn't discuss her private financial affairs with me."

  "No. But—" in tier earnestness she turned toward him igain and put her arm on his knee as she looked up at him '—you aren't providing the money, are you?"

  "My dear Thea!" She couldn't tell from his tone and expression whether he were annoyed or amused.

  And then Mrs. Dorley came in and said that lunch was ready.

  It was served in a smaller room where the window looked Dver the long sloping garden.

  "It looks rather drab just now, I'm afraid," Mrs. Dorley 5aid regretfully. "But you'll see in the spring and summer, Thea, that it's a very pretty garden,"

  "I'm sure it is," Thea said warmly and gave Mrs. Dorley a happy smile, because her remark so clearly indicated that 5he took it for granted Thea would be a frequent visitor there.

  1 Indeed, that was the implication that ran through all Mrs. Dorley's conversation, and Thea supposed—with some gratification—that Stephen must have spoken of her in very [flowing terms when he had telephoned his mother to tell ner of their impending visit.

  After lunch Stephen took Thea for a walk over the hills,

  gointing out to her the places he had especially loved as a oy, and eagerly demanding her admiration for things that were evidently still very dear to him.

  She thought this was Stephen in his very nicest mood. He was so fresh and unaffected and frank that she found herself calling him Stephen and letting him call her Thea without any of the forethought or misgiving that had attended allowing Lindsay Varlon the same minor privilege.

  Presently a sharp downpour drove them indoors again, Stephen bewailing the fact that this was the one thing that showed up his beloved car to disadvantage.

  "Though I daresay it will clear later," he added with his usual optimism.

  Mrs. Dorley was of a different opinion, however.

  "It's set in for a wet evening, I'm afraid. And in that case you certainly can't take the poor child back in that open car, "she declared.

  "We'll be all right with the top up," Thea said, seeing that Stephen resented the slight to his car. But he immediately admitted generously that the top had been known to leak, and perhaps she would be better in Lin's car.

  Thea glanced quickly at Varlon.

  "I'll be very pleased to take you both," he said. "And Stephen can fetcn the other car some day next week."

  Stephen, however, seemed to think he would need his beloved companion before then.

  "Well, in that case, Thea had better come with me— unless, of course, it stops raining before then. Though I 'm bound to say, Jeannette—" Varlon glanced out of the window "—that I agree with you about the unlikeliness of that.'*

  And so it proved, for the rain continued to pour down steadily all through the evening.

  "It looks like the Rolls for you, Thea, instead of my poor old eirl," Stephen said with a grin during dinner. "But you 'Tl certainly get back to town faster in Lin's car."

  "I would have enjoyed the ride in either," Thea declared with what Varlon told her smilingly was the perfection of tact.

  And Stephen took his disappointment good-naturedly enough, especially when his mother said, "Well, dear.

  you'll be coming down here on plenty of fine evenings, I j hope, later in the year, and Stepnen will bring you for a I weekend as soon as the garden is nice enough to sit in. *'

  "Thank you very much." Thea smiled gratefully. 'Tm

  going to work frightfully hard in the next few months, you

  know. And then when I m all independent and standing on

  [ my own feet, I shall love it if I can come here and relax for a

  weekend. It will be something to look forward to. '*

  "All right. But I shall be seeing you before then, I hope." Mrs Dorley kissed her goodbye with a warmth that made Thea hug her suddenly. "Take care of her, Lin, and don't let her work too hard, even if that is the program for the moment."

  Her brother smiled, though he didn't actually answer that, and Thea had the pleasant impression that he secretly approved of her eagerness to be independent at the earliest possible moment.

  In spite of the rain, Stephen himself saw to it that she was comfortably installed in tne car.

  "May I call you one day next week and take you dancing in the evening?" he asked.

  "If I haven't already started at business college and have too much homework to go gadding about."

  "Oh, gosh! You're eoing to have a little time for fun, aren't you?" demanded Stephen protestingly.

  "I'll see." Thea refused to be drawn. "But do ring me anyway, and I'll tell you how things are. And now go in out of the rain. There's no need to be gallant to the point of getting pneumonia. Mr. Varlon will look after me very well. He's already had plenty of experience.''

  She heard Varlon laugh slightly as Stephen grinned and withdrew his head from the window of the car and stepped back into the porch to brush the rain from his coat. For a moment she saw him and his mother outlined in the light from the open door and thought what a dear and friendly couple they had somehow become in so short a space of time. Then Varlon leaned forward and rolled up the window of the car, and a moment later the Rolls was purring down the short driveway and out into the open road.

  "What a nice family you have," Thea remarked contentedly, as she settled back comfortably in her seat.

  He smiled.

  "Yes, haven't I?''

  "And now, Mr. Varlon, I want to talk seriously to you." Thea turned determinedly to face him.

  "Do you really? What have I been doing?** he inquired lazily.

  "Oh, I don*t mean in that way. I'm not going to scold you or any thin 2.*'

  "You relieve my mind. What is this solemn matter that we have to discuss?'*

  "It*s about Geraldine—and my allowance and—and maintenance and everything. Mr. Varlon, are—have you got anything to do with it?"

  "What makes you think I have?**

  "Well, both Stephen and Mrs. Dorley seemed so astounded at the idea of Geraldine paying for me—much less paying for me with a good grace. And I couldn't help seeing, that first evening, that the idea infuriated her, and yet the next morning she was perfectly agreeable and nice about it. It's so strange. There must be an explanation for it.'*

  "And you think Tm the most likely explanation?*'

  "At least, I would be very glad to have a frank answer," Thea said. "It—it's such a false position. And—now I feel rather a fool to have suggested that you should be sufficiently interested in me to do such a thing,** she added unhappily.

  "You have no reason to feel a fool," he assured her.

  "You mean you—are paying?**

  "Do you mmd very much?** He glanced at her with a slight smile, and then looked ahead again as though his driving absorbed his attention.

  "I don*t—know,'* Thea said slowly. She studied his profile anxiously for a moment and then, as though that supplied her with no clue, she asked almost timidly, "But— why? I don *t understand why you should. **

  "My dear, there was hterally nothing else to be done.'*

  "Oh! ** She bit her lip and flushed.

  "Tm sorry," he said quickly. "That sounds much more ungracious
than I intended. I am only trying to make you see that it was a fairly simple matter with no deep undercurrent of meaning. Fm a rich man and can well afford to do you this small service and—' *

  "It's not a small service,*' Thea said in a soft, troubled voice.

  "Well, shall I say the amount it represents in cold cash is unlikely to embarrass me?" he replied with a smile. "It's really perfectly straightforward, Thea. You're a good child, and through no fault of your own you are m a most unfortunate position. Of course Geraldine could and should look after the matter. But if she flatly refuses to do so—and I'm sorry, but she does— then what is to happen?"

  "I suppose there are jobs one can get without any training, "Tnea said slowly.

  "But what sort of jobs?"

  "Well, beggars can't be choosers."

  "Don't be silly. You aren't a beggar, and there's no need for you to insist on abasing yourself to that position," he said rather impatiently.

  "I feel a bit abased now," Thea murmured, with a not very steady little smile.

  "Oh, Thea—" he drew the car to the side of the road and stopped it, but though he turned to face her he made no attempt to touch her "—stop being a tiresome child and please don't cry."

  "I'm not gomg to cry.''

  "Well, you look exactly like it. And crying women always make me nervous and bad tempered."

  That steadied her and she laughed a little at the very idea of anything making him nervous.

  "That's better." He smiled at her. "Look here, will you believe that if some worthy secretary of a charitable association had come to me with your story, I would have done just the same thing probably, and never even bothered to see you personally?

  "No, I don't quite believe that," Thea said, but she was beginning to feel less overwhelmed by the situation.

  "Well, at least there is no need for you to make yourself miserable about it."

  "I'm n6t exactly miserable about it. And of course—" she put out her hand quickly on his arm "—I'm most terribly, terribly grateful. It was just that the idea of an absolute stranger doing that—"

  "I am not an absolute stranger," he interrupted with that faint smile.

  "Well, then, the idea of someone I've known such a short time, and someone on whom I have absolutely no claim at all, doing so m.uch for me is rather-rather overwhelming.

  Besides " She stopped and was silent so long that he

  prompted her gently.

  "Besides?"

  She rather nervously pleated up a bit of his coat sleeve between her thumb and finger.

  "Geraldine said—that very first evening, after you had gone—that you were not -the—the sort of man from whom one could take things."

  "Really?" His eyebrows shot up. "I have never found Geraldine of that opinion where she herself is concerned,*' he said dryly.

  "Well, maybe that's different. Maybe you're—old friends. I think she meant that one—one didn't put oneself under a financial obligation to you. That it implied—oh, dear, this is all so difficult." cried Thea. "And I'm explaining very badly."

  "You're explaining very clearly," he assured her, still with that dry note in his tone. "What she meant was that I have not a suflficiently good reputation to be able to pay out money on behalf of a girl without certain deductions being drawn. Is that it?"

  "I—suppose so."

  Without saying anything more he started the car.

  Then, when they had been driving for some while in silence, he said obstinately, "I shall pay it, all the same. Since it's done through Geraldine, there need be no gossip."

  *^Don't you think she might taIk?"Thea asked timidly.

  "No. The pleasure of being considered generous at no cost to herself would outweigh any satisfaction she could derive from spiteful innuendos," he said so disagreeably, that Thea could not help thinking that if his youthful admirers outside the theater could have heard him then, there would have been some hasty revision of their romantic views on the situation existing between him and Geraldine.

  Once more they drove on in silence. Then at last, realizing that they were now not very far from home, Thea spoke again. ^

  ''Mr. Varlon, I think I haven't sounded very grateful for your extraordinary kindness," she said—rather appealingly because she thouent he was looking grim.

  Immediately ne gave her a quick, flashing smile, however.

  *'That*s all right, child. It was very natural for you to draw the conclusions you did."

  *'I didn't draw any conclusions!" Thea exclaimed indignantly. "I never imagined for a moment that you had designs—well, that there was any ulterior motive behind your generosity. I was only concerned with the fact that people talk. And not very much concerned with that, to tell the truth,'' she added, with a sudden smile.

  "What was all the upset about then?" he inquired, with som.ething of an amused protest in the lift of his eyebrows.

  "Oh, mostly the feeling of being so stupid and helpless, and dependent on just anyone, however ... however...."

  "Unsuitable they might be," he suggested obligingly.

  She laughed.

  "Something like that. But even if you are unsuitable, I think you're most awfully nice," she added with a sudden burst of frankness.

  "My wounded feelings are entirely restored," he assured her gravely.

  "They weren't really very badly wounded, were they?" she inquired, half laughing and half anxious.

  "Not mortally, Thea. And certainly not if you can resign yourself fairly happily to accepting the situation as it is and not worrying unduly over implications and possibilities and obligations, he said with a smile.

  "I will,"Thea promised. "Only, Mr. Varlon "

  "Yes?"

  "You will let me pay it all back, as soon as I'm earning my own living, won't you?"

  "Oh, my God, child! Do we have to be so scrupulously exact about these things?" he inquired, half irritated and halfamused.

  '' I think one should be.''

  "But what do you suppose I should feel like, accepting installments on some damned debt of yours, when I have plenty of money myself and can't possibly help knowing that you will need all of yours, especially when you first

  start? I think that really would wound my feelings, if I have any.*'

  ' ' Would it? " Thea looked doubtful. /

  "Um-hm. Don't you think you might trust me so far?"

  "It's just a question of independence, but I won't press it too far, if you'd so much rather not. It's certainly not a question of distrusting you in any way," Thea declared earnestly.

  "Isn't it?"

  "Of course not. In fact, I'd trust you more than most people."

  "That," he said, "might not be very wise. But anyway, the matter is now settled. And here we are."

  He drew up the car outside the now familiar block of apartments.

  '' Are you coming in? "

  "No. Not tonight. You don't need moral support of any kind, do you?"

  "Oh, no." Thea laughed. "Thank you very much for bringing me home. And thank you very, very much for all your kindness and generosity."

  He smiled as he took the hand she held out to him.

  "You are very welcome, Child. Now don't worry any more about it and—" he paused a moment and then added with elaborate casualness "—it isn't necessary to discuss the arrangement with anyone. Not anyone, you understand."

  "You mean—not mention to Geraldine that I know?"

  He made a slight face.

  "By no means mention to Geraldine that you know."

  "All right." She smiled full at him-that smile of friendly, wide-eyed interest that Mr. Thorburn had found so disturbing. "Good night, Mr. Varlon."

  "Good night, Thea."

  He waited until she had crossed the pavement and entered the doorway of the block. She turnea to look back, and he was still sitting in the lighted car, watching her. When she waved, he smiled and just raised his hand. Then she stepped into the elevator and was borne upward to Geraldine's apartment.


  CHAPTER FIVE

  Monday morning brought Thea a prompt reply from her headmistress. The slightly formal wording, the slightly old-fashoned handwriting, brought with them such a clear reminder of the school atmosphere she had now left far behind, that for a nostalgic minute or two Thea felt she had wandered into a strange, alien world here in London, and that what she really longed for was to return to the dull but familiar paths she had trodden most of her life.

  But the impression passed. For the formal wording and the old-fashioned handwriting served to convey the information that she wanted. And here at last, in the list of business colleges—noted according to their various excellen-ies or otherwise—was the first arrow p>ointing along the road to a definite future.

  In an ill-considered moment, she tried to interest Geral-dine in the question of which college she should select, but Geraldine simply said, "Don't ask me. I know nothing about such things and care less. It's your own choice. You Dught to know what you want. You'd better talk to Lindsay if you want any real advice. He seems to fancy himself in the role of guide, philosopher and friend."

  But Thea thought that Lindsay Varlon had already taken—or been forced to take—a sufficiently personal interest in her affairs, and she decided that this was something jhe would tackle on her own.

  After that, with a free hand and a certain amount of trepidation, Thea embarked on a round of interviews and inquiries, which finally resulted in her enrolling at a well-cnown business college that had an excellent reputation and

  /■

  the added advantage of being within possible, if not exactly easy, walking distance of Geraldine's apartment.

  "The term began three weeks ago," the efficient secretary informed Thea briskly but quite kindly. "However, if you 're prepared to do some extra hard work at first, you will soon catch up."

  Thea declared herself ready to work like a slave. And though the secretary didn't seem to think that would be necessary, they ended their interview on a note of mutual approval.

  The next day Thea started classes. And after that Geral-dine certainly had no reason to complain that she saw too much of her young cousin.