The second collection of 3 great novels by Mary Burchell

by Burchell, Mary

  But Denham, who had packed trunks and dispatched them to almost every part ofEneland in Geraldine's earlier, touring days, made very light ofthat.

  "You just tell me the address where they're to go, Miss Thea, and I'll have them sent off," she said. "I suppose it's the Westminster flat."

  "Well ... no, Denham." Thea had forgotten the possible embarrassment that explanations might involve. "As a matter of fact, I'm spending a few days in the country, down at Mrs. Doriey's house. I'd like the luggage sent there, if you don't mind."

  "Just as you like. Miss Thea," said Denham, who prided herself on being "as quick as the next one." "I daresay you want to sort things out a bit while you've got some time on your hands."

  "Yes, that's right," Thea agreed eagerly, and sat down at Geraldine's writing desk to write out tne address.

  As she did so a very clear picture presented itself to her mind: her rather shabby old trunk and suitcase standing in the hall, ready for collection, and Geraldine interestedly reading the labels, which showed quite plainly that the luggage was not going to Lin's flat, wherever else it was going.

  "Oh, Denham-"

  "Yes, Miss Thea?"

  "If you could—arrange it that way, Td rather Miss Marven didn 't know where this luggage is going."

  "I could arrange it that way, Miss Thea,*' Denham said in her blankest tone. Unlike Emma, she didn't ignore anything that was crystal clear. She interpreted it by virtue of her native shrewdness and her unrivaled experience.

  "You won*t be going to the first night tomorrow, Miss Thea?*' Denham asked, as she accepted the slip of paper with the address on it.

  "Well, no, I won't now." Thea had forgotten until this moment about telling Geraldine that she and Lin would be there. "We were—that is, I daresay Mr. Varlon will be there. He had tickets, I know.''

  "Well, Denham, I'd better be going. I mustn't keep you, because you 're always busy. But it was nice to see you, and thank you very much for seeing after the luggage.''

  "That's all right. Miss Thea. You're very welcome."

  There didn't seem anything to do but shake hands now. But even as Thea held out her hand, Denham, rejecting a hfetime's discretion, suddenly said, "You'll tell me if I'm speaking out of my place. Miss Thea, but is Miss Marven making trouble between you and Mr. Varlon?"

  Thea caught her breath. She knew that real concern, and not curiosity, prompted the question and she was determined not to resent it.

  "No, Denham. Miss Marven hasn't got anything to do with it. I only said—said what I did about the address because my cousin's a bit ready to read too much into small details. I didn 't want any—misunderstandings.''

  "Exactly, Miss Thea. ' Denham didn't look entirely satisfied. "And I only asked what I did because it's sometimes come to me that I said more than I should, that evening ages ago, when I mentioned checks I'd seen from Mr. Varlon to Miss Marven. You was upset, I remember." Grammatical slips were rare with Denham, and this one showed the extent to which she was moved. "And you pressed me to say whether they'd been sent before you came here or after. I don't know why. ..."

  "Oh, Denham, I can explain that now." Thea sat down again and went on speakmg rather earnestly. "You see, when I first came here I hadn t any money. My parents were both dead and there was nothing for me. Miss Marven

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  wasn*t very willing to—to take on the expense of maintaining me and paying for my training, ancl of course she was quite entitled to feel that way. She s lots of expenses of her own and—"

  "Yes, Miss Thea, I know.*' Denham smiled dryly, in a way that showed she had no sentimental illusions about her employer.

  Well, anyway, Mr. Varlon very kindly took on the responsibility. Only he did it through Geraldine so that people wouldn 't talk, you know. So I thought that if those checks had only been after I came, there was a perfectly innocent explanation for them."

  "Yes, Miss Thea. And, depend upon it, there weren't any before you came. That would be the explanation," said Denham firmly.

  In decency to the man who was called her husband, Thea felt bound to say, "Yes, of course. I Ve always thought so."

  But in her heart she thought sadly, / expect they arrived at any old time. I wouldn V be surprised to learn he had a longstanding affair with Geraldine right up to the time I appeared on the scene. That would account for his being able to make her do what he wanted, and also for her hating me so much.

  But Denham was evidently quite determined to reestablish a mood of confidence, because she said, with great emphasis, "Well, now there's no call for you to worry about anything in that direction, Miss Thea. Miss Marven ran after him, it's true, but if you ask me, she didn't get much change."

  "Thank you, Denham."

  Thea stood up again, shook hands with Denham, and put an end to the mterview with a very cordial goodbye. She knew that Denham had said all this out of the kindness of her heart, but she felt that personal discussion of absent people had gone to the limits that might be allowed.

  For the rest of the day Thea remamed in town, discharging one or two small commissions that could conveniently be dealt with, and also going to some trouble to find a nice present for Emma, to whose goodness she owed so much.

  It was absurd to suppose that out of the whole population of London the one person she should meet woula be Lin. But so great was her nervous dread of such a thing happening that Thea found herself looking around with almost

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  fuilty anxiety before she went into a shop or committed erself to any special direction. And when a tall man, superficially remmiscent of Lin, came into the restaurant where she was having lunch, Thea experienced such a momentary thrill of terror that she had no appetite for the rest of her meal.

  It's ridiculous, Thea told herself angrily. / can*t go through the rest of my life like this. Anyway, what is there to be nervous aboutr Lin would never make an unpleasant scene, and it isn 't as though we would have any reason for recriminations or unpleasantness, if we did meet.

  Their decisions had been made—and communicated to each other, come to that. The next thing she would hear would presumably be something to do with the opening stages of a divorce. There was certainly nothing else to be discussed between them.

  No. Her fear of meeting Lin had nothing to do with anything of this sort, and Thea knew it

  What frightened and disquieted her was the knowledge that even his photograph had had the power to disturb her profoundly, and she knew that his actual presence would do very much more.

  If things had been different, Thea told herself with satisfactory vagueness, / would have been in love with Lin—at any rate, for a while. I suppose lots of silly women have felt liki that.

  And having derived no more satisfaction from her day iii town than she had anticipated, Thea very thankfully took the train home.

  As she knocked on the door, she wondered if Emma were in the garden and if it would be better to go around the house to the back. But the immediate sound of footsteps answered her knock. Emma certainly sounded in more eager haste than usual, and the door was flung open with a force that was quite unlike her.

  But then that was quite understandable, for it was not Emma who stood there, but Mrs. Dorley. And a second later Thea was being most heartily kissed and hugged.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  "My DEAR child!"

  Mrs. Dorley*s greeting could not have been warmer or more affectionate if Thea had indeed become her daughter-in-law. And as for Thea, her delight was only equaled by her astonishment at the unexpectedness of Mrs. Dorley's arrival.

  But that, it appeared, was easily explained.

  *'It seems Emma never received my cable," Mrs. Dorley said as, her arm affectionately linJced in Thea*s, they went into the lounge together. "My decision to come home was quite a sudden one. Stephen had a lot of extra work out in the West—*' (So Stephen was not here, Thea thought, with an emotion that she was not able to identify as either relief or disappointment.) "
It meant a great deal of tiring traveling, and in remote and not very convenient places. So I thought the time had come for me to finish off my holiday and come home."

  "Fm selfishly glad you did, '* Thea told her.

  "Are you, love? Well, there were some other inducements to bring me home, but we'll talk of those later. I sent off a cable to Emma, or rather, I was foolish enough to leave the question of its dispatch to one of the servants in my hotel. Very silly, because he had already shown himself to be rather unreliable, but I did think he would manage a simple thing like that. Well, never mind now. Here I am, and I'm so delighted to find that you are staying here."

  "Oh, are you?" Thea's tone was grateful as well as pleased, because it was lovely to find that no complications existed, as far as Mrs. Dorley was concerned, even though

  Thea had married the wrong member of her family — at least, from her point of view.

  "Yes, of course. And Emma tells me that I can look forward to your company for some while."

  "Well, if—if— oh, there's a lot to explain. We can talk about it afterward, can't we?" Thea said, rather desperately staving off full explanations.

  "Yes, of course. Lin, I take it, is not down here?"

  "Oh, no."

  "Not even for weekends?''

  "Well, not-so far," Thea said feebly. "He-he's very busy in town, you know, and I found the hot weather so much less trying in the country.''

  "Yes, of course, poor child! I haven't even asked after your health. Are you making a good recovery? Or are you still feehng a bit weak and languid?"

  Guiltily conscious of her excellent state of health, Thea murmured something hastily about being "pretty well all right," for it was useless to represent herself, in one breath, as unable to support summer m London, and in the next, as in bouncing health.

  Mrs. Dorley, who was no fool, gave her one quick, penetrating glance. But her shrewdness was equaled by her discretion, and she made no attempt to force early confidences.

  Then Emma, beaming with satisfaction and good nature, came to ask whether they would like tea in the garden, and by common consent, they moved out there.

  To Thea, who had thought she was happy in the sole company of Emma, it was infinitely delightful to have Mrs. Dorley's friendship restored to her. She was so kind and so full of common sense, that situations that with other people would have been embarrassing, with her could be frankly disposed of

  Over tea, she said to Thea, "Stephen told me of your letter, dear, but of course we had already heard from Lin about your marriage, so it was no news to us. Stephen wanted me to give you his best and kindest wishes, and I feel sure, from what he said, that you put your refusal as nicely as possible. I won't say it hasn't been a bad disappointment for me as well as Stephen. But these things have a way of

  arranging themselves, and one never causes anything but trouble by interfering or voicing useless regrets.**

  "Oh, you are a darling/'Thea said earnestly. *'You don't know how wonderful it is to have you home and to be able to talk with you again. I was so much afraid that my—my marriage, and my having to refuse Stephen, would be bound to make a sort of barrier between us. But it isn*t going to be like that, is it?'*

  "Certainly not!" Mrs. Dorley's tone was amused as well as emphatic. "This is the twentieth century, not Jane Austen's time. I shouldn't presume to indulge in displeasure because any young friend of mine followed her own ideas on marriage rather than my own. I will admit that I'm surprised you chose Lin, because I hadn 't realized you had a great deal in common. But when I've said that, I've said all I am entitled to say on the subject."

  Thea smiled in answer to that, but decided not to embark on any reply in words. And presently Mrs. Dorley began to tell her about her experiences in America, and the conversation shifted onto safe ground.

  /'// tell her all about it later on, Thea assured herself. But when she reflected how fond Mrs. Dorley was of her brother, the "telling" presented itself as a rather difficult and not very kindly task.

  Only, she's got to know about the divorce, Thea thought. But for that, I'd try to keep it all from her her. Though, as a matter of fact, I believe she guesses something. She must do. Any intelligent woman can see that it's odd I'm down here while Lin stays in town. This silly business about the country being better for me just doesn't wash. I'll tell her a modified version of the truth. Why should I put Lin in a bad light to her? She hasn't any illusions about him—Stephen said that once—but the last thing I want is for her to be forced into some kind of "taking sides'' against her own brother.

  While Thea considered these matters with half of her mind, she contrived to give her seemingly whole attention to what Mrs. Dorley was saying. And presently, when Darry came to be fed and to demonstrate his pleasure at Mrs. Dorley's return, she slipped away to see if she could help Emma with any of the additional tasks that Mrs. Dorley s return had involved.

  It was not until much later in the evening—just as Thea

  was thinking of going to bed, in fact—that the discussion of personalities came up again auite unintentionally.

  Mrs. Dorley had been reading the newspaper and, as she said, "putting herself au fait with home affairs from a home point of view," when she looked up and exclaimed, "Why, I see it's the first night of Geraldine's new play tomorrow. Are you going?'*

  "Oh, no!"

  Mrs. Dorley looked surprised, more perhaps at the emphasis with which Thea spoke than the information.

  "It... it's rather difficult coming back here at night by the last train," Thea explained hastily.

  "Why, yes, I suppose it would be. I thought you might be staying in town for the night."

  "No. Oh, no. I'm not so much interested in what Geral-dine does, you know," Thea said, hoping that sounded casual and circumstantial.

  "No? Well, I daresay that's understandable. She hasn't ever been overly kind to you," Mrs. Dorley said frankly. "Tell me, Thea, did she behave badly when you were ill?"

  "Well—yes. I suppose she did." Thea recalled very sharply the unutterable dismay Geraldine had caused her when she had carelessly indicated that her home was now closed to her young cousin.

  "She was very angry, you see, and—"

  "Thea? I really can't see why." Mrs. Dorley spoke with energy. "You could hardly have had the accident on purpose."

  "Well, she didn't know until then that it was Lin who had taken me out. She thought I'd been deliberately concealing my—my friendship with him. It was true in a way. At least, I hadn't gone out of my way to tell her I was going out with him, because—because—"

  "I know. She regarded Lin more or less as her property at that time, didn't she?" Mrs. Dorley supplied helpfully.

  "Yes, she did. And—" suddenly Thea halted in her recital, and said very distinctly^ and clearly "—Mrs. Dorley, was Lin ever her property in—m any horrid sense?"

  "If you mean, was he her lover—certainly not," Mrs. Dorley replied categorically.

  "Oh—tnank you. ' Thea smiled faintly. "I wish everyone replied to one s questions as clearly. But anyway—' her

  smile faded "—you'd be almost bound to say that, because of course you think I'm happily married to Lin, and a devoted wife and all that sort of thing."

  "Oh, no, I don't, child," Mrs. Dorley assured her briskly. **I hope I have too much sense to suppose that you are giving the appearance of a happy and devoted wife. I have enough experience to know that things are not at all like that between you and Lin, without having enough knowledge to be able to say why."

  "Oh."

  Thea was a good deal taken aback to find she had concealed the true state of affairs so poorly. But after a while she went on slowly, as though frankness was a relief

  "There isn't really anything between Lin and me. Not anything at all. You can tell me the real truth about him and Geraldine without it mattering in the least."

  "My dear child! Why harp on him and Geraldine?" Mrs. Dorley demanded, with a sort of good-humored impatience. "What I said just
now was perfectly true."

  "Was it?" Thea looked up eagerly.

  "Certainly. Geraldine is an extremely grasping and acquisitive young woman. She would have likecl to have Lin as both a financial and amorous conquest. His production and direction had a great deal to do with putting Geraldine where she is, and I believe he always had the highest regard for her art, which is indisputable."

  "Oh, yes," Thea agreed, almost with enthusiasm.

  "But, as far as anything else was concerned, I can assure you there was nothing between them. If you want the real truth, Lin had a sort of good-natured contempt for her as a person, while he had a great respect for her as an artist."

  "Oh, I see." Thea's smile held more relief than she knew.

  "So if Geraldine has been trying to make trouble between you two—"

  "Oh, no. It isn't Geraldine," Thea said hastily. "The only trouble with Geraldine was that she was furious about my going out with Lin and thoroughly sick of having me at her apartment, in any case, although—I don't know if you knew—" Thea glanced at Mrs. Dorley questioningly "—it was actually Lin who paid all my expenses."

  "Lin! Was it? No, I didn't know that. And how absurd of

  him to do it through anyone like Geraldine when he could have done it through me,'* she added disgustedly.

  Thea didn 't say anything to that. She thought she knew why Lin had always refrained from bringing his uncompromising and straight-thinking sister into this.

  "Anyway, Geraldine demonstrated her general disgust by telling me that I couldn't come back to her apartment anymore, and that I could find a new home. She told Lin much the same, I suppose, and he came to see me in the hospital. He came three or four times a week, in any case. He—he was awfully good to me." And suddenly Thea's voice trembled as she thought of how good he had seemed, and how much his visits had meant to her then.

  "Don't tell me Lin suggested your marryine him as the only way out? " Mrs. Dorley said with a dry smile.

  "Well, yes—he did. Oh, he suggested all sorts of things first— offered to pay for me in a club or hotel or something. He even offered to rent an apartment for me, I believe. But of course it was quite impossible. Even Lin saw that. And even if he had come right down to giving me money and leaving me to make my own arrangements, Geraldine would have guessed, of course, because she knew who had been supplying the money before."