"Of course," Mrs. Dorley interjected vexedly. "That comes of his being so silly as to put things in the hands of a woman like Geraldine. But, my dear Thea, why didn't you come here to Emma, as I suggested?"
"I hadn't received your letter yet and—"
"But you knew you could come. You knew we should have been only too glad to have you make your home here. Surely, dear, we had made that quite clear before we ever went away."
Mrs. Dorley looked so vexed and reproachful that Thea came eagerly and sat on the rug at her feet.
"Dear Mrs. Dorley, I did know that, and I would have come, only—only—" suddenly she put her arm on Mrs. Dorley's knee and her head on her arm "—Lin lied to me and-^'
"Lin what?"
"He lied to me—told me quite coolly and circumstantially that he had been to make inquiries of Emma, and found that she was having to shut up the house and go away to
nurse a sick sister. He even told me that she was taking Darry with her, and that Darry would have to learn to put up with living in a new place."
"He told you that? Lin did?"
**Yes—oh, yes." Thea was crying now, and hardly aware of Mrs. Dorley's hand on her hair. "It made me really see that there was nothing else to do but marry Lin—nowhere else to go when I came out of hospital. Because by then, you see, I knew my left hand was going to be virtually helpless for ages, and I couldn't do anything much about supporting myself"
"But, Thea dear—don't cry so, there's a good child—I simply can't understand this. I never knew Lin do such a thing as indulge in deliberate deceit. Believe me, that's true. I've known him all his life—I mean really known him—not just been his sister. I can't believe he'd do such a thing."
"But he did it,"Thea said forlornly.
"Yes, yes. I'm not doubting what you say, dear. I'm only trying to understand it. Was there any possibility of his havinig made a genuine mistake?"
"On, no." Thea shook her head sadly. "He didn't deny it when I charged him with having done it."
"You mean, he admitted deliberately lying to you? With the express purpose of convincing you that you had no course out to marry him?"
Thea nodded without looking up.
"Thea dear—is Lin very much in love with you?"
"Oh, no. I should have forgiven him quite easily if he had been because I—I—well, never mind about that. But he didn't even pretend that was the explanation. In fact he ... he rather sneered at the idea."
"Thea, this sounds like a stranger you're describing!" exclaimed Mrs. Dorley, greatly distressed.
"That's how he seemed to me, all of a sudden," Thea said unhappily. "Oh, I didn't mean to tell you all this. It's a shame when you're so fond of him and he's been a good brother always to you. I really didn't mean to distress you about this, because it's quite another side of him from anything you've known, I m sure. And it really doesn't take away from his goodness to you."
"That's all quite beside the point, my dear," Mrs. Dorley said firmly. "And I'd very much rather that you told me—
well, anything about this business that you feel like confiding in me. Did he-did he give you any idea why he had done this inexplicable thing? I mean-why trick you into marrying him-because it really does amount to that-if he was not in love with you. *'
There was an awkward pause.
"Don't think I'm trying to force your confidence." Mrs. Dorley looked extremely worried. "But—"
"No, no. It's not that," Thea cried. "It's only that I feel I ought to have managed not to tell you all this. Only, now that you know part of it, I suppose you ought to know the whole."
"My dear, I don't think one is ever the happier for being kept m Ignorance of the motives of the people one loves, if that is what's worrying you," Mrs. Dorley said earnestly.
"Oh, how I agree with you," cried poor Thea, from the depths of her own experience of wretched confusion. "Very well, then. I'll tell you just what Lin said himself, and you must make what you can of it. I begged him to give an explanation, and finally he admitted that he-he'd been rather intrigued and charmed by my-my lack of sophistication and general-oh well, he thought I was a new type, and that attracted him. But he also saw that I-I wasn't the sort to indulge in anything but marriage. Circumstances just played into his hands. He offered me marriage, as I've described to you, but just looked on it himself as a-sort of legalized affair."
"Wait a minute, Thea-" Mrs. Dorley looked strained and worried "-I haven't got this quite straight. Was he frank about this when he proposed to you in hospital?"
"Oh, no, no. It was on quite a different basis. He put it to me then that he wanted to provide for me-from just disinterested kindness-but he couldn't do so without marrying me. But I was to regard myself as quite free whenever I wanted to go, and I insisted, naturally, that he should feel the same. His idea was-at least, he said his idea was-that when I was well and able to support myself, we could arrange a quiet divorce." ''Yes, I see. And you agreed to those terms?" "Yes, Mrs. Dorley. They seemed to me the height of generosity. They were the height of generosity. My only
possible hesitation in accepting them came from fear that I was imposing on his goodness. '
"Um-hm.Goon."
"It was then—when I felt such misgivings about imposing on him—that I thought of going to Emma, and suggested that I should. And then he—oh, well, you know that bit."
Mrs. Dorley nodded.
"Even on—on our so-called honeymoon he went to the trouble of reassuring me and repeating that the marriage was not binding on me and wouldn*t be—I mean—*'
"That he wouldn't expect you to fulfill any wifely obligations?"
"Yes. But it was all just an elaborate blind—he admitted so afterward. He knew I was nervous and—his own horrid expression was that 'he knew I was a girl who couldn't be rushed.' "
Mrs. Dorley pressed her lips together without saying anything, and presently Thea went on.
"Less than three weeks after the wedding I came down here, quite by chance, for a day's outing in the country. Of course I came past the house, saw it was occupied and came in to Emma. It didn't take long for me to find out what had really happened, and when I went back home that evening I charged Lm with lying to me. He admitted it quite brazenly and gave the explanation that I—I told you of He had intended to involve me in what would be to him an enjoyable affair, and into which I—I should have put all my love and affection because—well, I shouldn't have done it at all if I hadn't felt that way. I'm not that sort of girl, Mrs. Dorley, and he knew it."
"Yes, child, of course. It's obvious." Mrs. Dorley stroked her hair again. '^
"Then when he was tired of it, the quiet divorce would have been introduced—and that would have been the end. He would have had his fun, and I suppose he thought any heartbreak I should have suffered would be fully compensated for by the fact that at least my reputation had been kept intact."
There was a long silence after Thea had finished speaking. Then Mrs. Dorley said with a sigh, "Yes, it's not a very pretty story."
"But—'* Thea looked at her timidly "—it surprises you very much, doesn 't it? *'
"Yes, Thea, it does/'
"I think I've told it to you exactly as it happened. Certainly exactly as it appeared to me," Thea said earnestly.
"I'm sure you have, my dear. Please don't think I doubt your word about all this. It's just—" she hesitated "—it's so out of character."
"Oh, is it?" Thea looked up eagerly at her. "That's what I told myself at one point—beiore my suspicions had been at all confirmed. But of course, in many ways I hardly know him. You know him so well, and you ^el like that?"
Mrs. Dorley nodded.
"That doesn't mean I can't be mistaken," she added thoughtfully. "And I'd be the last to claim that Lin is faultless."
"But you think there's a doubt about it somewhere?" Thea's eyes shone, and some of the color came back into her cheeks.
Mrs. Dorley looked at her with kind curiosity, and said unexpectedly, "Whe
re does Stephen come in all this?"
"St-Stephen?"
"Yes. I gather Stephen's proposal came after your actual wedding. I don't know how that could have happened, because—"
"Oh, Geraldine didn't bother to send on my letters."
"Dear me," Mrs. Dorley said with deliberation, "Geraldine really is monstrous."
Thea gave a deprecating little laugh, but she said, "I can't help saymg' hear, hear!' to that.''
"Well, now—" Mrs. Dorley looked at her with penetration "—if Stephen's proposal had come before you married Lin, what would your answer have been? If you don't mind my asking that."
"I don t mind,"Thea said. "I should have said yes."
"Because it would have been a good way out, Thea—as with Lin?"
"Oh, no! Stephen made no secret of his feelings. Lin made no secret of his supposedly kind indifference. It was
fiermissible to accept Lin's kind of offer as a good way out. t would have been inexcusable to have taken Stephen's offer in that way."
"Thank you, Thea. I hoped you'd say that. Then—once more this isn*t really my business, of course—is it Stephen that you love?"
There was a long pause this time; then Thea said earnestly, **Mrs. Dorley, I'm terribly fond of Stephen. I think he's probably actually the nicest person I've ever known. I should have been happy married to him, and I honestly think I should have been a good wife to him and made him happy."
"But—?" suggested Mrs. Dorley with a smile, because the tone of Thea's voice showed that she had not really finished what she was thinking.
"The man I'm in love with," Thea said slowly, "is the man I thought Lin was. He doesn't exist, so there's nothing to do but get over him. I didn't know until quite lately that that was what was the matter with me. But I know now."
"I see. Then marrying Stephen is probably not the solution, even when you have got a divorce from Lin. It might be. I don't know. But we certainly aren't sufficiently sure of the fact for us to write to Stephen about it."
"Oh, no!" Thea was horrified.
Mrs. Dorley smiled slightly.
"Well, my dear—" she began, and then Emma came into the room to say good night. She looked approvingly at the affectionate attitude of Thea and Mrs. Dorley, and they both smiled at her.
"Did you get your letter. Miss Thea?" Emma asked.
"Letter? No. Was there one for me, Emma?"
"There certainly was. Came by the evening mail, when you were out in the garden. It's on the side table here somewhere." And Emma rummaged with the freedom of one who had run the house for some while.
She held out the letter and Thea took it, glancing in a puzzled way at the writing. As she did so, Mrs. Dorley said mvoluntarily, "Why, it's from Lin."
Emma said good night again and went off to bed, and Mrs. Dorley said quickly, "I'm sorry, my dear. I couldn't help recognizing the writing, and since we had been speaking of him—"
"It's quite all right," Thea said, and ripped open the envelope with rather unsteady fingers.
^^^ Meant for Each Other
The letter was short, and as Thea glanced through it, Mrs. Dorley watched her with something Hke anxiety.
"He's coming down here," Thea said at last. "He*s coming here on Thursday-why that's the day after tomorrow—unless I let him know to the contrary. He says—he says it's time we made arrangements about—our divorce."
CHAPTER TWELVE
Between the arrival of Lin's letter and Thursday afternoon, when he was due, Thea experienced an almost perpetual nervous desire to discuss and discuss the subject of her short, disastrous marriage and its impending dissolution.
But Mrs. Dorley wisely ^nd firmly refused to allow her to go over that ground again.
"My darling child, you Ve told me all there is to tell. You only make yourself nervous by examining and reexamining facts and theories,'* she assured Thea. "Try to take it calmly and quietly."
"I aw quite calm," Thea insisted rather pathetically. "It's just-"
"Yes, I know. It's iust that no other subject seems of much importance until this one is settled. Well, that's quite understandable. But you'll keep your own ideas and arguments much clearer if you don't clutter them up with my views or any expressions of opinion on my part. There can t be very much to settle. Just make up your mind to have a businesslike talk with Lin, and I think you'll find he will make it quite easy for you. He is suflficiently a man of the world for that."
"Yes. All right. I promise," Thea said.
But she was badly shaken when she found, on Thursday afternoon, that Mrs. Dorley intended to go out and leave her to the first tackling of Lin.
"But I want you to be there," Thea cried. "I was counting on you."
"No, darling. There is absolutely no need for me to be there. Third parties shouldn't be at these interviews," Mrs. Dorley retorted firmly. "I'll come along later, so that you
• needn't have too long a time with him. But there's another thing. If I am here when Lin arrives, there will first have to
be all the greetings an4 expressions of surprise at my being here at all. There'll be questions and answers about my trip, and by the time you finally get down to your own affairs, you'll be as nervous as a kitten, and his mind will be half on other matters. Now, be a good child. Keep up your courage and handle your own affairs yourself."
And having thus adjured Thea, she went off to do some village shopping that could, of course, have been done equally well at any other time.
At first, left alone, Thea experienced plain cold panic. Then the necessity of handling her own affairs herself, as Mrs. Dorley has said, steadied her and made her see that iti was absurd to make so much of what was, after all, unlikely to be anything but a semibusiness interview.
Lin would make it easy for her. She was sure of that. Not curiously, for Mrs. Dorley's reason—that he was a man of the world—but because Lin always had made things easy for her. Why, on a dozen occasions....
But this was not the moment to recall Lin's many kindnesses. She would only make herself unhappy and sentimental if she thought along those lines.
And anyway, it would be better to go into the garden and wait for him there. She felt that any more watching of the driveway up to the front door would tear her nerves to rags.
"Shall I pick the peas for you, Emma?" she asked as she passed through the kitchen, and was astonished to hear how bright and carefree she could still make her voice sound.
Emma handed over a basket, but told her, as though she were a child, not to get too hot.
"I'll be all right," Thea said. "When Mr. Varlon comes, you—you might just send him out into the garden, will you?"
"Yes, Miss Thea."
So Thea went out into the garden, and picked peas assiduously, and assured herself that this was less nerve-racking than waiting in front of the house.
But, in point of fact, she heard the arrival of his car just as well at the back of the house, and there followed a few agonizing minutes while she ticked off each second, won-
dering how long it would take Emma to admit him and show nim through the house to the garden.
She thought she would probably hear him speak to Emma as he came out by the garden door.
But she didn 't. The first thing she heard was—
*'Hello, Thea.'* And he had come almost up to her, unheard because he was walking on the grass.
''Hello.*' She turned around to meet him, and then was surprised that there was nothing frightening or disturbing about him, after all. He was smiling at her m the way she knew so well, and for a moment, she could not even remember how he had looked when he had turned into that hateful, cynical stranger.
''Shall I come and help you with the peas? I say! youVe got a funny assortment here, haven't you?" He surveyed the contents of her basket. "Your motto seems to be Ruthless."
"Oh, I—I wasn't noticing much what I was doing. It doesn't matter about the peas, anyway. I'll leave the basket here. Emma will finish tnem. Let's go and sit over th
ere under the trees." He agreed at once and strolled across the lawn beside her, tall, graceful for such a big man, and, so far as she could see, completely at ease.
Silently she indicated a chair, and when they were both sitting down, he looked around and said, "This is very pleasant. And you look as though it suits you, Thea."
"Yes. Yes, I love being here.
"I'm glad you're able to live somewhere that you really like," he sounded so much like the old Lin, that Thea stared at him solemnly and exclaimed:
"You've changed again."
"Changed again?" He gave a puzzled laugh. "How do you mean?"
"Oh—nothing. It was just stupid. You seem like the Lin I used to know."
He bit his lip slightly—perhaps with vexation. At any rate, he didn't take up the subject, but said rather abruptly, "Well, you know why I've come."
"Yes." Thea looked away from him. "To discuss our divorce. Though I don't really think," she said slowly, "that there can be much to discuss."
"Well, I chiefly want to know in what form you would like it."
"In what form, Lin?"
"Yes. In the circumstances, we could have a simple annulment, you know. There was no real marriage. But if you prefer a divorce—well, of course, I will provide you with the necessary evidence.''
"You mean, it's just as I like?"
"Just as you like," he agreed.
"That's very—generous of you, Lin."
He inclined his head, but he smiled and said, "It's the least I can do for you in the circumstances."
Her large, serious blue eyes came back to his face again.
"Do you mean that you're rather—sorry for what you did? " she asked, and he looked oddly disconcerted.
The second collection of 3 great novels by Mary Burchell Page 60