Above Rubies

by Mary Cummins

  “Nigel!” she cried weakly, then summoned a little more strength. “Nigel!”

  He disintegrated into small floating objects, and changed into Benjamin.

  “Her temperature is a hundred and four,” he was saying. “Why couldn’t you have rung Dr. Greer? And . for heaven’s sake, get Mrs. Cameron. She still isn’t a hundred per cent, but she’d never forgive us for Merry being in this state without telling her.”

  Merry wanted to put out a hand and hold on to him till Mrs. Cameron came, but the knowledge that they were nearby rested and soothed her, and she slept.

  It seemed a very long time later when she woke again, to find Mrs. Cameron gently tidying her bedroom. The older woman looked a trifle pale, but her face was bright and she slipped lightly over to the bed when Merry called to her.

  “I’m so glad you’re here,” she whispered. “Are you better?”

  “Right as rain,” Mrs. Cameron told her, then wiped her nose with a large white hankie. “Oh, Miss Merry, I should have been home before, leaving you like this to them!”

  “Are they ... are they downstairs?” Merry asked.

  “No, gone, thank goodness, though Miss Sylvia is still here. Keeps telling us all that someone has to say and help, but if you ask me, she’s only staying because it suits her.” Mrs. Cameron straightened the bed, and bunched up Merry’s pillow. “There I go,” she said, in a more normal tone, “worrying you again, and you as weak as a baby after as good a dose of ’flu as I’ve seen. Mr. Benjamin has been a grand help. He’s fair taken care of you.”

  Merry lay back, feeling at peace with the world, and contentment stole over her. No one else mattered at the moment, and all the small niggling things she usually worried about faded away. Benjamin had worried about her, and that meant ... might mean ... that he cared a bit for her.

  “Mr. Nigel’s been here, too,” Mrs. Cameron went on. “He’s sent all these daffodils, all the way from Hillington.”

  “It’s very kind of him,” said Merry softly.

  Two days later Dr. Greer allowed her to go downstairs, and Mrs. Cameron installed her on the settee, propped up with pillows and cushions. Sylvia was relieved when she realised Merry didn’t particularly want her to hang around and keep her company. She was quite happy with a good book, though she was very pleased to see Nigel when he called in the afternoon.

  “Well, young lady, you have given us all a fright,” he told her, mockingly reproachful. “What do you mean by giving yourself such a dose of ’flu?”

  “I didn’t enjoy it a bit,” Merry assured him laughingly, and he looked with concern at her small pale face and large, blue-shadowed eyes.

  “Don’t go overdoing anything, then,” he said, seriously. “’Flu can be nasty. Besides, we want you better for the next jewellery display and cocktail party. It’s at the Royal Hotel.”

  “Goodness, that’s very grand,” exclaimed Merry.

  “You were so good at helping last time. I was hoping you’d be willing to do the checking again.”

  “But, Nigel dear, I said I could help if you like,” put in Sylvia, rather plaintively.

  Nigel laughed and tweaked a silver curl.

  “You’re much too pretty to do anything else but enhance the scenery,” he told her playfully, then coloured a little as he turned to Merry. “Not that you aren’t just as beautiful, Merry,” he said awkwardly, and she laughed with genuine amusement.

  “No need to apologise, Nigel. We know what you mean, and of course I’d love to come and help with the checking if I can be of any use to you and Stephanie.”

  “She’s sold on the enamel stuff now, she and David Bruce,” he told her. “David predicts big sales for it, and Stephanie wants to model a few pieces.”

  “Can’t I even wear something?” asked Sylvia with exasperation, and again Nigel laughed with amusement, though there was a light in his eyes as he looked at her. Merry watched him, and knew that Nigel was very attracted to her cousin, and might even have marriage in mind after he had considered carefully. Nigel, she now knew, never did really important things in too big a hurry. He was often impulsive, but only over small things.

  “I have something in mind for you,” he told her. “I thought the topaz ... it’s still to sell,” he told Merry.

  “I thought that was a lot less valuable,” put in Sylvia, pouting a little.

  “It is,” Nigel told her, “but I think you’ll agree that this particular topaz is ... very pretty, isn’t it, Merry?”

  “It certainly is,” she agreed, remembering the fabulous stone. It had made her shiver a little when she handled it, and she hadn’t felt at all comfortable until Nigel locked it away. So far no one had felt able to afford it.

  “By the way, I don’t think I shall be able to go to that concert of pop music after all, Sylvia,” said Nigel. “We’re going to be very busy over the next two weeks, and I’ll be working late most nights.”

  “But, Nigel darling, you promised!” she cried, her pretty brows wrinkled with disappointment.

  “No, my dear, I didn’t promise,” he told her quietly. “I said I’d try to go.”

  “And I want to hear it,” said Sylvia, a trifle sulkily. “Surely you can stretch a point for one night?”

  Nigel’s lips were thinning, and Merry glanced away, caught by a movement at the window.

  “It’s Benjamin!” she said delightedly, and Sylvia rose gracefully and ran to let him in. Except for one very brief visit, Merry hadn’t seen Benjamin since she was too ill to talk to him.

  “Well, well,” he said, standing for a moment to admire the cosy scene by the fire. “Quite a family party. Sure I won’t be in the way?”

  “Now that’s enough of that, Mr. Benjamin,” said Mrs. Cameron briskly, from behind him.

  “I’m just making some nice tea for you all, and I’ve some of your favourite fruit cake. You were a good help when Miss Merry was so bad, so you aren’t running away now.”

  “Yes, I wanted to thank you, Benjamin,” began Merry softly.

  “No need for that,” he told her brusquely. “I did nothing clever anyway, except get the doctor. It’s what anybody would have done.”

  Merry flushed a little at his offhand tone. “Well, thank you, anyway,” she said politely.

  “I ... er ... I didn’t bring flowers or anything because you seem to have plenty,” said Benjamin, looking round at Nigel’s massive gifts of spring flowers, before tucking into his tea. “I brought this instead, though.”

  He produced a folder, and extracted a letter which Merry took with a puzzled wrinkle on her brow. Then her face cleared, and she read it with delight.

  “Why, Benjamin!” she cried. “It’s an acceptance for our little book. That’s marvellous!”

  “Here’s the cover,” said Benjamin, producing a piece of card with a delightful fairy-like drawing of a pink caterpillar surrounded by the gayest of flowers behind which peeped several delightful little animals.

  “It’s lovely!” she cried, and Sylvia, too, exclaimed with delight.

  “I never knew you were so clever,” she told Benjamin, her lovely face suddenly alight with admiration. “It’s gorgeous. Will it be in all the book shops, with your name on?”

  “I hope so,” laughed Benjamin, while Nigel examined the drawing, then handed it back with a nod of approval.

  “I’m afraid I’ll have to go now,” he said, rising to his feet. “It’s nice to see you downstairs again, Merry. I’ll come again and see you as soon as I can.”

  “I’ll show you out,” said Sylvia, rising quickly and taking his arm.

  Merry watched them go, wondering if Sylvia would take her opportunity and try to wheedle Nigel into a firm promise to take her to the concert. How immature and childish she is, thought Merry, with a sigh. Nigel and she might even be happy together, if only Sylvia would grow up.

  “What’s wrong?” asked Benjamin, hearing the sigh. “Things a bit complicated at times?”

  “A bit,” she admitted, with a
rueful smile. “Though there certainly are compensations when you bring news of another acceptance.”

  “Does the ... money suit you?” asked Benjamin, indicating the letter.

  “Of course, but not fifty-fifty, please, Benjamin.”

  “Fifty-fifty or net at all,” he told her curtly. “There would be no book if you hadn’t written it.”

  She said no more. It would be most welcome, she thought wryly, glancing at her desk where a pile of bills had grown. Christmas, with Aunt Elizabeth and Uncle George as guests, had been an expensive time for her.

  “All right,” she agreed meekly. “And ... and thank you.”

  She lay back among her cushions rather tiredly, as Sylvia came dancing back, her pretty face alive and sparkling. No doubt she’d got her own way after all, thought Merry resentfully.

  “Are you getting tired?” asked Benjamin bluntly. “If so, for goodness’ sake, say so, and don’t be so polite. I’m off!”

  “Oh, are you going so soon?” cried Sylvia.

  “It’s time Merry had a rest,” said Benjamin firmly. “Go and get Mrs. Cameron. As for you, Sylva...” He paused, considering a little. “I could do with a bit of help over at the studio,” he told her. “I need a blonde model. How about it? I’ll pay you, of course.”

  “Benjamin!” she squealed. “Do you really mean it ... have my picture on illustrations? Isn’t that exciting, Merry?”

  Merry felt too tired to do more than nod. She was beginning to feel slightly dizzy again, and was glad to see Sylvia being hurried out by Benjamin. It didn’t occur to her that she might not feel so happy about that later.

  CHAPTER 7

  IT was almost a week before Merry felt well enough to get, up for a normal day, and it took even longer before she could take up the threads of her writing again. The first draft of her book was almost finished, and she began to work on it again, slowly at first, then with enthusiasm which brought a surge of excitement. She knew she had put her best into it, and her main characters came through crystal clear as likeable people. But would it sell? she wondered. Would all this highly concentrated work be wasted? But even as she collected her work together, she knew that it hadn’t been wasted. She was a better writer for having tackled a major piece of work, and even if her reward was just her own pleasure and satisfaction, it was enough.

  Sylvia was still paying visits to the Cot House, and her conversation was now revolving quite a lot around Benjamin.

  “He’s really very attractive,” she told Merry. “I wonder why I didn’t notice before. He’s almost as good-looking as Nigel, in a different sort of way, and he’s awfully talented, isn’t he, Merry?”

  “Very,” Merry agreed, with a small smile.

  “I’m sure he’d make a fortune in London doing portraits. You should just see the one he’s doing of me. He’s got his illustration finished, but this is different. This is a real portrait, and I have to sit like this, and put my hair over my shoulder like this.”

  Sylvia posed enchantingly, and Merry looked at her uneasily. Surely Benjamin, too, couldn’t have fallen under her spell. Yet why not? She remembered them dancing together at the Christmas party, and his face as he smiled down at her. Very few men were able to resist Sylvia, and it took varying degrees of time before they realised her immaturity. She had imagined that Benjamin had already sensed this in Sylvia, and she began to wonder if that didn’t matter any more. Enchantment rarely included common sense.

  “Did you know he’s the real owner of Rossie House?” Sylvia was asking, and Merry nodded.

  “Well, I think it was mean of you to keep that to yourself,” said Sylvia a trifle petulantly. “You never tell me anything. Mummy and Daddy didn’t know, so they didn’t really get to know Benjamin, did they? I mean, they might have liked him just as much as Nigel.”

  “I shouldn’t have thought that ought to matter,” said Merry dryly.

  She glanced at the clock and decided that her small break after lunch had lasted long enough and it was high time she was back at her desk.

  “Anyway, don’t go making eyes at Benjamin,” she said lightly. “He belongs to Stephanie.” Sylvia’s eyes opened wide.

  “Where have you been, darling?” she asked.

  “It’s ages since Stephanie thought of Benjamin. In fact, I suspect it was David Bruce all the time, only he was just the shop manager, and she wasn’t sure about how her father felt. But it’s O.K. really. He’s awfully good family, you know, and Mr. Kilpatrick respects his judgement in business matters.”

  “How do you know all this?” asked Merry, her lips a trifle dry.

  “She told me, of course. They’re getting married in May, after they do up the flat above the shop in Hillington. Didn’t you know?” Merry felt stunned as she sat staring into the fire. What about Benjamin? Had he cared for Stephanie and she had let him down? Or was he ... was he quite free to love someone else? Or ... or was it Sylvia who was now holding his heart? Perhaps, being an artist, he could only really love beautiful women, and perhaps that was why he had now asked Sylvia to come and pose for him.

  She caught sight of her own reflection in the sideboard mirror and sighed deeply. The ’flu had taken the sparkle and radiance she needed to bring any beauty she had to life. Now she looked just dull and rather plain, and she had a great desire to curl round in the settee and cry and cry.

  “What’s the matter? You look a bit strange,” Sylvia told her.

  “It’s nothing. Just ... I hope Benjamin hasn’t been hurt by Stephanie, that’s all.”

  “He didn’t love her,” Sylvia said sagely. “I knew that straight away. You can always tell when a man’s in love, and Benjamin’s in love all right, but not with Stephanie.”

  She stretched herself complacently, looking rather like a small golden cat.

  “I’ve to go for another sitting tomorrow. Wouldn’t it be lovely if he got an exhibition or something, the thing real artists get?”

  “Benjamin’s a real artist,” said Merry shortly. “Of course he is, darling. Haven’t I just said so? I must go and ring Nigel, though ... remind him about tonight.”

  Merry watched her glide away, and tried to adjust her ideas. But her head began to ache, and she lay back and closed her eyes, feeling the warm tears under her lashes. She felt rather than saw Mrs. Cameron bending over her, and tucking a tartan rug round her knees.

  “It’s the depression,” she was saying. “It fair makes ye greet, but ye’ll feel better after, Miss Merry. I grat mysel’ to sleep one nicht, and a’ for naethin’

  Merry nodded, and began to enjoy her good cry. After all, it was just all for naethin’.

  For the next few days, Merry couldn’t settle to anything, though she began to type out the more straightforward parts of her book, then resolved to go and see Benjamin. His personality seemed to loom over her, governing her every action, and she was finding it more and more difficult to be completely independent when her need for him seemed to grow every day.

  She chose a time when Sylvia wasn’t with him, having gone to Hillington, no doubt to spend her fee on knicknacks, and used the straightforward excuse that she had come to see the portrait.

  “I’ve heard so much about it from Sylvia,” she said easily, “that I admit I’m curious, Benjamin. Can’t I see it?”

  He regarded her thoughtfully.

  “Certainly, my dear. Come over here to the studio.”

  The portrait wasn’t quite finished, but Merry gasped when she saw it. Sylvia’s wonderful beauty seemed to leap at her out of the canvas, and she stared at it, feeling her heart squeeze with pain. Benjamin must really have fallen in love with her, or he could never have painted her looking so unbelievably lovely.

  “Is that how she looks ... to you?” she whispered.

  “That’s how she looks to most people, I would imagine,” Benjamin told her dryly. “Is it a good likeness?”

  She nodded, biting her lip.

  “No wonder she was pleased,” she told him, keeping her
voice light.

  Benjamin covered the portrait up again.

  “It’s nice to see you more like your old self,” he told her, “though you’ve still got to find your bit of sparkle. What about relaxation? Still going out with Nigel?”

  She nodded. “He’s asked me to help again with the jewellery cocktail party. I know you don’t like me doing it, but I helped Stephanie last time because they were short-staffed, and now I know how to go about it. I’m helping to check again, and I shall enjoy it, really I will.”

  “Well, I suppose I can’t influence you against it, though I still think they have no right to ask you,” he said firmly.

  He was looking much more serious and thoughtful than she had ever seen him, and it struck her that he was looking rather pale and thin. There was an unhappy twist to his smile now, and Merry had to control herself to keep from slipping her arms round him to comfort him.

  “Is ... is everything all right?” she asked softly.

  “I wish it were,” he said with a sigh. “I only wish it were, but I’m bad at trying to arrange other people’s lives, my dear, especially when it touches my own. Do ... do you think Nigel Kilpatrick still ... admires Sylvia?”

  Merry’s cheeks coloured.

  “I don’t really know,” she said, in a low voice.

  “Can’t you make sure he doesn’t?” he asked, an exasperated note in his voice, “if you care at all for him, that is.”

  There was a long silence while Benjamin stared out of the window, and Merry felt as though her heart was swelling to bursting point inside her. Benjamin was actually appealing to her to take Nigel from Sylvia. He wanted Sylvia, only Nigel stood in the way, and he wanted her ... her ... to try to gain Nigel’s attentions!

  Anger began to claw at her, anger fanned by jealousy, and she jumped to her feet.