by Rose elver
She put her case on the rack, shook out her damp
raincoat and sank into a corner seat of the compartment. Her only companions were a stout woman and a young girl. The train pulled slowly away and snaked out through the rail yards, past the back gardens of the suburbs and on towards the open countryside.
Amelia sighed; she was not looking forward to these two days. She took off the pretty silk square of scarf and ran her fingers up through the soft waves of her hair. That was another of Max's achievements, she thought, persuading her to go to an extremely expensive hairdresser to have it restyled. Taking the compact from her bag, she flipped open the mirror. In all fairness, the way the man had cut it, shortening and reshaping it into a graceful curve about her neck,
had made an extraordinary difference—not only was it easier to manage and flattering to her face, but it had given her a psychological lift when she badly needed it. Perhaps she would take Max's advice in changing the shape of her spectacles too. Tucking the compact away, she pulled out a book and became immersed in it for the rest of the journey.
When the train eventually rolled into Whimpleford station the familiar sights and sounds swept over her in a wave of nostalgia. The clouds had been left behind and the sun was shining. She slipped on the fashionable raincoat, knotted her scarf round the handle of her bag, lifted her case down and stepped, bare-headed, out into the sunshine.
She smiled brightly at the ticket collector who had known her since her college days, but the weeks in London must have altered her appearance and manner more than she realised, for he didn't recognise her at first. Then he smiled back broadly and asked if she had come for a holiday.
`Just a couple of days,' Amelia said.
`A bit of quiet after London, eh, Miss Amelia? Next bus to Whimpleford isn't till eleven o'clock.'
`Yes, I know. I think I'll take a taxi from Market Square.'
Driving up the sweep of the Manor House drive to the flight of shallow steps, she couldn't help remembering the last time—getting so happily into the car beside Donovan, breathing the first whiff of freedom, little realising how much those moments were going to alter her life. Vague qualms about Emma's in-
evitable inquisition filled her as she paid off the taxi and watched it drive away.
The butler opened the door and welcomed her warmly: Amelia had always been considerate, and very popular with the servants. He ushered her into the high-ceilinged, gold and white entrance hall and was helping her off with her coat when Emma came languidly down the curving staircase in a long house-gown of embroidered silk. For a few seconds she looked surprised as she surveyed the town gloss on her younger sister, the London clothes, the make-up used sparingly but effectively, and a new air of confidence that was difficult to define.
`You've changed, Melly, even in this short time.' She walked over and gave her a perfunctory peck on the cheek. 'Bring us some coffee to the drawing-room, Haskins,' she called to the butler who was taking Amelia's coat and case up to her room. As soon as the butler was out of earshot she turned and said peevishly, 'The trouble you've caused, Melly!'
`Trouble?' Amelia followed her into the panelled room with its sporting prints, disheartened to think that the recriminations had started already. 'Isn't it convenient for me to collect my things this weekend? You didn't write or phone to say no.'
`Oh, that,' Emma shrugged. 'The sooner you clear out your junk the better. I want to give your room to one of the maids. She's sharing at the moment. The club's doing so well, and with the summer on top of us we've had to increase the staff.'
`I won't get in your way, Emma. Pickfords will be
picking up my trunk and Grandmother's old rocking chair on Monday morning, and that will be the last you need bother about me.'
`Oh, will it, indeed ! And what about Professor Lyne?'
Disconcerted by the sudden question, Amelia sank into an armchair. 'What about him? I'm not working for him now, I'm doing research for a visiting American at the moment.'
`For heaven's sake,' Emma flounced into a chair opposite, 'you might have told us ! '
`I wrote and told you I had another job,' said Amelia uncomfortably.
`Only this week. What have you been up to? Professor Lyne telephoned out of the blue a fortnight ago asking to speak to you. He seemed to think you should be here—it was most embarrassing.'
The arrival of the butler with the coffee service ended Emma's strictures for a few minutes, giving Amelia time to pull herself together before the next onslaught. He waited for Emma to pour, carried her cup to Amelia, proffered a silver dish of biscuits and when Amelia declined returned it to the salver and quietly withdrew.
`I find Professor Lyne very unpleasant when he talks in that abrupt, intimidating voice, as if he were speaking to one of his underlings.' Emma picked up her coffee cup. bridling at the recollection. 'He was quite annoyed when I told him you'd stayed in London, and didn't he know? He said angrily if he had known he wouldn't have been phoning. His tone was
most offensive.' Her eyes narrowed. `Did you walk out on him?'
`No ... yes, in a way, I suppose.' Amelia turned away, sipping her coffee.
`What does that mean?' Emma's sharp white teeth bit into a biscuit.
`I'd finished all the work I could do for him,' Amelia told her guardedly. 'He expected me to return here, but I-I took another job instead'
She calculated quickly in her mind that Donovan Lyne must have telephoned after seeing her that night with Max. He had no right to be angry because she had refused to run obediently back to Whimpleford on his orders! Not after the indifferent way he had practically dismissed her.
`Why on earth didn't you tell him you'd found another job?' Emma complained crossly. 'We couldn't even tell him where you were living at that time. Heaven knows what all the fuss was about, but he insisted that we let him know as soon as we heard from you, and Edward felt it his duty to give him your address and tell him that you were coming down today.'
`You mean,' Amelia couldn't help murmuring, 'you felt it was Edward's duty.' So now Donovan knew where to find her in London, she thought.
`Don't quibble! Edward and I were very worried about what you might or might not have done—mislaid the professor's papers, or left something important unfinished. I don't like the man, but it was decent of him to provide you with work for a whole year and take you up to town with him.'
`I earned my salary,' Amelia replied quietly, 'and I'm satisfied I did everything that required doing. Whatever was left unfinished was his own decision.'
`I still can't understand all this ridiculous confusion.' Emma was eyeing Amelia with pointed curiosity. 'Edward had a long session with him last evening, but he got nothing out of him.'
Amelia was startled. 'Did he come down here?' `He is here.'
After a slight pause, Amelia asked numbly: 'At the cottage?'
`Here in the Manor. He arrived from London in time for dinner yesterday. He's still a member of the club, or had you forgotten?'
Amelia put her coffee cup down carefully on the table because her hands were so unsteady. 'No, but he seldom used the club.'
`Well, he's using it now, and he wants to see you, so it must be something serious. Do try and think what you could have bungled, Melly, and have some proper answers for him. This hole-and-corner behaviour reflects on Edward and me. Why on earth did you cut yourself off in that melodramatic way?'
`Don't exaggerate, Emma.' It was an effort to try and speak placidly while her mind could only focus on Donovan's presence in the club. 'I assured you I would never be a burden to you again. And I intend to go on as I think fit.' She moved to the edge of her chair, gripped by the need to get away to the refuge of her room. 'If you'll excuse me, I'd like to go upstairs and make a start on my packing.'
`Really, Melly!' Emma clicked her tongue with
exasperation. 'How can you be so casual about everything? Have you no feeling, no concern for others? You're so uncommunicative I could scream ! Even when
Daddy died '
`I'd rather not discuss it; Amelia was stung into retorting. 'I may not be emotional, but I have my feelings.' She got to her feet. 'Where's Edward?'
`He's out playing golf.' Emma rose too and said plaintively : 'Look, I know you think I'm interfering, but we are sisters. You never confide in me, you never have, and it's very hurtful.'
`I'm sorry,' Amelia replied. 'I have nothing to confide, Emma, and nothing to be ashamed of, so there's no need for Edward and you to worry on my account.'
They stood looking at each other for a moment, then Emma turned away and shrugged. 'Have it your own way,' she said frustratedly. 'Edward was convinced you and the professor had had a row, but I know you,' she added tartly, 'you couldn't rouse yourself sufficiently to have an argument, let alone a row ! You just ran away.'
It was near enough to the truth to make Amelia wince. Speaking as calmly as she could she asked : `When am I supposed to meet Professor Lyne?'
`Well, he's gone to see Dr Truscott this morning, he seems to know him quite well.'
`Yes, of course.' Amelia felt a stirring of anxiety as to whether it was a professional or merely a social visit; then concluded that it was the latter because he was only here for the weekend.
`He would like you to join him for lunch,' said
Emma, 'in the main dining room about one o'clock.'
`Very well.' Amelia moved towards the door. 'I think I'd better go and start clearing my room.' Already her pulse was racing, her mouth dry.
`Melly,' Emma's tone was almost conciliatory, 'I like your dress, that apricot colour suits you. And the new hair style too. I always said you could do something for yourself if you made the effort.'
`Yes,' Amelia nodded wryly, 'you always did,' and retreated upstairs wishing that she could stay there until it was time to return to London.
Her small bedroom was clean and tidy and the bed had been made up. Slipping off her dress, she put on an overall from her case and went down the back staircase to ask one of the gardeners to bring her trunk up from the store room.
The rest of the morning passed too swiftly as she packed her books, pictures and oddments and sorted out what remained of her meagre wardrobe. She worked methodically, fighting against panic, knowing that there was no hope of avoiding Donovan Lyne; afraid of his displeasure when she wanted love; afraid of reviving the craving and foolish dreams she had managed to repress for so long. But there was no escape from the fact that she had behaved impulsively and very childishly and owed him an apology. And no matter how annoyed he might have been, she reflected, reassuring herself, he didn't really care; so contacting her was probably just a polite gesture.
Gradually she regained her composure. By the
time she had had a wash and put on her dress again, she was ready to face him. Standing in front of the mirror as she renewed her make-up and brushed her hair into soft, shining waves, she was relieved to see that although she was very pale there was no sign of the agitation she had been feeling. The thick frames of her spectacles added the final touch of camouflage.
Nevertheless, when the old grandfather clock in the hall chimed the hour a wave of apprehension swept over her. Without giving herself time for hesitation she went out on to the landing.
Donovan Lyne was already in the hall, talking to Edward, one hand on the newel post at the foot of the staircase : the same long, sinewy figure with its taut stillness, dressed informally in a brown turtle-necked sweater and tan slacks. Somehow the informality made him seem less formidable as she walked down the stairs confront him. But then he turned and their glances met and the smouldering look in his eyes made her heart contract. For an instant she stood petrified with shock. She had never seen such a harsh expression on his face, and she clutched the banister to prevent herself from running upstairs again.
Edward cleared his throat uncomfortably and came towards her. 'Amelia ! Sorry I wasn't here when you arrived. Glad to see you, old girl,' he wrung her hand cordially, 'we must have a chat later. You two going in to lunch now? All laid on. Just give Haskins the nod when you're ready.'
He smiled at them both and disappeared, rather hastily she thought, in the direction of the kitchen.
`So!' said the abrasive voice, 'I've caught up with you at last.'
Refusing to look at him, because she was afraid of that harsh, inimical expression, she stammered, 'How —how are you?' and proffered her ice-cold hand uncertainly.
`Quite fit, thanks.' He ignored her hand.
`The fever… '
`I didn't come down here to discuss my health.'
Flicked on the raw by his arrogant, domineering manner, she found the urge to make amends deserted her. She looked up at his furious face, her eyes completely blank behind her spectacles, and said stonily : `Why did you come?'
`What the hell have you been doing?' he snapped in a sharp undertone.
`Working in London—if it's of any interest.'
`I know that now, no thanks to you. And if you don't consider your wellbeing is of interest to me, you've become remarkably stupid in the last few weeks. Couldn't you have phoned or written a line to keep in touch?'
Tears welled to her eyes and she hurriedly averted her head and shoulders. He caught her by the arm and swivelled her round, none too gently. 'Don't turn your back on me,' he bit out nastily, 'you won't get far giving me the brush-off this time!'
`This time?' She swallowed her tears and corn-pressed her lips until she could speak again. After a moment she said in a strangled voice : 'I had no intention of giving you the brush-off, as you put it, Professor. When you gave me that very generous cheque
I assumed that that was your way of trying to tell me you didn't need me any more at the flat. You had already made it clear that your secretarial staff at the Institute would cope with the rest of the work on the book. Then with Bill and Polly Austin coming to help you out there didn't seem much point in staying ..
`So you marched off into the blue, with no more than a few trite words on a bit of paper, before I'd had time to finish my breakfast ! ' His eyes blazed. Tor God's sake, Amelia, we knew each other better than that ! '
A group of people came in through the front door, laughing and talking, stared at the arrested tension of the couple by the stairs and went towards the door of the club lounge. Donovan released his merciless grip on Amelia's arm and she leaned against the newel post, knowing that she would have to sit down soon or her legs would fail her. In all her expectations of meeting him again she had never foreseen such a flame of anger shrivelling her mind and heart. She was in a nightmare.
He continued savagely, 'It's irrational, I suppose, to blame you for escaping as soon as you could ! But I would have thought it was common courtesy to let me know that you had somewhere to go, that you'd fixed yourself up with another job.'
`I hadn't, not at that stage,' she admitted huskily, rubbing her arm where she could still feel the bruising pressure of his fingers. 'I knew you wanted me to come back to Whimpleford, and I had no intention of doing so! I had to make a decision some time, and it
seemed the right moment to get out of your way and find some other work.'
`Get out of my way? You mean get away from me !' he cut in caustically. He stared down into the pinched defencelessness of her face and said in a goaded voice : 'Hallow had no business to bully you into looking after me!'
`He didn't. All he did was to ask if I could cope, and I insisted that I could. You ... you needed help,' she faltered, prodding up her spectacles.
But neither he nor I had any right to expect it from you. He was under a misconception about you and me. I wanted to talk it over, but I was too weak at first, and afterwards—well, there were other factors. How much did you resent it, Amelia? You were about as forthcoming as a clam.'
He broke off as another crowd of weekenders came streaming in. 'This place is like a zoo ! ' He swore impatiently. 'I wouldn't have chosen to meet you here, but there was no other way of pinning you down.' He put a hand unde
r her elbow, and the renewed touch brought her emotions surging back.
`Let's go in to lunch.' He steered her into the club lounge. To her relief most of the members had gone through to the bar, and they found a quiet corner furthest from the door. While he ordered a couple of dry Martinis Amelia sank dazedly into a low chair with the window behind her, so that when he returned and sat opposite her the light fell across his features. He still looked angry, but much more controlled. His hair seemed greyer at the temples and the small lines more heavily marked in his face. There
had been nothing debilitated about his rage, nor the sheer force of nervous vitality. But the bout of fever had obviously left its traces. Seeing those deeper, bone-drawn lines filled Amelia with remorse, knowing they indicated the degree of stress to which she had thoughtlessly and selfishly added when his physical condition was low.
`Professor,' she leaned forward pleadingly, 'I didn't in the least resent having to look after you, please believe me.'
He seemed to get a grip on himself with an effort and said shortly, 'But for some reason you resented your hard-earned cheque. Why?'
`It was a kind of dismissal.' She looked up and met his compelling glance, then turned away, saying almost inaudibly : 'Wasn't it?'
He took the two glasses from the waiter and put one on the table near her hand. 'No, it was by way of an offer to release you from your distasteful task ... and the drudgery around the flat.' As he gazed at her bowed head his steely anger slowly evaporated. 'As a matter of fact I hoped you would go back with Bill and Polly that afternoon, Amelia. I thought Polly would be able to cosset you for a while to make up for the trouble I'd caused. Then back to Whimpleford to put a few things together, and off for a holiday before we found you a new job. I wanted to explain this when I handed over the cheque, but you weren't prepared to listen, were you?'