She nodded and looked down at the bright rug. “It’s the uncertainty, and the knowledge that people are talking, that hurt. Bill, don’t answer this if I’m going too far, but ... why didn’t you let Elise have her divorce when she first asked for it?”
He half turned to the table and tried his drink, stayed in that position ostensibly righting the cutlery he had disarranged. “You’re too young for this sort of thing, Lorna.”
“I’m capable of understanding; you know that.”
“It isn’t really a matter of understanding, but I’ll tell you as much as I can.” He stood up and took his drink to the window, rattled down the reed blind and fastened it, so that his face was shadowed. “When I applied for this job Elise and I were still living together but none too happily. Paul’s letter enquiring for more details of my career also asked whether I was the Bill Ramsay who had married Elise. She was flattered, and when I replied she also wrote to him herself. The outcome was that I was taken on, and had to come here at once. Elise was to follow, but instead of coming to Panai she went to Main Island, met Paul there and was introduced into the Residency. I hadn’t been here long before I realized how things stood.” He paused. “You do know that the Governor and his wife were very anxious for Paul to marry Kyrle Reynor?”
“Yes,” she said thinly.
“I must admit I hope for it, too. Perhaps I was a little mad, but at that time I felt sure that if I agreed to a divorce Paul would make known his intention to marry Elise, to stop the rumors which connected him with Miss Reynor. While Elise was my wife there was still a chance he would become engaged to Kyrle Reynor. So I was stubborn.”
“You don’t seem to have thought about Paul’s feelings at all,” Lorna said, low-voiced. “He wouldn’t marry a woman he didn’t love, merely to please his uncle.” But she had hardly spoken before becoming aware of the hollowness of the statement. He had married someone he didn’t love, and merely for pity or convenience.
He sighed. “I must confess that I know little more about Paul himself than I did on the first day we met. But you can be sure of one thing, Lorna; he’ll always take the utmost care of you. That’s the way he’s made.”
Her fist went tight in her lap and she wanted to bang it hard on the arm of her chair. Bill was disillusioned, defeatist. He had made a hash of his marriage with Elise and he just had no idea of how one accomplished a happy union. She didn’t know herself, but she wasn’t a man of thirty-seven!
“I’m afraid I haven’t helped you much,” he said, “but I don’t think you need worry about people talking. The younger superintendents’ wives can’t stand Mrs. Astley because she gives herself airs. Besides,” with a tired smile, “they all think you pretty and shy, and well worth any man’s love. I wish to heaven I’d married someone like you ten years ago. I’d have saved myself a whale of a lot of anguish.”
It was only then that Lorna thought of him as a man who had been made desperately unhappy by a woman. She looked across at him with compassion, but he must have interpreted the glance because his squarish face lost expression, except for a worn smile.
He spoke casually. “Do you like Elise?”
“In many ways she’s splendid. There does seem to be a queer streak in her, but I rather enjoy it.”
“Does she ever speak about me?”
“Occasionally. I never knew anyone less self-conscious.” She wondered if he minded terribly that others on the plantations knew he was estranged from the wife who was staying at the manager’s bungalow, heard herself saying, “I would like you to come in sometimes, Bill. You’re sort of stable and secure.”
“And Elise isn’t,” he stated. “If you’re recovered, perhaps you ought to go. You won’t keep fretting about Mrs. Astley, will you?”
“Not if I can help it.”
“I’ll see you get a full supply of petrol. Let’s go back to your car now.”
Ten minutes later Lorna was nearing her own bungalow. After consideration, she had decided to let Elise think she had been detained by Mrs. Astley, and to forget the woman’s insinuations as completely as she could. In order that the superintendent’s wife should not be upset in any way, she would send a polite note declining her invitation for this evening. That should end the whole distasteful business, so that the rest of Paul’s absence might be lived through placidly, if not entirely with serenity.
Lorna could not know, of course, that other disturbing events were in preparation. She had to wait till the following morning for the first glimpse of them.
CHAPTER FIVE
THE young man in white uniform stepped smartly from the official car and came up the bungalow steps. He smiled and bowed to the two women in the veranda, avoided Elise’s glance of tolerant enquiry and said to Lorna,
“Mrs. Paul Westbrook? I’m Edward Firbright. I have a letter for you from His Excellency. Will you read it now, please?”
She took the thick white envelope in quivering fingers, saw the emblazoned flap as she slipped a thumb beneath it. Clumsily, she extracted the sheet of notepaper and opened it, but seconds passed before she could focus her vision on the heavily ornate hand writing.
“My dear Lorna,” she read. "I am paying an informal visit to Panai and would like you to have lunch with me at the offices of the Rubber Corporation. I am sure you will agree it is time we met, but if you are reluctant I shall understand. However, I hope very much that you will allow me the pleasure of meeting Paul’s wife in a friendly atmosphere on her own ground, so to speak.” The signature was “Ronan Garfield”.
Pale, her mouth dry, she looked quickly at the young official and handed the letter to Elise. The older woman read, folded the letter and gave it back.
She said suavely, “Take a seat, Teddy. I’ll send the servant with drinks. Will you excuse us for a few minutes?”
She walked languidly into the house with Lorna close behind, shut the door and took a breath.
But Lorna spoke first, hurriedly. “Elise, what in the world am I to do? The Governor’s here, on Panai, and how can I refuse him without letting myself down terribly? He says he’ll understand if I refuse, but will he?”
“First of all,” said Elise calmly, “we won’t panic. I like the old chap, and you will, too. You’ll have to go, of course.”
“But I’d be terrified unless Paul were there! First impressions mean so much, and I haven’t the smallest notion of how to deal with the man.”
“You don’t—he deals with you. Has Paul said he doesn’t want you to meet his uncle?”
“No.” She hesitated. “He said the opposite—that he’d like me to know the Governor and Colin. But this is such a thunderbolt! And I’m quite certain Paul wouldn’t want me to meet any of them without him. He’s diplomatic and ruthless.”
“You can be fairly diplomatic yourself,” commented Elise with irony, “and with those appealing eyes you don’t need to be ruthless. The way I see it, if you turn the Governor down you may upset him slightly and it’s a wrong beginning, anyway. Personally, I think he’ll be careful with you because he’d do anything rather than become estranged from Paul. I also think he’s come here for the sole purpose of seeing you. Not to weigh up whether you’re good enough—don’t think that!”
“Then why?”
“His sister was Paul’s mother and she died young; he thinks perhaps even more of Paul than of his own son, and he’s a family man at heart. It’s natural that he should want to know Paul’s wife.”
“But ... he’s been disappointed.”
Elise shrugged. “Seems he’s got over it. You can be certain that he’ll never be the least disappointed in you so long as you’re good for Paul.”
Lorna whitened. It was too much and too sudden, but she had to act. Would Paul agree to her meeting the Governor under these circumstances? Would he be angry if she declined the invitation? Both were questions she could not answer, because where his people were concerned Paul had been adamant that she should stay away from them for a while. But he had not fo
reseen this trip of the Governor’s; if he had, he might have suggested that if Lady Alys were absent she would get through all right.
She shivered.
“Yes, I’ll have to go. Will you tell that man for me? What shall I wear?”
Elise considered. “The new white suit. It has short sleeves, and a touch of blue, so you’ll look feminine but elegant. You’re young enough to look a dream in white.”
“I wish you could go with me!”
But Elise said wisely, “You’ll be better on your own, believe me. Better even than if Paul were there. Sir Ronan will see to it that you aren’t quite alone with him for long; he’s thoughtful that way. So all you have to remember is to be natural. You’d better change at once, and I’ll tell Teddy he has to take you back with him.”
It was a keyed-up but fairly poised young woman who joined the Governor’s junior aide in the car half an hour later. They drove across the rubber estates to the tiny port, skirted the beach where rather more islanders than usual had gathered because the big official launch, flying the Union Jack, was tied up at the jetty. The car stopped outside the offices, Lorna was helped out and bowed into the building.
The interior was large and cool, the corridor high-ceilinged and airy. The floors were of polished stone, but here and there long mgs were fixed, rectangles of deep-piled navy blue in the expanses of gleaming grey. Irrelevantly, Lorna recollected that Paul had told her the Corporation’s offices were probably the most modem in the South Seas; they had been entirely rebuilt only two years ago.
A door was opened. The young aide said, “Mrs. Westbrook, sir,” and Lorna found herself facing a slender grey-haired man of perhaps sixty. He wore a plain tropical lounge suit with military bearing, and Lorna realized, with thudding heart, that this was how Paul would look at his age. The likeness was uncanny; yet analyzed, Sir Ronan’s features were less pronounced than Paul’s and his eyes had no hardness in them; they twinkled. And Paul was much bigger, of course.
“So this is Lorna,” Sir Ronan said, taking her hand between both of his. “I’m not at all surprised that Paul kept you to himself for a while! This is a tremendous pleasure to me, you know. For the last hour I’ve been sitting here like a worried lover, myself!”
His manner put her at ease. She smiled at him as she sat in the leather armchair, told herself that the worst was really over and that there was no need to put on a special look for him. Sir Ronan’s courteous manner was inbred, but he took pains to show her that he was definitely off-duty. He looked pleased when she refused a cigarette, and her glance of apprehension when he poured cocktails sealed their friendship.
“Just a very small drink,” he said, “because this is a great occasion. I’m sorry Paul isn’t here, but he sometimes carries a dagger, if you know what I mean, and I want this to be a smooth and agreeable beginning for us. I’m sure you’re very loyal, so we won’t speak about him unless you want to. By the way, I had a short report from him a day or two ago. Everything is proceeding according to plan.”
A report to the Governor but no letter for Lorna. Well, it was difficult for him, because all post for Panai had to go through Main Island. He had told her to write to him care of the Residency, and she had written—a rather formal little note which merely said that things were normal at the bungalow. It was possible that he wouldn’t reply, yet why shouldn’t he? He was very keen that outwardly at least they should be husband and wife.
At first, while Sir Ronan talked and drew her out, she had the feeling that Paul was right behind her, watchful and ... and ominous. Then the feeling disintegrated in Sir Ronan’s warmth.
“When my son told me you were young and pretty I grew very anxious to see you,” he said with a glint of humor. “I always thought a woman had to be at least twenty-three before she could fall seriously in love, but perhaps age is not so important, after all. It’s the type of emotion that differs, not its quality. At your age, of course, love is all moonlight and roses. That should be very good for Pauli”
“Doesn’t he give enough attention to such things?” she asked demurely.
“Not by a long way. To him, the moon turns up regularly and so do the flowers. Trees produce rubber, and fields of sugar-cane are not acres of waving green silk but the material means of energy in his workers. In some directions you may have to imbue him with a new set of values.”
“Paul is not what one might call teachable,” she said, cautiously but with a smile.
“Granted. You’ve already realized that marrying Paul is a big job, but may I say that having met you I have no qualms? You’ll be an excellent tonic for him. As you know, he means a great deal to me, and I have every intention of becoming exceptionally fond of you for your own sake!” He paused, and then added quietly, “Now that we are acquainted I will not importune Paul to bring you to the Residency before you are both ready for it. I hope, however, that it will not be long before you are regular visitors.”
“Thank you, Sir Roman.”
He rose. “And now we will go in to lunch. I expect you know these rooms?”
Lorna did not have to answer this. He opened a severely plain door into a board-room which today had been converted into a dining-room. The large table was pushed against the wall and used for serving, and a small square table stood in the centre of the room, its surface bright between the white mats and glasses, a bowl of gardenia buds at one corner. A man turned from the window—a strikingly handsome man who was past callow youth but no more than thirty. He was dark and well groomed, wore a suit of creaseless white, and showed teeth which were even whiter in the sallowness of his complexion. His bow to Lorna was a thing of perfection, slight but somehow packed with unspoken compliments.
“I must introduce you,” said Sir Ronan. “My dear, this is Monsieur Chauvet, who is an hereditary director of the Rubber Corporation. My niece by marriage, Armand ... Lorna Westbrook.”
“But how charming,” the man said softly, with an impeccable English accent. “Paul is the most fortunate of men, and I shall tell him so. You are the freshest flower the islands have known, madame!”
Which was rather high-flown but very agreeable. Indeed, Lorna had never before encountered anyone so good for her ego. The Frenchman seated her and politely waited till Sir Ronan was seated before taking his own place. His glance was continually on her and the tiny hint of ardor in it was as heady as the champagne which was served by an assiduous Malay. He explained himself to her.
“Many years ago, when it was first thought that rubber would thrive here, my family formed a company with some Englishmen. We sold them this land and it was agreed that always a member of my family would be a director of the company. I am the third, but not, I hope, the last of the Chauvets to have this honor.”
“Do you live in the Main Islands, monsieur?”
“No, in the Marquesas, but I come here two or three times a year and the Governor is good enough to allow me to stay at the Residency. I arrived only yesterday, but I hope before I leave to give a dinner for my friends here in the Main Islands.”
“Are you staying long?”
The dark glance returned an affirmative, but he said serenely, “I am not sure. Certainly I would like to take the opportunity during this visit of driving through the plantations, but I would not care to do it without Paul. He knows so much.”
“So we can assume,” said the Governor, “that you will be with us for at least two weeks. I’m very glad, Armand. Perhaps we can even manage one of our official functions while you are with us—but they take a good deal of preparation and my wife likes long notice. However, we shall see. Lorna, my dear, you must try one of these pigeons. They’re delicious.”
She looked at the large oval dish where six of the roasted pigeons were arranged in a circle with browned sweet potatoes and bananas between them, and she declined. Pigeons, on Panai, meant the lilac doves which sat on the lawn in pairs and cooed with love for each other. One couldn’t eat a roasted lover.
By the time the meal
had ended Lorna felt more exhilarated than for weeks past. There was the Governor, paternal and yet obviously grateful for this chance of meeting her informally, there were the silent-footed Malays whipping away plates and producing clean ones, placing the coffee tray so that she could handle everything with ease, putting ashtrays where they were needed. And there was the exciting presence of Armand Chauvet—Yes, she had to admit that this French colonial with his amazing good looks and the air of withheld devotion was pleasantly disturbing.
She gave herself ten minutes after the last coffee cup was emptied, then said regretfully, “I must leave you now. It’s been so lovely to meet you, Sir Ronan.”
“It has set matters right,” he told her, “though I shall not feel entirely satisfied until you are a constant visitor at the Residency. I will call my aide to escort you.”
“Why deprive me of the pleasure, my dear Governor?” said Armand Chauvet. “I shall be most happy to drive with Madame to the plantation.”
“That’s kind of you, my boy. Well, au revoir, Lorna.” She let the Governor take her hand, and then, impulsively, she reached up and touched her lips to his cheek. For a second he looked foolishly happy, but then his usual expression of benign hauteur took over. He murmured a few more conventional words, and Lorna went out, closely followed by Monsieur Chauvet.
They got into the back of the official car, the driver was instructed to drive slowly because Monsieur wished to view the trees. But Monsieur paid scant attention to the trees; he was far more interested in lively hazel eyes and a white cap set upon short brown wavy hair. And there was a restraint in his admiration which increased its potency.
“You are truly enchanting,” he said. “Like a rosebud opening one eye to look at the world.”
She laughed. “A winking rosebud sounds quite improbable. Tell me about your home in the Marquesas, monsieur.”
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