Summer Lightning

by Jill Tahourdin

  If it should happen tonight, what would she say or do? She had absolutely no idea how she would react. It would depend on him—how he spoke, looked. No good getting worked up about it now. Perhaps it wouldn’t happen, anyway...

  In the sitting room she found Alaric mixing a pre-party cocktail.

  “Here you are,” he said, filling a glass for her. “Just to put us in the party mood. It’s fairly harmless.”

  “It’s lovely, Alaric.”

  Freda looked her over.

  “My, my! And who is all this radiance in aid of?”

  “No one. It’s just that glorious feeling of not knowing what the evening may bring forth. You look pretty radiant yourself—doesn’t she, Alaric?”

  “Not bad,” he allowed, with a fond look that belied the tepid praise. “In fact my women do me credit tonight. It’ll be chilly going out in the launch, Chloe. You’ll need your mink.”

  She laughed and picked up her camel’s hair coat. “This’ll have to do instead.”

  Freda, she saw, was wrapping herself into a rather ancient fur.

  “I keep this old heirloom for parties on boards” she explained. “It’s known throughout the fleet as Freda’s bit of vermin.”

  Gaily they bundled themselves into Alaric’s car. Chloe, in the middle, made herself small and gave herself up to wishful thinking.

  At the harbor they found dozens of parked cars and a crowd of well wrapped guests, waiting for passage in the trim launches that were ferrying between the carrier and the shore.

  Across the water the carrier’s immense bulk, brilliantly outlined in lights, glittered like a showboat. It was duplicated in the smooth surface of the water. The launches, coming and going, shattered its reflection into golden fragments that leaped and danced and came together again.

  Robert was waiting to greet them at the head of the gangway. He dealt with their coats and shepherded them on deck. His blue eyes studied Chloe ardently, from the top of her shining head to the tips of her sandals.

  “You look marvelous. There isn’t anyone here to touch you,” he murmured as he took her arm.

  “Flatterer!”

  “No, I mean it.”

  “Hm. You chaps are doing Malta proud tonight, my lad,” Alaric told him judicially as they mingled with the crowd.

  “Had to do something to knock you submarine characters in the eye,” Robert retorted. After which grade-school exchange the pair grinned amiably at each other. Honor was satisfied.

  Chloe looked eagerly around her, bright-eyed with delight.

  For her the vast improbable vessel moving gently beneath her feet had a dreamlike quality. It was elegantly festooned with multicolored lights, and there were awnings to keep the night air from the hundreds of guests. Its spotless quarterdeck was ready for dancing. Its blue-jacketed band fiddled and blew with muted gusto behind banked roses and hydrangeas.

  The captain, gold-braided, with rows of medal ribbons on his broad chest was chatting affably with a group of exalted persons—His Excellency and his lady, the admiral-in-chief, an imposing Maltese matron in sapphire satin and diamonds and the little dark baron, her husband.

  A monocled Frenchman was kissing hands all around with Gallic grace. Chloe saw him hurry over to greet Louise, who had just made an entrance, a little later when the crowd had thinned somewhat, with Mark. She was in her favorite flame color, and wore her “wicked lady” look with telling effect. The Frenchman lost no time in leading her off on his arm.

  Around the fringes of the dancing floor male guests, in vastly becoming uniforms or conventional tails, tossed down whiskeys and pink gins. The women, in summery evening gowns, sipped delicately at their cocktails and looked questingly around them.

  A group of pretty young things clustered around the flag lieutenant and the governor’s aide-de-camp, suave young men who could be relied on to effect the right introductions and see that no one lacked a dancing partner or someone to flirt with.

  Robert brought Chloe a glass of her favorite dry sherry.

  “Your eyes are exactly the same color—and about twice as intoxicating,” he told her.

  She laughed.

  “Why, Robert, what’s come over you? Such a pretty speech!”

  He thought it was, too. He felt in form tonight.

  “It’s true,” he assured her. “Look, I’ve got three or four duty dances I must do now. Keep all the rest for me, won’t you?”

  “Wouldn’t that be rather indiscreet?”

  “I don’t care. Chloe, we sail in less than forty--eight hours. I must have a proper chance to talk to you before we say goodbye. It’s important. You must promise. All the dances after the fourth.”

  She laughed and said lightly, “Run along and do your duty dances, and then we’ll see.”

  As she moved onto the dance floor with Mark, who had hurried to claim her, her eyes roved in search of a tall, slim figure, a dark head, quizzical gray eyes in a deeply tanned face. Alas, there was no sign of him.

  “Didn’t Dominic come after all, Mark?” she asked at length.

  “Indeed he did—quite took me aback. It’s most unusual for him. I bet the Fishing Fleet are agog.”

  “I don’t see him anywhere.”

  “You won’t—not on the dancing floor. He doesn’t dance nowadays—thinks it’s a moronic occupation for adults. It is, of course—but fun, too. Actually, he was being taken below by some elderly VIP when I last saw him.”

  So he was here. That was something, even if he wouldn’t dance with her. She caught sight of him as the dance with Mark came to an end, and her heart gave its now familiar swerve. But he hadn’t seen her; he wasn’t looking for her. He was moving off again, deep in talk, now, with His Excellency. She was sadly disappointed. Despite the glamour and gaiety of the occasion, she felt a sense of flatness spread around her.

  She danced next with Alaric, then with two of his friends whom she had met in the submarine depot shop. Then Robert claimed her for number five.

  It was a pity that when Dominic came up on deck and at last saw her, she should have been whirling in Robert’s arms, with Robert’s lips against her hair, murmuring something ardent.

  She saw Dominic’s black brows go up in that maddeningly ironic quirk.

  She thought with helpless exasperation, This would happen. Oh, damn!

  She managed a gay smile and an airy wave of the hand that rested on Robert’s shoulder.

  Robert said jealously, holding her closer “Who’s that you’re waving and smiling at? You’re to keep all your smiles for me, understand?”

  “Silly! I’m enjoying myself so much I’ve simply got to smile at everyone tonight. Think of it. It’s the first time I’ve ever danced on one of Her Majesty’s ships.”

  “If I have anything to do with it, it won’t be the last,” Robert growled.

  At the end of the waltz he piloted her firmly away from the crowd. With her arm tucked in his he led her to a quiet corner well beyond the festooned lights.

  “I marked this place down early, and established my claim to it,” he told her with naive satisfaction. “Anybody else who comes here is to be told it’s reserved for His Excellency and partner.”

  “Robert!” She laughed.

  “You don’t really mind, do you? You know why I did it. You must know ... what I want to tell you, Chloe. I’m mad about you. I’m in love with you, really and truly. I want us to be engaged before I leave.”

  She was taken by surprise. She hadn’t imagined Robert would go as far as this. Light seduction, she had fancied, was more in his line than marriage.

  He had put an arm around her, and was trying to draw her close to him. She evaded him adroitly.

  “Haven’t you forgotten something?”

  “Forgotten? What on earth do you mean?”

  “Didn’t you explain, the first time we met, that a young naval officer travels the fastest if he travels alone?”

  “I know, but...”

  “And that getting tied up with
a woman early in your career can be a serious drag?”

  “I was a fool,” he exclaimed. “I barely knew you then. I’d no idea I was going to fall so terribly in love with you.” After a moment he added naively, “Besides, you’ve got a career of your own, haven’t you? You wouldn’t be a drag.”

  She laughed out loud at that, and with a muttered exclamation he seized her in his arms.,

  “Stop laughing,” he ordered roughly. “I tell you I want to be married, now.”

  She disengaged herself neatly once again. He was by no means the first ardent young man with whom she had to deal.

  “But not to me, Robert.”

  “Of course to you. Who else?”

  “Listen. You’re going off on this cruise or whatever, and by the time you come back, I’ll be gone. And there’ll be a new batch of lovelies waiting to spoil you. Won’t you feel thankful, then, that you’re still footloose and fancy free? Much better than being tied to an absent fiancée you’ve already half—forgotten—right?”

  He said sulkily, “Of course, if that’s how you feel. I can see you don’t care a rap for me. Only for the good time I can give you here.”

  “That’s a little unfair, Robert.”

  He tried to hold her to him again.

  “I know, darling. Please forgive me, I didn’t mean it. But are you sure you won’t?”

  “Quite sure, thank you, Robert.”

  Kissing him lightly on the cheek, she stood up and shook out her skirt.

  “How about some supper?” she suggested. “I’m starving. Would you like us to have it together?”

  “I don’t want any supper.”

  “Oh, come on. You must keep up your strength, as my old nanny used to say. We’ll join the Soameses and make a foursome. It’ll be fun.”

  “Fun!” Robert echoed bitterly.

  But he was a little mollified by the way she tucked her hand under his arm, as well as by a sneaking feeling that perhaps she was right about memory fading. It usually did when he got well away to sea, he had found.

  Mark and Louise joined their party for supper and, a little later, so did Dominic. When he sat himself down next to her Chloe tried to be casual and indifferent, but her treacherous heart performed its usual antics.

  She thought he looked put out, but whether with her she couldn’t tell. She had seen very little of him in the past week or two. He had been much at Santa Clara, even deserting the dig in order to sit with his mother, who was still very unwell. In the last week, too, he had made a quick plane trip to London. Mark had told her that some learned society of archaeologists had invited him to lecture on the progress of the excavations, which were causing great interest.

  She herself had hardly spoken to him. He had mapped out her program and given it to her in writing, so there had been no special reason he should seek her out, or she him.

  But before she left Santa Clara he had frequently come to watch her at work, to offer suggestions and sometimes to help. She had been afraid his present aloofness meant that at heart he was angry at her deflection ... If so, the mask of polite indifference he wore when they did meet was her only clue.

  Louise and Alaric, both in sparkling form, were sparring gaily while the others listened and laughed. Under cover of the noise Dominic leaned forward and spoke to Chloe in an urgent undertone.

  “Can you spare me the next dance? I want to talk to you. Something rather important.”

  “I’d have spared you one long before this if you’d asked me,” she answered impulsively.

  He gave her an enigmatic look.

  “Would you? You seemed to me to be rather heavily committed. The fact is that I only came here on the chance of having a talk with you.”

  Her heart began to race. Was this it?

  “But surely you know all my time is yours?”

  “Your working time, yes. But I couldn’t very well bring up the matter in question on the dig.”

  “Oh. Well, there’s the music now. I’ve finished supper—have you? Shall we go?”

  “Wait a little.”

  But as soon as Robert had gone off to dance with Freda, and Alaric with Louise, he got up. In the most natural way in the world he held out his hand, tucked hers under his arm and led the way.

  “But not to dance,” he told her firmly. “Do you know any place where we can get right away from the mob?”

  She gave a little spurt of laughter.

  “Why should you think I do?”

  “Do you?”

  “Actually I know the very spot.”

  He didn’t make the ironic comment she expected, and disengaging her arm she led the way to Robert’s secret corner. It was unoccupied, and no one appeared to shoo them away. They sat down, and he lit a cigarette for her and took one himself.

  “Now that I’ve got you here I hardly know how to begin,” he said ruefully, after a silence in which she had felt sure he must hear the pounding of her heart.

  “And as I don’t know what it’s all about I can’t help,” she pointed out. “Is it something about my work, Dominic?”

  “No.” He threw his cigarette down and crushed it out with his foot. “Look here,” he went on brusquely. “What I want to know is—are you free? You’re not engaged to anyone, are you?”

  She shook her head.

  “No, I’m not. Why Dominic?”

  “In that case, will you consider becoming engaged to me?”

  So this was it? But what a proposal!

  The color drained from her face, but she kept her eyes bravely on his as she asked carefully, “Are you telling me that you love me, Dominic?”

  She saw his expression change. His eyes looked wary, withdrawn.

  “I admire you more than any girl I know.”

  Her heart sank, though she knew it was what she should have expected.

  “The word was love,” she insisted.

  “Is love of such paramount importance? I respect and trust you. We have interests in common.”

  She looked away from him. The lights seemed to blur and swim together, a lot of little multicolored haloes. She blinked her eyelids hard to keep back the tears.

  “To me, love is more important than all the other things you mention.”

  He gave her that wary look again.

  “You mean you wouldn’t consider an engagement, however suitable, without love?”

  She felt her control going.

  “I mean I wouldn’t promise to marry any man who didn’t love me enough to live or—or die for me if he had to—as I would for him if I loved him,” she said in sudden furious rush of words, losing her head and her temper together. Her bright eyes challenged his, defying him.

  She could see he was very much taken aback.

  What sort of girl does he think I am, then, she wondered angrily.

  “It’s obvious you’re a romantic,” he said, his mouth sardonic. “You sound like a character created by a female novelist. Tell me: is there, in point of fact, anyone for whom you would be prepared to—er—live or die, Chloe?”

  “You’ve no right to ask that.”

  “No right, agreed. But I’m very anxious to know.”

  She was silent. Indignantly silent. At length she said in a small voice, “Well, in point of fact there is.”

  His eyebrows shot up.

  “You said you were free.”

  “I said I wasn’t engaged.”

  “I see. Of course I have no right to ask this, either—but does this fortunate chap know?”

  She lost her head again. “For heaven’s sake—I’ve no idea if he knows. I haven’t told him, nor has he asked me. Now must we go on discussing my love life? Unless you’re thinking of asking me outright who he is?”

  He said with a quirk of his dark brows, “No. I don’t suppose you’d tell me that.”

  “Then can’t we change the subject?”

  “No, Chloe, I’m afraid we can’t. You see, I’ve got a most urgent reason for asking you to be engaged to me. One that I
beg you to think about before you refuse.”

  He got up then and walked around restlessly. The music had started up again. A waltz, “Someday I’ll find you,” slow and nostalgic. She could have wept.

  She said shakily, “Please—I’d like another cigarette.” He lit one for her.

  “I had a talk with Galea yesterday. He takes the gravest view of my mother’s condition. He fears she’s unlikely to survive this last attack. It has left her very weak—undermined what little strength she has. He won’t commit himself, but he thinks perhaps two months—not much more.” Chloe saw the pain in his eyes.

  “I’m terribly sorry,” she said in a low voice.

  “I blame Lotta for the attack. She rushed in and told my mother her version of what happened on your balcony. She insisted Louise was trying to get rid of you—because of me. All highly fanciful, I suspect—but my mother has given me no peace. She’s set her heart on my marrying you. Oh, it’s difficult to explain—but I believe she’ll die happy if we announce our engagement.”

  “But we...”

  “Listen,” he broke in. “Since this other fellow doesn’t seem to have entered the lists yet, couldn’t you agree, for the sake of my mother’s last few weeks of happiness, just until...?”

  He didn’t finish. She saw that he couldn’t. Until she dies, he meant, of course. Sympathy wiped out every trace of annoyance and humiliation she had felt. She only remembered that this was Dominic, and that he adored his mother.

  “I know it’s a lot to ask of you,” he went on in a quiet voice, without a hint of his usual arrogance. “But I’ll be everlastingly grateful. And of course—afterward—you’ll be perfectly free...”

  Free to insist that you keep the bargain? she wondered with sudden wry mirth.

  He was standing over her, looking down at her anxiously. She knew she could refuse him nothing.

  “Well, Chloe?”

  “You must let me think it over.”

  He frowned.

  “That means you’ve decided against it.”

  “No, I haven’t—I...”

  Impulsively she laid a hand on his arm. Her eyes, lifted to meet his with a look of worry and distress in them, brightened as she caught the gleam of humor in them.