by Pamela Kent
“Oh, I’m so glad!” Susan exclaimed, almost impulsively.
This time his smile at her was very white-toothed, and also, she felt, indulgent.
“You mean you want him to fall in love with Ayse—as she is obviously ready to fall in love with him!—and perhaps marry her? Is that what you would like?”
“But would you consent?”
“I don’t see why not. I’d make a few more enquiries about him, of course, before I actually consented, but I don’t think in the end I would withhold that consent.”
“Oh.” Susan exclaimed, “I’m so delighted! I’ve a feeling they couldn’t be more suited to one another.”
“And you think it’s important that two people should be suited to one another before they marry?”
“Yes, of course.” But she suddenly felt diffidence and wariness rush upon her. “Don’t you? Or, perhaps you—you don’t feel that way about marriage?”
“You mean that being partly Eastern I might hold rather more down-to-earth views?” But although she was certain there was just a touch of mockery in his eyes as they rested on her, his voice was still indulgent, and it was quite a gentle indulgence, almost as if she was a child who amused him slightly. “Well, I’ll tell you something, shall I, Susan?”
As she nodded, dumbly:
“When I marry I shall marry for love—and for no other reason! It won’t matter in the slightest degree to me whether the woman I finally pick upon is wealthy, or lovely, a beggarmaid with no looks at all, a clever woman, or a simple woman, or a woman with everything to commend her—unless I’m in love with her I shan’t marry her!” Susan was silent.
“And, of course,” he added, rather more drawlingly, “it will be highly desirable that she shall have the capacity for falling in love with me, too! And by that I mean fall in love—with my uncertain temper, my occasional violence, my frequent intolerance—with everything about me! Unless I am certain that I have the whole of her heart, and that I can give her the whole of mine, I shall remain as I am today—a bachelor!”
Susan knew that she started to tremble again deep down inside her, and she was so afraid that he would sense that trembling that it was sheer relief to hear music streaming out behind them, and filling the quiet night with liquid magic. He stood up, and held out a hand to help her to her feet, but pretending not to notice it she rose breathlessly and stood looking towards the suddenly lighted windows behind them.
“I imagine those two are proposing to start dancing,” Raoul said. “But I’m not going to ask you to dance. He thrust his hands into the pockets of his dinner-jacket and kept them there firmly. “We’ll let them have it to themselves, shall we? As this is Arnwood’s first night! But if you care to come for a walk through the outer courts, we’ll watch the moon wane. It’s such a very young moon it will be slipping away out of sight quite soon, and then you can go to bed. A young thing like you should go to bed early.”
She felt he was laughing at her, but the moment of tension was past, and as she walked at his side through the quiet courts, listening to the burbling of the pigeons and the plashing of the fountains and inhaling the wandering perfume of orange blossoms, the tension did not return.
He asked her questions about Arnwood, his life and his position and his home in England, and she gathered that he was trying to reassure himself about Ayse. She gave him all the helpful answers she could, and when they finally parted he was looking thoughtful but impressed.
“And you’re sure you don’t want him for yourself?” he asked, before she slipped through a side door into the house.
“Sure?” She looked amazed. “Why, of course I’m sure!”
He smiled oddly.
“It’s always a good thing to be sure—about everything. Uncertainty, and doubts, cloud the issues.”
“What issues?”
“The life that is planned out for us. If you were a Moslem you would believe in that. If you go against the will of Allah you are confusing the issues.”
“Are you a Moslem?” she asked, because so far she hadn’t been able to discover whether he was or not.
“No. Both Ayse and I were brought up in the faith of our mother, who was a French protestant.”
“I see,” Susan said, and felt extraordinary relief seep through her.
He looked down at her with the old mocking gleam in his eyes.
“One issue, at least, a little less confused?” he enquired, and then confounded her by gently ordering her off to bed.
CHAPTER TWELVE
THE following morning they all four rode for an hour before breakfast, and Susan felt proud of Arnwood because he was quite obviously much more at home in the saddle than she was. In fact, for a London doctor, he was surprisingly at home, and this pleased Ayse because the pair of them were able to canter off together and leave Susan to be watched over by Raoul, who was remarkably patient for a man whose mount could have outstripped the others with ease, and who sometimes had a little difficulty in holding it in.
Just before lunch a visitor drove into the courtyard, and was assisted from a sky-blue car, and— so far as Susan was concerned, at least—entirely spoiled the atmosphere of what might have been a very pleasant lunch.
Jacqueline Dupont was wearing a gay scarlet and white linen outfit, and as usual she managed to look delightfully cool in spite of the heat. She looked with a kind of naive interest at Arnwood, and assured him that she simply adored London, almost as much as she adored Paris, and if there was one type of doctor she would have confidence in, it was an English doctor.
Her kittenish, little-girl air of being delighted to make his acquaintance would have amused Susan—although Ayse did not appear in the least amused—but for the fact that she suspected depths in Jacqueline which, unconfirmed though they were, were sufficiently frightening. And as she watched Nick’s reactions to the widow’s blandishments, his faint air of being both amused and intrigued by her, while Raoul openly studied her with something rather more intense and observant in his face, the thought struck her that if she was to attempt to share her suspicions with either of these two men they would probably regard her with amazement and a definite refusal to be convinced.
“I simply had to come over and see you today,” Jacqueline explained, as she sipped her champagne, which was served with the meal—in honor, Susan supposed, of the doctor’s visit. “I’ve been so dreadfully bored, and Armand has returned to Paris. He’s studying to be a doctor, too, you know”—once more beaming at Nicholas—“and when he’s around he’s very amusing. But now I’m all alone at the Villa of Stars, with no one to make life bearable for me,” and this time she looked with definite reproach at Raoul.
“Too bad,” Raoul murmured, looking at her a trifle cynical, Susan thought. “It’s not often you find life unbearable, ma petite.”
“It’s not often I am neglected by my close friends,” she returned, and all at once her eyes blazed in some curious way with cold accusation. From him they travelled to Susan, wearing a blue and white checked gingham dress that was extremely simple and unpretentious, and which made her look very young and fair and English. If anything, the cold blaze grew more noticeable. “Has Miss Maldon succeeded in falling off Ferida since the week-end she stayed with me? If so, the suggestion I have to make will hardly be likely to include her.”
Raoul’s eyebrows arched.
“What suggestion? And Miss Maldon has decided not to make a habit of falling off Ferida.”
Jacqueline bit her lip, because it was not the reply she had expected, and also she felt certain he was mocking her.
“Did you fall off Ferida, Susan?” Nicholas enquired, shooting an amused, but also faintly concerned, glance at her. “You didn’t tell me about it.”
She explained the incident, deliberately making light of it, and a look of approval flashed into his eyes.
“In that case you were doing very well this morning. At least you haven’t lost your nerve, and you’re quite a credit to the Bey here.”
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“Thank you,” the Bey murmured for her, and he smiled at Susan. “Yes, I think she is doing very well,” he admitted.
Susan felt as if her heart swelled in gratitude for both the smile and the praise.
But Jacqueline made an impatient movement with one slim shoulder, and then gave up attempting to hold the doctor’s attention. She turned instead to Ayse.
“Do you remember our visit to the Oasis of the Sparkling Wells?” she asked. “It was a year or more ago, and we camped there for several nights, and enjoyed ourselves very much indeed. That was when my poor Jacques was alive, and now that he is dead I feel very much the urge to return there, if only because it will provide me with distraction and prevent me thinking of him so often.” Over that same slim shoulder she sent another look at Raoul, but it had suddenly become almost mournful, as well as faintly appealing. “If you agree with me, Raoul, we might repeat the experiment—and with Dr. Arnwood staying with you it will make it all the pleasanter. And if Miss Maldon feels she can cope with Ferida, who is the most placid thing on four legs I’ve ever come across”—with a sneer she could not resist—“then there is no reason, I suppose, why she shouldn’t come along, too.”
“If we go, Susan will certainly come with us,” Ayse put in quickly, before her brother could say a word.
He flashed her a look that surprised her, for it suggested he had suddenly discovered something about her that he could appreciate very much indeed.
“Yes, Susan will come with us,” he agreed quietly. And then he looked with interest at Jacqueline. “But why the Oasis of the Sparkling Wells?”
“Because, as I have explained, it has sentimental memories.” Her look challenged him, but he didn’t appear to rise to the challenge just then. His expression remained mask-like, apart from the intent interrogation in his eyes. “And because it is an excuse for camping out, and for all getting together for a while. Because it could be fun—with a more seductive note in her voice.
“Yes, it could be fun,” Ayse agreed, her look going eagerly to the doctor.
He smiled across at her.
“But surely wells don’t sparkle in this climate?” he suggested. “I imagined they were nearly always below the surface.”
“They are,” Jacqueline answered him, “and in this case there is only one well, which you certainly won’t see. But a legend has grown up around the oasis because various travellers have at times seen pools of water sparkling in the midday sun, and the vegetation is very lush. It is what is known as a mirage, I believe.”
“I see.” The doctor studied her, and the attractive picture she made in her scarlet and white, with her chrysanthemum mop of silken black curls, and her wood-violet eyes. “Then, as I have never seen a mirage, I should certainly hate to go away and miss the opportunity of doing so. It sounds like an experience I mustn’t miss.”
She clapped her hands in childish glee, and her eyes sparkled.
“Then, that is settled!” she exclaimed. “You hear, Raoul? Dr. Arnwood approves, so it is settled!”
But Raoul looked thoughtfully at Susan.
“Do you think it would be too much for you?” he asked. “We would travel in the very early morning, and rest during the day. At night, of course, you would sleep in a tent.” His eyes gleamed at her quizzically. “It would be an experience for you, too, Susan—a tent in the desert!”
She felt herself flushing beneath his look, but she also felt thrilled by the prospect. More than once she had lain awake at night thinking of Bedouin tents in the desert, and the idea of sleeping in one herself, while he occupied one not far away, was like the realization of a dream.
“I’ve never slept in a tent in nay life,” she admitted, “but I’d love to do so.”
Jacqueline sent her a disdainful glance.
“Sleeping in a tent can be both pleasant and unpleasant,” she remarked. “It’s pleasant so long as the weather is just right, but if a strong wind arises it isn’t such fun.” And then, because she was anxious to press ahead with the details of the trip, she completely ignored Susan, and by the time she took her departure—in the heat of the afternoon, contrary to her usual custom—everything was as good as settled. By the end of the following week the moon would be at its full, and that would be the ideal time for such a trip. Provisions and equipment Raoul undertook to provide, and he would also supply the necessary servants to accompany them. The only thing Jacqueline was asked to provide was her own mount, and she also insisted that Nick Carlton should make one of the party.
Raoul looked slightly mutinous at this, but he gave way all at once—after reflecting, Susan thought, that his sister was no longer in even slight danger from that quarter. And by the time Madame Dupont went away she was looking like the cat that had not only found the cream, but had wasted little time in lapping it up.
In the slightly cooler atmosphere after tea Susan wandered in the palm grove with Arnwood, while Ayse underwent a hair-do at the hands of her capable Lashti, and as they drifted in the direction of the village she was a little surprised to hear him say suddenly:
“Tell me something about that week-end you spent at the Villa of Stars, Susan. Did you find Madame Dupont a very amiable hostess?”
“Towards me, do you mean?” Susan asked.
“Yes, because naturally she would be full of affability towards Ayse and Raoul. But you—you are rather different!”
“You mean that I’m only an employee, and she’s a bit snobbish?”
“No, not that, exactly. I don’t know whether she’s a snob or not, but I’ve formed an opinion that she doesn’t like you. It’s true that I also formed the opinion that Mehmet Bey didn’t like me, but he seems to have undergone a change of heart where I’m concerned.” He smiled down at her quizzically. “Do you think it’s got something to do with the obvious fact that I’m not chasing you?”
Susan declined to meet his eyes as she asserted sturdily that the only reason Mehmet Bey had undergone a change of heart was because he no longer had any doubts about the doctor’s integrity. He had had time to decide that he was not a Nick Carlton, and that was all there was to it.
“Nick Carlton?” Arnwood repeated. “Is that the man Ayse once fancied she wanted to marry?”
“Yes.” Susan looked up at him quickly, hoping he, too, was not preparing to nurse animosity towards Carlton, or to misjudge Ayse because of him. “But all that is over now—it was over months ago! Ayse never thinks of him nowadays.”
“I know that.” He was staring straight ahead. “She told me so herself.”
“She—told you so?”
“Yes. I expect you think”—with rather an embarrassed look on his face as he once more glanced at her, and then away—“that it’s taken me a very short time to discover that Ayse has much more to her than mere physical loveliness? And I’m not referring to her money, either!” He bit his lower lip hard. “I wish to heaven she hadn’t any money, and then the situation would be simple!”
“I don’t agree,” Susan answered calmly. “You’re not a poor man yourself, Nick, and you’ve made a name for yourself at home in England. Ayse—or any other woman—would be proud to share that name with you, and I hope you won’t come over all stiff-necked and British and make Ayse suffer as a result.”
“You do realize, then, that I’ve fallen in love with her?”
She smiled up at him.
“It wasn’t difficult to gather.”
“For the first time in my life!” he exclaimed. “Can you believe that, Susan? That I’ve never been in love before?”
She nodded.
“I can believe that it’s possible to come out here without being the least little bit in love, and then—!” She broke off, realizing that she was on the very verge of giving herself away, and looked away hastily to hide the revealing blush that dyed her cheeks. “And what of Ayse?” she asked, to screen her own confusion. “Have you found out yet whether Ayse is in love with you?”
“Yes,” he admitted, and the
n added, simply: “She is. At least, she says she is!”
“I know she is,” Susan told him.
“Do you?” His hand squeezed her arm affectionately. “But would it be fair to ask her to marry me, Susan?”
“And take her back to England to live?”
“Yes. I’m afraid I haven’t any alternative to that, but she has spent a good deal of her life in Paris, and London might not seem so strange after that.”
“Strange or not, if she wants to marry you she’ll live where you’ve got to live,” Susan assured him.
“And her brother?”
“I don’t think he’d raise any very strong objections. In fact, I’m sure he wouldn’t.”
“You’re a great source of comfort, Sue,” he told her, once more giving her arms a squeeze. “And you seem to understand Mehmet Bey pretty well. He’s a most unusual type, and although at first I thought him impossibly arrogant and was prepared to dislike him almost as much as he seemed prepared to dislike me, I’m not so sure now. But the thing I have grave doubts about is the wisdom of your remaining here.”
They had drawn near to the village and then turned, and now they were walking back once more along the white, dusty road. Susan suddenly stopped as if startled, and looked up at him. “The wisdom of my—remaining here?”
“Yes.” There was a frown between his eyes, and the eyes looked worried. “That woman Jacqueline Dupont feels something more than dislike for you, Susan. In fact, I’d go so far as to say she’s got it in for you for some reason. She can hardly bear the sight of you—that much is obvious, to me, at least! And I can’t understand why Ayse should be poisoned on a week-end visit to her house.”
Susan moistened her lips, as if they had gone suddenly dry.
“It must have been food poisoning,” she said.
“It could have been food poisoning,” he agreed, “but why weren’t the rest of you victims as well?”
“I don’t know.”
“Don’t you?” He looked down at her carefully. “You do realize that Ayse had a pretty bad time, and the doctor who attended her was inclined to think it was something rather worse than tainted food that caused her to be so ill? I saw him at the clinic the other day, and although it was slightly unorthodox I pumped him on the subject. And now tell me what you suspect yourself, Susan”—rather sternly.