Harry's face immediately assumed a saintlike expression and he lowered his eyes in mock modesty. 'I'm supposed to be quite an authority,' he said in a mock humble voice, and Bobbie could not help the infectious chuckle escaping her. As she put her cup down she said, 'You're absolutely incorrigible, Harry. I don't know how I could ever have thought you austere.' Harry looked genuinely surprised. 'Did you?' 'Well, yes! I even used to be a little afraid of you in the old days. You always seemed very much the elder brother, and we were always told we mustn't on any account interrupt you.'
'Oh, Mother, I suppose,' Harry said, grinning. 'She was terribly impressed when I had such success with the first two books. It rather went to her head, and we had a little session around here known as "cherishing the well-known author". It's worn off, I'm glad to say. Now she couldn't care less when another masterpiece appears,' and he grinned at his own choice of words as he saw the corners of Bobbie's mouth turn down. 'That's one thing you have in common with Mother,' he continued, 'no one could ever get a swelled head with the two of you around. She's pleased, of course, that the books are a success, but she always puts it down to sheer luck.'
'What about the Ambrose Abbott books? Does she regard those as pure luck too?' Bobbie enquired.
'Oh, those,' said Harry. 'To be quite honest with you, Bobbie, I make far more money out of them than I do out of the historical novels and they're half the trouble to think up. Just the same, I always get the feeling Mother is rather ashamed of them, and as they're mostly to be seen for sale in paperback, I think she imagines this means they're not up to much.'
'What about all the other famous authors and authoresses who appear in paperback?' Bobbie enquired. 'Does your mother regard them as hacks too?'
'I couldn't say,' Harry admitted, 'but it's possible. Mother's a bit of a snob when it comes to literature. My dire secret's safe with her because she'd just hate anybody to find out that Henry Redmayne and Ambrose Abbott are one and the same person. However, enough of my alter ego for the moment. How is the main opus coming along?'
'Pretty well, despite my taking twenty-four hours off.
You know something, Harry? I like this romantic theme you've got running through the more serious vein of the book—the love affair between Roger Winter's body servant and the little sewing maid. Would it be likely that the priest would teach her to read? Servants in those days were not treated too kindly and he'd be vastly her social superior if he were a Jesuit.'
'Yes, but no one knew her background. She could have been the illegitimate daughter of one or other of the local gentry, and then she worked, remember, in the little room which led to the priest hole. Knowing she was a Catholic too and therefore to be trusted, I think he'd be glad of someone to talk to from time to time, even a servant girl. It's possible too that finding her intelligent and responsive to teaching, he decided to give her a little learning to while away the hours when it was not safe for him to join the family.'
'Yes,' Bobbie's voice was still doubtful, 'you have a point. But what's going to happen to them in the end, I mean?'
'Well, the manservant was with his master when he tried to escape, so I presume he was hanged or at the very least imprisoned, so I'm afraid it won't be a happy-ever-after story,' and he smiled at Bobbie's moue of protest. 'Oh, you women with your love for a happy ending!' he murmured as he picked up a paper and prepared to get back to work. 'When will you learn that real life is seldom like that?'
Bobbie gazed in silence at the strong, no-nonsense face. Trust Harry to be realistic! No idle dreams for him. She sighed as she recommenced typing his notes.
The following week the Sorensens were giving a theatre party and Bobbie had been invited along with her parents. When she arrived in London with her mother and father to meet Sven and Joanna Sorensen in the restaurant where they were to have supper she gathered that the party was larger than she had anticipated.
Both the twins were there, and Harry had his hand under the elbow of a triumphant-looking Marie Gibson. Liz Willoughby, looking very beautiful in a brightly coloured silk trouser suit, stood between Nils and Sean.
Struck into silence by the fact that not one of the other members of the party had thought fit to tell her who was going to be present that evening, Bobbie was quite grateful to find herself pushed into a seat between Nils and Sean when the party trooped into the stalls later in the evening. She glanced round to see where everyone else was sitting. Her parents and Mr. and Mrs. Sorensen were together to her left and on the right Harry was sitting between Liz and Marie, endeavouring to divide his attention equally.
From a quick glance Bobbie could see that both the girls were looking anything but happy with the seating arrangements. Liz was making no effort to conceal the fact that she did not care for the commandeering of both her escorts. Marie, more clever at covering up, still could not entirely hide her chagrin at having to share Harry's attention.
True, as they sat waiting for the curtain to rise, she was talking animatedly and even now and then including Liz Willoughby in the conversation, but knowing her of old, Bobbie could see that underneath the veneer of conventional good manners, anger boiled, and it was no surprise when at the interval, Marie, appearing beside her in the ladies' powder room, said quite viciously, 'I suppose it was too much to hope that you wouldn't tag along with the family party on just one occasion.'
For a second Bobbie was at a loss for words and then she replied coolly, 'There was no question of tagging along, Marie. My mother and father and I were invited by Mr. and Mrs. Sorensen four weeks ago to come to the theatre this evening. It's a surprise to me that you're here.'
Marie did not answer for a second, taking out a lipstick and redoing her scarlet mouth. 'I suppose it's my own fault for not telling Harry that I would prefer to have him alone,' she said, and putting away the lipstick regarded her complexion rather complacently. 'We've been out several times to the theatre, but always just the two of us. I was amazed when I realised there were going to be so many people here this evening. Perhaps because his stepfather made the arrangements Harry couldn't get out of it,' and she turned and started towards the door without waiting to see whether Bobbie was ready to follow or not.
When they were dancing after a late supper, Bobbie decided to take the bull by the horns, and when Harry steered her on to the dance floor she looked up into his eyes and said bluntly, 'I didn't know you'd been seeing Marie Gibson—socially, I mean. It came as quite a surprise when she said you went out together quite frequently.'
Harry glanced over Bobbie's head to where Marie was dancing with Nils. 'She's exaggerating a bit,' he remarked, his voice expressionless. 'I've taken her out twice, to be precise. Once to lunch and a matinee, and once to an evening show when Nils came along at the last minute with some buyer he had over from Sweden. I'm only doing it, believe me, to keep her sweet,' and he looked down into Bobbie's eyes.
'I don't quite get what you're driving at,' she said at length, looking directly back at him.
Harry's eyes were serious. 'I don't think this is either the time or place to discuss this. Could we leave it, my dear girl?'
Bobbie could see no sense in trying to continue the conversation and she let him have his way, but determined that some time soon she was going to bring the subject up again. Before she had come to work for Harry Redmayne she had got on supremely well with Marie, and the little scene in the cloakroom had left a nasty taste in her mouth.
But she soon forgot in the enjoyment she was having, dancing first with Nils and then with Sean, both of whom were most assiduous in their attentions. When they drove back to Charlton Heath later in the evening she found herself inveigled into Sean's sports car, while Nils and a reluctant Liz Willoughby accompanied Harry as he dropped off Marie Gibson, Bobbie's parents going home with Sven and Joanna Sorensen.
Sean had little respect for the speed limits and they reached home well ahead of the other two cars. As he let her into the house, he said, satisfaction in his voice, 'At least I'll get you alone for half
an hour before the others get here. And then I suppose I shall have to have a quick drink and take Liz back to camp.'
By the time the others arrived Bobbie and Sean were sitting comfortably in front of a roaring fire, and Bobbie's hand lay in his. She hardly knew quite how it came to be there, but as usual Sean had worked his old magic, dispelling with a few warm smiles and a few well spoken phrases all the niggling little remembrances of careless treatment in the past. Although she knew she was allowing herself to be mesmerised by his charm, she could do nothing about the effect his blue eyes had upon her when they turned and gazed with that particular expression in their depths.
Yet when Nils came over and sat on the other side of her, gradually ousting his brother from the conversation, she turned to look as Sean wandered over to speak to Liz Willoughby and wondered what it was about these two young men which had such a demoralising effect on the will power of any young woman to whom they devoted themselves.
Next morning she was very abstracted, and while waiting for Harry to dictate two or three private letters, she started to doodle on her shorthand notebook. Suddenly aware of a lengthening silence, Bobbie looked up to see him watching her. 'Do you know I've spoken to you three times and all you've done is add another little dwarf to the row you've been drawing,' he said, and for once Harry's twinkling eyes were without their usual infectious smile. 'Are my two young brothers bothering you, Bobbie? It's a clear case of "how happy could I be with either, were t'other dear charmer away", isn't it?'
Bobbie looked surprised for a moment, and then remembered the old quotation. 'I suppose it is,' she admitted. 'I always determine that I'm not going to allow myself to fall under their spell, and yet they've only to raise a little finger and I've forgotten all my good resolutions.'
'You're not alone in that,' Harry said dryly. 'On the other hand there are two more lines to that little verse. I don't know if you know them.' Bobbie looked a question and he quoted, ' "But now you both tease me together, to neither a word will I say!" It's good advice, my dear girl. Why don't you take it? Cut yourself absolutely free. I know all about what happened when you were eighteen, I should have thought that was warning enough. They're nice boys, but they will never change, and neither of them has any intention of being tied down for years yet. That's why they always play the field, and as you may have noticed, concentrate on one girl at a time. That way she can never turn round and say one of them has led her up the garden path. It's a very clever little plan and one they've worked for years.'
Bobbie added yet another dwarf to the row on the top of her shorthand notebook. 'What you need, you know,' Harry continued, 'is a third party to extricate you from your dilemma.'
Bobbie looked up, completely mystified. 'I don't think I quite follow you.'
'I mean myself,' Harry said.
'You!'
'That's right,' he went on whimsically, 'lower my self-esteem still further. And what's wrong with contemplating me as an escape from your emotional predicament? You and I get on well together over work and I don't see any reason why we shouldn't in other ways.'
'And what precisely do you mean by that?' Bobbie asked tersely.
'What do you think I mean?' Harry countered. 'I mean marriage.'
Bobbie sat staring at him with her mouth open. 'Don't look quite so astounded,' Harry went on, 'there's nothing very alarming about it, you know. It's time I was getting married and you're a very taking little piece, if I may use that expression.'
Try as she would Bobbie could not prevent a giggle starting deep within her, and although she clapped a hand over her mouth she was not quick enough.
'I'm glad you think it's so funny,' Harry said, and for a second he looked quite hurt, before the old mocking smile reappeared in his eyes and he went on, 'You might at least have given it the courtesy of your consideration.'
'It's not that,' there was an apology in her tone, 'it's just so funny that you could consider marrying me when you've always gone around with the most gorgeous-looking creatures—girls I could never, ever emulate.'
'What's that got to do with it?' Harry asked. 'It's one thing having a good time with dolly birds, it's quite another when one comes to consider marriage seriously. I wouldn't have dreamed of asking any of them to become Mrs. Henry Redmayne.'
'What, not even Fiona Pemberton?'
'No, not even her. In fact, her least of all,' Harry said. 'Now I'm going to say no more. I don't believe in discussing young ladies when they're not present to defend themselves.'
'So you really did mean it,' said Bobbie, 'when you told me you only took Marie Gibson out to keep her sweet.'
'Of course! Although she came down here talking a lot of nonsense about wanting to see things were going well and not dreaming of taking you away, I could see what was going to happen if she thought you were getting too much attention. She would have sent down some quite useless little girl and insisted you went back to town to the agency immediately. I rang her up and took her out so that she would leave you here undisturbed. You'd already become necessary to my peace of mind, quite apart from my work.'
This was going too fast for Bobbie. 'You'll have to give me time to think all this over,' she said hastily, 'it's come as rather a surprise.'
'Take all the time you need, dear girl,' Harry answered, his voice suddenly expressionless. 'In the meantime, how about getting these answered?' and he tapped the letters in his hand.
Only too glad to get off a subject which was causing her some discomfort, Bobbie nodded, and Harry said no more about his strange proposal for the rest of the day. When she got ready for bed that night Bobbie sat brushing her hair before the dressing table mirror and gazing at her reflection. How long would he be before he insisted on a reply to his proposal? she wondered. But the mirrored face gave her no answer. And what had made him decide to propose marriage in the first place? She could hardly credit his assertion that she had become necessary to his peace of mind. Although he was always pleasant and friendly and comfortable to be with, she had never noticed any lover-like qualities in Harry's behaviour.
Almost as if he had got inside her mind and read her reaction, the following morning Harry surprised her yet again. About ten-thirty he walked into the small office where she sat typing and said without preamble, 'You seem to like the theatre and I remember you saying you had never had the opportunity of visiting the Stratford Memorial Theatre, so I've tentatively booked seats for this afternoon. They're doing "Othello" at the matinee and will hold the booking until two. Do you think you can be ready to leave in twenty minutes?'
Bobbie glanced at the pile of work awaiting her attention before she looked back at him and smiled dubiously. 'Do you really want to waste another day? Oh, don't think I don't want to go,' she said quickly as Harry's expression changed to one of mild exasperation, 'it would be heavenly to drive to Stratford, but there is such a lot to get through and we're a day behind already this week.'
'One day won't break the camel's back.' Harry's voice was bland. 'That's settled, then. Twenty minutes. Not one second longer,' and he strolled off again without giving Bobbie a chance to reply.
She was almost at the end of a page and she quickly finished it off, withdrew the sheet from her typewriter and putting her work together placed it out of harm's way in the desk drawer. Four minutes later she was in her bedroom, contemplating the contents of her wardrobe and torn between a thin woollen trouser suit in a flattering honey shade and a long quilted skirt in vibrant shades of orange, magenta and purple on a navy blue background.
The skirt won. With it Bobbie wore a plain navy blue jersey top with a polo neck and plain navy shoes. She re-did her face, then brushed out her abundant hair, tying it off her face with a velvet ribbon. Collecting her maxi coat which exactly matched shoes and woollen top, she was ready, well within the twenty minutes allowed, she was relieved to note.
Harry was awaiting her at the bottom of the staircase, and at the look in his eyes her colour rose. No one else was about—they might
almost have had the house to themselves. He stopped her two steps from the bottom by simply taking her hands in his and standing blocking her way. Then without a word he kissed the back of each hand, helped her down the last two treads and led her out to the car.
Bobbie was at a complete loss for words. As he tucked a rug round her she tried desperately to control the vivid blush still burning in her cheeks. Then as he straightened up until his eyes were on a level with her own Harry grinned. 'Like to kiss me properly?' he invited incorrigibly, and leaning over kissed her full on her indignant mouth.
They were running down the drive before she found her voice. She drew a deep breath, but Harry forestalled her. 'Sorry that was such a miserable effort,' he apologised. 'I'll do better given fair weather.' Bobbie's breast heaved with indignation, then as she looked angrily towards him she saw Harry was giving her one of his sideways glances through his lashes. He looked so much like a small boy waiting to receive a well-deserved punishment that Bobbie's ready sense of humour saved the situation. Instead of delivering the snub she had been preparing, she gave a gasp and then burst out laughing, whereupon the man at her side smiled and reaching out captured her right hand.
From then on it seemed that nothing could go wrong with this perfect day. Halfway to Stratford the sun, which had been lurking behind cloud, appeared and continued to shine down on bare branches and fields ploughed ready for the spring grain, giving the wintry scene a sparkle that made Bobbie begin to wonder if she were bewitched. Never before had this particular time of year struck her as a magical season when anything was possible, but then she had never before taken a journey with her hand clasped warmly in a man's, being released only at brief intervals when Harry required both hands for the manipulation of the gears.
He stopped just short of the town, turning the car in an obviously rarely frequented track leading to an isolated wood. Switching off the engine, he leaned into the back and produced a picnic hamper. 'Mabel,' he remarked briefly as he opened it. 'Think you could manage some hot soup?' and he began to open a large vacuum flask.
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