by Margaret Way
'And you, Brooke,' belatedly her mother's voice came to her ears. 'You make no attempt to develop worthwhile friendships. You don't even seem to care about your future, let alone mine or your sister's! '
'What you're saying is, I'm in no great hurry to get married?'
There was exasperation in Lillian's face. She was well aware of her younger daughter's ability to tune out and she deeply resented it. 'I don't really care whether you get married or not just so long as you assist me to aim high for your sister; She's our salvation! '
'And you're going to sell her to the highest bidder?'
Lillian flushed angrily and her mouth opened in.' a little gasp. 'Try and remember who you're talking to, miss. I love Louise. Never forget I want the best for her. She's not like you. She needs cherishing. '
'You mean she's afraid of work,' Brooke pointed 'out gently. 'And you made her that way, Mamma. Everyone works these days. Some even like it. '
Lillian was standing now, staring at Brooke as though hypnotised. 'I was only married for a little while, but you bring Blair back to me every day. '
'You must have loved him, Mamma!' Brooke stood up too, several inches taller than her mother. 'He didn't have any money, not real money like Granddad, but they still speak of his brilliance as an architect and there are quite a few private and public buildings to prove it. It's my tragedy too that my father didn't live. Apparently I'm just like him, and the art classes I give bring in extra money. Father would have made Lou do something to justify her existence. Looking pretty simply isn't enough! '
'I think it is!' The colour had quite left Lillian's pale cheeks. 'I was brought up to believe a girl stayed home until she was married. Louise is a great help and comfort to me and I treasure her companionship. Might I remind you you're not our only source of income. There are still things in this house that could bring in more than you'd earn in years !'
'I know that, and once we sell them we'll never get them back. I'm sorry I spoke, I never meant to upset you. Forgive me.'
'I try to, Brooke, believe me. The trouble is your ego is constantly being bruised. You mightn't be able to rival your sister in looks, but you could concentrate more on your good points. I haven't forgotten you need a new dress for the party. If you'd come to me and ask nicely as Louise does―but you'd think taking money from your mother was taking charity.'
'That's not true, Mamma!' Brooke went to Lake her mother's hand, but Lillian pulled it away, mouth trembling and visibly upset. 'I just don't like to worry you and I can make my own way.'
'Just like Maggie Symons, I suppose? She's the recipient of all your confidences. You don't seem to have any trouble talking to her! '
'Our minds meet, yes!' Brooke agreed quietly. 'Maggie's a wonderful woman. I wish you wouldn't always attack her, then use her like you do.'
Lillian's darkened gilt brows drew together. 'It's not the first time that woman's caused discord in this house. She's tried to influence you from the beginning. I know Poppa liked her, but she's the kind of woman who's only attractive to men. Now if I don't go Louise and I will be late for that luncheon, the first really pleasant outing I've had this week ! '
'Enjoy yourselves! 'Brooke said a shade wryly.
'You should come too,' Lillian said predictably. 'You don't take the trouble to get to know the right people. Outside of Maggie Symons, that is! '
Brooke gave up without sighing and settled back into her chair again. 'What would you like for dinner?'
'Please not chicken again! I'd like a change.'
'l'll see what I can do!' Brooke murmured, her irritation and dismay subsiding into humour. 'The secret is in the budgeting. I guess you aren't interested in sandwiches?'
Lillian simply waved a hand and walked away. 'How insensitive you are!'
Am I really? Is that how I seem to you? Brooke continued to sit chin in hands, looking out over the terraced gardens that swept down to the blue, sparkling harbour. It was spring and the great banks of azaleas and rhododendrons had broken into beautiful drifts of flower, their fallen petals resting on the velvety lawn. A white latticework gazebo nestled amid the magnificent old shade trees that reached high into the radiant blue sky and from this angle of the calm sun porch no neighbouring building could be seen.
Wintersweet, a house of quiet splendour, or it had been in her grandfather's heyday. Pieces of sculpture had been removed from the garden and the fountain no longer played. Though she tried to make a joke about their less than heroic stand to save it, its decay was affecting her deeply. This was her home and she loved it perhaps more than her mother, and certainly more than Louise who frequently complained that such very large houses were hopelessly outdated. They were too, in their way, but they gave such a tremendous feeling of grace and beauty and space, no sacrifice seemed too much to keep them. They could sell Wintersweet tomorrow and do very well out of it, but first Louise had to be given her storybook chance. Life was one long romance and soon the handsome knight on a snowy white charger would come to claim Princess Louise for his own and while he was at it he would buy and refurbish their wonderful old castle.
Dreams, but were they possible? For an instant Brooke had a sharp mental picture of Paul Corelli the first time she had seen him. It was months ago when he had first appeared on the fringe of their particular group of friends; old money, as Lillian liked to call it, as opposed to the newly rich. Paul Corelli had appeared in the city out of nowhere, accumulating in a few years what seemed to be millions and a wealth of conflicting stories concerning his background. Some said he was an aristocrat all the way. Others maintained he had writhed and twisted and fought his way up from the gutters of Naples to become a ruthless, self-made millionaire.
Either way he had tremendous sardonic self-assurance and a certain sombre magnificence, until he smiled. , Then the sex appeal spilled over and the brilliant eyes went velvety and one noticed what beautiful white teeth did for a darkly olive complexion. No one could possibly overlook him, certainly not a woman. Brooke shivered as if there was a cold breath of air on her back .Poor little Lou and, Corelli? It was almost unthinkable, like mating a kitten with a tiger.
Again she saw in her mind's eye that ruthless dynamism married to her sister's enchanting, dreamy sweetness. Louise would be ruled into the ground even as she was supported in fine style. A man like Corelli could teach a woman how to suffer, Brooke was certain of it, and dislike stirred in her. She had had occasion to cross swords with Signor Corelli the few times they had found themselves in one another's company-a virtually instinctive and uncontrollable thing as though they were familiar to one another but natural antagonists. Brooke apparently looked and behaved exactly in the manner Signor Corelli least admired in a woman and he was almost at the point of telling her so. However, he would have to put up with her if he hoped to marry into a family of influence, and Brooke fancied he had an obsessiveness to do so.
The Ashton family might have fallen on hard times, but they had a relatively lustrous background going right back to the early; days of the colony of New South Wales when Rupert Ashton had built Wintersweet along the lines-of his old family home of Ashton Hall in Suffolk, England. Superb English and French furniture had come with him, silver and porcelain and an English gentleman's cultivated tastes. The Ashton men-had gone off to two world wars and few of them had returned. Her uncles Jonathan and Hugh, her mother's brothers, had died in a New Guinea jungle when they were scarcely into their twenties. Now all that remained of the family was the three of them and Great Aunt Melville.
If Wintersweet was to be saved, none of them could do it on their own. It was first and always a rich man's home, a convincing status symbol to show the world. Louise would grace it beautifully, but she would need a team of servants to do all the work, and one hardly associated her with management.
An hour later Brooke was saying' almost the same thing to Maggie. 'Hm, yes, I see what you mean.' Maggie tenderly shifted a delicate little figurine of a shepherdess, that could only be Meissen
. 'Like Louise, don't you think?'
'Beside her I feel like Wonder Woman!'
Maggie turned around and slowly shook her dark head. 'It will take time to clear your vision. Perhaps. only a man will do it for you. You can't begin to see yourself as you really are, only in contrast to your mother and sister.'
'Well, you must admit their looks are entrancing!'
'Hmm!' Maggie took time to answer. It was after closing time Saturday morning and all her clients and visitors had gone. 'I like yours a whole lot betterand so do a lot of other people. Louise is a delightful child and that's all she'll ever be. You have the makings of a very splendid old lady, a matriarch with dozens of adoring grandchildren round your feet,”
'So I should think, that's if I ever get married.'
'You're no different from all the other girls.' said Maggie, and took a moment to put a pottery owl in her handbag, a gift from one of her irreverent friends and one they had placed behind the Meissen shepherdess. 'Really, honey, I'm sorry. You've got a lot on your mind, haven't you? I find it very odd myself that Mr. Corelli should be interested in Louise. In you, yes. In Louise, no !'
Brooke's vivid face showed her surprise. 'You're being humorous, surely?'
'Not at all, dear! '
'Then that's extremely odd!' Brooke pondered briefly. 'I would say I antagonise him every time I open my mouth. He certainly gives that impression.'
'Of course!' said Maggie with womanly acceptance, 'that's a by-product of attraction.'
'Unlikely, Maggie. It's quite simple; he doesn't like me and as a matter of fact I don't care for him. It's a very serious matter thinking of letting him marry my sister.'
'Are you sure he wants to?' Maggie asked with a good degree of doubt.
'Between them, Mamma and Louise think they can swing it.'
'Then it should take a good deal of the pressure off you. I don't know why you don't say hell and damnation to both of them. I mean, just because you have red hair you don't have to play Cinderella.'
'Ah well!' Brooke said tolerantly. 'There's the party next week.'
'The bronze went a long way! 'Maggie said dryly. 'I do hope you got your share. I tried extra hard for you and even I was surprised at the price I got! '
'Yes, thanks, Maggie. ' Brooke said a little dejectedly, and the older woman stared at her, seeing with her artistic eye what she considered to be a beautiful girl. Not the pastel toned figurine figure of the sister, Louise, but a tall, graceful girl with wonderful bright colouring. It was wrong the way Lillian had convinced her younger daughter that only petite blondes were ravishing. Brooke's face was in the modern manner, with very distinctive slightly irregular features. Her hair was a true titian, her almond-shaped eyes a clear, glowing golden-green. Not a freckle marred her beautiful creamy skin and her short nose tiptilted over a wide, full-lipped mouth. It was a gay, courageous sort of face, even a passionate face with none of the perfect tranquillity Louise's delicate, chiselled features displayed.
'Why don't you get yourself a new dress for the party?' Maggie said abruptly.
'I might at that,' Brooke declared unexpectedly.
'You'll have to come with me and help pick it out. You're such a beautiful dresser!'
'I try!' Maggie said, and looked away, pleased. She wasn't and never had been a good-looking woman, but she had style and wit and confidence and pretty nearly everyone thought her very attractive. Behind her hard-won success story was tragedy, for Maggie had lost her husband and son in a car accident from which she had emerged with only minor injuries. Despite the fifteen years that separated her from that dreadful day she still experienced her moments of stifling despair, and she saw in Brooke the daughter she might have had, vital , and loving, swift to humour and compassion. 'I'll tell you what,' she said impulsively, 'I have to fly down to Melbourne on Tuesday. Some old dear has some Chelsea cups and saucers she wants to show me―at least she thinks they're Chelsea, and they have the gold anchor marks and period. I'll call in on Martina Linden personally and pick something out for you. Something, just you. I know your size and I know how you could look. Why should Louise get all the pretty dresses? You have the ideal model figure! '
Brooke picked up a beautiful silver gilt table basket and held it admiring the superbly pierced panels. 'Georgian?'
'Mid-Georgian. The pair of sauce-boats over there came with it. An old lady on the North Shore, a sweet old thing, we've become quite good friends. I often pop in on her, but she has precious little left to sell ! '
'All the old family silver disappearing!' Brooke clicked her tongue sympathetically. 'I can't let you do it, Maggie. You know perfectly well I can't afford Linden prices.'
'Well, I can!' said Maggie, 'and I'm going to even if I have to take it off you afterwards and wear it myself. Of course I'll have to drop two stone, but if you won't keep it?'
Brooke met Maggie's snapping brown eyes. 'I can see I'll offend you if I won't! '
'The truth is, dear, you could look really beautiful if you tried. Louise is a very sweet girl, but she's not the beauty of the family in my opinion. Some find 'long-stemmed redheads quite appealing and when they're dressed by Martine Linden with Maggie Symons' help, they're guaranteed to turn heads.'
'Well, it would be nice for a change!' Brooke gave a wry smile, 'but the party is for Lou. She's our salvation; according to Mama! '
'Brooke, you know that's madness! '
Brooke greeted this with a shrug. 'Mamma and Lou are throwbacks to a more brilliant era, maybe Edwardian. Lou would be terrified of doing a day's work.'
'How extraordinary!' Maggie turned back from arranging her hair in a beautiful Adam pier-glass. 'Very few girls do nothing these days, and she's not stupid! '
'Not at all!' Brooke said loyally. 'It's just she can't begin to think of standing on her own two feet. Marriage seems the only way out. Mamma has drummed it into her. It's the only suitable career for a lady.'
'I notice she doesn't mind your working!' Maggie said crisply.
'Actually her first reaction was shock. You and I find pleasure and fulfilment out of a career. Mamma finds the idea vaguely contemptible and nothing will change her. In that way she hasn't moved with the times, but she has widened her vision to include Paul Corelli.'
'To get down to it she's playing the marriage game like the dowagers of old. Plenty of marriages of convenience happen, even today. Both of us know money tends to marry money, but it's a pretty brave thing to think of matching Lou with Mr. Corelli. I mean, she's a very quiet girl and he's the most, high-voltage man I've ever met. I mean, he's nearly as mettlesome as a racehorse. He even has a trick of throwing up his head. It's energising just to stand near him.'
'You sound as though you like him?' Brooke said in surprise.
'I'm not so old I can't be affected by a very sexy man !' Maggie pointed out mildly, but there was a smile in her eyes.
'Dear!' Brooke drawled in a significant manner.
'Don't sound so surprised, I mean it. He's even come into the shop a few times.'
'Did he buy anything?'
'No, but he knew all the very best things. I have a feeling he will, next time. Actually, I can't wait. It's possible for me to admit at my age I find him fascinating.
'Why not?' 'Brooke said lightly. 'I suppose he is in a way. On the other hand, very little is known about him except he knows unerringly how to make money.'
'Well, surely you're not going to hold that against him?' Maggie asked rather ruefully. 'There's always got to be the start to a fortune. Look at most of the young men in your own circle. I won't say a few of them don't work hard even when there's no crushing need, but the money was made by those that went before them. Money does make money, dear, if it's invested wisely and a man has enough sons to take over control of businesses or holdings. Paul Corelli is a succes story on his own. He's struggled and he's succeeded. It builds character.'
'Maybe it's not the sort of ,character I want for my sister!' Brooke frowned darkly.
'You're usually so generous} Brooke!' Maggie went to her magnificent Spanish ebony desk and locked all the drawers on one side. 'Something about Carelli makes you feel threatened.'
'Perhaps it's his arrogance. ' said Brooke, busy covering her fingers with Victorian rings.
'Pardon me, darling, he's not arrogant. You're mistaking arrogance for the confidence of achievement. He can't help it if he has a superb head and he holds it up high. Italians are a very handsome race, don't you think?'
'I don't like him! 'Brooke repeated perversely, then she held her left hand up for Maggie's inspection. 'Which one do you like?'
'Hard to say! 'Maggie looked at the rings quite critically. 'On you I'd say the cabochon garnet in gold. You have good hands for showing off rings. That's an Italian piece, by the way―Castellani. He worked as a goldsmith and jeweller in London, early and mid-Victorian. I sold a beautiful lapis lazuli necklace of his the other day, excellent quality. Now what do you say to a bite of lunch?'