by Anne Hampson
Serra glanced round as they entered; her apprehension was not lost on Dirk and he asked her what was wrong.
‘If anyone should see me with you two my reputation would be ruined,’ she answered unthinkingly.
‘It would?’ Dirk raised his brows and Serra flushed again.
‘I didn’t mean you two particularly,’ she hastily assured him. ‘In Greece a girl must not be seen with men.’
‘What sort of a drink do you want?’ Strangely it was Dirk who put the question. Serra said she would have soda water.
‘Do they have it here?’ Dirk added.
‘Yes, I think so.’
Dirk and Charles had beer. When the drinks were brought Dirk spoke again, his words bringing a swift expectant tingle to Serra and a look of disbelief to Charles’s eyes.
‘This offering that men do here—what exactly happens?’
‘The man sees the girl—it might be that he passes her house when she’s in the garden, or he might see her sitting on the patio of an evening, with her female relatives, doing her embroidery. On the other hand, one of his relatives might have seen the girl, and thought her suitable for their son or nephew. Then negotiations begin between the two families.’ Serra stopped to sip her drink and Charles said, avoiding his friend’s gaze,
‘What do these negotiations entail?’
‘Well, the boy’s parents want to know the value of her dowry, and the girl’s parents want to know if the boy is good, and they send out all the girl’s relatives to discover whether or not there are any scandals attached to the boy.’
‘Scandals?’ almost ejaculated Charles, and Serra stared interrogatingly at him. He seemed to have something stuck in his throat. ‘Well, that appears to be that,’ he remarked as an accompaniment to his friend’s laughter. After a moment Dirk said quietly,
‘You said the boy offers for the girl—at least, you’ve told us this Phivos offered for you. Is that right?’
‘Yes. After he saw me—it was in a shop—he told his parents and they let him offer for me.’
Dirk’s laughter had faded just as swiftly as it had arisen, and for a long while he remained deep in thought, although now and then he would look hard at Serra, as if he wished to get a better picture of her. His eyes seemed to take in everything, from her shining brown hair to her flawless face with its classical features and contours, and to her long neck, then his glance moved lower to the enchanting curves and tiny waist.
She sat very still, her mind on what she had heard. Was Dirk considering offering for her? she wondered, her feelings mixed. Freedom ... but if only it had been Charles...
‘Dirk,’ ventured Charles slowly as the silence continued, ‘are you considering offering for Serra?’
At this outright question Dirk frowned, though his eyes never left Serra’s face.
‘You don’t appear to be surprised by my friend’s question,’ he observed in a rather lazy tone.
‘I heard what you were saying,’ she reminded him, her gaze wide and honest. And then she too became venturesome as she added, ‘Why must you have a wife?’
‘Must?’ curtly.
‘It’s obvious that you don’t really want one...’ Her sudden intake of breath portrayed enlightenment. ‘Is it a marriage of convenience?’ she asked, going on to say she had heard about those.
‘You have?’ in an astonished voice from Charles. ‘I can’t imagine them occurring in Greece.’
‘Is it because of a job?’ Serra asked, ignoring Charles’s intervention.
Dirk’s frown deepened uncomprehendingly.
‘Job? What do you mean?’
She hesitated. Somehow she could not imagine Dirk requiring a job—and yet he must earn his living somehow. Of course, he could belong to the landed gentry her mother used to talk about. Both he and Charles appeared to be very rich. Recalling what had passed between the two men she now had another idea. But she did not voice it, at least, not yet.
‘Sometimes if a man applies for a particular job they ask him if he’s married, and if he isn’t then they won’t employ him.’
Dirk’s lips curved faintly at her explanation. He shook his head.
‘It’s not a job,’ was all he said.
‘Is it a will, then?’ she asked, and this time it was Charles who smiled.
‘Right second time! Clever girl.’ That he would have gone on to explain was evident, but he caught the rather darkling look in his friend’s eye and closed his mouth.
Nevertheless, Dirk was now extremely interested in the idea which had originally come from his friend. Serra, highly intelligent, could see this, and while she wanted to exploit the situation she was at a loss as to how to go about it. She had been given hope and felt that if she were now disappointed she would never recover. Already she saw herself in England, freed from all restriction and able to do just whatever she liked. She thought of what Charles had said about Dirk’s being able to carry on as he always had, and Serra knew it would suit her very well to have it that way. Had she been married to a Greek it would have been like that, for he would very soon resume his custom of going about with his friends—and having a girl-friend, should the idea appeal to him. But whereas in Greece she, as a wife, would remain at home every day and evening, doing her embroidery and chatting with the other female members of the household, in England she would be able to go out and enjoy herself. And it would not matter if she had boy-friends—not if, as Charles had suggested, Dirk wanted to carry on as if he weren’t married at all.
Still endeavouring to find some means of helping to strengthen the idea now becoming rooted in Dirk’s mind, Serra was lost in silence, scarcely aware that the two men were talking. But one word caught her ear that made her look up.
‘You have a mother?’ She was thinking of her own mother, and the terrible feeling of loss when she died. If Dirk had a mother, and she was like Serra’s own mother—Serra put a brake on her thoughts. Dirk had not offered for her, and she had the dismal conviction that, once away from her and back in his hotel, he would regard the whole idea as ridiculous. If only she could persuade him to offer immediately, then she would be safe, for she somehow knew he would never change his mind once the offer was made.
‘Yes, I have a mother.’ Dirk’s eyes regarded her with a sardonic expression. ‘What interest is that to you?’ he then added, and Serra looked at him with a frank and open gaze.
‘I know you’re wondering whether or not to offer for me,’ she said, abandoning all attempts to find some subtle way of persuasion. ‘I would be grateful if you did, and I would be very good, and not interfere—as your friend said, up there, when I listened.’
‘There you are,’ interposed Charles brightly. ‘Serra’s promised to be good and not interfere. What more do you want?’
Dirk appeared to be extremely amused now. Certainly he was not in the least perturbed at the idea of having to get married. He seemed to have accepted the dictates of whoever had made the will in a most philosophic manner, which was sensible, thought Serra, for there was nothing he could do about it. She looked at him and tried to guess his age, wondering if he had to be married by a certain birthday. He would be about twenty-eight, she surmised, and Charles was about a year younger.
‘Are you quite sure your father would welcome me as a suitor—?’ He stopped, because Serra had begun to tremble so violently that the glass in her hand was shaking and its contents spilling on to the table. ‘Are you ill again?’ he asked.
She shook her head; Charles took the glass from her and placed it on the table.
‘No, I’m not ill—only excited. Are you really going to offer for me?’ And without waiting for an answer, ‘Yes, Father will welcome you, and I’m sure he’ll let me marry you.’ She then remembered Charles’s reaction when she had previously mentioned scandals and, suspecting that there had been scandals in Dirk’s family, she hastily added, ‘Because of your being English, and not living here, my father won’t be able to investigate your—your...’ She tailed off a
nd Dirk continued for her, his tones dry-edged but also faintly amused.
‘My past? Is that what you were about to say?’
She blushed and nodded and Dirk turned to his friend. ‘You really should practise more tact, Charles. The child is wondering if it’s a rake who’s contemplating offering for her.’
‘Oh, I don’t mind at all,’ said Serra obligingly. ‘If you are a rake, then you must carry on. All I want is to get to England and—and enjoy myself.’ She suddenly had doubts. ‘Would I be able to enjoy myself?’ So naive she looked that, in spite of his hardness and lack of interest in her as anything but an object of usefulness, Dirk found himself feeling rather sorry for her.
‘Certainly you would be able to enjoy yourself. You could do exactly as you liked.’
Her eyes glowed, and she began to tremble again as her excitement got the better of her once more.
‘It sounds wonderful. You have no idea how I’ve wanted to get to England! My mother was always talking about it, you see, and she said that when I was older she would try to take me on a visit.’
‘Why haven’t you been on a visit before now?’
‘We never had the money. Father’s not rich, and that’s why he’ll be glad to get me off his hands—’ She stopped, then asked breathlessly, ‘Would you want the dowry?’
Dirk laughed then, and she thought he did not seem so very austere after all.
‘No, I shouldn’t require the dowry.’
‘Then my father would most certainly accept you as my—did you say suitor?’ and when Dirk nodded, ‘Yes, he’d be delighted because he can’t really afford the dowry.’
‘Have you no relatives in England?’ Charles asked, flicking a glance at his friend.
‘None that I know of. Mother was an only child and her parents are dead. I might have some cousins several times removed,’ she added as an afterthought.
‘Well,’ said Charles in a satisfied voice, ‘it all seems quite plain sailing to me.’
Serra’s eyes were on Dirk as she waited in a sort of agonized silence for him to speak.
‘I’ll think it over,’ he murmured thoughtfully at last, and smiled as her face fell.
‘You’ll change your mind,’ she returned bleakly, seeing all her hopes shattered.
‘I haven’t yet made up my mind so I can hardly change it,’ he told her drily, and she turned beseeching eyes to Charles.
‘Will you marry me?’ she begged. ‘As I’ve said, I’ll be very good—and meek,’ she added, remembering that he himself had used that word.
‘Me!’ ejaculated Charles and Dirk said, still in the same dry tone,
‘Why not, Charles? After all, it’s your idea that the child be rescued.’
‘But it’s you who is desperately in need of a wife,’ his friend was quick to point out.
‘Not desperately. I can, as you know, fall back on Clarice.’
Charles made a disgusted gesture with his hand.
‘She’ll not be meek, I’ve already told you that. She’ll make demands on you, whereas Serra here has been brought up to know her place. Isn’t that right?’ He looked at Serra, who nodded vigorously.
‘Yes, indeed. Here in Greece I would not be allowed to interfere in my husband’s doings and so I’d never dream of doing so if I was married to you.’ Her glance, which embraced them both, brought laughter to Dirk’s eyes.
‘Which one of us would you prefer to use?’ he asked, watching her closely.
‘Use?’
‘Don’t use a word like that!’ interposed Charles indignantly, and immediately employed it himself. ‘You’d be using each other, and both gaining enormously in the process.’
‘I take it that you yourself don’t have any desire to get married?’
Charles frowned.
‘I’m not ready to marry yet,’ he admitted, rather defensively.
‘Nor am I, for that matter.’
‘You must, though,’ put in Serra eagerly, and again Dirk laughed.
‘Yes, child, I must...’ He tailed off and Serra had the gratifying impression that had he continued he would have said, ‘And it might just as well be to you.’
Two men got up to dance; the performance consisted of the usual lively kicking and jumping and for a few minutes Dirk and Charles drank their beer in silence, watching the men. Serra became impatient, but felt she must not speak. She was on pins as she watched the beer going down in the glasses. Would they order again?—or would Dirk decide to leave the taverna without having come to any definite decision? His eyes were thoughtful, she noticed, surmising that he was still considering the matter of marriage to her. If only he knew just what it meant to her. But he would not think of that; he would think only of himself, she felt sure.
At last he gave a small sigh and immediately her dejection vanished.
‘Have you decided?’ she couldn’t help asking, raising her big eyes to his as he turned his head. ‘Please— Mr.—Mr. ...?’
‘Morgan’s the name—’ A long moment of silence and then, ‘But you can call me Dirk.’
Her eyes opened very wide.
‘You’re going to offer for me, then?’ she quivered. ‘Oh, thank you very much!’
Charles’s attention, having been brought from the dancers, was now turned upon his friend.
‘You mean it?’ he asked.
‘Mean what? I haven’t said anything that I can recall.’
‘Please don’t keep me in suspense,’ Serra entreated, on the point of tears. ‘I promise to be very good, and obliging. As your friend has said, you’ll never know you’re married. It will be much better than being married to this Clarice,’ she persevered. ‘She’s English and she wouldn’t let you do as you like, as I would.’ Dirk’s brows had risen while she spoke and she wondered fearfully whether in her desperate attempt to further her cause she had in fact damaged it. However, to her surprise and relief he allowed her words to pass without comment. Charles also betrayed relief at this and asked Dirk if he would like another beer.
‘No, I don’t think so.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘It’s time we were getting back to the hotel for lunch.’ He looked at Serra and added, in a rather casual voice, ‘When will it be convenient for me to visit your father?’
She could not speak for a long moment. It wasn’t true—it couldn’t be true!
‘Now—at once,’ she replied when eventually she had convinced herself that it was true. England! And freedom! What a time she meant to have! ‘We can catch a bus just outside here—’
‘Bus?’ frowned Charles with a slight shudder. ‘We always travel by taxi.’
‘We can get a taxi—’ She stopped, for Dirk was shaking his head.
‘As I’ve said,’ he commented, rising from his chair, ‘it’s time we were getting back to the hotel. You can give me your address, child, and I shall call on your father this afternoon.’
Her face fell.
‘Not now?’ she faltered, still afraid that, after giving the matter more serious thought, he would change his mind.
‘Not now.’ Dirk produced a piece of paper and a pen. ‘Your address.’
She wrote it down with trembling fingers.
‘Please come,’ she whispered, handing him the paper and the pen. ‘I have a dreadful fear that you’ll change your mind.’
To her surprise a smile softened the hard outline of his mouth.
‘I never break my word,’ he assured her, and she knew he meant it. Nevertheless she suggested she wait outside the hotel while he had his lunch, and then they could go together and see her father. She had stood up and her head was tilted right back as she looked up at him.
‘Father will be so angry with me for running away,’ she explained. ‘And I’ll feel much more comfortable if you are there...’ She tailed off as he again shook his head.
‘Go home; tell your father you’ve met me and that I intend coming to—er—offer for you this afternoon. No, don’t interrupt. You would have been forced to go home in any case, and
you must do so now. Your father will undoubtedly be very angry with you,’ he added without much interest, ‘but the fact that you have found yourself a husband should in some way soften his ill-humour—that is, if as you say, he is anxious to get you married.’
‘He is certainly anxious to get me married, but—oh, I don’t know if I can face his anger!’ Dirk merely made an impatient gesture and she went on, ‘You see, it isn’t allowed for a girl to be with a man, and I don’t know if I dare tell him. I wish you would come with me.’
‘It will hardly matter that you’ve been with me if I’m willing to marry you,’ he pointed out, trying to keep his patience.
‘Perhaps he’ll beat the poor child,’ put in Charles anxiously, but Serra shook her head at this suggestion.
‘He’ll just rave and storm and say I’ve disgraced the whole family.’
‘You can put up with that, surely? I’ll be there just as soon as I’ve had my lunch. Besides, your father will require a little time in which to get acclimatized to the idea of your marrying an Englishman. Now, go home and don’t look so dejected. I shan’t let you down. Incidentally,’ he added as the thought occurred to him, ‘there’s no need for you to tell your father the details. Just say that I saw you and liked you, and that I’ve said I intend offering for you. That would be all that would be required had I been a Greek, you said?’
‘Yes, that’s all you’d have to do.’
‘Your father won’t say you’ve let the family down when he learns of Dirk’s situation,’ Charles put in, adding, despite the rather glowering glance he received from his friend, ‘He’s very rich—or will be when he’s married—and you’ll be living in a big house.’
Serra brightened, but said her father would naturally require some credentials. These would be available, Dirk assured her and with that she was again ordered to go home, which she did, bravely prepared to face her irate father, sustained as she now was by the sure knowledge that she would soon be free.
CHAPTER TWO
After the first flare-up it was, strangely, Aunt Agni who continued to pour out invective, and not Serra’s father. Aunt Agni declared Serra to be utterly ruined, for someone was bound to have seen her with this man.