by Anne Hampson
‘What—?’
‘I didn’t look where I was going...’ She was against him, his strong arms encircling her, his eyes looking down into hers. Her own eyes were shy, but bright as stars, her lips quivered and parted a fraction, inviting a kiss. One of the horses whinnied; a gust of wind blew across the park from the west, rustling the leaves and portending a downpour of rain. But neither Dirk nor Serra heard or saw anything except each other, and in the enchantment of the moment he found and held her inviting lips. She trembled against him, kissed like this—with ardour and desire—for the first time in her life.
At last Dirk held her from him, the most odd expression on his face.
‘Delightful,’ he murmured with the softness of a caress. ‘Thoroughly delightful.’ And then, in a tone so brusque that it came as a shock, ‘The rain—We’ll have to be getting back if we don’t want to be soaked to the skin.’ And he hurried over to where the horses grazed, not in the least troubled this time that Serra was having to trot to keep pace with him.
CHAPTER EIGHT
A FORTNIGHT later Mrs. Morgan gave a dinner party for Jenny’s twentieth birthday. It was held on a Saturday, but of course Dirk stayed at home in order to be there. The previous week Jenny had taken Serra to Bournemouth to shop, Jenny sitting beside her as Serra drove her little open sports car, for although Serra had been declared most proficient by her instructor she had not yet taken her test. With her sister-in-law’s help Serra had bought a delightful turquoise blue cocktail dress, slim-fitting and short so that every lovely feature and curve of her body was enchantingly highlighted.
Jenny’s expression was strange as she regarded Serra, who stood before the mirror in the dressing-room of the shop. She appeared thoughtful, and yet at the same time there was a gleam of satisfaction in her gaze which seemed far in excess of the admiration which also shone from her eyes.
‘You’ll do very nicely.’ A pause and then, ‘If Dirk doesn’t wake up when he sees you in this, then he never will.’
Serra turned from the mirror.
‘What do you mean?’ But the mount of colour settling on the high cheekbones gave the lie to Serra’s deliberate pretence.
‘Don’t you want him to fall in love with you?’ asked Jenny, half in earnest, half in amusement because of the startled shyness in her sister-in-law’s eyes.
‘Jenny ... that could never be,’ she trembled, making a nervous little pluck at the skirt of her dress. ‘He has his own chosen way of life.’
‘Many people have a chosen way of life some time or other, but quite often the novelty wears off and they then choose another.’
‘You would like Dirk to settle down, wouldn’t you?’
‘Of course. He is an important squire and landowner; his function is to look to his estate and show an example to his tenants and employees.’ Jenny began to unzip Serra’s dress. ‘I asked if you wanted him to fall in love with you?’ she reminded Serra, who paused a long while before answering.
‘Yes, Jenny, I would like him to fall in love with me—’ Even as she spoke she shook her head. ‘He wouldn’t—no, he couldn’t fall in love with anyone like me!’ Yet recollection brought back that kiss on the day they were out riding in the park, and she heard her husband’s soft and caressing tones as he uttered the word, ‘Delightful.’ Swift on this delicious memory came the suspicion that Dirk was in the habit of saying that to every girl he kissed, and a shadow fell on Serra’s face.
‘What’s wrong?’ demanded Jenny with her customary quick perception. Serra slipped out of the dress and Jenny took it from her. She picked up her skirt and began to put it on.
‘He kissed me,’ she replied simply, not realizing that this was not an answer to her sister-in-law’s question.
‘He did?’ with sharp interest. ‘When?’
‘We were out riding, and I nearly fell. He caught me—and—and then kissed me ... nicely,’ she added with charming naivety, and Jenny laughed even though her expression was still one of interest.
‘You liked it, obviously?’
Serra gave a shaky laugh then and admitted that she did like it, but went on to add that Dirk had never kissed her since, and she ended by saying,
‘I expect I was just another girl.’ She took her blouse from the hanger on the wall, watching Jenny’s face but not deriving any satisfaction from the hope she saw there. Jenny was far too optimistic, she thought with a tinge of dejection.
‘I don’t believe that was the reason he kissed you, Serra.’ A pause and then, ‘You’re quite out of the ordinary run of girls he associates with. In fact, were I in his position I’m sure I’d find you most refreshing.’
‘Out of the run?’ Serra tried to retain some sort of composure under this outspoken flattery.
‘I don’t expect he’s had much experience of innocent girls,’ Jenny murmured, watching Serra as she buttoned up her blouse. ‘And I’m very sure you’re quite the most beautiful girl he’s ever known.’
‘Jenny...! You can’t mean that!’
‘I wouldn’t have said it if I hadn’t meant it.’
No more was said because the assistant appeared and Jenny handed her the dress. On the way home the two girls stopped at a restaurant for afternoon tea, and that evening, as Dirk was away from home, Serra dined at the Dower House. She was happy, but the new emotion which had germinated troubled her a little. Supposing she were to fall madly in love with her husband...? Already it hurt when she thought about his being with other girls ... and she suspected that very soon that hurt would increase to sheer agony.
Many people attending the dinner party regarded Serra curiously on being introduced to her, and their eyes would invariably stray—amusement in their depths—to her husband, whose reputation was no secret. It was also widely known that his father, although a rake himself for practically the whole of his life, had at the end decided he did not want his son to follow the same path, and that the will was made with the object of putting a halt to Dirk’s gay life. It was also common knowledge that the old man’s objective had failed, hence the amusement. No one felt sorry for Serra, though, it being generally accepted that she had done very well for herself.
It was Jenny who introduced Serra to Clarice, who instantly revealed the animosity she felt. It was reflected back from the hard blue eyes and the sudden tightening of Clarice’s lips on hearing Serra’s name.
‘Do you mind if I leave you?’ Jenny smiled at her sister-in-law as she made a gesture towards another new arrival. ‘I’ll be back directly.’
Serra and Clarice were sitting on a couch, in a lighted alcove at one end of the drawing-room; an impassive black-suited manservant was serving drinks to the guests, who all sat around, chatting. Serra had been thrilled with the gay atmosphere and the new people to whom she was introduced, but now she felt flat and inadequate because of Clarice’s poise and the air of glamour that seemed to emanate from her. She was very fair-skinned with pale gold hair put up in an elegant coiffure which in itself spelled confidence. Even Serra’s lovely dress seemed indistinctive beside the model of perfection her companion wore.
‘I congratulate you on your marriage.’ Clarice’s low smooth voice was devoid of sincerity. ‘Dirk was the catch of the season.’
‘The—?’ Serra had never heard the expression; it sounded most indelicate and she frowned. ‘What is that?’
A laugh that was almost a sneer issued from Clarice’s lips. She ignored Serra’s question as she asked, ‘What part of Greece do you come from? One of the small, backward villages?’
Serra’s pointed little chin lifted; across the room she caught her husband’s eye. He smiled as if amused at seeing her sitting there, with the girl who had expected to marry him.
‘My home was in Athens—the capital,’ she added with emphasis.
‘Odd how people rave about that city,’ Clarice drawled, digressing a little, and without reason, Serra thought. ‘I couldn’t abide it!’
‘It appeals mainly to people with aesthetic
tastes,’ came the swift riposte, and Clarice’s face darkened.
‘Your lack of diplomacy amounts to rudeness,’ she snapped. Then that makes two of us, Serra thought, for Clarice’s remarks had certainly been rude. But Serra felt she could understand how the girl felt. Everyone expecting Dirk to marry her—it must not only have been disappointing to discover he was married, but humiliating as well. Clarice was speaking again, this time in a more subdued tone. ‘How long have you known Dirk? None of us was aware he had friends in Greece.’
A moment’s reflective silence. Serra was tempted to come out with the truth, saying she and Dirk had picked each other up on the Acropolis, just for the amusement of seeing Clarice’s reaction. But Serra again caught her husband’s eye and she refrained. He would not wish her to be so outspoken as that.
‘We didn’t know each other very long,’ she answered, looking about for Jenny.
‘How long? Was it merely a holiday—er—romance?’ The sarcasm was so pointed that a flush of anger rose to Serra’s cheeks. And the next moment Dirk had joined them, his eyes warning as he sat down on a chair facing his wife. He must have known that the position was dangerous, she surmised, and had decided to intrude before Serra once again allowed her impulsiveness to run away with her.
‘Dirk,’ murmured Clarice silkily, ‘I wondered when you were going to remember your manners and come over to me.’
His brows shot up.
‘It’s Mother’s party,’ he reminded her smoothly. ‘It is not incumbent on me to move round the guests.’ He beckoned negligently and a moment later a drink was placed before him. ‘You, Clarice—another drink?’
Her eyes were glinting at his snub, but she managed a smile as she told him what she wanted.
‘I’ve just been asking Serra how long you knew one another.’ Her smile deepened; it would appear that she had no intention of antagonizing him. ‘She was evasive.’
‘It was a whirlwind romance.’ His steady gaze met Clarice’s and she held it, challengingly.
‘How exciting,’ she murmured in some amusement. ‘You swept Serra off her feet, apparently.’
Again Serra’s chin went up. Before Dirk knew what she had in mind her words tumbled out.
‘Everyone knows why Dirk married me, so the pretence is unnecessary!’ And she added, despite the awful look she received from her husband, ‘If you two want to discuss the marriage then I’ll leave you to do it unhindered by my presence.’ With great dignity she rose from the couch. ‘If you’ll excuse me...?’ And with even greater dignity she moved away, her emotions a mingling of anger, hurt and apprehension, for of a certainty Dirk would scold her later, when the opportunity arose.
‘What’s to do?’ Jenny came up to Serra just as the dinner gong sounded. ‘You look flustered. Clarice?’ she ended briefly.
‘I’ve done it again,’ confessed Serra unhappily.
‘Done what?’
‘Something wrong—and undignified. I told Dirk and Clarice that if they wanted to discuss the marriage then they could do it in private. And I left them to it.’
Jenny frowned uncomprehendingly and Serra explained.
‘You idiot! Never mind, though. Clarice asked for it, obviously.’
‘You don’t think it was very dreadful of me?’
‘Of course I do,’ and after the merest pause, ‘But as I’d have done the same myself I can’t very well express disapproval.’
Dirk sat opposite to his wife at the dinner table, which was laid with the finest silver and Sevres porcelain and lit by silver-gilt candelabra and small individual lights in the form of silver lanterns distributed en echelon along both sides of the massive table.
For the most part, Serra avoided his glances, but now and then he would manage to catch her eye and on those occasions he gave her the sort of warning glance that told her clearly she was in for a reprimand.
Jenny, sitting on her mother’s right, was not ignorant of what was going on and she sent her sister-in-law compensating glances which put heart into Serra and she smiled gratefully.
Later, there was dancing in the brilliantly-lighted ballroom and Dirk immediately invited Clarice to dance with him.
‘Take no notice,' advised Jenny. ‘He’s only paying you out; he doesn’t give a toss for Clarice.’
Nevertheless, for over an hour he gave Clarice his undivided attention and Serra became sunk in misery and humiliation as she noticed the glances that were cast at her. So when she danced with the handsome Bernard Hinde she laughed a lot and, in fact, flirted with him, and when he suggested they go out on to the terrace she willingly agreed, noticing with satisfaction that Dirk was watching them as he danced with his glamorous partner.
‘You’re a beauty,’ flattered Bernard who, though Serra did not know it, was a notorious flirt. ‘How did Dirk come by such a fortune?’ They had found a seat where they were out of sight of the people in the ballroom and Bernard gestured for Serra to sit down. ‘He doesn’t appreciate his luck, that’s for sure.’
She was shy, already regretting having come out with this young man who, she suspected, was not in the least sincere.
‘I don’t know what you mean.’ She edged away because he had come too close.
‘He should take more care of you. Why, he’s always off somewhere. He’ll regret it when you start playing the same game. Clarice, in there—he’s never taken his eyes off her all evening.’ Bernard moved closer and she flinched as she felt his breath on her face. ‘Kiss me, my lovely Grecian beauty—’ Before Serra knew what was happening he had her in his arms and she was struggling vainly to free herself.
‘Let me go! Leave me alone!’ But he smothered her protest with kisses and did not desist until he himself was breathless.
‘How dare you!’ She stood up and stamped her foot. ‘My husband—’
‘Won’t do a thing, my dear.’ He was on his feet and she tried to run, her cheeks flaming, her hand brushing her mouth in her endeavour to erase the still-present feel of his kisses. He grabbed her arm and swung her into his embrace. ‘Shy and timid—but how refreshing. I’ll teach you to love, if you’ll let me—’
‘Love? I hate you! Let me go or I’ll shout for help!’
‘No such thing. You flirted with me in there, and although you’re shy now you’ll not be for long—’ He broke off, releasing her as a shadow fell across the terrace.
‘All right,’ said Jenny in a furious tone. ‘Cut it out, Bernard. Serra’s not your kind of girl. Serra, come on!’
‘Oh, Jenny,’ Serra breathed a moment later when they were in a small private parlour used only by Jenny and her mother. ‘I’m so glad you came.’ She brushed a hand through her hair. ‘What was the matter with him?’
Despite the censure in her eyes Jenny had to laugh. ‘Really! Serra, you’re not safe to be let loose. What do you expect was the matter with him?’
‘But he knows I’m married,’ protested Serra, rubbing her mouth again and frowning in acute distaste because even now she could feel those vile kisses. ‘He didn’t seem to be afraid Dirk would come out and catch him kissing me.’
‘Perhaps he thought Dirk didn’t notice you leave the ballroom, but he did; another moment and he would have been out. I felt it best to rescue you because Dirk’s temper’s so unpredictable and I didn’t want a brawl taking place out there, not on my birthday.’
Serra stared, because Jenny was so cool now and there was no mistaking the laughter in her eyes.
‘I flirted with him, didn’t I?’ Serra looked hopefully at Jenny, inviting a denial.
‘I didn’t happen to see you, but I heard Bernard saying you did. You don’t even smile invitingly at a man like him, let alone flirt. He’s a pompous ass who believes he’s irresistible to women. I only invited him because his sister’s a great friend of mine—Janice, you were sitting by her at dinner.’
Serra nodded, remembering that she had liked Janice, who had chatted and been most sincere in her congratulations.
‘Thank you fo
r rescuing me.’ Serra gave Jenny a look of gratitude before adding, ‘I suppose you consider me very silly?’
‘Not at all. You’re just too innocent for this sort of set-up. You’ll have to learn to discriminate, to be far less trusting than you are.’
‘In Greece we trust everybody,’ Serra commented rather sadly.
‘You mean, a man wouldn’t try to kiss you?’
Serra looked horrified.
‘Never! You see, they all want to marry good girls, so they respect us.’
Jenny did not seem able to accept that.
‘The male of the species is the same the world over.’
‘Greek men do have—er—friends,’ conceded Serra. ‘But they are usually women who don’t want to marry—in fact, they scarcely ever do marry.’
‘It still seems unbelievable that a man wouldn’t make a pass at you if the chance came his way.’
Chance never came the way of the boys, Serra explained. The girls were too well protected by their fathers and brothers. Jenny shrugged and changed the subject, asking if Serra were sufficiently collected to return to the ballroom.
Serra nodded, and thanked Jenny again for rescuing her.
‘I’m not quite sure I did the right thing,’ mused Jenny, making a half-turn towards the door. ‘Perhaps I should have allowed nature to take its course, as it were. It would have been interesting to see how Dirk would react to the spectacle of his wife in another man’s arms—’
‘He would have been very angry,’ broke in Serra with haste. ‘No, Jenny, you did right in coming to find me before he did.’
‘I’m still not sure.’ Jenny fell silent, pondering. ‘That he would have been angry is certain—’ a pause and then Jenny said softly, as if she did not care whether Serra heard or not, ‘It would have been enlightening to know just why he would have been angry?’
Serra frowned.
‘Because he’s my husband, and he’d feel humiliated.’
‘Humiliated? My dear Serra, Dirk has never in his whole life experienced humiliation.’ Another pause. ‘I should have let things take their course. However,’ she added briskly, ‘I didn’t, so there’s no use wasting time in regrets. You’re fully recovered from your encounter with the Don Juan of Portford Magna?’