by Betty Neels
‘Well, don’t. Get married—like me.’ Rimada had recovered her usual aplomb. ‘I’ve been thinking, that pale blue dress would do beautifully to get married in—that gorgeous hat goes very well with it.’
But for once Loveday had very little interest in clothes. ‘Did you find out if your guardian had gone?’ she wanted to know.
Rimada shrugged. ‘I’m sure he has; I telephoned Mama this afternoon and she was expecting him to call this evening—some business he has to attend to for her.’ She hesitated. ‘Loveday, I told her about Terry.’
Loveday’s spoon, loaded with prunes and custard, halted in mid-air.
‘Rimmy, you didn’t! It’s still a week before we go—supposing he gets to hear about it? Your mother…’
‘She will not tell, wild horses will not drag it from her,’ exclaimed Rimada dramatically. ‘She will also send more money. There is a good hotel in Funchal, she tells me, it is called Reid’s—she wishes us to stay there after we are married.’
Loveday agreed a little absentmindedly. ‘You’ll need all the money you can get if you’re going to stay there for any length of time,’ she observed. ‘But Rimmy, why did you have to tell your mother? You promised that you wouldn’t until we were on the point of leaving.’
‘I know, but then I thought how nice it would be if we had some more money—money is important,’ said Rimada simply.
Loveday poured herself a cup of tea. She felt very tired, the illogical thought that it would be nice to pour out her troubles into the Baron’s broad shoulder and leave him to sort them out crossed her mind. It was a pity she had promised not to breathe a word to anyone.
She wasn’t sure what she expected to happen during those last few days, but nothing did. Even waiting on the docks to go aboard, she found herself glancing round in the stealthy fashion, expecting to see the Baron emerge from the crowds around them. They were on their own, for Terry had decided that it would be better for him to join them on board and not before. Loveday, seeing neither hair nor hide of him, wondered if he had decided not to come at the last moment, and found herself hoping that this might be the case.
It wasn’t. He was waiting for them in the ship’s foyer, looking handsome and definitely furtive. Loveday, studying his good looks, decided that his chin was too weak, but watching her friend greeting him with extravagant delight, she squashed her doubts; possibly he was exactly the sort of husband Rimada wanted, and who was she to dispute the fact? She wandered away tactfully until she judged they had time enough to talk to each other, and then quietly took charge, for neither of them had given much thought to the actual arrangements once they were on board. Terry she sent to his cabin with the promise that they would meet him in one of the ship’s bars in an hour’s time, reminding him at the same time that he must visit the Purser’s office and secure them a table. Rimada she swept along with her to their own cabin, a comfortable apartment on the sun-deck. Here she calmed her companion’s exuberant chatter, obtained a calming tray of tea and set about unpacking. The hour stretched to an hour and a half because Rimada, having changed her dress once, decided to wear something quite different after all, despite Loveday telling her that there was no need for her to change at all that evening. She herself was still wearing the plain pink sheath she had worn under a light coat and beyond redoing her hair and face, had made no great efforts with her appearance; that she had left to Rimada, who was, after all, the heroine of the occasion.
‘You look super,’ she told her friend as they made their way down to the promenade deck. ‘That’s a lovely dress.’
Rimada smoothed the skirt of the very pale blue silk poplin she had decided to wear and turned a happy face to her. ‘Terry likes me in blue,’ she confided happily.
They joined a rather impatient man presently, and had a drink before going in to dinner. The restaurant was vast and lavishly decorated and already almost full. Rather to Loveday’s surprise the Chief Steward met them at the door and led them to a table for four in the centre; she must have been mistaken in thinking that Terry had said that the only table he had been able to get had been one at the side of the restaurant, and that for six persons. She wondered who the fourth would be, and hoped there would be no one. The Chief Steward had seated them, and their table steward was already hovering with the menus, when his superior, hurrying as much as his dignity permitted, left them to escort someone else—the Baron, strolling along behind him, making for their table. Rimada had gone the colour of the tablecloth and Terry had sprung to his feet with the air of someone who intended to take cover at once, only there was nowhere for him to go. Loveday eyed Rimada’s guardian warily. Had some awful chance brought him here, or had he planned it all? She thought probably the latter. His face gave nothing away—pleased surprise, judging from the gentle smile curving his mouth, but it could have been a smile of satisfaction, too. And there was a far from gentle gleam in his eyes. She held her tongue and waited for him to speak.
CHAPTER FIVE
THE Baron seated himself with the air of someone who is sure of his welcome, and beamed at them all.
‘Now this is a pleasure,’ he assured them cordially. ‘What an extraordinary coincidence that we should meet like this.’ His blue eyes swept the table and rested upon Terry. He extended a great arm, to crush that young man’s hand in a grip to make him wince. ‘And you? You must be Rimada’s future husband. What a splendid opportunity for us to discuss the matter!’ He turned a bland face to Loveday, watching him in fascination. ‘These young people are so impatient, are they not, Loveday?’ His voice held all the qualities of a benevolent uncle.
She was annoyed and amused now as well as deeply apprehensive. The annoyance, for the moment, was uppermost; maybe she was past her first youth, but there was no need for him to include her amongst the middle-aged—and to be told so before an audience. But the audience wasn’t listening; it sat in a trance, eyes fixed on the Baron in a kind of fascinated horror.
‘I always feel that companions on a holiday of this sort make it so much more enjoyable,’ he told the table at large, apparently unaware that he was the only one enjoying himself, and having uttered this palpably false remark, he summoned the steward.
Loveday buried her delightful nose in the menu; she had been pleasantly hungry, now she had no appetite any more. She stared at the enormous variety of delicious foods she might choose, and would gladly have settled for bread and water. She took so long that the Baron said pleasantly: ‘It is difficult to decide, isn’t it? Will you let me choose for you?’
She said: ‘Thank you, if you would,’ and watched him silently while he studied his own menu. He was up to something; he was behaving so out of character that she suspected him of some devious plan. How had he found out that they were aboard the ship in the first place? They had been very careful not to mention its name, nor had they told him the date upon which they were sailing. She had already dismissed the long arm of coincidence as ridiculous. He must have visited Rimada’s mother and that silly lady had said something to make him suspicious and he had pounced. She turned her attention to the other two members of the party and found them engrossed in their own menus and quite obviously thinking hard; she hoped their thoughts ran on the same lines as her own and that they would say nothing rash. It was a pity none of them had the faintest idea how much he knew.
But she had no need to worry; the Baron, an urbane and polished man of the world, made no mention of any personal matters; his talk was all of the ship in which they found themselves, the delights of Madeira and Lisbon, both of which places he had already visited. He even complimented Rimada on her appearance, spoiling it rather by adding:
‘But you should avoid that wishy-washy blue, my dear, you’re too big a girl to wear it,’ and turning to Terry, who had said almost nothing throughout the meal: ‘You must agree with me, I feel sure—probably you will be able to persuade her once you are married.’ He allowed his eyes to rest upon Loveday. ‘Pink,’ he mused aloud, ‘now pink is such
a kind colour.’
She itched to throw a plate at him.
They spent an uneasy evening, sitting in one of the lounges, drinking their after dinner coffee, and because Rimada and Terry seemed incapable of carrying on any sort of a conversation, Loveday found herself sustaining the talk with the Baron, who as the evening advanced became strangely loquacious about his ward’s affairs.
‘You must make the most of this trip,’ he told her kindly. ‘I hadn’t intended telling you just yet, but since your future is settled and you will have Terry to look after you, there is no point in concealing the disagreeable fact that the family fortunes have suffered badly just recently. Investments, I’m afraid.’ He entered into a lengthy symposium about stocks and shares, gilt-edged securities and the like, none of which made sense to his listeners; the only thing which made sense was the fact that Rimada wasn’t a rich girl any longer. ‘I’m sorry,’ he told her in a voice which didn’t sound sorry at all.
It was Loveday who had the temerity to ask: ‘And you, Professor de Wolff, does this affect you as well?’
His eyes were as guileless as a child’s. ‘Ah, but I have my profession, have I not? I need never starve.’ He gave a cheerful laugh. ‘Nor for that matter need Rimada—there will probably be a small annuity for her, and Terry will be able to support her.’
‘But Rimada will need more than that,’ thought Loveday worriedly. She had always been used to having exactly what she wanted, when she wanted it, and that wouldn’t be possible on Terry’s income; he hadn’t even got his Fellowship, and somehow she thought he never would. For any other girl, of course, it would be possible—a clear picture of herself, managing very well indeed on the Baron’s income, running that large and lovely house on a shoestring with the minimum of help, bringing up a healthy brood of children; entertaining cleverly for him on next to nothing, even making her own clothes—knitting his sweaters, the children’s socks, floated before her eyes. She was so engrossed in it that when the Baron spoke to her, he was forced to repeat himself.
‘I’m sure you will agree with me, Loveday?’
She looked at him guiltily, imagining in the silliest way that he had been sharing her thoughts. To make up for it, she said in an austere voice: ‘I can hardly judge.’ She was getting heartily sick of being used as a referee, she would do something about it. ‘I’m very tired,’ she told him. ‘You’ll not mind if I go to bed—Rimmy’s tired too…a long day.’
‘And all its attendant worries,’ he finished for her in a voice much too smooth for her liking. The men got to their feet, but when Terry made to go as well, the Baron said quickly: ‘My dear chap, have another drink, and perhaps we might have that little talk…’
Loveday thought that for one moment Rimada was going to sit down again. She pinched her hard and propelled her down the lounge and along to their cabin and shut the door firmly behind them. ‘Don’t dare burst into tears, Rimmy,’ she urged her friend. ‘Let’s sit down and think this out. You know, I wouldn’t be surprised if Adam doesn’t consent to you getting married after all. You see, if you haven’t much money left, he’ll be glad to get you settled.’ She sat down. ‘How much does he know?’
‘I don’t know,’ Rimada choked back a sob. ‘I don’t want to be poor,’ she wailed.
‘You won’t be exactly poor,’ Loveday said bracingly. ‘Doctors earn enough to live on, you know, and you heard Adam say that there would be an annuity for you—even a few hundred pounds a year will be useful.’
Rimada stamped a foot in its expensive Charles Jourdan shoe. ‘I do not wish it to be useful,’ she snapped. ‘I like to spend money.’
‘Well, you’ll still be able to do that, but on a smaller scale,’ counselled Loveday. ‘Look, you’ve had a shock, Rimmy, but it will be better in the morning when you’ve slept on it.’
Which turned out to be true enough; Rimada was cheerful after a good night’s sleep, she even made one or two plans while they dressed: a small house somewhere in London where they could entertain their friends and from where Terry would go forth each day to some vague position in hospital; not for long, of course, she explained, for he would quickly become a consultant and have his own rooms, and they would be able to move somewhere really fashionable. She chattered on, and Loveday, while deploring her friend’s unrealistic approach to life, was too kind-hearted to damp her high spirits. No doubt it would all work out; all the same she would get hold of the Baron and talk to him, it should be easy enough.
It wasn’t easy at all; the Baron proved, for a man of such bulk, singularly elusive. Not that he wasn’t there; they all met before breakfast and walked round the gently heaving deck, but beyond a pleasant good morning, he showed no desire to seek her company—indeed, he walked off with his cousin, leaving her to talk to Terry, who still looked furtive but for some reason seemed eager to please her. They met again for breakfast, however, after which meal, during which the Baron had displayed the same benevolence as he had done on the previous evening, he excused himself on the grounds of catching up on some reading, only to appear after an hour and whisk Rimada away once more.
It was a big ship. Loveday excused herself in her turn from the now boring Terry, and went looking for the other two, without success. They were in none of the bars or lounges, nor were they in the swimming pools or on the sports deck, she drew a blank in the library too; it was almost lunchtime when she turned a corner of the promenade deck and saw the Baron leaning over the rail, by himself.
‘Where’s Rimada?’ she demanded of him without any polite overtures.
He turned his head to smile at her. ‘My dear good girl, you sound like a nursemaid searching for a small child! Rimtsje is with her young man, I imagine.’
‘They’ve hardly seen each other the whole morning,’ she began, and then remembered that it was more than an hour since she had left Terry; Rimada might have returned only minutes after she had left him.
‘That’s right,’ encouraged her companion. ‘Don’t be too hasty, dear girl, second thoughts are often best.’
Loveday refused to be drawn into an argument about thoughts. ‘Look,’ she uttered quickly before she lost her nerve, ‘I’ve been trying to get you alone all the morning,’ and was brought to a halt by his murmured: ‘I am indeed flattered, dear girl,’ but she decided to ignore this and lunged on: ‘Even if Rimmy hasn’t any money, you will give her a decent wedding, won’t you, and let her stay at Reid’s. All her plans—it would break her heart. You wouldn’t understand, of course, men don’t, but the hardest part for her was making up her mind to a quiet wed…’ She stopped, aware all at once of what she was saying. Rimada might have told him everything, but then again she might not, and what made it worse was that it was impossible to tell what he knew from his reply.
‘Oh, I’m not a pauper, you know. She may have any kind of a wedding she wants within reason.’ He stared down at her, his mouth lifting a little at the corners. ‘And what sort of wedding would you like, Loveday?’
‘Me?’ She was still recovering; at least he hadn’t seemed to notice anything unusual; Rimada might have told him after all that she and Terry were planning to get married when they got to Madeira; it was terrible not knowing. ‘I don’t know,’ she said carefully. ‘I don’t think I’d mind if it were quiet, I’d feel more married then.’ She remembered something then and added with a decided sparkle in her brown eyes: ‘Besides, I’m a bit long in the tooth to wear white satin and orange blossom.’
His laughter was unexpected and annoyed her. ‘Even when you grind your teeth at me you’re beautiful,’ he told her. ‘One day you’ll make a lovely bride.’
‘We’re talking about Rimada,’ she reminded him, and leaned over the rail to watch the blue waters of the Bay of Biscay. She felt his arm across her shoulders with a thrill of pleasure. His shoulder was firm behind hers; it was strange, she mused silently, how one felt safe with some people—more than safe. She made to move a little away, but his arm tightened so that she found it imposs
ible. ‘A pity no one tells me anything,’ he said softly.
‘But someone has—they must have done, otherwise how… Rimada’s mother, she told you!’
‘Discerning girl. Only by accident, you know. My aunt is charming, she is also a little foolish. That didn’t matter while my uncle was alive, because he loved her very dearly and she did exactly as he told her. Rimada is very like her mother.’ He sighed. ‘It is a pity that she would not tell me the whole tale—I was forced to put two and two together and make five.’ His voice took on a silky note and she, afraid that he was about to make good his ignorance at her expense, exclaimed hastily and with no truth whatever: ‘Oh, look—porpoises!’
The rest of the day was pleasant enough, it surprised how quickly her fears became lulled by the charm of the Baron’s manner; no mention was made of weddings, futures or loss of fortunes, they spent the day taking part in the various activities laid on for the passengers’ entertainment, lunched gaily and dined still more gaily, and afterwards they danced in the vast ballroom. Only Loveday found that for most of the time she had Terry for a partner. Getting ready for bed later that night, she mentioned this a little diffidently to Rimada and was surprised to find that she didn’t mind at all. ‘Adam has a lot to discuss with me,’ she explained. ‘He has promised me a lovely wedding.’
‘Rimmy, does he know? I mean about you and Terry getting married in Madeira?’
‘Yes, I told him.’
Loveday sat down on her bed and began to brush her hair. ‘And Terry?’
Rimada looked faintly worried. ‘He says that it is impossible to make plans until we arrive there.’ She was sitting before the looking glass trying her hair out in a new style. ‘You like this?’ she wanted to know.
The next two days were much as the first, only it was warmer now. The girls wore cotton dresses and joined the men in the swimming pool each morning. It was a delightful life, a little lazy perhaps, but a pleasant change from the hurry and ordered bustle of hospital life, but its perfection was marred for Loveday at least by the uncertainty of the future. She found to her annoyance that she had far too much of Terry’s company—indeed, he was showing signs of a friendliness which she didn’t much care for, something she was unable to say of the Baron, who treated her with the cool courtesy of a good host determined to be civil at all costs. She found this attitude hard to put up with, but not as hard as the air of benevolence which he extended to all three of them. But Rimada seemed content enough, although she had once or twice voiced vague doubts about being a poor man’s wife, but as she never listened to Loveday’s comments on this, Loveday was forced to the conclusion that the doubts weren’t very strong. She had the unhappy feeling that they were suspended in a vacuum waiting for someone to tell them what to do next, the someone being the Baron.