'You're quite right, it is a worthwhile job,' he said soberly. 'And one that make me wonder if mine is! After all, how can one compare manoeuvring stocks and shares with doing something that really helps other people, human or animal! But there it is. I'm pretty certain, even if I'd had the brains to do the necessary-training, I'd never have the endurance to be a vet!'
He could feel at once that Lisa was appeased. She relaxed and, in the failing light, he could see that her expression had softened.
'Yes, it is a demanding job,' she agreed. 'But—' with a little spurt of amusement, 'Tom always says there's one way in which he's got it better than a doctor has. Animals are never hypochondriacs—which is more than you can say of some human patients!'
Mark laughed appreciatively and stood aside for Lisa to go into the hall. The band was just starting to play an old-fashioned waltz.
'May I have the pleasure?' Mark asked formally, and what reason could Lisa have possibly found for refusing the request?
She quickly found that dancing with Mark was a different matter from dancing with Tom, much as she had always enjoyed that. Nor was it only that Mark was the better dancer. He was so easy to follow that Lisa had the exhilarating feeling that both of them, moved by similar moods, were contributing equally to their smooth performance. Never in all her life had she felt that she was so good a dancer.
And Mark seemed to feel much the same thing, for when the music stopped and he led her off the floor, he said softly:
'That was wonderful! I've never enjoyed a dance so much! Do you think you could possibly spare me another a little later on?'
Well, why not? Goodness knew when Tom would be back if, indeed, he came at all, so why shouldn't she—
The rest of the evening passed like a dream for Lisa. Tom didn't come back, so Mark took over all the dances Lisa had reserved for him, including the all-important supper dance and the last one—
Then, despite her protests that it was quite unnecessary, that her home was really only a stone's throw away, he ran her home in the beautiful white car, and Lisa could have wished that the journey had been longer! Mark had lowered the hood of the car and as she relaxed beside him in the comfortable seat, she could turn back her head and see the stars shining as, surely, they had never shone before. The car's powerful engine was very quiet—a very different sound from that which Tom's utility van made or, for that matter, her own shabby little car.
And yet one knew that the power was there just as one knew that though Mark had taken her warning earlier that evening to heart and had been very careful not to offend again, he wasn't the sort of man who, once knowing what he wanted, would be indefinitely patient. On the contrary, he would sweep one off one's feet—
It was a disturbing thought. Lisa caught her breath. Her heart was beating so turbulently that, surely, her companion must hear it—
He didn't, of course, but he had heard that catch of the breath and, like Lisa, realized that he didn't want this interlude to come to an end.
For, of course, it was no more than an interlude. Mark had laid his plans for the future very carefully, and they didn't include a wife as unsophisticated and inexperienced as this charming little country lass. So, when they reached Lisa's home, he refused, with every sign of reluctance, to come in and meet her parents. To do that, he suspected, was practically the equivalent of making a declaration! So he excused himself.
'I'd just love to,' he said quite sincerely. 'But you see, I am a guest at the Manor, and though the old man didn't mind me going off on my own, I do feel it would be a bit steep if I got back too late.'
'Yes, of course,' Lisa agreed all the more quickly because she didn't want him to guess how disappointed she was. Pride, too, dictated that when he had helped her out of the car, she should hold out her hand and thank him quite charmingly but with just a hint of formality for having brought her home. She wasn't going to give him the chance of thinking she wanted a good-night kiss!
'The pleasure was mine entirely!' Mark said with equal formality, stood there until she had gone into the house and then drove off. Half way back to the Manor he stopped and lit a cigarette—only to pitch it away half smoked.
'Oh, confound it!' he said irritably. 'Why on earth can't one be consistent instead of wanting different things that never, in their very nature, could possibly be compatible!'
He drove the rest of the way to the Manor at breakneck speed, put the car away and prepared to let himself in with the key he'd been provided with. Once in, it didn't surprise him to find that the lights were still on in the somewhat gaunt, marble chequered hall, but he hadn't expected to see light streaming through a half opened door since Mr Cosgrave had made it clear that no one would wait up for him.
'Got to the age when a good night's sleep is one of the most important things in life,' he had explained.
But now, it appeared, someone had after all sat up for him, for he heard a slight sound in the room and went in to investigate. A tall, slim woman, almost as dark as he was, stood up to greet him.
'Evadne!' he held out his hands to her. 'But I thought you weren't coming down this week!'
Evadne Cosgrave's smile was extremely attractive so long as you looked no further than her lips. Her grey eyes rarely revealed any emotion whatever.
'I wasn't, darling,' she said lightly. 'But—a woman's privilege, you know! I changed my mind. Actually, I'd have been here a good deal earlier, but there was a bad crash about a mile or so away and it was some time before they could clear the way.'
'Was that the one where a horsebox was involved?' Mark asked, and Evadne looked at him sharply.
'Yes, it was. But how did you know?'
'The local vet—a redheaded chap—was at the dance. He was called out by telephone, poor devil! His one evening off during the week, apparently.'
'Which left his girl-friend flat, I suppose?' Evadne suggested. 'Bad luck! And how did you enjoy yourself?'
Had she, with that sometimes disconcerting ability of hers to read between the lines, contrived to link him, a man who had gone to the dance without a partner and the girl who had been deprived of hers? He didn't know, and he certainly wasn't going to ask!
'So-so!' he said with a shrug. 'A ghastly floor, of course, a very amateur band and—' he shrugged again, 'just the sort of people you'd expect to find at a village hop! I do wish I'd known you were coming, Evadne! I certainly wouldn't have gone if I'd thought there was the least possibility of it.'
And that was quite true. Evadne very definitely did have a share in his future plans, and he had more than a suspicion that he might perhaps have avoided a lot of possible future complications if he hadn't gone to the dance, and even more, if he hadn't met Lisa. But he had—
'What's the matter with you, Mark?' Evadne asked sharply. 'That's the third time I've asked you the same question!'
'Is it? Sorry!' Mark smiled disarmingly. 'I was up at the crack of dawn this morning taking Herr Schmidt to London Airport before coming on here.'
'Herr Schmidt,' Evadne repeated thoughtfully. 'Mark, do you think Father is going to collaborate with him?'
Mark shook his head.
'I should say it's more a question of whether Herr Schmidt is going to collaborate with your father! But we'll just have to wait and see,' he finished with belated caution. Evadne, he knew, was at least as much in her father's confidence as he himself was, but that was one thing. That he, Mark, should discuss his boss's business with anyone, even Evadne, was something quite different. He changed the subject smoothly. 'But what was it you asked me?'
'Oh, that! I just wondered whether it was your idea or Father's that you should go to that dance,' she said offhandedly as if, after all, she wasn't particularly interested in hearing his reply.
'Oh, a joint effort, I'd say,' Mark explained. 'Your father knows quite well that it isn't always easy for strangers to be accepted in a community of this sort. He told me he thought it would be a good idea if we all—and he was kind enough to include me in
that category—were to take an interest in local affairs, particularly social ones. I said that I'd noticed a poster advertising this dance in the lodge windows. Did he mean that sort of thing? It appeared that he did—so I went.'
'I see,' Evadne said reflectively. 'Yes, a good idea —so far as it goes. But it won't go far enough, you know!'
'It will take time, of course,' Mark agreed. 'Your father knows that perfectly well.'
'I expect he does, but I doubt whether he'll be willing to accept the probability that it will take generations of Cosgraves living here for us to be accepted.'
'I expect you're right,' Mark agreed, barely stifling a yawn.
'Of course, I could probably speed things up by marrying a local big-wig,' she went on thoughtfully.
'That's an idea,' Mark replied, suddenly fully awake. He was not sure whether the suggestion had been in the nature of a joke or a warning.
So far, the possibility of Evadne and himself getting married had never been put into so many words, but that they would eventually do so held so many advantages for both of them that he felt reasonably sure it had occurred not only to Evadne but, even more important, to her father. After all, Evadne was the old man's only child. One of these days she'd be a very wealthy woman. And who would be able to take proper care of her money better than the man Simon Cosgrave had trained in his own ways from the first day that Mark had come to him as a young, ignorant but ambitious clerk?
Of course, he wasn't in love with Evadne any more than she was with him, but they had sufficient interests in common for such a marriage to be a success—a tie that wasn't too burdensome for either of them.
At least, that was how he'd seen it, and had thought that Evadne had, too. Now, he wasn't so sure. If her remark about marrying her family's way into local society was a warning, it was in effect reminding him that there were as good fish in the sea as ever came out of it. And only one reason could explain why she had thought fit to give it. Somehow, due to feminine intuition, no doubt, she had decided that she had a possible rival and she intended to make it clear, right from the beginning, that she would not tolerate such a state of affairs if their future was to be a united one.
Mark felt a little breathless. He hadn't realized until now that Evadne had sufficient femininity in her as to make jealousy a possibility.
'Yes, that's an idea,' he repeated. 'But would you like the prospect of being condemned to live in the country all your life?'
Evadne laughed. Really, she and Mark understood one another very well and it was rather an amusing game to convey each other's thoughts in this roundabout way! Mark, she knew, had appreciated her point of view completely—but he had also contrived to call her bluff.
'No, I wouldn't,' she admitted frankly. 'Any more than you would! So it's something we should both bear in mind, don't you think?'
'Oh, I never gave such an idea a thought,' Mark said lightly, and went up to his room feeling satisfied that, on the whole, the little skirmish had done no harm. Possibly quite a lot of good!
To Lisa he gave only a fleeting thought.
'An attractive little soul,' he thought drowsily. 'But not for me, of course! That redheaded vet will take care of that!'
And he went to sleep with an easy mind.
But his sleep might not have been so untroubled had he heard a conversation between Evadne and her father earlier that evening.
It had been a very real disappointment to Simon Cosgrave that Evadne had been a girl, particularly when he was told that his wife would never be able to have another child. He had set his heart on having a son and had taken it for granted that he would get what he wanted. However, in those days he was too busy making his way either to dwell on his disappointment or to spend much time with his wife and his little daughter.
Then when Evadne was about seventeen he had a pleasant surprise. Evadne, whom he had taken for granted would show no more interest or understanding of finance than her mother did, suddenly proved that she was indeed his daughter. She was at an exclusive and very expensive boarding school at the time and one day she turned up without warning at her father's office, only to be told that he was busy and had given instructions that he wasn't to be disturbed.
'And honestly, Miss Evadne, it's more than my job's worth to go against Mr Cosgrave's express orders,' his secretary insisted.
'It'll be more than your job's worth if you don't let me see him,' Evadne said grimly.
It took a little time, but in the end she got her way, and once her father understood what it was all about, he grinned delightedly.
'You're a good girl—and a clever one, Evadne,' he told her. 'Now then, just go through it again—I can't afford to make a mistake, you know!'
Briefly, she had brought him information which she had realized was almost certainly of great value to him. It was based on the fact that there had been a lot of talk recently of a merger between two big firms, but this had been strenuously denied and speculation had died down, particularly as, so far as anyone could discover, there was no contact at all between the two men who would have been principally concerned.
But the daughters of both men were at the same school as Evadne, and what more natural than that both fathers should have turned up to the School Sports Day?
'If you'd come as well, you'd have seen them for yourself,' Evadne had pointed out, not complainingly but as one stating a fact.
Her father had looked at her curiously.
'Do you mind much that I didn't?'
'Not particularly,' she admitted frankly. 'Girls' sports are silly, I think. They can never do as well as men can. But I won't like it if you don't come to the prizegiving at the end of the year. I'll be getting the senior maths prize then.'
'You seem pretty sure of yourself,' Simon commented, amused.
'I am,' Evadne said briefly. 'Well, that's all except that I kept a watch on them and after a time they sort of drifted away and I followed them to the kitchen garden. I hid behind a thick row of beans and I heard what I told you—that they're going to announce the merger the day after tomorrow. So I went back to the school, changed into decent clothes and caught the next train. And I'm quite certain neither of them knew I was listening, so you don't have to worry about that!'
Simon nodded, picked up his telephone and gave a few concise instructions. Then he looked curiously at his daughter.
'If this comes off, I'll make a lot of money,' he told her. 'But what do you get out of it? What shall I give you? You're almost old enough to wear jewellery. Pearls? Or a car of your own as soon as you're old enough to drive?'
'You'd give me those anyway,' Evadne had said shrewdly. 'No, I want you to promise me something—'
'Well?'
'When I'm old enough, Father, I want to help you,' she explained earnestly. 'Oh, not actually in the office. That's a man's job. But you ought to entertain more than you do—and Mother's no good at all at that sort of thing. But I'll see to it I am. And then I think it would be useful for you to have a social contact that might pick up useful information. And that is a woman's job!'
'Yes,' Simon said thoughtfully. 'I think you're right there. All right, Evadne. If you're of the same mind in a year or two's time, then it's a deal!'
And with a formality that, between father and daughter, might have struck an onlooker as peculiar, they had gravely shaken hands.
Three years later, Evadne, poised and polished by a final year at a French finishing school, had made her debut as her father's hostess—and Mrs Cosgrave, with a sigh of relief, sat back and relaxed. She was the first to agree that she wasn't any good at that sort of thing. Her Simon had always been so clever, but she'd never been able to keep up with him. Perhaps it was a pity, but there it was. One was made the way one was, and there didn't seem much that could be done about it.
For five or six years the partnership between father and daughter was a complete success with Mark coming increasingly into the picture. The future seemed settled —and obvious.
An
d then, quite suddenly, it seemed to Evadne, her father's whole outlook on life changed. In fact, what happened was the natural result of what had already been.
Simon had always been proud of the fact that he'd started life a nobody and that he had become a wealthy man was due entirely to his own efforts. He'd liked people to envy him his luck because it gave him an opportunity of emphasizing that it wasn't anything of the sort. It was the result of downright hard work. He said it with relish because he'd enjoyed making money and pitting his brain against other men's.
Then came the time when he felt that there was nothing novel in his day's work. He'd done it all so many times before. Now he wanted to see results. What would the money he'd amassed buy in the way of fresh interests—something he'd never had time to consider before? He gave a lot of thought to the matter and came to the conclusion that any enterprise he took up must have two qualities. It must be something completely new, and it must occupy his mind to the full.
Not immediately did he decide to buy a country estate, but when he did, the idea fascinated him. Not only was there the question of running the place properly, but also that of adapting himself to country ways—of being accepted by other landowners as one of themselves. And why not? He could beat them for brains and he could beat them for wealth—they'd be fools not to welcome him.
Only it hadn't worked out like that. Oh, everyone had been perfectly polite—too polite. And there had been formal invitations—too formal. And that was all.
It irked Simon, but there was apparently nothing he could do about it, at least, not on his own. But how about if he got Evadne to lend a hand?
Her unexpected arrival that evening had given him his opportunity and he came to the point without beating about the bush.
Marriage was the one way in which they could make their entry into the charmed circle. Evadne's marriage to—she had used her father's phrase when she had talked to Mark—one of the local bigwigs.
Next Door to Romance Page 4