And then Mrs Thacker warning her, however discreetly, that one had to know people for a long time before one really knew what they were like—
Lisa had read between the lines without any difficulty. There'd been gossip about her dancing so much with Mark, to say nothing of him having taken her home that night. Well, one had to accept that in an out-of-the-way little place like Addingly, gossip was almost the only form of entertainment that there was. But what grated so much on Lisa's nerves was the unspoken inference that she had made herself cheap, setting her cap at Mark when he wasn't really interested.
And it hadn't been a bit like that, she thought angrily. It was Mark who had made the running. The trouble was, though, that she had to acknowledge that he couldn't have been really interested in her because from that day to this, a matter of almost three weeks, she hadn't set eyes on him. Nor had he written or telephoned. So, she'd got to conclude, he'd forgotten all about her. It left her defenceless—completely at the mercy of anybody who cared to think she'd made herself cheap. And now, of course, she'd made matters ten times worse by her defence of the Cosgraves. Heads would nod and conclusions would be drawn—
'Oh, I wish I lived in the middle of the Sahara!' she told herself passionately. 'Or in a really big town where nobody's interested in one's private and personal affairs!'
She had now reached a point on the main road where she must turn off in order to get home, but she was in no mood to face up to loving, enquiring eyes and inevitable questions. Because, of course, by now, Mrs Thacker would have told Mummy all about Mark and that lovely, lovely evening that she'd never be able to forget. And it would be all the more difficult because she herself hadn't referred to Mark at home. It made it all seem so underhand and shabby whereas, of course, there'd really been nothing to say, as events had proved. Just a chance contact between two people who had enjoyed each other's company for a few hours—
Tears started to Lisa's eyes. It hadn't been just that to her. She'd hoped and believed that it could be the beginning of something wonderful and lasting. And clearly, it was nothing of the sort. But she must never let anyone guess that, least of all the parents. They'd worry so. But she must have time, just a little bit of time, to cool down after that injudicious outburst of hers, And since it would be at least half an hour before her mother left the Rectory, no one would think anything of it if she didn't go straight home.
So she trudged on, lost in not very happy thoughts.
'Why is it that the man you don't care for that way is head over heels in love with you while the man you do care about couldn't care less?' she wondered dismally, as many other girls have thought and will think again. Nor did it cheer her very much to realize that since Tom was in love with her it did at least prove that she wasn't the sort of girl at whom no man would ever look twice—what was the good of that when Tom wasn't the right man?
She became vaguely aware of a car approaching from behind her and automatically walked nearer to the hedge to give it plenty of room. But the car didn't pass her and at last she realized that its driver had apparently no intention of doing so, for he had slowed right down to a walking pace—
She turned—and there was Mark smiling at her from the driver's seat of his cream car! She felt the colour rush to her cheeks, but instead of being delighted at his sudden appearance, she was suddenly, furiously angry! For almost three weeks he'd gone out of her life as completely as if he'd never existed. Now here he was, smiling and thoroughly pleased with himself, and looking as if he was quite certain of the welcome she would give him.
Mark was quick to see that slight stiffening of the slender body, the girlish dignity with which she inclined her honey-fair head in greeting.
'Why, Mr Saville!' She sounded mildly surprised as if he was the last person she'd expected to see, and wasn't particularly interested now that they had met. 'How fortunate you seem to be over the weather when you visit Addingly.'
Mark's eyes narrowed. Not for the first time this pretty little girl had put him in his place with a sureness of touch that made him wonder a little. Was this reserve of hers genuine? Or was she, with more sophistication than he'd imagine she possessed, playing hard to get? Or, a third possibility, and by far the most flattering to his vanity, was she vexed because he'd not sought her out since the night of that dance? He didn't know, and he found his inability to guess extremely intriguing. Usually one knew pretty well what was going on in a girl's mind—
'Yes, I am, aren't I? Particularly as I understand that the weather in England has been pretty bad while I've been abroad.'
'Abroad?' Lisa repeated quickly, and then, deliberately casual: 'Oh, have you been away?'
Bless her, she'd given herself away now, he thought, amused, but careful to hide the fact.
'Yes—to both North and South America,' he explained. 'As a matter of fact, when I was here before it was to get my final briefing from Mr Cosgrave. Now I'm here to make my report and, so I understand, have an opportunity of enjoying myself at the local Fete-helping as well, perhaps?'
'Oh, I expect we can find something for you to do,' Lisa said lightly. 'Yes, I'm sure we can. There's going to be quite a lot of transport needed because of the change over from the Medways' to the Manor. I expect you know we've very kindly been rescued at the last moment by Mr and Mrs Cosgrave, don't you?'
Kindly! Did she honestly think that kindness was ever a motive for a single one of Simon Cosgrave's actions? If she did, then she must be incredibly naive!
'Yes, I heard about it,' Mark said gravely. 'And though I'm extremely sorry to know the reason for the alteration, I'm glad that—my friends could help you out.'
He could see that her feelings were mixed over that remark. Pleased, he guessed, because she believed in its sincerity. But there was a shadow there as well. With an intensity that surprised him, he knew that he had to find out what it meant. He leaned a little towards her over the side of the car.
'Miss Bellairs, something's worrying you, isn't it?' he asked gently. 'Is there anything I can do to reassure you?'
Lisa started, troubled that she had so given herself away.
'Oh—no. Not—not really,' she stammered. 'Just something I was being rather silly about—'
Mark thought quickly. They'd been talking about the old man's kindness. Well, Mark knew just how much that meant! Nothing at all except as a means to an end. Well, suppose someone else had spotted that? And had said so outright? Would that account for the shadow? He rather thought it would.
'Look,' he said coaxingly, 'I'm not going to probe into your private affairs—that would be an impertinence on so short an acquaintance. But I am going to make a suggestion. I've always found that if you can't solve a problem or forget something that's irritating you, then the best thing to do is to run away from it! Oh, not permanently, of course. But just long enough to give yourself a chance of seeing things in proportion. Because, you see, distance doesn't only lend enchantment. It also creates perspective. And that can mean that you discover things aren't as bad as you thought after all!'
'I was running away,' Lisa confessed ruefully. 'But mainly because I lost my temper with—someone who was rather petty-minded and irritating. And I wanted to—to—cool down before I went home!'
'That's honest of you,' Mark said seriously. 'And has the medicine worked?'
'I suppose so—more or less,' she admitted, still conscious of that disturbing mood she had experienced so often lately to escape—to spread her wings.
'I don't think it has—quite,' Mark told her. And leaning across the passenger seat, he opened the far door. 'Won't you let me help with the cure? Come for a run for half an hour or so—'
'Oh—' Lisa deliberated. It would be heaven, not just because she wanted to be with Mark but because, just for a little while at least, she'd get the illusion of escape. 'I'd like to very much, Mr Saville. But do you mind if we stop at the next telephone kiosk—it's about half a mile along the road—just so that I can let my parents know I'll be del
ayed?'
What could he do but agree, although he wasn't too pleased. It was one thing to spend half an hour together, quite another to have it recorded in the local annals. He wondered what she'd say—wondered so much, in fact, that he accompanied her to the kiosk so that he could hear. He was relieved at her discretion— and rather surprised.
'Oh, Daddy,' she said with a confidence that suggested she was on good terms with her parents, 'I've been offered the opportunity of a drive for half an hour or so—and I would like to accept it. So don't worry that I won't be back just yet, will you? All right? 'Bye, darling.'
So that was that! All perfectly casual and matter-of-fact. Of course, in all probability, when she got home she'd tell them who she'd been with, but so what? What he'd half feared was that there'd be a coyness about the way she told her people—even a few self-conscious giggles. Some girls were like that when one paid them even the slightest attention, and he didn't want Lisa to be.
He was silent for a few moments after she got back into the car, and then said suddenly.
'You've got really charming manners, haven't you?'
'Have I?' She seemed surprised. 'Why do you say that?'
'Oh, taking the trouble to let your people know you'll be a bit late,' he explained. 'These days, it's unusual to find either sex giving consideration to the feelings of other people!' He gave her a quick glance. 'Or isn't it like that in the country?'
'Oh yes—with some people,' she told him. 'Because, after all, it doesn't really make much difference whether people live in town or the country. They're still what they are by nature—nice or nasty—wherever they live.'
Once again she'd surprised him, this time by her penetration. She was perfectly right, of course. Take the old man, for instance. He wouldn't be different whether he lived in a palace or a hovel, or anywhere from the Tropics to the Poles! He'd be out for himself, first, last, and all the time. So, for that matter, would Evadne be. She was, he'd begun to realize lately, very much her father's daughter. Like him, out for herself all the time and not in the least influenced by surroundings. Suddenly, like Lisa, he wanted to escape. He put his foot down on the accelerator, and the miles flashed by—
Suddenly Lisa gave an exclamation.
'Why, Mr Saville, there's the sea! We're almost at Beachy Head and—' she glanced down at her watch— 'we've been almost half an hour already! Please, we must go back!'
'Very, very soon,' he promised. 'But I would like to stop and just watch the sea, the two of us! It's at one and the same time the most soothing and the most exhilarating thing I know of—particularly when you're sharing it with the right person I! think it could blow all your cobwebs away—and mine as well, I hope,' he added almost under his breath.
Lisa gave in. After all, her mother and father were sensible people. They would realize how quickly time goes in a car, and she'd heard, or thought she'd heard, a wistful note in Mark's voice. It surprised her that a man so apparently sure of himself could yet need the same sort of relief and refreshment from everyday life that she did and that he'd not been afraid to let her know it seemed to her to draw them closer together.
Mark parked the car as near to the edge of the cliffs as possible. Then, as they got out, he held out his hand to Lisa and together they raced up the rough grassy slope to the very edge of the steep white cliffs. The sun was warm as, breathlessly, they threw themselves down to enjoy the scene. But, as always, there was a breeze coming off the sea. It was heaven! Neither of them spoke because, in Lisa's case, there were no words which would do justice to what she was feeling, Mark because, though there were many things he wanted to say, caution warned him that it was too soon yet—and perhaps always would be. And caution won the day. But Lisa didn't notice. To her it seemed that he shared her mood of silent delight—
And then, reluctantly, even Mark had to admit that it was time they headed for Addingly. They stood for a moment taking one last look at the blue, sparkling sea, and Mark, a strange expression on his face, took Lisa's hand in his. Without a word he lifted it to her lips and kissed it very gently. Then, still without speaking, he turned her about and ran her back to the car almost as if he was afraid to stay another minute.
It was nearly seven o'clock when Mark reached the Manor. He had run Lisa back home, spent half an hour or so making the acquaintance of her parents and drinking some sherry which, he had to admit, was as good as any he'd ever tasted. Such extravagance rather surprised him in view of the shabby furnishings and decorations of Lisa's home.
'You must introduce me to your wine merchant,' he told Professor Bellairs. 'He evidently knows his job!'
Professor Bellairs' gentle face crinkled into a smile as he shook his head. 'I'm afraid I can't do that,' he explained. 'You see, it was a gift. I can't afford wine of this quality.'
It was said without a hint of self-pity or even regret, but Mark felt embarrassed. What on earth did one say in reply to a remark like that? And—with perhaps unreasonable irritation—why did Lisa's father have to be a poor man? It robbed her of the background she ought to have had.
He made his farewell shortly after and drove to the Manor in a thoughtful mood.
Once again, Evadne was waiting for him—and it was immediately evident that she was not in an amiable mood.
'You're late,' she greeted him accusingly before he had time to speak. 'Where have you been?'
Mark's eyes narrowed. In many ways he admired Evadne—her almost man-like grasp of detail, her ability to see several moves ahead in the financial game they all played. Yes, all those things and more. But when it came to personal relationships, there seemed to be a curious gap in her mental equipment. And just lately he had been increasingly aware of this. Now, he felt, she had over-reached herself. No man worth the name would let a woman get away with the sort of treatment she was doling out to him now, and the sooner she realized it the better for everybody concerned.
'About my own affairs,' he told her with a coolness that should have been a warning.
But either Evadne didn't appreciate it or refused to take any notice.
'You've been with that girl, haven't you?' she demanded furiously.
Mark made a genuine effort to keep his temper if only for the sake of expediency, and as a result he didn't answer her immediately. Evadne jumped to the wrong conclusion and her next remark completely shattered every last shred of his self-control.
'And don't trouble to deny it! Because, as it happens, I saw you together in your car!'
'Did you indeed!' Mark's voice was dangerously soft. 'So you've taken to spying on me, have you? Oh, don't deny it! I've suspected it before. Now you've given yourself away completely. So before we go any further, I'll be glad if you'll tell me why you think you've any right to question my actions! Well?'
Evadne stared at him, genuinely surprised. She hadn't yet decided whether or not she wanted to marry Mark, but she had been quite certain that he was at her beck and call. For the first time in her life, she felt unsure of herself.
'Good heavens, Mark, of course I'm concerned!' She contrived a significant little smile. 'After all, you and I—'
'Yes?' Mark asked with a note of challenge in his voice that drove her to belated caution. After all, he'd never suggested in so many words that they should get married, had never made love to her, unless you could call an occasional casual kiss lovemaking. Yes, perhaps she had been unwise, but she was too much her father's daughter to refuse a challenge.
'I was going to say that, after all, you and I have been good friends for so long that surely it's only natural for me to be concerned with your—well-being!' she told him with a gravity that brought a twitch of amusement to Mark's mouth.
'That's good of you, Evadne,' he replied with deceptive softness. 'But believe me, you've no cause for concern on my behalf. I really am old enough to make my own decisions and I've every intention of doing so. And that being the case—' his tone changed abruptly to one of blunt, even brutal frankness— 'I'll be glad if you'll st
op behaving as if you're a Victorian school-marm, and I'm the naughty boy of your class. It's really too absurd and not very nattering to either of us!'
'I'm not trying to flatter you,' Evadne told him as bluntly. 'I'm trying to make you see sense because, adult though you are, you're being a fool if you think seriously about that girl—'
'That girl, as you very rudely call her, is an extremely sweet, lovable person who hasn't got a single unpleasant thought in her mind—'
'No? Oh, don't be absurd!' Evadne retorted scornfully. 'Why, she's made a dead set at you from the moment she first met you!'
'That's just where you're wrong,' Mark told her coolly. 'It's been the other way round. I've made a dead set at her! And I mean to go on doing just that!'
'But, Mark, that's crazy! Evadne's voice rose sharply. His admission was the last straw. She'd got to make him see that he simply couldn't afford— 'What good's a girl like that to you? For heaven's sake, be realistic! You've every intention of going up in the world—and you can do it. But you'll need a wife who can keep up with you and help you, not a—'
'Thank you, I'll choose the sort of wife I want,' Mark said uncompromisingly. 'And that's all there is to be said about it!'
'Oh no, it isn't,' Evadne contradicted significantly.
'You owe everything you've got to Father. What's he going to say if you wreck your whole life by marrying a little simpleton who would be no more good to you than my mother has been to him? Well, if you don't know, you'll soon find out, because I intend—'
'You intend to go to him and tell him that since you can't persuade me to change my mind, he's got to?' Mark suggested scornfully. 'Well, if you don't mind making an admission of that sort, I suppose it's your own business, but before you do, I'd like you to listen to me for a moment or two.'
'Well?' she said shortly.
'While I was in America, I had several flattering offers of first-class jobs with excellent prospects. Oh yes, I did!' seeing the disbelief in her eyes. 'However I turned them all down, partly because I don't want to live in America and partly for some other personal reasons. But mainly, believe it or not, out of loyalty to your father. I do know how much he's done for me, though I also know that his motives weren't exactly disinterested. He believed I'd got qualities that, developed by him, could be of great use to him—and to me! So get this clearly in your mind, Evadne. I admit that I'm in his debt, but there may come a time when he's in mine—and he knows it. He's getting on and the time will come when he wants to ease out of the strenuous life he's led so far. And if you don't believe that, ask yourself why he's bought the Manor! Isn't it obvious? He's looking ahead to when his business concerns don't take up so much of his time and he's preparing another interest for himself, wise man! So, before you go tittle-tattling to your father, just think over what I've said and I'm pretty sure you'll realize that I'm right—'
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