He had gone out by the time I got up the next morning. The whole house was in the throes of being reorganized for the dance, and I walked into Ganner and Mr. Mott moving furniture out of the drawing-room: Ganner stopped to tell me that my car had been towed up to the house, and that he had got the engine dried out and going again, though he would drive Miss Essie and myself into Beemondham later this morning just the same. I remembered, dimly, that Essie and I both had hair appointments made a week ago (remarkable for Essie, but it must be part of her docility to get her father into a good humour) and if I had got to be present at this dance, it was just as well I had a hair appointment after the soaking I had had. I went dispiritedly to find my breakfast, was made a fuss of by Henry, and found myself jumping guiltily every time he spoke to me. It was, I thought unhappily, no excuse to say I had never meant him to jump to any conclusions. He had been immensely kind to me ever since I had arrived—and before that—and looked at in certain lights, I could perhaps have looked as if I was leading him on—even by taking the job in the first place. Luckily my silent demeanour was taken to be an aftermath of my so-called dreadful experiences...
I tried to behave like my normal self as Ganner drove Essie and me into Beemondham. It wasn’t until after Ganner had dropped us and gone off to do some errands that I discovered Essie wasn’t so docile after all about having her hair done. She had, she said, washed it only the day before—and I could pin it up as usual for her, couldn’t I? I looked at her dubiously, but she gave me one of her mischievous grins.
‘You go in, Shah—but don’t tell on me, there’s a dear! If I buy a hairbrush and some pins you can do something with it on the way home so it looks as if I’ve been having it done, and Ganner won’t tell!’
‘But—’ I began, looking at her dubiously.
‘I want to go and see about some new tack for Cora. And I hate sitting under those wretched dryers—it’s like being in an instrument of torture! I promise to be back by the time you’re out,’ she said cajolingly.
‘Oh—oh, all right, then.’ She would look lovely anyway, I knew—and her hair did look very clean.
‘But mind you are back,’ I added—and then wondered uncertainly how much like a stepmother I sounded. To Essie, apparently, I sounded normal: she gave me a relieved grin, waved at me, and made off. I went into the hairdressers to explain that Miss Thurlanger s appointment would have to be cancelled—and wondered whether all the assistants so assiduously attending to my own hair-do had also heard a rumour that I was to be the next Mrs. Henry Thurlanger. People in small communities, Kevin had said, gossiped.
It was some time while my hair was drying that I decided, miserably, that I could only do one thing: leave Thurlanger. Sitting there falling into daydreams where I would come out to find Kevin waiting for me outside was a useless occupation—as useless as wondering, with a fluttering feeling inside me, whether Kevin had meant anything by his “Now you know,” or nothing, or something quite unromantic. (In the past, I reflected, I might have thought it was all part of some deep-laid plot. Now I was seeing him in quite a different light: I felt as if everything had turned upside down). As soon as the dance was over I would go to Henry and tell him that I wanted to go home, not only for Christmas (which had already been discussed) but permanently. After all, he had said I could try out the job at Thurlanger for a few months—and it was a perfectly good excuse to say that I wanted to go back to nursing. I knew abruptly how much I would miss—all sorts of things, like the dogs, and the countryside round about, and the sight of Kevin in the distance riding off somewhere on Thunder. I would even miss watching Essie’s blasted ponies ... And I would miss Essie, too, in an odd way, though it was comforting to think I had at least partially succeeded in making her feel more at home in the social world Henry was so determined to thrust her into. Essie, I decided, had enough character to manage for herself: she had only needed starting off.
The only person who had managed to mix everything up irretrievably was me. Once I had gone, I could be forgotten by everyone—probably very quickly.
Essie was, as she had promised, waiting when I came out of the hairdressers. She was rather quiet on the way home, and fidgeted a little as I fixed her hair in a way which I hoped would deceive Henry’s sharp eyes: she grumbled when I sprayed lacquer over her, which she said was sticky, but when I pointed out that it did at least make her smell as if she’d just had her hair done she submitted. (I wondered why I had to get mixed up in deceptions as well as everything else, but I’d started it now so I had to go on). We got back to Thurlanger to find caterers causing added confusion, and Henry was fretting about to such an extent that I felt obliged to tell him to rest. Mrs. Mott as usual wouldn’t let me do anything, in fact she told me to rest, as I had told Henry. I heard her mention that Kevin had been in, and gone out again. He certainly didn’t seem at all disposed to seek me out—but after all, he was a doctor, and I gathered there had been a call for him from the hospital. Besides, it was no use my wanting to see Kevin. Feeling both nervous and depressed, I took myself out of everyone’s way, and lay on my bed until it was time to eat a light meal before dressing for the dance. By now, since I had been lying thinking bitterly that everything was all my own fault—and feeling guilty all over again about Henry—it was almost a relief to hear that Kevin was still held up at the hospital. I wasn’t sure how I was going to face Kevin anyway—now I had discovered my own feelings. It would have been almost better, I decided, if I had been the confidence trickster he had originally thought me. It would certainly have simplified things, since I was sure confidence tricksters didn’t suffer from terrible pangs of conscience. Or fall in love.
Essie did look as lovely as I had expected—and possibly even a little less cheerfully unconscious of it. Her dress was long, white, and classic—making her look both younger, and older, both at once. She inspected me almost as thoroughly as I inspected her, seeming pleased with her choice for me and saying mischievously that I would “knock ’em cold,” an expression she seemed to have picked up from her cousin Dominic (or perhaps even someone else, by now). I looked at my own reflection without appreciation, wondering if my misery showed through the elegantly dressed exterior, and agreed with Essie that the sea-green dress was beautiful, and suited me, and made me feel marvellous. We went down to find Henry looking dapper in evening dress and showing a tendency to behave like the proud owner of both of us—and the house looking almost unrecognizable with most of the furniture removed and catering staff all over the place. I tried not to sound mechanical as I agreed that the drawing-room floor looked very good for dancing on and that the decorations looked splendid—and resolved to avoid a bunch of mistletoe I had noticed hanging in seasonal state over the front door. It was quite a relief when people started arriving, in glittering groups, and Henry had to go and welcome them in.
They were much the same people as I had met before—though they seemed more inclined to accept me by now. I talked, and danced, keeping a social smile pinned to my lips—but my eyes kept sliding over the assembled company in search of a tall figure who went on being conspicuously absent. And then abruptly Kevin was there, coming in through the front door in his ordinary clothes and making a quick, unsmiling excuse to the people nearest him that he had been called out, and must go up and change before he could join in the festivities. He made for the stairs, turned his head, saw me watching him, and paused for a second. It seemed a long second, as we looked at each other across the room and my knees turned to water just as they had two mornings ago, in the barn. Then he turned away and went on up, running lightly up the staircase, disappearing from view.
I discovered someone was asking me to dance.
I danced, made numb conversation, and looked round the brightly-lit and crowded drawing-room without seeing it. What on earth were all these people doing here? Slowly, the realization came to me that I couldn’t meet Kevin—I couldn’t!—in front of all these people, or anywhere else for that matter. My partner said somethi
ng, and I tried to pull myself together enough to answer, and then came to an abrupt decision. I would go and tell Henry now that I wanted to go home, however unsuitable a time it was to break it to him, and then I would retire to my room and stay there. I made what must have been a very abrupt excuse to my partner (he probably—quite rightly—thought I was mad) and since I couldn’t see Henry, I made for Essie standing talking to Peter Raglan at one side of the room. Catching hold of her, I asked breathlessly,
‘Where’s your father?’
‘Pa? Oh, he went upstairs to the study. Said he was going to take refuge for a few minutes,’ Essie said, grinning, ‘because Pete would insist on talking to him about spavins, wouldn’t you?’
‘Was—was he alone?’
‘Yes, I think so. What’s—’
I didn’t let her finish, and ignored the fact that Peter Raglan probably thought I was as mad as my dancing partner must have done. Edging round the room, I escaped through chattering groups into the hall and up the stairs, hoping I had time enough before Kevin came down. There was no sign of him as yet. As I came up to the study door on the gallery I saw that it was half open, and the sound of voices from inside made my heart sink. Surely, though, I could pretend a reason why I wanted a word with Henry alone. And then, as I moved closer, I heard Henry himself, speaking quite distinctly. ‘But, my dear Kevin, I never had the least intention of marrying her, and I’m sure she doesn’t think so! As a matter of fact, I brought Charlotte here with the express purpose of finding a suitable match for you—and the more I’ve got to know her, the more suitable it seems! Now, please, don’t scowl at me for interfering—you must admit—’
I whisked away, my cheeks burning, and ran for the upper staircase. A suitable match! Surely it couldn’t be true that Henry had planned it right from the start?
Inside my room, with the door firmly shut behind me, I flung myself down on my bed with my heart thudding. Then I sat bolt upright again as a horrifying thought occurred to me. Oh—oh no! What would Kevin think now? That I had been a party to this from the beginning? That I had deliberately set out to catch, not Henry, but him?
I found I was tearing at the fastening of my dance-dress and pulling the long sea-green skirt urgently over my head. I couldn’t bear to start all that again. I could remember with hysterical clarity the business of my suitcases and Kevin’s jibe about getting better acquainted. I flung myself at the wardrobe, pulled out my pink suit, and began putting it on with shaking fingers. I would leave Thurlanger House now, if it meant walking all the way to Beemondham ... perhaps Henry wouldn’t even mind if I took the Mini that far to be fetched back later, since Ganner had got it going again. Whatever happened I must go, quickly, before I had to face suspicions which would be as heartbreaking as they were insulting, this time. After listening cautiously at my door, I darted across to the box-room opposite, where my suitcases had finally been put, grabbed one, darted back ... Everything but a few night things could be sent on later, or they could keep my things, as long as I could get away. It took a remarkably short time to be ready though every moment seemed too long, and I blessed the fact that there was a back staircase which came out just at the bottom of this one, so I would be able to slip out without any of the household or guests seeing me go. I was so afraid of being caught that I even held my breath as I tiptoed down, but I negotiated both staircases without halt, and made for the kitchen through which I would have to pass to reach the back door...
‘Goodness, Shah, where are you off to?’ Essie’s voice demanded as I put my hand out to open the kitchen door. As I swung round, she was standing in the passage between the green baize door and the kitchen. Alone. I breathed a prayer of relief that it was only her.
‘I—I’ve been called home—Essie, don’t bother your father, or anyone, will you? I—I don’t want to disturb the party. I’ll—take the Mini as far as Beemondham and get a train, but please don’t tell anyone—and—and then only your father, if he should ask later on where I am!’
‘Did you have a phone call, or something?’ she asked, looking at me doubtfully.
‘Y—yes.’ I listened, nervously, to the wave of party noises through the door behind her. ‘I must go. It isn’t anything awful, don’t worry, it’s j-just that I feel I’d better go home—I—’
‘Yes, okay,’ Essie said, though she gave me a curious look. ‘Dunno if you’ll find any trains, but you could always go on to Henning. Or Pa could get Ganner to drive you—’
‘No! I m-mean, no, thank you.’
‘Well...’ She gave me a considering look, and then looked down thoughtfully at her own fingers, fiddling with a fold of her dress. ‘I’ll tell you what. You could get a lift, to save you driving, and do me a favour at the same time. It’s Michael. You know, your—sorry, not your friend. I told him tonight might be a bit of a drag, and he suggested if I wanted to I could slip away for a bit. He’ll be waiting down by the gate, in his car. Well, as a matter of fact I’m rather enjoying it, and if you were to go down and ask him to drive you to Beemondham, you could tell him I’m not coming at the same time. Couldn’t you?’
‘Y-yes, all right.’ I didn’t know what Essie had thought of getting up to, but I clutched at the thought of Michael as at a straw. ‘I’ll go down and tell him, then. If—were you going into Beemondham?’
‘I don’t s’pose he’ll mind going that way,’ Essie said, giving me a clear-eyed look which I suspected hid an evasion. She saw me start nervously as someone bumped on the baize door behind her—but no one came through it. ‘As a matter of fact you can tell him I never actually seriously thought of coming. Only I should tell him that after he’s delivered you where you want to go.’ She gave me a wicked grin, sobered again, and asked gravely,
‘Are you all right, Shah? I mean, perhaps—’
‘I’m perfectly all right, and I’ll deliver your message to Michael if you won’t say I’ve gone,’ I said rapidly, and fled through the kitchen door as the baize door began to open. A stranger—a caterer, presumably—looked up at me in surprise as I hurried through the kitchen, but I tried a polite smile and shot on my way. Outside, there was a cold wind as I groped in the sudden darkness, and my eyes stopped being blinded by the lights I had left and I saw the drive going away ahead of me under the cold starlight. A quarter of a mile of drive...
I stumbled along it feeling sick with misery and thoroughly stupid, and had to force myself not to keep glancing back for pursuit. Why should anyone come after me, after all? Henry, I decided bitterly, had Machiavellian tendencies, in fact he was a plotter who worked with such subtlety that he ended up with everything in a tangle. By the time I reached the gate I was out of breath and in such low spirits that I hardly expected to see Michael’s car really there—it would have been typical of everything if he hadn’t been, and I had had to walk or go back for the Mini—but a dark shape lit by sidelights sat by the hedge, and I tried to pull myself together as I crossed to it. He must have seen someone coming—the starlight shining on my white suitcase, perhaps—because the passenger door was pushed open from the inside. I scrambled in beside him, looked at the pale surprised blur of his face as I pulled the door to behind me, and said, breathlessly,
‘H-hallo. It’s Charlotte, not Essie. She asked me to say she’s not coming, and—and if you’re driving to Beemondham, would you mind giving me a lift?’
‘She what?’
‘She says she’s not coming,’ I repeated. ‘She’s enjoying herself. I don’t know what gave her the idea to slip out anyway—’
‘I—see. And where are you going?’
‘Home. At least I’m trying to get home. Things,’ I said in a shaky voice, deciding to be honest, ‘are—are a little difficult. Please could you give me a lift, just as far as Beemondham anyway? I c-can get a train from there. I hope!’
‘Tell me one thing,’ Michael said in an odd voice. ‘Did things—break up for you before Essie said she wasn’t coming out?’
‘Y-yes, I suppose so. She just
—’
‘Right,’ Michael said sharply, and started the car with such a jerk that I was thrown backwards against my seat. His headlights went on, and in the reflected light from them (after I had collected myself) I saw he was wearing a grim expression. He said nothing more, setting off along the lanes with a speed I would normally have thought too fast for our twisting course—though tonight I didn’t care how fast I left Thurlanger House. After several moments, unclogging my voice from the tears which were threatening it and trying to feel sensible, I said hesitantly,
‘Are you sure you don’t mind driving me?’
‘Yes, I do. I mind very much. Nevertheless,’ Michael went on as I opened my mouth, ‘I’ve got you for a passenger now, so you might as well stay there. But don’t talk to me while I’m driving, I want to think!’
I subsided, feeling thoroughly unwanted and a little injured. It was hard on Michael, I supposed, that he hadn’t been asked to the dance in the first place, and then Essie had let him down for a date she ought never to have made. Glancing at him, seeing that he still looked grim—very unlike his usual pleasant, open expression—I thought with some sympathy that he had probably been rather smitten by Essie, with her beautiful face and her boyish ways. She probably didn’t even know it, or cast his feelings aside as ‘sentimentality’ which she claimed to scorn. As we drove on in silence, I felt myself sinking into even deeper gloom about my own situation. It wasn’t bearable even to think about: Perhaps Kevin would think I’d run off with Michael ... No one had seen us go, of course. Desolately, I decided that no one would care, whoever I’d run off with—except perhaps Henry because it didn’t fit in with his plots and schemes.
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