The Widening Stream
By
Rachel Lindsay
Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
"You should have won an Oscar," Brett snapped.
"Your performance on the boat coming over here was magnificent!"
Loris was shocked. He was the one who had put on an act—leading her to believe he loved her, wooing her on the moonlit deck. She longed to talk to him, but she didn't want to let him see how hurt she was. She had been so naive—well, not anymore!
"I've told you before that I don't want you to talk to me," she said. "It's none of your business what I do with my life."
"At one time you led me to believe it was. But then I'm forgetting what a marvelous actress you are. I wonder," he said with a touch of malice, "If you can repeat the performance?"
Before she knew what he meant to do, he pulled her close and crushed her mouth beneath his…
Other titles
by
RACHEL LINDSAY
IN
HARLEQUIN PRESENTS
THE MARQUIS TAKES A WIFE 188
FORBIDDEN LOVE 201
PRESCRIPTION FOR LOVE 217
BRAZILIAN AFFAIR 221
FORGOTTEN MARRIAGE 228
LOVE AND DOCTOR FORREST 241
UNWANTED WIFE 249
ROUGH DIAMOND LOVER 257
AN AFFAIR TO FORGET 265
MAN OUT OF REACH 274
DESIGNING MAN 280
MY SISTER'S KEEPER 315
Other titles
by
RACHEL LINDSAY
IN
HARLEQUIN ROMANCES
LOVE AND LUCY GRANGER 1614
MOONLIGHT AND MAGIC 1648
A QUESTION OF MARRIAGE 1667
ALIEN CORN 1742
CAGE OF GOLD 1763
Harlequin Presents edition published March 1980
ISBN 0-373-10346-8
Original hardcover edition published in 1952
by Hutchinson & Co. Ltd.
Copyright © 1979, 1952 by Rachel Lindsay.
Philippine copyright 1979.
Australian copyright 1979.
CHAPTER ONE
Loris Cameron leant against the rails of the ship and looked out across the gradually widening expanse of grey water at the coastline of England receding farther and farther into the distance. The hooting of the ship's siren seemed to echo mournfully in her heart as for the first time in her twenty-three years she watched the shores of home fade, and her grey eyes held a hint of sadness as she gazed at them. Then with a faint sigh she turned away and stepped through the hatchway leading down to her cabin.
As she entered her stateroom the girl who was gazing out of the porthole window turned excitedly towards her.
"Isn't it thrilling, Loris? I can hardly believe we're off at last."
"If you'd been up on deck with me you'd have been even more thrilled. It's incredible a ship of this size could get through such a narrow dock."
"I'm thrilled enough already without bothering about the silly ship. Just imagine, in four days from now we shall be in New York and I'll see Dickson!"
She pirouetted gleefully round the room, strewing flimsy pieces of lingerie haphazardly on the floor behind her.
Loris bent and retrieved them, putting them methodically on the bed. "Go and lie down, dear. I'll unpack for you." She gave the small figure a gentle push. "Go along, Melanie, lie down."
With a little grimace of protest Melanie obediently settled herself on the bed nearest the porthole, slim legs curled beneath her as she watched Loris unpack.
The two made a striking contrast to each other, the one tall and dark, the other small and fair. One might have wondered how girls so totally unlike each other in every way should have come to be travelling companions at all, for the younger, with her startling fair hair and chocolate-box prettiness, was totally different from the dark, quiet girl several years her senior.
"I don't know how I'd manage without you, Loris."
Loris laughed. "Your mother could easily have found someone else to keep an eye on you."
"I dare say, but no one I'd have liked being with half as much as you, I can't think of you as a chaperone at all."
"I should hope not! If I'd thought coming on this trip would make you think of me as some sort of ogre, I wouldn't have accepted the offer."
Melanie jumped up and hugged her impulsively. "Of course you're not an ogre, silly! I'm delighted Mummy wouldn't let me travel on my own. Think how much more fun I shall have now I've got you to share it with."
"Hey, hey, you don't have to strangle me!" Loris disengaged herself laughingly, then went on in a tone of mock severity: "But you must do what I tell you, or it's bread and water for you, my child!"
With a gurgle of amusement Melanie settled herself back on the bed. "You know, Loris," she said, suddenly serious, "I was awfully surprised the vicar let you come at all."
"So was I," Loris replied pensively.
Her thoughts went back to her kindly, gentle father, alone now in his rambling old vicarage; back to that April morning nearly a month ago when she had been working in the garden and Melanie's mother had telephoned to ask her to go over and see her. She had hastily brushed the earth from her old skirt and set off on her bicycle to the imposing red-brick house where the Powells lived.
Loris had been a thin, motherless child of nine when the Powells had moved to the village of Roxborough fourteen years before. It was from her father's housekeeper that she had first heard about the Powells' little daughter, and being a solitary child had eagerly awaited an invitation to visit these wealthy and imposing strangers, imagining Melanie a little girl like herself, hungry for companionship.
She remembered her first meeting with Melanie and how disappointed she had been at the sight of the little four-year-old who had come into the room with her nurse. Here was no companion for walks in the wood, no friend with whom to share her joys and secrets. But Mrs. Powell had an acute knowledge of children and with her mother's instinct immediately sensed the older child's disappointment.
Gently she pushed the two children together and her little daughter threw chubby arms around the other girl's neck. From that moment Loris had been Melanie's slave and the two became inseparable, their friendship surviving the separation when Melanie was sent away to an expensive boarding-school and Loris remained at Roxborough to attend the day-school three miles away.
When she left school Loris stayed at home to help her father with his parochial duties.
It was a busy but uneventful life, and she was thankful when Melanie came home from finishing school to lend a note of gaiety to the village with her many friends and gay parties.
It was at one of these parties that she met and fell in love with Dickson Loftus, a lanky American boy of twenty-four. But though her parents were delighted with the match, for Mrs. Powell had known Dickson's mother when they were single, they only agreed to their daughter's engagement on condition that she did not marry till she was twenty-one, and remained adamant in spite of Melanie's pleading. Melanie grew so pale and thin at the separation that her parents decided to take her to California in the spring prior to her twenty-first birthday, and it was a great blow to them all when Mr. Powell suddenly succumbed to a heart attack and was forbidden to travel.
Faced on the one hand with the job of nursing an
invalid husband back to health, and on the other with a tearful daughter, Mrs. Powell decided to let Melanie go to California and stay with her future parents-in-law until she and her husband could follow her out for the wedding. But they were unwilling to let her travel alone, and her mother looked around for someone to go with her. Her first choice was Loris, and she was greatly surprised when the girl politely but firmly declined.
"It's very kind of you to ask me, Mrs. Powell, but I'm afraid my father couldn't do without me."
"But, my dear, do you really think your father would want you to sacrifice…"
"Oh, it's not a question of sacrifice or anything as heroic as that," Loris interrupted. "It's just that I wouldn't feel happy leaving him alone. He's so helpless in the house—I don't even think he knows how to boil an egg!" And in spite of everything Mrs. Powell could find to say, Loris was firm in her refusal, and cycled back to the vicarage resolutely refusing to think of the wonderful chance she had just turned down.
Her father came into the shabby lounge just as she was pouring out the tea, and she did not notice the searching look he gave her.
"Did you see Melanie today?" he asked casually, settling himself in an armchair.
"No. She went up to town."
"Oh. Any other news?"
"No, Daddy, nothing important. I saw old Sam Sykes in the High Street this afternoon and he said his rheumatism is so much better he'll be coming along to choir practice tonight."
"I see." There was a pause, then: "Why didn't you tell me you'd refused Mrs. Powell's offer to go to America?"
Loris put her cup down with a little clatter and moved across to the window. "I didn't think Mrs. Powell would tell you."
"There was no need to keep it secret, my dear," her father said reprovingly. "Surely it was the most natural 'thing in the world for you to tell me? "
Loris gave what she hoped was on indifferent shrug. "I didn't even want to bother you with such a silly idea. It's quite impossible. I've too much to do to become nursemaid to Melanie. darling though she is."
With a little sigh the Reverend Francis Cameron stood up and moving over to his daughter put out a gentle hand and turned her face to his. "Look at me, child. I've tried to care for you as well as I could since your mother died and I've always prided myself on having done a pretty good job. It wasn't until Mrs. Powell told me you'd refused her offer that I began to feel that I must have failed you in some way."
"But, Daddy…"
"Let me finish, Loris. Travelling is something nearly every girl longs for, and no normal person would refuse an opportunity if it came their way. The fact that you did seems to tell me I must have failed you."
"But, Daddy, that's absurd! I'd love to go to America. I only refused because I thought you wouldn't be able to get along without me."
If her father privately agreed with her, he did not say so. A widower for twenty years, no one meant more to him than Loris and he had watched her grow up from a solemn-faced child into a sensitive young woman, filled with pride at her intelligence. But it was borne upon him now that she was as much a stranger to him in some ways as any other young woman. An ascetic man, he had not realized that his way of life, satisfying as it was to him, was not suitable for his daughter, and only now did he realize how much gaiety and youthful companionship she had been missing. When Mrs. Powell had spoken to him over the telephone after Loris's visit he had seen her as an adult individual for the first time, realizing not only how much she had already missed for his sake but how much more she was prepared to miss in the future unless he prevented it.
He smiled reprovingly and shook his head. "What a conceited young person you are, my darling, to think I couldn't manage without you! I'm not so helpless that I won't be able to look after myself while you're away."
"But, Daddy, you know very well you've already got as much as you can do with the parish."
"If it comes to that, Mrs. Parkin can come in and look after me. Her husband died three months ago and she's looking for a job and somewhere to live—I'm sure she'll only be too glad to come as my housekeeper. It would be good for Melanie if you went with her, Loris—she's highly strung and she needs a steadying influence behind her."
"Heavens, Daddy, you make me feel so staid and old-fashioned!"
"You are, my dear." He gave her an affectionate pat. "That's another reason why you should go. It'd be good for you, too. You ought to enjoy yourself with other young people. Mrs. Powell wants you to stay in California until she and her husband can go out themselves and I expect you'll have a great deal of fun. Now run along and ring her up and tell her you've changed your mind."
Loris threw her arms around him. "Oh, darling, you're the nicest father any girl could have—and I love you."
She ran out of the room and a moment later he heard her voice, eager and excited on the telephone. With a sigh, Francis Cameron went into his study and closed the door behind him. His daughter's absence would leave an aching void in his life which only her return would fill, but he was determined not to let her know this, and in the weeks of preparation which followed hid his feelings so well that no one guessed at the sadness he felt.
At the memory of how fervently her father had kissed her good-bye, Loris jerked her thoughts back to the present and continued unpacking for Melanie.
The girls had exclaimed with pleasure when they had first seen their walnut-panelled stateroom with its narrow twin beds, perfectly appointed bathroom with taps for hot, cold and sea-water; and now that the cabin was littered with Melanie's clothes it seemed to have lost its impersonal atmosphere. By the time Loris had finished unpacking they were well out to sea, and looking through the porthole, she caught a glimpse of the expanse of heaving water. The ship had fallen into its steady rhythm and the pulsation of the engines was settling into an even throb.
She glanced down at her watch. "Heavens, it's half past one! If we don't hurry we won't get any lunch."
Hastily they made their way down the companionway to the restaurant and were filled with awe at the size of the beautifully decorated room, Loris in particular finding it a delight to sit down to a meal she had not had to prepare with her own hands.
Later they went up to the top deck and spent the rest of the afternoon watching their fellow passengers, and it was nearly six o'clock before they returned to their cabin.
"Hallo, what's this?" Melanie bent and picked up an envelope which had been slipped under the door during their absence. "Somebody's writing to me already!" she said, with naive conceit.
"Probably from the Purser asking you to collect something," Loris replied drily.
Melanie tore open the envelope and took out a single sheet of paper. Then she looked up with an excited laugh. "You'll never guess who it's from, Loris! It's a friend of Dickson's. Here, read it."
Loris took the note and read the firm handwriting.
Dear Miss Powell, it began.
Glancing through the passenger list I noticed your name and wonder if you are the same Melanie Powell who is engaged to a friend of mine by the name of Dickson Loftus. I saw Dickson just before I came over to England and he told me he was expecting his fiancée quite soon. As yours is such an uncommon name I'm hoping you are the same girl and am taking the liberty of writing to ask you if you will have a drink with me in the Observation Lounge before dinner tonight. I shall be at a table by the window and will have a copy of the passenger list before me to help you to recognize me. I look forward to the pleasure of meeting you, but if I am mistaken in thinking you are Dickson's fiancée, a note to Cabin A.27 will suffice.
Yours,
Brett Halliday.
Loris handed the note back. "What are you going to do?"
"Do? Why, go and meet him, of course! Think of all the things he'll have to tell me."
"But you don't even know him."
Melanie burst out laughing. "Oh, Loris, how cautious you are! We can't possibly come to any harm just by going to meet him. After all, he doesn't know us by sight
, so we can walk through the lounge and if we don't like the look of him we needn't stop at his table."
"You think of everything, Melanie! For one so young, you're an adept in guile."
That evening Loris was nervous and hesitant as they entered the crowded Observation Lounge, but Melanie seemed quite unconcerned, and ignored the interested eyes which followed them as they made their way across the room. Suddenly she gripped Loris's hand. "There he is!"
Looking in the direction of Melanie's pointing finger Loris found herself gazing into a pair of piercing eyes and suddenly, for no reason she could think of, her heart started to pound. "Are you sure that's the right man?" she whispered.
"Positive! He's got a copy of the passenger list in front of him. Doesn't look like a crook, does he?" Melanie whispered back. "Come on, let's go and introduce ourselves."
As if she had a sudden premonition of all that would befall her if she were to meet this man, Loris gave a shiver of apprehension.
"Oh, come on," Melanie said impatiently. "What's the matter now?"
"Perhaps a goose walked over my grave," Loris laughed shakily. "Don't mind me, it's probably first-night nerves. Let's go and meet him."
They advanced towards the table and the man stood up.
"Mr. Halliday?" Melanie asked.
"Yes. Are you Miss Powell?"
"That's right. And this is my friend, Miss Cameron."
They all smiled at each other and immediately felt more at ease. Brett Halliday drew up two chairs and within a few minutes Melanie was in earnest conversation with him, asking question after question about her fiancé—whether Dickson was well, how he liked being back in America after his European trip—all the hundred and one details a girl wants to know about the boy she loves.
Loris sat back and watched the man as he answered the spate of questions. She liked the clear, incisive way he spoke, surprised that the accent of his deep voice was quite English. Indeed, had it not been for a slight drawl, she would not have taken him for an American at all, and her curiosity must have shown in her face, for he suddenly turned to her.
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