by Anne Weale
“It would serve you right if he did,” Andrea retorted. She hated the disparaging way in which Madeline and her friends discussed their husbands. The most personal details of their married lives were bandied over the bridge tables as freely and carelessly as they gossiped about servants and clothes.
“You are in a high-minded mood this morning,” Madeline said unconcernedly. “By the way, have you changed your powder or don’t you feel well? I noticed how pale you are as soon as I came in.”
“I didn’t sleep very well,” Andrea said uncomfortably. She was well aware that there were shadows under her eyes and that a careful makeup had failed to camouflage the pallor of her skin.
“You aren’t starting an infant, are you?” Madeline asked.
“No, of course not.”
Her sister-in-law raised her delicately penciled eyebrows. “There’s no ‘of course’ about it, darling. Personally I think that if one must have offspring it’s better to get it over as soon as possible. I remember I was absolutely furious when I found that Jeremy was due to arrive bang in the middle of the season and it was too dreary for words having to plod about in the most hideous garments while everyone else was enjoying themselves. But after all the dismal part I was quite pleased because having him improved my figure. I’d been much too thin before. Talking of figures, you’re thinner than you were a couple of months ago. Don’t lose too much weight. Justin detests skinny women.”
“I expect not working has cut down my appetite,” Andrea replied. “Would you like to stay for lunch? Justin should be in presently.”
“Yes, I may as well. I’m going to try out a new massage treatment at two. Margot Bartram says it’s positively miraculous. Why don’t you come with me? It would freshen you up for your party tonight.”
“I don’t think I will, thanks. I have the flowers and one or two other things to do. Will you have a drink?”
Madeline asked for a cocktail and, calling the poodle to her, began to talk to it in an itsy-bitsy voice. She had bought the dog only a few weeks before Andrea first met her and would probably change it for a more fashionable breed as soon as she tired of having its curls clipped in grotesque styles and buying jeweled collars to match her clothes. Andrea wondered if the poodle liked being dragged in and out of beauty parlors and dress shops and being fed on canapés and chocolates, or whether it fretted for a run in the park and a bone to bury.
She was about to hand Madeline the cocktail when there was a screech of brakes on the road outside and with an involuntary jerk she spilled a few drops on the carpet.
“I’m sorry. It startled me,” she said, flushing at her clumsiness.
“Better your carpet than my skirt,” Madeline said a trifle sharply, having hurriedly moved her legs aside as she saw the glass tilt.
The poodle, which had been catapulted off her knees, recovered its balance and began to lick up the liquid, its bobbled tail waving excitedly.
“You seem fearfully nervous. Have you had a row with Justin or something?” Madeline asked.
“I’ve always jumped at unexpected noises,” Andrea said with a forced laugh.
But Madeline did not miss her slight flinch and the unsteadiness of her hands as she wiped the base of the glass with her handkerchief and set it on the low table by the couch.
“Look, you don’t have to keep up appearances with me, my dear,” she said not unkindly. “That brother of mine can be a devil when he chooses, and I doubt if marriage has mellowed his temper.”
Andrea did not answer, and helping herself to a cigarette, Madeline said, “The day he brought you to see me I wondered if you would be able to manage him. He’s always been shockingly overbearing. Old Aunt Laura is the only one of the family who can get on with him, and she’s as arrogant as he is. You’re a fool if you let him browbeat you.”
“He doesn’t, and I’ve never wanted to manage him, as you put it,” Andrea said crisply. “I despise men who are under their wives thumbs.”
“Wait until you’ve had a taste of his temper,” Madeline advised her. “You’ve probably seen only his best side so far, but once the novelty has worn off you may wish he was the meek and mild type. That’s one of the reasons I married Robert. I was never madly in love with him, but I knew he’d be easy to handle.”
She gave a reminiscent laugh. “Poor old Robert. He was quite staggered when I accepted him. It had taken him weeks to nerve himself to propose, and when we were engaged he behaved as if I were some kind of goddess who’d fallen into his lap by mistake.”
“Didn’t you ever feel guilty at not caring for him in the way he felt about you?” Andrea asked, without thinking before she spoke.
“Guilty!” Madeline looked astonished. “What an extraordinary idea!” Her tone implied that it was also in extremely bad taste.
“I’m sorry.” Andrea flushed. “I just thought it must be difficult to ... to accept love if one can’t return it.”
Madeline regarded her coldly for a moment and then, with a characteristic shrug, she said, “What a naive creature you are in some ways. It’s a great mistake for any woman to allow her emotions to get out of hand. Look at Helen Myers. She was hopelessly infatuated with Gerald from the first, and now, of course, she bores him to distraction. If she hadn’t smothered him with devotion he might not be amusing himself elsewhere. No, my dear, it’s stupid to lose one’s head over a man and fatal to let him know it. Poor Helen! She never was particularly attractive and now she’s lost what looks she did have, worrying herself to death over Gerald’s little diversions.”
Andrea had met Helen Myers at a bridge party and had heard about her husband’s blatant affairs with other women. In her opinion, these had nothing to do with Helen’s patient adoration of him in the face of repeated humiliations. One brief encounter with Gerald Myers had convinced Andrea that he was the kind of man who was incapable of being faithful to any woman for more than a few weeks. She had met his type before and recognized the weakness and complete egotism of his character. She said as much to Madeline.
“Oh, yes, I agree. Gerald is an out-and-out rotter and anyone less besotted than Helen would send him packing,” her sister-in-law said carelessly. “But then no woman can expect to hold an attractive man indefinitely. I daresay you’ll have trouble with Justin later on, but at least he won’t flaunt his affairs in public. He’s always been madly discreet. Don’t look so angry, my dear. Surely you didn’t imagine that you’d be the only woman in his life for the next twenty-odd years?”
“I don’t want to have a row with you, Madeline, but if you ever say anything like that again I will have to ask you to leave,” Andrea said bitingly.
“Good heavens, how melodramatic!” Madeline said with a tinkling laugh, but she had flushed and there was an unpleasant glitter in her eyes. “I had no idea you cherished such romantic notions. Do you really believe that, once the novelty of being a husband has worn off, Justin will never so much as glance in another direction? How touchingly innocent you are.”
Pale with disgust, Andrea rose to her feet intending to ring for Hubbard and ask him to show Madeline out. But before she could do so, Madeline said brightly, “Well, well. Talk of the devil. You’re just in time to save me from having my eyes scratched out, little brother.”
“I seem to detect a note of discord,” Justin said coolly, glancing from the heightened color of his sister’s face to Andrea’s set mouth and angry eyes. It was impossible to tell how much he had overheard, for he had come into the room without a sound.
“You certainly do,” Madeline said tartly. “Your bride has a temper, in case you haven’t discovered it already.”
“And what exactly did you say to rouse it?” he inquired, pouring himself a drink.
“Why not ask Andrea? I’m sure she’ll be delighted to prove what a devoted wife she is. I was invited to lunch, but I don’t think I’ll stay after all.”
There was an awkward silence while she collected her belongings, flashed a spiteful glance at Andrea�
�s averted face and swept out.
“I expected this to happen,” Justin said casually, when the front door slammed resoundingly. “Madeline has never managed to get on with another woman for any length of time. What did she say to upset you?”
Andrea accepted the sherry he had poured for her and drank it down quickly.
“It was nothing really. Just a silly squabble,” she said, trying to sound equally casual.
“Don’t lie to me, little one. I have no illusions about the sharpness of Madeline’s claws. What was it?”
“I’d rather not discuss it, Justin. Could I have a cigarette, please?”
He lighted one for her, and when she had taken two or three nervous puffs, said, “I think it would take more than a trivial quarrel to make you shake like this. I insist on knowing what Madeline said.”
“Oh ... please...”
She recognized the determined line of his mouth and knew that she would be forced to tell him eventually.
“It began when Madeline was talking about Helen and Gerald Myers,” she said distressfully. “I hardly know them, but it seems to be common gossip that Gerald runs after other women.”
“And so?”
“Justin, couldn’t we forget about it? I’m sorry to have clashed with your sister, but I daresay it will blow over after a while.”
“Go on,” he said implacably.
“Well ... Madeline said that ... that no woman could hold a man forever and that you—”
“That I would follow Myers’s example.” His face was unreadable. “What else?”
“That was all. I suppose it was foolish of me, but the way she said it made me angry and I was rather rude to her.”
“I see.” He leaned back against the end of the couch and crossed his long legs. “Why were you angry? Out of indignant loyalty or because you were afraid it might be true?”
She made to jump up, but he caught her wrist and said, “No, don’t fly off the handle again. Think about it. Are you quite sure which was the true reason?”
“Of course I am. Anyone would have been furious. If someone suggested to you that I would have affairs I don’t think you’d be very pleased.”
“No, but that isn’t entirely comparable. If a woman is unfaithful to her husband it’s generally his fault. Men frequently betray the most excellent women, as in the case of Myers. If we were an ordinary couple I wouldn’t ask you to analyze your reaction, but as our circumstances are not ordinary, I’d like to know whether Madeline’s suggestion had ever occurred to you.”
She looked down at his hand enclosing her wrist in a light but firm hold.
“No,” she said in a low voice. “Perhaps it should have done, but it didn’t.”
He let go of her wrist and stood up, walking about the room with his hands in his pockets and an unfathomable expression on his face.
Then, as if they had been discussing some commonplace matter of no further account, he said, “We’re flying over to New York at the end of next week. I will be busy at the conference I mentioned for two or three days, but I think you’ll be able to amuse yourself, and when it’s over we might visit some friends of mine up in Maine. I think you’ll like New York and I’m told the stores are very good.”
“What is the conference about?” she asked, trying to take this abrupt change of topic in her stride.
“Very dull financial matters,” he said.
“I’m not a complete ignoramus, you know,” she returned dryly.
“The fact that I don’t think the agenda would interest you isn’t a reflection on your intellect.”
“Perhaps not, but I would like to know something about your work.”
“There’s no reason why you should bother your head about it. Unless you’re contemplating a flutter on the stock market and want some inside information,” he said teasingly.
Andrea crushed out her cigarette. It was probably childish to be so exasperated by his gentle mockery, but at moments like this she could almost have stamped with vexation.
He must have sensed her mood, for he said more seriously, “Look, my dear, I imagine that you spend a certain amount of time trying out your eye shadow and rouge and all the other mysterious mixtures that women use. But providing the result is attractive, I can’t say I’m particularly interested in the mechanics of the business. In the same way there’s no need for you to concern yourself with my day-to-day affairs. If anything should ever happen that is likely to have a drastic effect on our present way of life, naturally I will tell you about it, but until it does I would rather confine my business talk to the boardroom.”
At that point Hubbard announced lunch and Andrea was prevented from countering this argument. She spent part of the afternoon resting in her room in readiness for the evening, although while her body was relaxed her mind was far from serene. In spite of Justin’s apparent unconcern, the row with Madeline troubled her. She had no second thoughts about her attitude, but she knew that the clash would not make life any easier, for Madeline could be a vicious adversary and was not likely to forget that she had been put in the wrong.
Justin did not come in for tea and she spent an hour listening to a concert on the radio before going up to dress for dinner. She was going to wear a very plain black lace dress with a low-cut bodice and long close-fitting sleeves. The diamond rose brooch that Justin had given her on her wedding day was too heavy for the delicate lace veiling her shoulders, so she put on some small pearl earrings and left her neck bare.
When she was ready she went down to look at the table. Normally the dining room was lighted by two standard lamps, but tonight these had been removed and four silver candelabra set out. In the center of the table was a massive silver epergne that earlier she had filled with yellow and white roses from the gardens in Cornwall. The flickering glow of the candles made the crystal glasses sparkle and enhanced the sheen of the polished table. It cast soft shadows on the walls and ceiling and gave the room a welcoming and intimate air.
Although they were having only ten other guests besides Simon, all were distinguished in some artistic or professional sphere, and Andrea felt a good deal of trepidation at playing hostess to people whose conversation would undoubtedly be more intellectual and , wittier than the frivolous chat and shoptalk to which she was used. At least the food and wines would be perfect, that was one consolation.
Hubbard had been a little disturbed when she told him that Simon was coming.
“It’s usual to have an even number, madam,” he had explained.
“Yes, I know, but I forgot that Mr. Brennan would make us odd. Does it matter very much? I can’t think of anyone else to ask at such short notice.”
“You’re not superstitious, I take it, madam.”
“Why? Oh, having thirteen people, you mean? No, I’m not, and I shouldn’t think Mr. Justin is.”
Now she noticed that Hubbard had arranged the places in such a way that the odd number was scarcely noticeable.
She was adjusting a rose in the epergne when Justin came in. He must have gone straight upstairs to change and she thought how well he always looked in evening dress.
“You look very dignified tonight. Is that a new dress?” he asked.
“No, it’s part of my trousseau, but this is the first time I’ve worn it.”
“Turn around a moment.”
She did so, thinking he wanted to see the back of the dress. But with a swift movement he slipped something cold and smooth around her neck; and putting up a hand she felt a triple string of pearls.
“Oh, Justin...!”
As soon as he had fastened the clasp, she ran to the Regency looking glass and saw them glimmering around her throat.
“They’re beautiful. Are they ... real?”
“Certainly. Did you think I’d dropped into Woolworths on my way home?” he said amusedly.
“Well, no. But they must have cost a fortune.” She ran her fingertips along the perfectly matched strands. “I don’t know what to say. You’re muc
h too generous.”
He came up behind her and rested his hands on her shoulders. Although she was wearing satin shoes with very high heels, he was still able to look down at her, and the breadth of his shoulders made her own seem much slighter than they really were. Their eyes met in the mirror, and perhaps it was only the candlelight but his expression seemed gentler than usual.
She turned to face him. “Thank you, Justin,” she said softly.
And then, impulsively, because it seemed natural to the moment, she stood on tiptoe and kissed his lean brown cheek. As soon as she had done it she was filled with shyness and, with it, a strange flurry of excitement.
Justin did not move. His eyes were narrowed and the muscles of his jaw clenched. There was something almost frightening in his absolute stillness.
Then, slowly and deliberately, he took the handkerchief from his breast pocket and rubbed the place that her lips had brushed.
“The necklace is a gift,” he said curtly. “I don’t expect any payment.”
Incredibly, after what had happened, the dinner party was a great success. From the moment the first guests arrived until four hours later when she stood at Justin’s side in the hall and accepted their cordial thanks for a delightful evening, Andrea chatted and laughed and made them welcome as easily as if she had been trained from childhood to be a perfect hostess. Not for one second of those four seemingly interminable hours did she allow the faintest sign of her inner bewilderment and distress to show through. But it would have given her no satisfaction to know that, as they drove home, her guests were agreeing with each other that Justin could not have chosen a more charming and suitable bride.
As soon as Simon Brennan, the last to leave, had gone, she said a hasty good-night to Hubbard and Justin and went up to her room, where her first action was to take off the pearl necklace and drop it into a drawer. Then, limp with reaction from the long ordeal downstairs, she sank onto the velvet love seat and buried her face in her hands.
After a while, too exhausted even to think clearly, she forced herself to get ready for bed. But lying between the smooth scented sheets in the quiet darkness brought no repose.