Roberta Leigh - And Then Came Love

by Roberta Leigh

  "Has my sister-in-law gone out yet?"

  "She's in her room, changing. Gave me a look fit to kill when she saw me dolled up like this, but never a word, Now then, Mrs. Matthew, you go and do the flowers and leave everything else to me."

  For the next few hours Stella busied herself with the mass of flowers she had bought. The bright daffodils relieved the heavy gloom of the hall, and the mahogany dining-table looked resplendent with tulips reflected in its polished surface.

  Before she went to change she set the table with the ornate silver cutlery and crystal glasses. The flowered china dinner service bespoke Jess's taste, but the damask cloth fell in sleek folds almost to the floor, giving the room an elegance it had never had before.

  She was in the bathroom when Matthew's car crunched on the gravel drive and she. was pleased he had made the effort to get back before Charles arrived. Hurriedly she went into her bedroom and put on a grey chiffon dress almost the same colour as her eyes, fastening the long sleeves with tiny, multi-coloured buttons that matched the wide jewelled belt at her waist She applied her make-up more lavishly than usual, disguising the paleness of her cheeks with rouge and darkening her lashes heavily with mascara.

  She hesitated outside Matthew's dressing-room, wondering if he would be ready in time. But her marriage had taught her that he was a slow and careful dresser, and with a faint smile she went on her way downstairs.

  The front door shimmed resoundingly as she turned the corner of the corridor and she realised Jess had left the house without seeing her. Heaven only knew what tales the woman would bear to her friends! For the moment it did not seem important, and she went into the drawing-room and stirred the fire before going to the cocktail cabinet to set out the sherry glasses, irrationally nervous at the thought of seeing Charles again. What would his attitude to her be and how would he react to Matthew? He had a discerning eye and would be quick to notice the relationship between them was not all it should be.

  The door opened and Matthew came in, his face ruddy from it's usual brisk wash with cold water.

  "I'm glad you were able to get home early, Matthew."

  "I told you I would. It's only right I should be here the first time you have a guest." He appraised her. "You're looking very nice. If I'd known you were going to wear a dinner-dress I'd have changed as well. Still, I don't suppose Charles will have bothered to bring his dinner-jacket just for one night, so I'll be keeping him company."

  She touched his arm impulsively before she looked at her watch. "I hope he won't be late or dinner will be spoilt. It's the first time I've given one and I want it to go off well."

  Matthew stood in front of the fire and clasped his hands behind his back. "I suppose it was being anxious that made you act hasty towards Jess. The poor girl was most upset."

  "How do you know?"

  "I saw her when I came in. She was on her way out and burst into tears when she saw me."

  "Jess crying?"

  "Yes, 'crying. She's a woman, you know, and has feelings just like you. I daresay she said a few things she shouldn't have, but she's very upset." -

  "If anyone has a right to be upset it's me, not your sister!' Stella said indignantly. "Surely I'm entitled to choose what I want for dinner without her taking it as an insult."

  "It was your manner she didn't like," persisted Matthew.

  "I didn't like hers either! She isn't the same person in front of you as she i& when we're alone together."

  "You're imagining things. Jess i» too simple to play a double game."

  "If Jess is simple, heaven preserve me from someone complex! All I did was suggest we had another vegetable instead of cabbage and mash, and she threw a tantrum like the Queen of Sheba!"

  "Because you were rude to her."

  "Rude?" Stella's voice rose. "What about her rudeness to me? I don't come running to, you every time your sister and I have a row, but there have been plenty of times when I could."

  "I respect you for keeping quiet about it."

  "You wouldn't defend me even if you knew!"

  He was silenced, but only momentarily, and when he continued it was to ignore her comment. "If Jess is edgy with you, you'll have to make allowances for her. You're more intelligent and it won't be as hard for you."

  "Why must I bother?" she cried angrily. "Why can't Jess have a home of her own?"

  "What difference does it make if she's here? She's hardly playing gooseberry to a couple of lovebirds!"

  "That's not the point." For the first time Stella refused to be sidetracked. "Even if I wanted to be alone with you, I never get the chance. Yet you don't even care!"

  "Of course I care! You should, know that without my having to say so. But this is Jess's home. I can't tell her to go."

  "Not even for me?" Stella asked softly. "Not even if you knew we'd have more chance of being happy together if we were on our own?"

  His eyes were anguished. "Jess has kept house for me for ten years. I can't tell her to go now."

  Unable to believe she had lost, Stella went to stand by the window staring out into a darkness no darker than her thoughts. When it came to the final choice between his sister and his wife, Matthew had shown where his loyalty lay. It was a decision she had never anticipated, so sure had she been that when it came to the final choice he would choose her. Now she knew exactly what his feelings for her were; not the warm, cherishing love she had foolishly expected, but a venal desire.

  "Forgive me, lass, he whispered behind her. "Try and see it from my point of view."

  "A car's coming into the drive," she said, ignoring his remark. "It's Charles. I’ll open the door. Elsie's busy in the kitchen."

  "I'll go," he offered, but she brushed past him and opened the front door to find Charles on the step.

  "Charles, darling!"

  "Stella, my dear." He kissed her cheek. "It's good to see you again. Nearly three months."

  He stepped into the hall and took off his coat In his dinner-jacket he looked as immaculate as ever, the soft white shirt without a wrinkle, the black tie perfectly placed.

  Matthew came forward to greet him. "How are you, Heyward? Come and warm yourself by the fire. If the flames reach the mantelpiece, you'll know you're in Yorkshire. Now what about a drink? Whisky, gin, cherry brandy?"

  "No .on& has cherry brandy before dinner?" Stella put in. "Charles will have sherry — unless you've changed your tastes since we last met?"

  "You know me better than that." Charles nodded to Matthew. "Sherry, please."

  The big hands were unsteady on the decanter. "Will you have the same, Stella?"

  "Please."

  Matthew filled the glasses and Charles took his and raised it to them. "Your very good health — and happiness."

  "Thanks." Matthew smiled at Stella. "To our happiness."

  Her lips curved in a smile, but her eyes were bleak and she, turned immediately to Charles. "Have you seen Mother lately?"

  "I dined with her last night There was a concert at the Academy and I took her to hear Adrian play. I must say he was extremely good. I think hell go a long way."

  Her eyes shone. "I hope so! It means a lot to him."

  "And to you too."

  'I hope he justifies your faith," Matthew put hi. "I wouldn't mind having a well-known brother-in-law. Quite a feather in my cap."

  "I wasn't looking at it from that point of view," she said quietly. "Now if you'll excuse me I'll see how Elsie's getting on."

  Elsie had prepared the meal expertly and Stella_ felt it triumphantly proved her point that Jess was not indispensable. The girl had changed into uniform and served each course as if she had nothing to do with it's preparation, .her face only occasionally betraying her as Matthew or .Charles gave a murmur of appreciation.

  "By heavens, that was good!" Matthew beamed as he finished his sweet. "Well Charles, no one can say we can't cook up here. Yorkshire food's still the best."

  "Cote de veau is hardly a Yorkshire dish," Stella said crushingly
.

  "But a Yorkshire lass cooked it!"

  "I'm surprised you want to remember who cooked it!" .

  Matthew grinned at Charles. "My sister usually takes care of the food, but Stella likes fancier dishes so she and Jess parted company for the evening."

  Furious that he had misinterpreted the facts in this way, she gave an exclamation of anger. If Matthew could not be truthful, he could at least have been loyal!

  "Matthew's being ingenuous," she said deliberately.

  "The truth is that Jess and I had a frightful row this morning."

  Charles looked at his host and composed his expression into one of diplomatic commiseration. "You must find it a tricky situation."

  "Not at all," Stella said before Matthew could reply. "My loving husband sides with his sister!" Matthew pushed back his chair, only the pulse at the side of his temple indicating his mood. "Let's have coffee in the other, room. It's hot in here."

  Not waiting to see if they would follow him, he strode out, and he was pouring the brandy when Stella and Charles came into the drawing-room. While they sipped it they talked about people he did not know, and unable to join in the conversation he let his mind wander, brooding over the argument he had had with Stella earlier that evening.

  Did she really believe he did not want to be alone with her? Was she so innocent that she did not know how impossible it would have been for him to have sat alone with her night after night without making love to her? Had it not been for Jess' presence, nothing could have stopped him from flinging himself into Stella's arms and begging her to love him. And what a fool she would think him if he did! Only by remaining aloof did he have any chance of winning her. One false step, one glimpse of his overwhelming need of her, and she might easily take flight. But how hard it was not to touch her when he ached to hold her body in his arms. So soft and fragile. Not like her sharp tongue!

  He sighed heavily. Surely she had enough sense to understand his attitude towards Jess? You couldn't ask somebody to leave when they were all the family you had… Yet Stella was his family top… or nearly. If only she could let herself go; lose' the fear that was preventing her from admitting she loved him. And she did love him: he was certain of it. It was apparent in the way she returned his kisses, in her swift response to his touch.

  "You must think us very rude talking about people you don't know."

  Charles's voice broke in on his thoughts and Matthew looked at them with a smile. "Don't mind me. I knew you and Stella would like a natter. It's a long time since she's seen one of her own land."

  "There's no need to talk as if you're a foreigner!" Stella cried.

  "Sometimes I feel like one!"

  "I know what you mean," Charles put in tactfully. "I'd probably feel the same if I married a Yorkshire girl."

  "I cant imagine you at a loss with anyone," Stella smiled. "You'd be at home with the Eskimos!"

  Embarrassed, Charles looked at his glass. "Would you care to play for me?" he asked. "It's a long while since I heard you."

  "What would you like?"

  "Can't you guess—?"

  "The Chopin Nocturne's been your favourite for so long I thought you'd be tired of it by now!"

  Her fingers ran over the keys and, watching her, Matthew wondered what she would say if she knew that at eighteen he had walked five miles to hear his first concert? The subsequent years of hard work had left him little time to indulge his secret liking, and it wounded him deeply that Stella, who could have helped him so much, had not been willing to help him at all. It was weeks since she had played for him, and then it had only been on sufferance, for the moment Jess had come into the room she had used it as an excuse to stop. The soft notes died away and he cleared his throat. "That was grand, lass."

  She ignored him. "Did you like it, Charles?"

  "Need you ask? You're playing better than ever."

  Charles turned to Matthew. "I envy you being able to hear her when you like."

  "I don't — she never plays for me these days."

  Charles looked at Stella in surprise and she shrugged at his unspoken question. "I don't like playing when people are bored. My. sister-in-law doesn't like music."

  "She's not here, now," Matthew put in eagerly.

  Stella trembled with anger. If Jess had been here he would have been afraid to ask her to play in case it precipitated a quarrel. Why should his sister's disr approval mean so much to him when her own meant so little?

  "Come on, lass, play anything you think suits me."

  There was a pause, then she threw back her head and her hands crashed down on the keys in a resounding cacophony of chords. She strummed with such vulgar embellishments that it was several minutes before Matthew recognized it as an ugly parody of a Yorkshire miner's song; but he listened without a flicker of emotion until, with a last strident trill, she finished and swung round to look at him.

  "Well," she demanded, "did you like it?"

  "Very much." Beads of perspiration shone on his forehead, but his voice was quiet "Quite a rousing version of the old song."

  Charles stood up awkwardly. "I really must be going. It's late."

  With an effort Matthew extended his hand. "It was nice seeing you. I hope you'll come again when you're this way."

  "Thank you. Will you see me to the door, Stella?"

  In the hall Charles caught her hand. "Good-bye, my dear. I'll phone your mother and tell her how I found you." His grip tightened. "Watch your step, Stella, you were unnecessarily cruel."

  "Not without reason!" She pulled her hand away.

  "Give my love to Mother and tell her III be down to see her soon."

  She closed the door and went back to the drawing-room. Charles had no right to pass judgement when he did not know the circumstances. Without a word she crossed to the piano and shut the lid, then turned out the standard lamp and prepared to leave the room.

  "Don't go yet," Matthew said. "I want to talk to you."

  "Can't it wait till morning?"

  "No," he said tightly, "it can't. How dare you insult me like that in front of Charles?"

  "Because of what I played?"

  "It was the way you played it."

  "Really Matthew, you're exaggerating. I only —"

  "Insult my manners and my tastes," he roared, "but don't insult my intelligence!" He flung his cigar into the fire. "I am as I am, and there's nothing I can do about it. I told you months ago that neither of us would change, and I meant it. I won't put up with your behaviour any longer."

  "And I won't put up with yours! How can you defend your horrible sister against me …" she choked on the words and turned away from him.

  "Leave Jess out of it," he said. "Most couples have family trouble, but ours goes deeper than that."

  "You can't separate the two. If Jess weren't here, we wouldn't still be strangers to each other."

  "You can't blame Jess for our wedding night! You didn't want me then and you don't want me now. If you're so keen on honesty why aren't you honest with yourself? You're ashamed of me, that's what you are! Ashamed because I don't talk and act like your fine friend Charles! It wasn't too much trouble to get all dressed up for him, was it? Nor to make a special dinner that —"

  "I change for dinner every night," she said hotly, "and I'd order food for you if your sister would let me! But the first time I say anything to her she acts like the Mad Woman of Chailot!"

  "Because you wanted to throw her out of her own home!"

  "Her home!" Stella cried. "Her home and your home, but never mine!"

  "What right do you have to call it yours when you're not my wife — when you still look at me with hate? You didn't turn me away that first night because I was a stranger to you, but because you despised me. Because you felt superior!"

  "That's not true!" she cried. "I was afraid of you — and I still am. I've tried to get closer to you — heaven knows I've tried — but what chance have I had with Jess snooping around the whole time. We haven't been alone thre
e times in as many months."

  "Did you never wonder why?" he shouted. "Do you think I can bear to be alone with you night after night, knowing that if I wanted to I could make you surrender? Don't shake your head like that. I've made love to enough women to know I could have had you if I'd wanted you that way — and made you enjoy it too!" His voice sank lower. "But I respected you too much. I thought you too far above me. Stella — my star, I used to call you, a sleeping beauty who'd wake up for me! Well, for all I care you can stay asleep for ever! If you don't want me, there's plenty who do!"

  Throwing a chair out of his path he lunged violently from the room, the glasses on the sideboard tinkling as the front door slammed.

  The house was quiet without Matthew's voice ringing in her ears, but it was a quiet that held no peace, and shivering she huddled close to the fire. The evening had been damned from the moment he had refused to tell Jess to find a home of her own., Hurt by his lack of loyalty she had made no effort to hide her anger from Charles, and stupidly Matthew had tried to gloss over the reason for it, endeavouring to make her bitter quarrel with Jess seem like a childish argument that would disappear by morning.

  Yet knowing he had been at fault did not mitigate her own cruelty to him, nor bund her to the fact that he was right when he accused her of having married him without love. Tears poured down her cheeks but she did not know for whom she was crying — for herself or Matthew or them both. How badly she had behaved to him; her affection so weak that the liking she had felt for him when she was alone, had always been destroyed by his presence; the need he roused in her always swamped by her condescension. She had been wrong to wait until her love for him could equal the desire she felt. Love would come if she surrendered to his passion instead of imposing so many conditions. As if a blue-blooded background was better than a, self-made man with courage and determination to succeed — as if polished manners and a perfect accent were more important than warmth and sincerity. How could she have tried to destroy Matthew's belief in himself when his only folly had been to love her? What right did she have to change him when he was already so much better than she deserved?

  Racked by remorse, she longed to talk to him, to tell him she had been wrong. Yet she knew that words alone would not be apology enough. Only action — loving action — could set their marriage on the right course.