by Hilary Wilde
Trying to find out if I’m worth marrying?” His eyes were twinkling, yet there was a gravity about his voice that surprised her.
“Of course not. It’s ... it’s just that the Senhora asked me the other day.” James looked quite relieved. “Oh, Mariana! That’s understandable.
She’s trying to find a rich husband, of course.”
“I heard you were a millionaire,” Kate said naively.
James laughed. “I am — in a way. It’s all mine. My father made it over to me, knowing he could leave Mother safely in my hands. She’s such a scatterbrain, bless her, and has the most generous heart. She would have given the whole lot away if I wasn’t here to stop her.”
“James,” Kate said carefully, “do you think Mr. Lister is going to marry Mariana?”
James stared at her as if he could read her thoughts. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I think she’s playing the field — and getting a little desperate about it.” He came and lighted a cigarette for Kate, looked at the clock, remarked that his mother must be winning at bridge to be so late, and that he would drive Kate home soon, for she must be tired after such an emotional day, and then went on — answering Kate’s question. “You see, Kate, I can’t help being sorry for the girl. Mariana, I mean,” he added with a quick smile. “She is old for a Portuguese girl to be single. Also her mother does not move in the right circles so she can’t have a ‘good’
marriage arranged for her. That means she has to turn to a foreigner. I believe there is a sugar planter, Randel Lister and myself. We’re the three favorites at the moment. People bet on us.” He laughed at Kate’s shocked face. “Kate dear, you are naive. This is such a small place, we all know one another’s business and have no secrets. At the moment I think the betting is highest on me.”
Kate stood up. “I think that’s awful,” she said, shocked to the core.
“People watching you, discussing you, betting on your romances. Do you think Randel wants to marry Mariana?” she asked James point-blank.
She wondered why he stared at her so thoughtfully, why his eyes were so kind and sympathetic, why he took so long answering her.
“I don’t know,” he said heavily. “Men are queer creatures, Kate. You can know a woman is selfish, ruthless, hard — and you can still be enslaved by her charm, bewitched by her so that unless you are near her you are not alive. Your reasoning power can come into action and you ask yourself important questions: What hope of happiness have you together?
None, you decide, this must end.” He smiled, a little bitterly. “Then you see her again — and phut! All your ideas and theories are wiped out. You just know you can’t live without her — no matter what it costs you.” There was silence as he finished, a silence that seemed to stretch for ever as she stared at him in dismay. So James felt like that about Mariana, as well. Kate turned away, her eyes stinging with tears. What hope had she? What hope had she ever had?
“Please take me home,” she said in a quiet little voice. “I’m very tired.” Tired — or heartsick? What did it matter? If James had said he felt like that about Mariana — how much more bewitched must Randel be?
C H A P T E R E L E V E N
KATE’S life settled into a very pleasant rhythm. It was fun to go to the English Club and have an occasional game of tennis and talk to other girls, to watch Rosa mixing with children, to see her skin become glowing and warmly brown, to have her sleep without nightmares. Even Kate’s anxiety about Natala was lifting, for each visit showed the Portuguese girl’s health to be improving. Unfortunately Natala blamed herself for her mother’s grave condition and kept saying that if only she hadn’t fallen, her mother need not have got out of bed.
“I am so clumsee,” Natala would say, her eyes full of tears.
Kate had the surprise of her life when James said casually that he was organizing a holiday on his yacht. She stared at him wide-eyed. She had not known he owned one! Later she wondered if his mother was not behind the idea, for Mrs. McCormack was so gleeful about it that Kate could not help thinking there was a “plan” in her mind.
Kate and Rosa, Randel and Mariana, James and his mother — those were the guests. Kate felt almost sorry for Mariana when she saw how surprised and thrilled she was by the invitation. Not even the thought of Kate being included could dampen her excitement, and Kate could hear Mariana and her mother talking for hours about the forthcoming trip, and wondered a little at Mariana’s high spirits. Natala smiled understandingly and said:
“You do not see? This means to Mariana that James’s mother has accepted her. It is not easy for girls like Mariana to be included in such an intimate family party.”
It did not make sense to Kate. It was just an invitation. But then she had never grasped the intricacies of the Portuguese social customs.
It was a lovely yacht, Kate thought. She had never been on one before.
A cabin cruiser, it had a motor as well as sails. There were four small, well furnished cabins and a surprisingly large amount of deck space. The day they set out was hot, the sky pale, the Indian Ocean a deep blue. Kate, with Rosa on her knee, sat with Mrs. McCormack and watched James and Randel behaving like happy small boys as they pulled first one rope and then another and sailors swarmed about.
“I hope they know what they’re doing,’ Kate said.
Mrs. McCormack laughed with delight. “My dear Kate, you sound just like an anxious mother!”
Kate felt something like one as she watched Randel leaning over the edge. There were sharks in the water — supposing he fell in?
Mariana was standing near the two men, her long, lovely body revealed in her slim pleated skirt and thin blouse, her head thrown back, her eyes wide with admiration as she glanced from one of them to the other. Mrs.
McCormack sighed and looked at Kate significantly.
“She certainly knows how to make the most of her assets,” Mrs.
McCormack said in a low voice.
Kate turned to look at the Portuguese girl and saw the way Randel was laughing down at her. “She has so many assets,” Kate replied.
Rosa was fascinated by everything, even though still a little afraid the boat would suddenly sink and they would all be battling with sharks! Kate showed her the lifebelts, explained that there was a dinghy to be lowered, told her that James and Rosa’s father could both swim well, and that so could she.
Rosa smiled rather doubtfully and clung even more tightly to Kate’s hand. They watched a sailor swarm up the rigging, and gradually, beautifully the sails unfolded, billowing out, snow-white and clean. The boat heeled over a little and Rosa’s fingers clutched Kate’s convulsively as the boat sped along the empty bay, past the sand dunes.
After lunch, everyone but Kate took a siesta. Her natural energy made it impossible for her to lie down, despite the heat. Besides, on the deck, there was a lovely breeze. She found a chair and enjoyed the joyous motion of the boat as it danced – no, flew along, sending up a fine spray. She was surprised when Randel appeared and sat down beside her. They sat silently for a while.
“How much nicer this is than working in an office,” Kate said dreamily, thinking of her life in London, the fight to work each day, the long hours, the fight home again, the lonely evenings. “James says he would like to live on a desert island.”
“Easy enough for James to talk,” Randel said in a dry voice. “When you’re practically a millionaire, it’s easy. Money is only important to those who don’t possess any.”
“Is money so important?” She was comfortably relaxed, not seeing him as her employer — not even as the man she loved.
She was startled by the violence of his reply, and listened as he told her something of his youth. She had known nothing of his background before, and she sat, breathlessly still, hoping that no one would interrupt them. His father had been injured in a car crash, and died after five years of pain. His mother had educated her three sons and then had also died, while Randel was still at school.
“
The doctor told me I was old enough to use my eyes. My mother died of — well, he called it politely malnutrition, but he meant starvation,” Randel said bitterly. “He said I should have left school, given up my high-faluting ideas and gone to work. Looking back, I see he was right. But Mother was so keen to see us get on — so ambitious, so pleased when I won the scholarship. I never thought of the extras, clothes, etc. We were always shabby — in the holidays I worked. But you see, Kate, I have known real poverty. I think that’s what drives me so hard. I’m determined that Rosa will never have to suffer as my mother did. I am investing the money for her so that she will never want.”
Kate stared at him, seeing the young boy, stricken by his mother’s death, tortured by the doctor’s callous words. Yet was Randel right?
Wouldn’t it be better for Rosa to know her father now than to have a safe future?
“And you, Kate, have you ever been hungry?” Randel asked her, his voice dry.
She almost hated him when he spoke in that voice. It made her feel very young and naive, delegating her to her correct place. How did he talk when he was alone with Mariana? She tried to imagine his deep thrilling voice becoming husky with emotion, those eyes that could be so cool and critical becoming warm and ardent.
She sighed. “We were so happy. Never rich but never poor. Then Mother caught polio and nearly died, but recovered. She always managed to laugh and Dada adored her, waiting on her hand and foot. Then — then just over a year ago, he died. It wasn’t easy to manage on our own, but ...
but Mother has enough to live on and ... it’s just that we miss him so terribly.” She looked at the sea through blurred eyes. “I do realize how lucky I was to have such a happy childhood. It makes all the difference to your outlook on life.”
“I quite agree. I wish Rosa could have it.”
Kate looked at him. For once they were close, sharing an unusual intimacy. It gave her courage to say, “Have you never thought of marrying again?”
He stared at her, narrowing his eyes. He smiled, tolerantly, as if she was a child. “It’s not as simple as that, Kate. No marriage merely for the sake of Rose could succeed. There must be love — real, lasting love.” Before she could speak, Mariana’s voice interrupted. “Ah, Randel —
you promised to show me the ship.” She stood there, now in white shorts, a coral shirt making her hair darker and more lovely than ever, her full red mouth provocative. “It is the business talk you have with Kate, eh? Now that is over — let us have fun!” She held out her long, slim, olive-colored hand to him.
With a quick half-apologetic smile at Kate, Randel took Mariana’s hand and stood up. They walked down the deck, lightly swinging hands, Mariana looking up at him laughingly. As they turned, she looked over her shoulder for a brief mocking smile at Kate. Kate sighed and turned her attention to the sea.
Maybe she had misjudged Randel. Maybe it was his hard, unhappy youth — his battle with his conscience. Obviously Mariana represented glamorous romance to him — and of course, being his wife’s sister made her a sort of relation.
That started a line of thought in her mind. A man’s wife’s sister ... She must ask James some time.
But then, of course, Randel would know all about that. Randel was clever.
Later, sitting under the awning James had rigged against the sun, Kate and Mrs. McCormack had one of their frequent talks on love and living.
Mrs. McCormack was feeling restless, for once she was crocheting furiously, glancing up every now and then to look down the deck to where Mariana was with the two men, telling their fortunes with cards, her deep laugh ringing out, her eyes flashing as she kept the two men interested.
“How stupid can men be, Kate?” Mrs. McCormack asked irritably.
Kate chuckled. Rosa was lying by her side, carefully cutting out pictures from a magazine.
“It depends on the temptation, I suppose,” she replied. She felt quite gay and happy, content to bask in the sun, in the unusual luxury of being near Randel for so many days, and even the obvious fact that Mariana was drawing both men to her side more securely than ever failed to worry Kate.
In any case, she had long ago accepted her love for Randel as hopeless.
What simple girl could compete with such a beauty as Mariana? She said this so often to herself that sometimes Kate thought the words must be etched on her heart. She used them if she dared hope because he smiled at her, or on an occasion, like the night before, when Randel had danced with her on the slightly rolling deck, in the perfectly still night, with the stars twinkling in that wonderful sky, the sea glimmering with phosphorescence.
The soft romantic music filled the air as they drifted to the music of a waltz, her eyes half-closed, pretending they were on their honeymoon. But then Mariana had come over, saying the next was a tango and she had promised Randel to teach him the Portuguese way to do it.
Now Kate’s thoughts came back to the present to hear the end of Mrs.
McCormack’s sentence, “but you don’t think James is serious, dear child?” Kate opened her eyes, smiled at her friend and looked at James. He was leaning forward with that sweet, friendly smile of his, his eyes amused as he teased Mariana.
“I don’t know,” Kate said thoughtfully, remembering a certain conversation she had had with James. “Honestly I don’t know.”
“Oh dear, I do hope not,” Mrs. McCormack said in such a distressed voice that Kate turned to her at once. “Oh, Kate, I know I’m silly, but dear, I am so very fond of you, and James thinks you are such a nice girl and ...
Kate, you do like James very much, don’t you?”
“Very much indeed,” Kate said warmly and with truth. “I think James is wonderful — the most wonderful man I ever met.” As she finished speaking, someone sat in a chair by her side. She turned her head. It was Randel. Had he heard her words? But he was not looking at her, he was bending to pick up some pictures Rosa had cut out, was speaking to his daughter in a slightly nervous placating way that made Kate’s heart yearn for him. Life was not easy for him.
The next day they dropped anchor in a small bay, and everyone, except Mrs. McCormack who elected to stay on board, changed into swim suits and was rowed ashore to the lovely curved beach with its fine white sand and cliffs towering above them. Kate and Rosa began collecting the beautiful strands of blue, green and even purple seaweed and to collect sea shells.
“Kate! Kate!” Rosa called excitedly, and Kate lay down and peered into the clear pools to see the small transparent fishes, the little scuttling crabs.
“Kate,” Rosa asked suddenly, and looked up, her eyes bright, her hand clutching a rosy pink shell, “what is a burden?”
It was a strange word for a little girl to use. Kate hesitated, “it — it’s an obligation — something one has to do.”
“But doesn’t want to?” Rosa asked brightly. Kate looked round. They were alone; Mariana and the two men were walking towards the water.
“Yes,” Kate said reluctantly. “Why?”
“Mariana told someone I was a burden and she hated burdens,” Rosa told her.
Kate caught her breath. “Oh, darling, I think you must have heard the wrong word. No one could call you a burden. Why, we love you.” Rosa scooped up a tiny fish and then let it go, again, chuckling with glee. “Mariana doesn’t. She hates me and I hate her.” Kate sighed. How could she help things? If Randel married Mariana it was terribly important that Rosa should not mind. How could she help Rosa to love Mariana? “Darling, I think it’s just that Mariana is not used to children,” she began, and saw how lame it was. Rosa had lived with Mariana and her grandmother all her life.
“Come and swim!” James’s voice called loudly through the still air.
Obediently, Kate and Rosa ran down to the sea, going straight to his side.
James grinned at Kate. “Are you never tired, girl?” She laughed, “It’s such heaven to be here.” She shook back her hair, her eyes bright. She met Randel’s amused glance and said a li
ttle defiantly, “You see, you forget I’m used to English weather – to me, this is out of this world.”
Mariana’s voice was cool. “You look very hot, Kate. I hope you won’t be ill. Is this English climate so terrible that you all despise it so? It is strange indeed to me, how unpatriotic you are. England is your land, you should defend it.” Her voice was prim, smug.
Kate looked startled. “Oh, we’re always rude about our weather.” Randel chuckled. “Actually, Mariana, we British are so darned arrogant that we are proud of our shocking climate.”
Mariana stared at him. “But that seems to me strange. You would die for your country — yet you insult it.”
The two men exchanged amused glances and then James winked at Kate.
“To the English, nothing is sacred. Climate — the railways — politics
...” he said, half laughing. “The English reserve the power and right to insult themselves.”
“How I long to see England,” Mariana said, her voice changing. “It is odd that I have been to America — to Germany — but never to England.” James was still laughing. “You’d hate it, Mariana. The men are stuffy and terrified of their wives — you’d be like a fish out of water.”
“A fish?” Mariana looked offended and bit her lip. “Why is it right for Kate and not for me?”
“I can’t see you in a yellow fog, Mariana, shivering — or when there is snow on the ground and the pipes freeze and the water has to be carried in pails, standing in the rain, queueing for a bus, fighting in the underground.
No, it’s all right for Kate. English girls are adaptable.”
“So!” Mariana was really angry now. “I am not — how you call it?”—
the adaptable.”
Randel spoke for the first time. “I don’t agree, James. I think Mariana would fit in.” He looked at her thoughtfully. Kate was near enough to see the tender expression in his eyes. “I can see Mariana making a wonderful entrance at the Opera ... opening a bazaar and being given a bouquet of home-grown sweet peas by a small child.” He smiled. “I would like to show you the Crown Jewels, Mariana — that would widen your enormous eyes. Take you to dinner, perhaps even to a royal garden party. I think you’re right, Mariana, and you would love England.” Kate had already turned away, feeling that Randel was talking to Mariana alone, for he had lowered his voice, his hand on her bare arm, a significance in his words. And Mariana was looking up at him, showing her lovely throat, her deep wondering eyes, her mouth parted eagerly.