The Nomad Harp

by Elizabeth Rotter Matthews

  “I—I thought they were so good I could not bear to see the whole backdrop thrown away."

  “I had intended it should be kept in the schoolroom at Lockwood for future theatricals."

  Glenna covered her eyes with a shaking hand. “I had no idea, Lord Pontley. Forgive me. It was very thoughtless."

  “Not at all,” he assured her cheerfully, as he drew her hand from her stricken eyes. “I have brought you two of your own, however, so that you need not have such crude ones about you.” He placed a paper-wrapped parcel on her desk.

  She could not bear to look at it and turned away to the window, which overlooked the orangerie. “How do you come to be here? Is Jennifer with you?"

  “No, she left with her husband for Ireland yesterday.”

  Shocked, Glenna swung around to him with her hands outstretched. “Oh, I am so sorry!"

  “Yes she'll lead Kilbane a merry dance, I fear, but you should not be too concerned for him. He is well acquainted with her flights of temper and fancy and loves her all the same."

  “I feared it was so,” Glenna sighed sadly, “but I meant I was sorry for you."

  “Now, why should you be sorry for me? I told you once that I thought things were progressing nicely, but that was before Kilbane's disillusionment. Never dared I hope that he would continue to pursue her after that. You should congratulate me, Glenna."

  “I—I don't understand. Are you saying you did not wish to marry her?” Glenna asked with patent disbelief.

  “If I ever did, it was a very long time ago, my dear, and I soon thought better of such a fiasco."

  “Then ... why did you become engaged to her?” she asked faintly.

  “Well, it would be most ungentlemanly of me to admit that she forced me into it, and you might jump to Kilbane's conclusion that I had taken advantage of her, so I will merely say that it was a misunderstanding.” His lips twitched as the color rose once more in her cheeks. “Won't you open the parcel, Glenna?"

  Relieved to have any excuse to avoid meeting his eyes, she obediently started to unwrap the package, but her hands were not completely under her control and he gently removed it from her and undid the string. “I had rather you saw this one first, in any case,” he said bracingly, “so it is best if I present it to you myself.” He placed before her a sketch of her in the drawing room at Manner Hall, seated beside her harp, with her face and hands swollen, her cheeks blotchy with color.

  Silently a tear stole down her cheek, to be brushed away with annoyance. “That was not kind of you, Pontley,” she choked.

  “On the contrary, Glenna,” he said gently, taking her hands. “I could do no less than paint you the way you were on the day I realized I loved you."

  “No, no,” she protested. “You felt sorry for me, so misshapen and ugly."

  “Did you think I kissed you because I pitied you, my love? I trust you have more sense than that."

  “Well, I haven't,” she retorted. “You certainly did not love me when we were engaged, and I can see no reason why I should think you did when you were about to become engaged to someone else."

  “No, I suppose not,” he sighed. “But then, you looked to be on the verge of accepting your Peter."

  “And so you thought to throw me into confusion?” she asked sharply.

  “No, Glenna, I kissed you because I had to, because I couldn't not do it.” The same urge overcame him at her obvious confusion now, and he repeated his offense. This time she did not attempt to steel herself against responding; there was no strength left in her to fight her desire to do so. He cradled her against his shoulder and murmured, “I was so afraid I would not be able to extricate myself from Jennifer, and that I would lose you. Will you marry me, Glenna?"

  The door was thrust open abruptly and Banfield strode into the room, a figure of righteous indignation, made doubly so by the posture of the couple before him. When Glenna made to release herself from his embrace, Pontley allowed her to do so, but kept a tight hold on her hand.

  “So this is the way my housekeeper disports herself when my back is turned!” Banfield declared dramatically. “Charles told me you had a lord calling on you."

  “Ah, but you would expect no less of a mere woman, would you, Cousin Banfield?” Glenna asked with an impudent grin. “May I introduce you to Viscount Pontley? We are just about to become engaged."

  “Are we?” Pontley asked with a hopeful twinkle in his eye.

  “Yes, well, you must see that I cannot lose face before my employer, Philip. I can do no less than accept your very kind offer."

  “Then I must thank Mr. Banfield for his indelicate intrusion,” Pontley asserted, and stepped forward to shake hands with the older man.

  Banfield reluctantly acceded to this gesture, but growled at Glenna, “Your cousin said you had no intention of marrying."

  “No, I didn't, and I had prepared myself for a lifetime as housekeeper to a worthy Member of Parliament. It is too bad of you, Philip, to upset Cousin Banfield's apple cart this way. Why, he had agreed to ninety-five pounds a year with a review in three months to one hundred fifteen."

  “You wouldn't have gotten it,” Banfield assured her.

  “But then I would have left, and you would have had to face interviewing all sorts of wretched, incompetent women all over again.” She smiled warmly at him. “Come, admit I have not done so poorly in my position."

  Reluctantly he returned her smile, which he had never done before. “No, you have done very well and I shall be sorry to lose you. Would you consider interviewing for your successor?"

  Glenna looked questioningly at Pontley. “The year is not over yet."

  “No, but the dowager would hardly dare hold me to that promise now.” To Banfield he said, “Let us discuss the matter for a moment, if you will."

  “Certainly."

  The door closed behind Banfield with discreet silence, and Glenna immediately spoke. “He is just about to leave for London, Philip, and it would be very unkind of me to desert him."

  Pontley studied her concerned expression. “Have you formed an attachment for him, Glenna?"

  “For Banfield? Good heavens, no. Do you know, this is the first time he has ever even smiled at me or admitted that my work was satisfactory? Not that he has been unfair; he has never criticized me, either. But I did accept the position on the understanding that I would be here at least three months, you see, and I feel a certain responsibility not to leave him in the lurch."

  “Men who have a dislike of women can be very easily attached when once they overcome their irrational prejudice. I think you would find that he would become dependent upon you, and he must often be away from home."

  “Are you suggesting that I stay and try to snare him?” Glenna asked coldly.

  “I am only saying that he offers you some advantages I cannot.” He ran a hand distractedly through his hair. “I love you, Glenna, but I want you to be happy."

  “And do you think I can be happy without you, Philip?” she asked, angry tears forming in her eyes.

  “Oh, God, I hope not,” he murmured as she allowed him to take her in his arms. “Will you need more than a month to find a replacement?"

  “I should think two weeks would suffice."

  “Enough time for the banns to be read. Do you wish to have Mr. Thomas marry us?"

  “Yes, if you should not mind. Philip, if you think I am being unreasonable, too independent, over this matter of a replacement, I ... I would do as you wish."

  “Do you intend to be an obedient wife, then, Glenna? I could not believe it for a moment.” He reached over to remove the second water color from the wrapping paper. It was a dramatic portrait of Glenna, seated on her mare, her red-gold curls tousled by the wind, her eyes full of enthusiasm, her face aglow with laughter. “That is how I see you, and how I always wish to see you."

  Glenna indicated the paintings on the wall. “I thought I would never see you again, Philip, and I could not bear not to have something of yours with me. I f
elt so foolish to love you when I had once been engaged to you and—"

  “Never mind, love. We could not know then how we would feel.” He kissed her tenderly and pressed her to him. “I dare say I will paint you a thousand times and there will not be room enough in all Lockwood to hang them."

  “Oh, dear,” Glenna sighed. “I will have to transport the harp once more."

  He laughed down at her. “At least this will be the last time."

  * * *

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