Fairwinds

by Rebecca Stratton

  'Oh, but, madame, I—' she began, but found the sharp black eyes too much for her and hastily looked down again. She felt an abject coward for not having the courage to tell them that she would not be marrying Clifford after all. 'I - I hadn't thought about it,' she said instead.

  'But of course you will,' the old lady said confidently, her eyes gleaming. 'You will look very beautiful in white.'

  Tara smiled rather wanly. It was ridiculous to let it go on and yet she simply could not bring herself to say the necessary words. 'There isn't much time,' she ventured, and Madame Hautain laughed the idea to scorn.

  'Absurdite!' she said. 'There is plenty of time, if one organizes things properly.'

  Tara said nothing, but Clifford pulled a wry face at the mention of wedding plans. 'Do we have to have such depressing topics at the dinner table?' he asked facetiously, and laughed.

  'It surely cannot be depressing to speak of your own marriage,' his grandmother said sternly, although the gleam in her eye was not really anger, Tara suspected. 'You should consider yourself fortunate, Clifford, that such a girl as Tara has consented to marry you. You should be happy.'

  'I'd be happy enough if she just consented to love me,' Chfford told her, with unusual bravado, and Tara

  sensed rather than saw PhiUp's head come up sharply at the unmistakable implication in the words.

  'Isn't it possible to do both?' he asked quietly, his black gaze fixed on Tara. 'I would have thought so.'

  Clifford took a long look at his brother's face and laughed shortly. 'All right, all right,' he said. 'I submit to the wedding bells bit, if it'll make Tara happy. Don't look as if you're about to take me apart, Philip, for God's sake!'

  'You are not very gallant to your fiancee, Clifford,' his grandmother told him, and he pursed his lips.

  'I know, Grand'mere, and I'm sorry.' He looked across at Tara and smiled ruefully. 'Am I forgiven, darling?' he asked softly.

  It was difficult to do anything other than respond in the way he expected and she smiled her forgiveness, but somewhere in her inner heart she longed to put an end to it all there and then. 'You're forgiven,' she told him quietly.

  Madame Hautain already had other matters in hand, it seemed, and her small sharp eyes watched for Tara's reactions when she spoke again. 'You would look very good in a Paris-made gown, Tara,' she said, and Tara gazed at her in startled disbelief. Things were going much too fast for her to cope. 'I have never had a daughter,' the old lady went on. 'Nor a granddaughter either, so perhaps you will permit me to find something suitable, hmm?'

  'Oh, but I couldn't, Madame Hautain!' Tara objected, and once again her glance of appeal was for Philip, but she saw that he was smiling faintly, as if he ap-

  proved, while her own reaction was one of near panic as she saw her own future being planned for her relentlessly, step by step.

  'But of course you could, child,' the old lady told her firmly. 'It will give me pleasure to do it and you would not deny me a small pleasure, hmm? A wedding gown is a step in the right direction, I think.' Tara glanced up just in time to see the dark, meaningful look that she exchanged with Philip, and the colour flooded warmly into her face. For surely he could not realize what his grandmother had in mind for him.

  'As a matter of fact,' Madame Hautain went on, 'I have already taken the step of contacting a very good friend of mine in Paris, and there should be a gown arriving any day now.'

  'Oh, madameV

  'It would be suitable if you were to begin calling me Grand'mere,' the old lady informed her blandly. 'You will then be accustomed to it when you join the family.'

  Clifford might have looked dismayed at the speed with which things were progressing, but Philip was laughing suddenly, his black eyes glittering like live coals as he looked across at his grandmother. 'You should be a professional matchmaker, Grand'mere,' he told her. 'You don't let anything stand in your way, do you?'

  Tara thought she detected a hint of disapproval in his voice, but his grandmother appeared not to notice anything amiss. She was firmly set on her chosen path and nothing would deter her. 'Not when I know what I

  am about,' she said confidently. 'And in this case I know very well what I am about.'

  'I wish I did,' Clifford grumbled darkly. 'It seems to me that things are rushing along a bit fast all of a sudden.' He locked appealingly at Tara. 'Do we have to have all the traditional junket, darling?' he pleaded. 'Church and stuff?'

  'But of course Tara wants to be married in a church!' Madame Hautain informed him sternly before Tara could say anything. 'Mon dieu, Clifford, what a sauvage you are!'

  'It seems to me,' Clifford complained bitterly, 'that I'm being hauled along with this bandwagon whether I want to go or not! Don't I get any say in the proceedings?'

  'You can say "I will" or not, as you please,' Philip told him, in his deep quiet voice, and Clifford held his gaze for a long moment before lowering his own.

  'Thanks,' he murmured sarcastically, 'I'm glad I get some choice - I began to think I didn't count.'

  'Oh, Cliff!' Tara reached for his hand, her eyes appealing for his understanding, but doubting if he understood just how things really stood. It was becoming more and more complicated by the minute and she wished she could see some way out.

  'I've always hoped I could talk you out of the bells and confetti bit,' Clifford confessed gloomily, 'and I might have too if the whole family hadn't ganged up on me!' He sighed deeply and spread his hands in a gesture of resignation. 'All right, go ahead with your cajnival, I've got a week or two to try and get used to

  the idea - or to do the other thing!'

  Tara, hearing his last remark, saw her chance at last and would have taken it, but she was forestalled by Philip and the moment, having passed, could not be recalled. He looked across at his brother with his black eyes glittering in a way that made Tara shiver. 'If you do anything as dirty as jilting Tara at the last minute,' he told his brother softly, 'I'll destroy you, Clifford, I swear it!'

  Even Clifford looked startled, and Tara, hastily biting her Hp, looked down at her hands. Only Madame Hautain was smiling - a small satisfied smile that crinkled her small brown face and made her look incredibly sly and knowing.

  A package arrived from Paris, as Madame Hautain had promised, and she was evidently well pleased with the contents, indicating via the housekeeper that Tara should join her in her room.

  Despite her uncertainty and her unwillingness to go on with the charade of marrying Clifford, Tara felt a thrill of excitement as she went upstairs to join the old lady. 'EntrezF Madame Hautain called out, and Tara cautiously opened the door and went in. 'Aah!' Her arrival was greeted with obvious satisfaction and the old lady turned to take something from a huge box on the bed behind her. 'Put it on,' she instructed, with uncharacteristic gentleness.

  The gown was beautiful and Tara could not resist it, no matter what its arrival implied. Its pure whiteness made her look darker than ever and a few moments

  later she stood regarding herself in a full-length mirror, unsure whether she was seeing herself or someone else reflected there. Some exotic stranger that smiled at her from the mirror, with faintly flushed cheeks and eyes as dark and bright as coals.

  Madame Hautain chattered endlessly in French, obviously approving, and only her final'— n'est-ce pas? —' gave Tara the clue that she was expected to answer.

  'I'm sorry, Madame Hautain,' she said. 'I don't understand.'

  'Teh!' The old lady clucked impatiently. 'Philippe must teach you to speak a civilized tongue!'

  'Clifford has tried to teach me,' Tara said quietly, trying to ignore the sudden and rapid increase in her heartbeat.

  The old lady ignored the correction and made a gesture with her expressive hands. 'It is perfect for you, mon enfant,^ she declared with evident satisfaction. *I knew that I could rely upon Madame Ferrer, she has such excellent taste, and I knew you would forgive a little deception in obtaining your correct fitting.' She stood back, her small white
head tilted to one side critically, but admiring what she saw. 'You are very beautiful, Tara Villiers, my grandson will be proud of you.'

  'But I really ought to—' Tara began, and was once again persuaded into silence by a waving hand, the old lady dehberately misunderstanding, she suspected.

  'You need not worry about it, child,' she told her. 'You would not deny me a small pleasure, no?'

  'No, no, of course not,' Tara said softly. 'It's voy

  kind of you, madame. But I think I should—'

  'Enough!' Madame Hautain cried impatiently. 'It is well that you like it, that is enough.'

  Tara smoothed her hands down over the softness of silk, following the soft curves of her own body and was suddenly aware of another reflection beside her own in the long mirror. The door of the bedroom was ajar and in the widened opening she saw Philip, standing in the doorway, catching her breath in a panic of surprise when she saw that deep, dark glow of his eyes that she had seen only twice before.

  For a few breathless seconds the two of them seemed suspended in time and Tara felt a wild, unreasonable sense of elation when she held his gaze - the old lady watchful and silent between them.

  'Tara!' His soft deep voice was so quiet that it barely reached her, but it was enough to break the spell, and she shook her head slowly, one hand to her breast to try and steady her heartbeat, and wondering what on earth had brought him up to his grandmother's room so unexpectedly.

  She discovered his reason a few seconds later when he drew his eyes away from Tara's reflection in the mirror and spoke to his grandmother. 'Grand'mere, there's a telephone call for you, from Paris.'

  'Ah, bonV Madame Hautain's small brown face smiled her pleasure, obviously welcoming his appearance. 'You will forgive me, child, while I speak with my old friend.' Shrewd black eyes turned on her grandson. 'You will leave at once, mon cher' she told him. 'Allez! It is ill luck to see a bride in her gown

  before the ceremony!'

  For a second Philip's reflected gaze held Tara's steadily and her senses began to respond as they always did, until her head was spinning, then he bobbed his black head in a brief response to the old lady's command, and disappeared from the doorway and Tara's line of vision,

  'I hope you are not superstitious, child,' Madame Hautain said archly, and Tara shook her head hastily.

  Standing there in that beautiful white gown it was not easy to outface the old lady who had provided it for quite a different occasion than either of her grandsons guessed. 'It doesn't matter in the least if Philip sees me in my wedding dress,' she said quietly. 'That superstition only applies to the bridegroom, and - and I wish you wouldn't keep trying to - to make something between Philip and me, Grand'mere Hautain. Nothing exists, and if - and if I ever do wear this wonderful gown to be married in, it will be when I'm married to Cliff.'

  Their reflections appeared side by side in the long mirror, and the old lady's small black eyes regarded her knowingly, a sly smile on her face as she nodded her head. 'Perhaps,' she said softly. 'We shall see.'

  CHAPTER NINE

  It was a very unsettling and confusing time for Tara during the following few days, for she was not at all sure what to do for the best. CHfford talked of nothing else but his forthcoming trip to Paris, and it was plain he took no interest at all in wedding plans. He did not even want to discuss the matter with Tara, and changed the subject whenever she raised it.

  Saddening too was the realization that he would never now join Hautain and Sons as a member of the firm, and it made Tara sorry to think that their father's hopes for his two sons would be only realized in part. It took a while to understand her own reaction to it, and then she realized that it was because Philip would be so disappointed. With things as they were between her and Clifford, it was only Madame Hautain's persuasion that kept her at Fairwinds.

  She would have sw^orn that the old lady knew all was not well between Tara and her younger grandson, but she had not yet found the courage to be too forthcoming about it, for fear of upsetting her.

  It was at lunch one day that Madame Hautain raised the matter herself, however, and Tara prayed that she would find the nerve to tell her the truth at last, with or without Clifford's support. 'There is much to be done about the wedding, Tara,' she said. 'Have you decided where it will be?'

  'No!' Tara looked across at Clifford appealingly. 'Madame^ if you'll please listen to me for a moment.'

  The old lady's black eyes looked at her shrewdly. 'But of course, my child.'

  Faced with the immediate need to find the right words, Tara almost panicked and bit her lip anxiously. 'I - I realize how much trouble you went to to get that lovely gown for me, madame, but you see - I - I mean we—'

  'What she's trying to say,' Clifford interrupted with a harsh laugh, 'is that there isn't going to be any wedding, Grand'mere. I never intended there should be, and at last Tara knows it.'

  'Damn you, Clifford!'

  Philip's anger was startling in its vehemence, and Tara looked at him anxiously. It would be useless to explain to him that she felt only a sense of relief that the folly of that makebelieve engagement was over at last, for he would never believe that Clifford had not jilted her. And Philip, as angry as he was now, was not a man to try and reason with.

  Clifford put down his knife and fork with careful deliberation, his good-looking face set stubbornly, and Tara hated the thought of the two of them quarrelling when there wasn't really any cause, but it would serve no purpose if she tried to intervene.

  'Once and for all, I didn't contribute to this wedding nonsense,' CUfford stated firmly. 'I want Tara to come to Paris with me, but I don't want all the fuss and bother of a wedding. Tara knows that, and Fve left it to her whether she comes or not.'

  'Then you were never really engaged to be married?' his grandmother asked quietly, and her black eyes watched Tara narrowly. 'But you thought that he would marry you, n'est-ce pas, Tara?'

  Tara hated the idea of them being sorry for her, and she instinctively lifted her chin in a gesture of defiance. 'I don't know,' she said in a small husky voice. 'I suppose I did.'

  Clifford looked at her for a second as if he was regretting having been so outspoken. 'I'm sorry, darling,' he said. 'But as far as the engagement business was concerned I—'

  'Just used it as an excuse to get Tara to come away with you,' Philip said, in a rough hard voice that Tara scarcely recognized as being his.

  'Something like that,' Clifford admitted, his bravado growing, perhaps because he sensed that his grandmother was not as angry as he expected her to be, although he could not have known why.

  Philip's stem, harsh expression made him look older suddenly and Tara wondered if it was time for her to intervene. To let Philip know that he had no need to play the gallant on her behalf, because she was no more anxious to marry Clifford than he was to marry her, though for different reasons.

  By the time she had gathered enough courage to speak, however, Philip was already taking up arms again, and she watched him from beneath her lashes. 'You've done some pretty selfish things in your life, but this is the worst so far, Clifford,' he said slowly. His voice was quiet but edged with steel, and she suspected

  that he was holding in check a pretty formidable temper.

  'Oh, for God'r. sake!' Clifford declared in exasperation. 'I don't see how it concerns anyone but Tara and me, and if Tara isn't making any fuss, I don't see why the hell you should!'

  'Tara?'

  Philip's black eyes turned on her, and she glimpsed the almost unbearable sympathy there, before she hastily looked away. She got to her feet suddenly, dropping her knife and fork on to her plate with a clatter. 'It doesn't matter,' she said in a quiet, slightly husky voice. 'It really doesn't matter, Philip!' He said nothing, to her relief, but his dark eyes followed her as she left the table and went to the door.

  'Darling, where are you going?'

  It was Clifford, of course, still hopeful that she was on his side and prepared to do as he wan
ted sooner or later, and she turned her head and looked at him steadily from the doorway. 'What does it matter. Cliff?' she said, and laughed shortly when she saw his expression change. 'I don't want to marry you, as it happens, I'm not sure I ever really did - and please don't follow me!'

  'Tara! Darling!'

  He too was on his feet and coming after her, but Tara was well ahead of him, and as she turned and closed the door after her she noted the look of sulky resentment on his good-looking face, and noticed, too, the hand that Madame Hautain laid on Philip's arm when he would have followed them.

  She did not really care where she went, but she wanted very much to be alone suddenly. She needed time to recover from the humiliation of that scene back there. It was imperative now that she leave Fairwinds as soon as possible, for she could not bear to stay any longer.

  The garden offered fresh air and solitude and was without the confines of four walls, so she headed for the front door and hurried down the steps to the drive, her footsteps crunching lightly on the gravel.

  'Tara!'

  She ignored the cry that followed her, and tried to ignore the other footsteps that came after her, but Clifford's long legs made little of the distance between them and he caught up with her even before she reached the turn in the driveway.

  'DarHng, wait!'

  Tara did not even turn her head, but went on down the drive, turning to her right suddenly and across the soft springy turf in the direction of the trees and the river at the back of the house.

  'Wait!'

  He grabbed her arm and jerked her to a standstill, his blue eyes looking down at her as if he half expected her to be smiling a welcome. Instead she looked up at him steadily, really seeing him for the first time, and not altogether Uking what she saw.

  He was very good-looking, and perhaps that was a good deal of the trouble with Clifford. He knew just how good-looking he was, and how attractive and he used both, blatantly, to his own advantage. She had

  never before realized just how selfish he was, and how he had used her for his own selfish ends with little or no thought for her happiness.