Dear Dragon

by Sara Seale

  Alice leaned over the rails of the cot watching Emma

  tuck the blankets round her child. He was moist and rosy and placid and already half asleep.

  "Emma, what's the matter?" she asked. " I don't know what Keverne's been telling you, but you do know that, like Doone, he has a gift for exaggeration."

  "Did he axaggerate when he said Pendragon knocked him down?"

  "No — but did he tell you why it happened?"

  "Some garbled story about the mine. Pendragon won't get him back to work that way."

  Alice was silent. So Keverne had omitted to mention that he had hit her. No doubt Pendragon would acquaint her with that fact sooner or later, but there was no point in upsetting Emma again, at the moment.

  "Emma-" she said at last, "wouldn't it be better if

  he gave in? I mean — he does owe something to Pendragon."

  "And can't you understand that's half the trouble?" Emma replied, raising those calm blue eyes which so seldom revealed her feelings. "When you owe a burden of debt to someone you cease to think kindly of them."

  "Yes — yes, I suppose so. That's rather dreadful."

  "It's human nature, my dear. You've still a lot to learn about human nature."

  "Yes, I know. Where is he now?"

  "Gone over to Trelawny."

  "To Trelawny!"

  "They all go to Trelawny when they're at loggerheads with one another. Didn't you know?" "Pendragon, too?"

  "I should think so — why not? It's hardly your concern, Isn't it time for you to see to Merryn's tanks? He'll probably be late."

  It seemed to Alice that Emma had deliberately tried to hurt her, but this time she understood. She could scarcely be unaware of Keverne's inability to keep his hands off other women, but however badly he might treat her he was still her husband and she would defend him.

  "Yes, I'll go and see to the fish," she said quietly and left the room.

  Alice sighed, thinking how little one knew of one's fellow beings, and went down the long corridor to un-

  lock Merryn's door. The room smelt stale and stuffy this warm weather, with the oil heaters burning and the windows shut, and for the first time Alice experienced a sense of revulsion for all this silent life enclosed in a room that seemed like a tomb.

  "I'm getting morbid!" she exclaimed aloud, beginning to feed the fish, and Merryn's voice enquired from the doorway:

  "Don't you like my fish?"

  She jumped. His unexpectedly early appearance was a relief since it would release her from her obligation, but she felt guilty of unkindness.

  "It isn't that I don't like them," she said. "They are very beautiful, but —it's eerie, somehow, seeing them all swimming around without making a sound — like another world."

  "It is another world for me," he said.

  "An escape, you mean?"

  "Perhaps. There is poetry here, and music, and so much beauty ..."

  "And you love beauty?" It was strange to hear him talk like this.

  He sighed, but did not answer, and taking the box of feed from Alice began scattering its contents in the tanks with the same loving care with which Emma tended her baby.

  "How strange," she said, half to herself. "Up here, among all these fish, you are quite different. The others don't know you at all, do they?"

  "Oh, I think so," he replied indifferently. "What's Keverne done with himself today? We could have done with his help at the mine."

  "He's gone over to Trelawny's house," she said, and was startled by the dark look that crossed his face.

  "That was all over long ago. Why can't he let her alone?" he said irritably.

  "It was just a casual visit, I imagine," she replied, feeling uneasy. "He had a bit of a dust-up with Pendragon earlier. Emma says you all go to Trelawny when you fight with each other."

  "Trelawny puts up with too much from us. Why should we vent our squabbles on her?" he said, and she saw

  his dark eyes lingering on the Siamese Fighting Fish which he had once compared with his cousin. Alice privately thought that Trelawny would welcome their complaints and most likely add fuel to the fire if it furthered her own ends, but it was no good saying so.

  "Trelawny can very well look after herself, I imagine," she answered a little shortly and he replied, his gaze still on the beautiful, brilliant fish:

  "You don't like her, do you, Alice? Well, it's understandable, she's always wanted Pendragon — but I don't think he'll play, even now."

  "What do you mean?"

  "I don't really know. Doesn't it seem extraordinary to you that a man could resist something as beautiful as Trelawny handed to him on a platter?"

  "If he doesn't love her-"

  "There you go again! What's love got to do with it if you can feast your eyes on so much beauty for the rest of your life?"

  She was puzzled and a little frightened by his intensity. "Perhaps some men want more than beauty," she said. "Would you, too, marry without love?" "Without the other person loving me — yes. There's much else."

  "Oh, poor Merryn . . ." she said softly because this acceptance of what her Aunt Brown would have described as a hopeless passion really hurt her, and was quite unprepared for the look of anger he turned on her.

  "Don't pity me, pity yourself," he said. "Poor little Alice Brown! Don't you know that of all us Pendragon is the only real romantic?"

  " Pendragon!"

  "Of course! He's wrapped it all up in this pose of chieftain because his father never married for love, and probably his father before him, but that doesn't alter his

  own desires, deep down." "How do you know?"

  He shrugged, scattered food in the last of the tanks, and gave her the usual indifferent stare to which she was

  accustomed.

  Fish have their problems, too, or wouldn't you be

  aware of that?" he said. "One can learn a lot from an aquarium, you know."

  "Yes, I suupose so," she answered and slipped out of the room, glad to get away.

  It was all a culmination of the upsetting day, she thought, escaping into the quiet peace of the May evening; the hot room with its tanks of fish, like a dead shrine, the disturbing knowledge of another Merryn. What was Trelawny, she wondered, that she could enslave them all? Was it beauty with the armor of heartlessness that could take and give nothing and so remain indifferent to the wants of others?

  She leaned against one of the Ionic pillars which gave the house so much pretension, and watched the light fading from the sky over the shadowy line of the headland. Pendragon came out of the house without her hearing and stood beside her, tall and hard and lean.

  "I'm sorry about this afternoon, Alice," he said, without preamble. "Has Keverne been bothering you?"

  "No," she said, "Keverne doesn't know what he wants."

  "He has a wife and a child."

  "Yes — but there's always a part of oneself that is unsatisfied, perhaps. You, Pendragon, wouldn't understand." "Why not?",

  "I don't know — you're very self-sufficient, I think. Do you know what Merryn said of you? He said you were the only real romantic of them all. Isn't that strange?"

  "It could be true," he said. "Are you a romantic, Alice?"

  She moved restlessly, stretching her hands behind her to touch the cool, impersonal smoothness of the pillar she leant against.

  "Merryn said I talk like a schoolgirl. I only know what my heart tells me," she said.

  "And what does it tell you — this young, untried heart of yours?"

  "Nothing that could concern you, Pendragon," she answered. "One's heart, however young and untried, is one's private possession, after all."

  He turned to look at her with that familiar probing scrutiny, seeing the slender, immature lines of her bo expressed against the pillar, the spreading folds of her thin

  cotton frock, the suddenly forlorn irregularity of her lifted profile.

  "Alice-" he said, stretching out a hand to touch

  her. "Could you grow up en
ough to listen to me?"

  She turned her head to look at him, her eyes wide and astonished.

  "I am grown up — and I'll always listen to you, dear Dragon," she said but, before he could answer, Keverne's hired car swept up the drive with the usual scream of tires and he and Trelawny got out.

  "Hey, Pendragon!" Keverne shouted. "No hard feelings? I've brought our cousin back for supper."

  He was completely restored to humor, Alice saw, and even gave her a wry little signal of salute, as if to apolo-gize tacitly for his earlier behavior, but Trelawny, vivid and,

  somehow beautifully feline in a dress which clung to her lovely body but otherwise passed unnoticed as was the

  way with all her clothes, narrowed her eyes as she looked at them.

  A tete-a-tete on the terrace in the best romantic tradition," she drawled. "Well, Pendragon, you'll be glad to hear that Keverne is returning to work tomorrow."

  There was a small silence after that. Alice could feel the withdrawal in the man beside her, the momentary flash of antagonism for either or both of them. "Good" he said briefly. "You'd better come in for a spot of sherry." They followed him into the house, Keverne and Tre-lawney with wry grimaces, Alice last of all, knowing too late that a precious moment between herself and Keir had been still-born.

  They sat in the day-room as usual when supper was over, but soon Emma made her excuses and Keverne, surprisingly put his arm round his wife's waist and went with her. It hurt Alice to see the look of happiness on Emma's face but this, she supposed, was the reward she had spoken of. Keverne, like a little boy forgiven, had come home to make his peace.

  After that the evening seemed to drag a little, and Tre-lawny impatiently tapped her teeth with her finger nail, Merryn last said goodnight and took his leave, and Alice felt obliged to follow suit.

  "Well!" Trelawny said, setding back in her chair with lazy grace. "Now we can talk."

  "I'm not greatly in the mood for talk. It's been a trying day," he said, offering her a cigarette and lighting one for himself.

  "I know, Keverne told me. You really shouldn't have lost your temper over poor, insignificant Alice Brown, darling."

  "I don't care to see a woman hit, however insignificant she may be," he retorted.

  "Well, I've no doubt he had provocation. Still, don't let's talk about Alice. You realize, don't you, Keir, that it was I who caused Keverne's change of heart for your sweet sake?"

  "Very good of you," he replied unsmilingly. "But I would have preferred his change of heart, as you call it, to have sprung from a sense of obligation to the family."

  "How stuffy you sound!" she said, with a small grimace. "Anyway, aren't I considered as family? And no one likes to be obligated, darling, haven't you learnt that?"

  "Oh, yes — rather bitterly. Well, Trelawny, no one can say that sort of barrier exists between you and me."

  "No, they can't, can they? What barrier have you erected, then?"

  "I'm not aware that I've erected any."

  "Oh, come off it, darling! I've been practically throwing myself at your head for years! What's wrong with me?"

  He knew her too well to be embarrassed by such directness, and there had even been a time when her calculated blatancy had been an attraction.

  "There's nothing wrong with you, my dear, except, perhaps, a slight lack of heart, and that you can't be blamed for," he replied courteously.

  "And what heart have you to boast of, darling?" she retorted. "We're the perfect match."

  "Do you think so?"

  She frowned impatiently and threw her half-smoked cigarette into the grate.

  "What's come over you lately, Keir?" she said. "You surely can't be cherishing a sneaking weakness for the doubtful charms of Alice Brown!"

  "You shouldn't minimize another woman's attractions

  because she can't compete with your own beauty," he said mildly. "Alice possibly has qualities that are denied to you."

  "For crying out loud! I know it's quite common for a man who's reached your age without marrying to imagine himself infatuated with a young girl half his age, but I won't believe that of you, Pendragon."

  "Thank you. Infatuation isn't a very dignified state of mind to be in, I imagine."

  She dismissed the subject with relief. She had not seriously imagined that Alice's fondness for Pendragon could have had any reciprocation and she no intention of being diverted from her own purpose.

  "Haven't we gone on long enough like this, Keir?" she asked softly, stretching her strong, lovely body in a deliberate invitation. She could not see that he was tired, nor was she blessed with the intuition to warn her that this was not the moment to achieve, finally, what she most desired.

  "I let Keverne go to please you," she said. "I even went away to give him and Emma a chance."

  "You let Keverne go because you didn't want him enough," Keir said dryly. "I don't think you'd lay claim to noble motives, my dear."

  "No, I wouldn't. I'd have married you then, if you'd asked me, in spite of Keverne. What held you back?"

  He rubbed his eyelids with an irritable gesture.

  "I don't really know, Trelawny. Perhaps I was doubt-ful of the ultimate success of such a union."

  "But you knew I was willing?"

  "Oh, yes, I knew, but there was something a little— well, a little distasteful, shall we say, in the fact that in spite of being in love with another man you were willing

  to marry me simply because I was Pendragon." "But, Keir!" she said. "You and I are adult! We aren't cluttered up with sentimentalities, like other people. You weren't even emotionally involved as I was."

  "No. that's true. Was it me or the mine you wanted, Trelawny?"

  "Both. You're an attractive man, Pendragon, despite, or perhaps, because of your god-damn high-and-mighti-ness. You need heirs to hand over the mine to and, in the

  meantime, you need a wife to match your own metal and be a credit to you."

  For a moment his cold grey eyes rested on her with a touch of pity.

  "You don't really know me at all, do you?" he said. "You've built me up in your own mind as the sort of man you want me to be; that's always dangerous. No, Trelawny, I want more in a wife than a living testimony to my good taste. I want affection, understanding, the sentimentalities you say we both lack—above all affection. I've done without that for a long time."

  She sprang up from her chair, her anger no longer disguised, anger and a bitter sense of realization.

  "It's Alice, isn't it?" she said on a note of incredulity. "You've fallen for that sly little cat's line of flattery, after all! Yes, Pendragon — no, Pendragon — oh-what-a-big-strong-man-you-are!"

  "There's nothing further for us to discuss on the subject," he replied very wearily. "And we'll leave Alice out of the conversation, please."

  "Oh, no, we won't!" she cried, her eyes narrowing. "She's made a fool of you just as she has of Keverne, and Merryn too, probably, feeding those silly fish and letting him pour out his troubles. We all know what Keverne is! Do you suppose he hasn't been amusing himself with dear good little Alice when your back was turned, and she more than willing? Why do you suppose he hit her this afternoon? Because he knew she was playing for higher stakes and was sick of picking up the crumbs you left."

  III

  There was a sudden rather dreadful little silence, then Pendragon seized her by the shoulders.

  "What are you hinting at?" he demanded, and there was a pinched look about his nostrils. "I've asked her before if Keverne had been bothering her. Why couldn't she have told me?"

  "Because she was enjoying herself, that's why," she spat back at him. "Why should it always be Keverne's fault? Don't you know there are plenty of girls in Alice's position who aren't adverse to a bit of slap-and-tickle on

  the quiet—what else is there for them in their drab little lives? If you've made a pass or two in that direction yourself, Pendragon, don't imagine you were the only one."

  "Shut up!" he said, shaki
ng her furiously, his temper roused to the same pitch as hers.

  He let her go and, for a moment, she was frightened by the drawn look in his face. Her temper subsided and she stretched out a tentative hand to him.

  "Keir, what can it all matter?" she said. "You aren't the first man to be fooled by a little girl's tricks. Be thankful that I'm what I am and can take the civilized view. Send her away and face reality as I have."

  "And what do you call reality?"

  "Polrame, the mine, the Pendragons and the future Pendragons."

  His face froze into a hard mask of cruelty.

  "You will never bear a child of mine, Trelawny," he said. "Whatever you have done towards breaking up my hopes and beliefs will do you no good. It was as well for both of us that I was content to wait these two years. You talk of taking the civilized view—you're no more civilized than an animal looking for its mate!"

  The hot Pendragon temper flared up in her again. She struck him sharply across the face with the flat of her hand and broke into a storm of frustrated weeping.

  "You devil!" she cried. "You cold, arrogant devil! Do you know why Keverne's going back to work tomorrow? Because I've promised to buy him out—yes, thinking that

  you and I-But I'll still do it! Keverne and Emma shall

  at least be free of you—and Merryn, too, if he wants. Then, my lord Pendragon, we will hold the mine between us. How will you like that?"

  Before he could answer, the door was flung open and Merryn stood there, half-dressed. He had thrown a coat over his bare torso and wound a scarf round his neck. In that fleeting moment he looked a traditional Pendragon with his black eyes blazing and the habitual sullenness gone from his dark face.

  "What the hell's going on?" he demanded. "Do you two realize you can be heard upstairs? Pendragon, what are you doing to Trelawny?"

  Trelawny looked at him and her eyes widened. In that

  instant he might have been Keverne—even Keir, and she suddenly ran to him.

  "Merryn, take me home . . ." she cried. "Take me home, Merryn, and let's you and me pick up the pieces of our lives . . ."

  "A good exit line," Pendragon said savagely, and Merryn, looking startled and then tentative with sudden hope, put his arm round the girl and took her out of the room.