No. But then Averil had never at any time bothered about adorning anything but herself. I remembered how at home, she would spend hours in her room, in front of her dressing-table, experimenting with makeup and apparently oblivious to the fact that the furniture needed dusting and that her clothes were untidily piled on a chair.
‘Well, I’d better be running along,’ Mrs. McAlister remarked at last, pulling on her tam-o’-shanter over her springing grey hair and collecting her shopping-bag. ‘If you ask me I’d say you’re going to have a visitor before the day is through.’
She uttered the words with such an air of grim foreboding that I glanced at her in surprise. ‘Don’t tell me, Mrs. McAlister, that you’ve the Scottish gift of second sight?’
She snorted indignantly at the idea. ‘For goodness’ sakes, no. I’ll leave all that stuff to the Highlanders. I’m a Lowlander myself, not that I believe in that second sight stuff anyhow. It’s all a lot of nonsense, if you ask my opinion.’
I smiled. ‘Then how did you know I’d have a visitor?’
‘For the simple reason that yesterday afternoon I obliged at Mrs. Wilson’s and I heard Mr. Wilson say he was paying a visit to Cherry Cottage this afternoon.’
‘But who is Mr. Wilson?’ I asked, bewildered.
‘He’s the architect that planned all them lovely villas outside town.’
‘Oh,’ I said dismally. So already Vance Ashmore was carrying his plans concerning the addition to the cottage into action! I felt my heart sink. The designer of those hideous red houses would obviously be a disastrous choice for the delicate beauty of Cherry Cottage.
‘No doubt it’s to arrange about the rumpus room Mrs. Etherton is so keen on. Mind you the extra space will make all the difference. Rodney can play there and watch the telly and it will keep him from getting under foot,’ Mrs. McAlister said with an air of bestowing consolation. ‘And it will be no trouble keeping it tidy. Floor-to-ceiling windows and the furniture in vinyl and laminated plastic. I must say it will be a nice change from polishing the carving on this old furniture. Dust-traps is what I call them,’ she added, as she bustled out.
Whatever hopes I had that Mrs. McAlister had been mistaken were banished by the appearance that afternoon of Vance accompanied by a stout, fussy-looking man who, after Vance had introduced us, prowled round the orchard scanning the exterior of the cottage and making notes on a clipboard.
I saw Vance’s eyes stray to Averil’s postcard, then glance away. Averil’s handwriting, even from a distance, was unmistakable and I wondered if he’d recognize it. ‘I had a postcard from Averil: she seems to be having a wonderful time.’ For a moment I maliciously wondered what his reactions would be if I told him of the ‘fascinating man’ that Averil had acquired.
He nodded and gave the sudden grin that revealed the whiteness of his teeth and completely transformed his usual rather grim features. ‘I received one too, so you needn’t look so guilty. I also have heard of a charming acquisition. According to Averil he’s half Spanish, half Italian. Quite a lethal mixture, I should imagine.’ It was typical, of course, that Averil would inform Vance of her latest infatuation, yet if her intention had been to arouse him to jealousy she had failed dismally, I concluded. For if anything, Vance Ashmore, instead of showing resentment, seemed merely amused, and I thought too that his amusement was heightened by my simple-minded belief that the information would arouse his anger.
‘Did you imagine I’d act the jealous lover and throw a dramatic scene?’ he asked critically. You’re a romantic creature, aren’t you, Esther?’
So the sophisticated Vance Ashmore was patronising me! In his circles one did not commit the naiveté of showing jealousy. I’d revealed myself as provincial and priggish. ‘It was stupid of me, of course,’ I said bitterly. ‘I should have known that it wouldn’t make any difference to a man like you whether Averil was loyal or not.’
For a moment he regarded me thoughtfully. ‘Loyal, Esther! And just how would you define the word?’ But I was on my guard against this man and had no intention of displaying my inmost feelings for his amusement. ‘My attitude can’t be of the slightest interest to you,’ I began with dignity.
‘Oh, but you’re wrong there! Your attitude interests me very much.’
‘I can’t imagine why,’ I replied lamely, feeling the ground gradually being cut from beneath my feet.
‘Because you’re so completely unlike the girls I’ve come across so far. Not many would have wanted to spare me the knowledge that Averil is letting her eye wander. In fact, I can think of a few who would have taken great pleasure in informing me.’
‘Perhaps, but then they’d probably have reasons that would hardly apply to me.’
He raised his brows. ‘Such as?’
I hesitated. I could hardly inform him that it was not my intention to attempt to oust Averil from her position in life, but that, on the contrary, I disliked and distrusted him.
It was at this point that, much to my relief, Mr. Wilson reappeared. But as I watched them walk off together and saw the architect, his head bent in earnest conversation, I felt my heart sink. He was the type of man, I suspected, who would be all for utilitarian and coldly practical buildings like the horrible villas he had erected in Warefield.
Soon afterwards Rodney arrived back from school. He had seen Vance with Mr. Wilson and was all excitement at the prospect of the new addition. ‘When will it be finished, do you think?’ he asked excitedly. ‘Will it be ready for my birthday party?’ The promised party loomed large in all his arrangements and the prospect of entertaining his friends in a new rumpus room appealed to his imagination.
‘No, of course not: it will take some time. I’ll be gone long before it’s built.’ I felt a strange hollow feeling as I realized the implication of my words. Why on earth had I been so concerned about the despoiling of Cherry Cottage, when I wouldn’t even be here to witness its desecration?
‘You won’t be here?’ Rodney’s eyes opened wide with surprise.
‘No, of course not! I’ll have to go home when your mother returns from her trip.’
‘I didn’t think of that,’ he replied flatly, then added hopefully, ‘But you’ll be here for my party, won’t you?’
‘Of course.’
‘Because you know,’ he added earnestly, ‘Mummy wouldn’t let me have one if she were here.’
From what I’d heard of Averil’s attitude towards Rodney’s schoolfellows it was obvious that she would strongly object to the proposed party, and I began to feel faintly uneasy. However, it was too late now to back out, for all plans had been made and Rodney had even made out a guest list which was headed by the bellicose Phillips, and from what I’d seen of the child I suspected he was the type that Averil would consider entirely unsuitable as a companion for her son.
Soon afterwards I went upstairs to fetch some mending, vaguely aware that Rodney had gone into the garden. I was collecting the sewing-box and preparing to go downstairs again when I heard a plaintive voice call ‘Aunt Esther!’
I crossed to the window and to my surprise saw Rodney perched on top of an old, gnarled pear tree whose branches almost touched the windowpane. ‘What on earth are you doing up there, Rodney?’ I said irritably. ‘Come down immediately!’
‘I tried to fetch down the kitten,’ he replied in a quavering voice, ‘and now I can’t get back.’
‘What kitten?’
‘It’s one of Mrs. Clarke’s from the Ashmore dairy.’
I looked doubtfully at the unprepossessing object that he held clutched to his pullover. Marmalade and off-white tufts of hair surrounded a pink nose. It was one of the ugliest kittens I had ever seen, I decided. ‘Now how do you expect me to get you down?’ I asked in exasperation.
‘You could fetch the ladder from the outhouse,’ he suggested hopefully. ‘And do you think Mrs. Clarke will let me keep the kitten?’ He edged along the branch in excitement at the idea and I heard it squeak ominously.
Immediately m
y irritation gave way to anxiety. I flung down the sewing-box and bundle of clothes. ‘Don’t move until I fetch the ladder,’ I called, before dashing down the stairs and heading for the outhouse.
I tugged and pulled the long, heavy ladder until I manoeuvred it against the pear tree. To my relief there was no sign of Vance or Mr. Wilson. To be found at the top of a ladder in the midst of a pear tree rescuing a small boy with a kitten was not at all the sort of situation I would care to be found in.
By the time I had clambered up the ladder, Rodney had begun to realize just how far he was from the ground and was emitting ear-piercing yells of terror. ‘Oh, do shut up, Rodney,’ I exclaimed in exasperation, ‘you’re perfectly safe now.’
I reached out my arms to lift him from the branch and he said in a quavering voice, ‘I think the branch is breaking, Aunt Esther.’ Then, to my dismay, there was a sound of splintering and rending wood and Rodney, with the kitten safely tucked inside his pullover, was propelled violently into my arms. For a moment I almost overbalanced, then clutching at an adjacent branch I managed to prevent Rodney, myself and the kitten being hurled to the ground.
‘You seem to be in trouble up there,’ a cool voice said from terra firma.
I glanced down to see Vance’s face staring up at me. ‘I thought you were gone,’ I said dourly.
‘I was on the way home when I heard some bloodcurdling screams from this direction. I could hardly pursue my way in cold blood, could I? It wasn’t you by any chance who was emitting those extraordinary sounds, was it?’
‘No,’ I snapped, ‘it wasn’t.’
‘I thought not. It didn’t sound like you. It wasn’t Estherish to lose control of the situation.’
He reached up and lifted Rodney to the ground. ‘And just what is this exercise in aid of?’ he asked, surveying the branch which had crashed to the ground and now lay half-buried in the grass.
Speechlessly I surveyed him from the top of the ladder.
‘Mrs. Clarke’s kitten got caught at the top of the tree, and I tried to rescue it. Then Aunt Esther tried to rescue me. And may I keep the kitten?’ Rodney added in a rush.
‘And now it’s time I tried to rescue Aunt Esther,’ Vance said determinedly.
He reached up his hands to me but, ignoring them, I began to back down the ladder with as much dignity as I could manage. Unfortunately I had forgotten that one of the rungs had been roughly repaired with a wire. My foot slipped on it and I found myself being propelled into Vance’s outstretched arms. For a moment I was held close to him: tight in his encircling arms I felt confused and breathless.
‘Sorry, I forgot about that gammy rung.’
‘But why be sorry?’ His dark eyes stared into mine, intense and enigmatic as fathomless tarn pools so that for a moment I felt mesmerized.
Then, recovering myself, I pulled free. Dishevelled and confused by the strange new emotion that his closeness had caused, I tossed back my hair and ran my fingers through it, feeling at an acute disadvantage.
Luckily at that moment Rodney caused a diversion. The kitten, released from his pullover, darted away and was instantly hidden in the long soft grass under the apple-trees, and Rodney, with a cry of distress, ran off in pursuit.
‘Can you believe it? The child actually wants to keep that awful kitten!’ I began to break a silence that threatened to become too lengthy.
He ignored this and continued to regard me with a look of attention that I found disconcerting.
‘Well, what is it?’ I asked sharply.
‘Do you know, Esther,’ he remarked thoughtfully, not at all taken aback by the note of hostility in my voice, ‘it occurs to me that you’re just the type Mother’s looking for. She’s holding one of those charity modelling do’s. I suppose she’s told you all about it. Dresses by Lacroix, lashings of champagne and everyone who’s anyone present. Beautiful girls parading down the staircase with lots of lush photographs in the glossy magazines. You, for instance, would be perfect in Averil’s part as Josephine. I can see you in one of those high-waisted Empire gowns. You’re slim enough, goodness knows, to carry it off.’
‘But hardly beautiful enough,’ I said shortly. The suddenness and unexpectedness of the proposition made me wonder if it were a subtle form of mockery.
‘Why do you look at me so suspiciously, Esther?’ he said gently. ‘Surely you don’t imagine that I’m deliberately trying to lead you up the garden path?’
‘But why should you suddenly decide on me for such an affair?’ I said warily. ‘There must be lots of beautiful girls in Warefield gasping for the position.’
He grinned. ‘There probably are, but not many of them have your extraordinarily small bones. And as for your denigration of your looks! Yours are the type of features that make up fantastically well—besides, you’ll be wearing a wig, dressed high, with ringlets falling on the shoulders in the Empire style.’
‘You sound very knowledgeable regarding the affair,’ I said a little sourly, but feeling a rising interest and excitement that I was careful to conceal. ‘How on earth do you know so many details concerning the costumes?’ Somehow it was out of character, I felt, for a man like Vance Ashmore to be so well informed about an affair that he must secretly regard with tolerant indulgence.
‘My dear girl, how could I help but be knowledgeable? Mother has done nothing but talk of it for months and is forever on the phone to Lacroix who has designed the clothes. Actually she’d Averil in mind for Josephine.’
‘Yes, I know,’ I said, feeling suddenly deflated.
‘But since Averil has set off on her travels and won’t be back in time, of course it’s out of the question. However, if you won’t do it I suppose Mother will have to look around for one of our budding Warefield debutantes.’
‘Well, if you think your mother would agree—’ I began.
‘But of course she’ll agree. Otherwise I’d hardly have suggested it.’
Did he not then realize that Mrs. Ashmore, although she was careful to hide it, did not approve of what she considered my unbecoming lack of deference to her elevated social position, or was it simply that when Vance set his heart on anything he invariably got his own way and would not let his mother’s opposition deflect him in the slightest?
‘Very well then,’ he said briskly, ‘I shall tell Mother you’ll model the Josephine dress.’ In his usual arbitrary way he was sweeping aside all objections and forcing me into a position that I was not quite certain yet it would be wise to accept.
‘I shall tell Mother and she’ll immediately get in touch with Lacroix. He’s quite mad, of course, and incredibly temperamental, but, according to my mother, a genius.’
It was just then that I noticed a flash of light above the woods as though the sun had glanced off a mirror. It was sudden and startling and I gave a little gasp of surprise.
Vance, however, merely looked grim. ‘It looks like Eric's up to his old tricks,’ he said dryly. ‘That light that you see is the sun reflecting off the lenses of a pair of extremely powerful binoculars scanning the countryside for something of interest.’
And Eric had seen something of interest, I thought uncomfortably, remembering how I’d been propelled into Vance’s arms. From a distance, and to someone of Eric’s salacious turn of mind, how would the incident appear?
For somehow I was certain he had seen us.
‘You mustn’t let Eric’s peculiar pastimes bother you,’ he said quietly. ‘After all, he has very little else to do with his life.’
The callousness of the remark made me feel cold. This was the man who had stepped into Eric’s shoes, and rumour had it that he had actually contrived the accident in the woods that had ruined his half-brother’s life.
As I turned away in revulsion he caught my arm. ‘Oh, don’t go. There are all sorts of questions to be discussed yet.’
‘Such as?’ I said coldly.
He was still holding my arm and I saw his expression change. The indolent amusement faded from his eyes and
he regarded me intently. ‘Esther, surely you can’t believe—’
But whatever he had been about to say was drowned in the clamour of Rodney’s shrill voice as he demanded, ‘I may keep the kitten, mayn’t I, Aunt Esther?’ His round face was flushed and he was panting slightly from his recent exertions, but he had found the kitten and stood holding it awkwardly in both hands while it sniffed indignantly and made little hissing spits like a miniature tiger.
Vance released my arm. He stepped back a little and when he spoke again it was with his usual casual indifference. ‘For instance, the pressing question of whether Rodney may keep this hideous little cat.’
‘It’s not hideous,’ Rodney protested, pressing his face dose to the kitten’s pink nose, ‘and I’m going to call it Marmalade.’
‘But your aunt hasn’t said whether you may keep it or not,’ Vance pointed out.
‘It’s hardly my place to decide such a matter,’ I returned icily. ‘According to Rodney it must have strayed from Mrs. Clarke’s dairy and as you own the dairy it’s obviously your kitten.’
‘Dear me, what an extraordinarily lucid breakdown of the situation! I’m not surprised you work in a stockbroker’s office. You don’t think I own Mrs. Clarke too?’ he asked quizzically. ‘You know, Esther, you make me sound quite feudal.’
‘So I’ve heard you described,’ I agreed.
‘By whom?’
I hesitated, remembering it had been Bob Pritchard and the obvious dislike he had shown for Vance Ashmore—but then he had also been in the running for Averil.
‘It sounds remarkably like one of Bob Pritchard’s observations! But in spite of what he says I wouldn’t go as far as claiming to own Mrs. Clarke.’
But I could see he felt no resentment. Bob Pritchard would, in his view, be so completely negligible as to be not worth dignifying with dislike.
‘And is that how you feel about me too, Esther, that I’m arrogant and dictatorial?’
‘I don’t think anything about you,’ I replied. But I knew, even as I said it, that it was untrue. I remembered so clearly the extraordinary mixture of feelings I had experienced when I had gazed at the photograph of him with Averil and remembered how ruthlessly he had disposed of Clive. He had adjusted life to suit himself even if it meant destroying those who got in his way.
Sister of the Bride Page 9