Romance Classics

by Peggy Gaddis

  “The same,” Bix responded, and there was a grim note in his voice. “I know you’ve been seeing quite a bit of him, giving him breakfast in the housekeeper’s quarters and slipping out to the garden in the moonlight.”

  Judy cried out sharply, “Bix Bullard, I resent that word ‘slipping.’ Roger asked me to show him the garden, and I saw no reason I shouldn’t, even if Marise does object to her guests fraternizing with the hired help. If it comes to that, Marise herself invited Sam to the Manor for dinner, and Sam is hired help, as much as Mother and I.”

  Bix flared hotly, “Will you for the love of heaven shut up?”

  Judy blinked and stared at him.

  “The reason I wanted to warn you about Mayson—” he began.

  But once more she cut in sharply, “Warn me?”

  “Yes, warn you,” he insisted.

  For a moment they glared at each other, and then Judy turned away and slashed with her riding crop at a tall, inoffensive weed near her.

  “So all right; warn me!” she said sulkily. “But I can’t think what possible reason you could have for warning me against Roger Mayson. He’s really very nice.”

  “That’s just the point, Judy.” Bix was deeply in earnest, and Judy stared at him, dumbfounded. “He’s a ‘here today, gone tomorrow’ sort of guy, and I don’t want him hurting you.”

  “Well, forevermore!” Judy breathed, her eyes enormous in her suddenly pale face.

  “I know he’s—well, quite different from the men you’ve known here, but truly, Judy—”

  Sheer rage sent words seething from her lips that startled him so that he took a backward step as though the words had been physical blows.

  “What you’re trying to tell me is that Roger Mayson could never be seriously interested in a simple, unsophisticated backwoods gal like me. Is that what you’re trying to say?”

  “Don’t be a fool, Judy!” He was angry now as well as bewildered by her sudden savage flare-up. “I don’t mean anything of the kind. You’re a sweet, lovely girl, and any man would be in luck to find you. It’s just that Roger will be leaving here as soon as Marise is ready to go. And once he leaves here, he will forget you.”

  “The way you did?” she flung at him.

  “The way I did? What are you talking about?” He scowled.

  “Right here in this very spot, Bixford Bullard, you and I said goodbye, and you begged me to wait for you. You promised you’d come back and we’d be married and spend the rest of our lives here at Oakhill,” she reminded him, so angry that she could not keep back the words. “But when you did come back, you’d forgotten I ever existed!”

  “Oh, come now, Judy. I didn’t forget—”

  “You did, too! And I, like the prize idiot I was, had kept a lantern of love burning for you in my heart! Oh, go ahead and laugh! That’s pretty corny even for a simple, unsophisticated backwoods gal like me, isn’t it? Mother and Sam tried to tell me you’d forgotten me and all the plans that we had made. But I wouldn’t believe it, being the simple, unsophisiticated creature I am, until you stepped off the plane and didn’t remember me. And then Marise and that gang of hers arrived, and I saw that she had you hogtied and branded. And now, because Roger Mayson has shown me a little attention, you want to warn me about him. I don’t see how you could possibly have the brass-bound gall!”

  Bix snapped furiously, “If you’ll shut up for about a minute and a half and let me get a word in edgewise—”

  “Why? You’ve warned me against Roger. Now just get out of my way, and I’ll go back to the Manor, and you can go on forgetting my very existence. And that’ll be just apple-pie dandy with me!” She tried to thrust her way past him, but his hands shot out and caught her arms and held her despite her struggles.

  “You’re going to listen to me, if I have to strap you down,” he said through his teeth. “So all right; maybe you and I did have a kid love affair, and I did forget. And I’m sorry as the dickens. But how could I know you’d grow up into such a beauty? And I’ve been pretty busy since I finished college.”

  “And a more feeble excuse nobody could ever want to hear.” She spat the words at him, not struggling any longer, enduring his hands that grasped her arms so tightly that she could feel the aching pressure through the thin sleeve of her pongee shirt. “You were so busy you couldn’t spare even a week in all those years to visit the grandfather who set his heart on you? Not until he was so ill that he couldn’t even recognize you, and even then you had to be dragged home against your will.”

  She caught her breath and raced on, fury stiffening her voice.

  “And you couldn’t come without your cute little playmates, could you? You were afraid you’d be bored here in your own home, where generations of Bullards have been happy and contented and have built the place into one of the finest plantations in the whole low country. Oh, no, that was not good enough for you! And now all you can think about is how soon the Old Gentleman will be gone and you can sell Oakhill.”

  He shook her by no means gently, and his goodlooking face was a taut mask of anger that matched her own.

  “Have you quite finished?” His voice grated with the effort he was making to control it.

  “No, I haven’t finished! There’s lots more I’ve been wanting to say ever since you got here, and especially since that Marise creature arrived.”

  “Then you can just shut up and listen to me for a few minutes,” Bix told her furiously, still holding her arms so she could not escape. “I had no idea that Grandfather wanted to see me.”

  “Ha!” There was a world of scorn and contempt in the expletive, and he shook her again.

  “Will you kindly shut up?” His voice grated beneath the lash of his anger, and he was too upset to realize that more than half of that anger came from a feeling of shame and the knowledge that she was right to fling such accusations at him. “I am very sorry indeed that I’ve been away so long. But whether you believe it or not, I was trying very hard to justify his faith in me. I was trying to make something of myself so that he could be proud of me.”

  “When all he ever wanted from you was to take over Oakhill and keep it operating as it has always done. But no, that wasn’t exciting enough. You had to have your fancy friends here so they could go around sneering and being high-hat and reminding you that New York was much more exciting. Oh, I suppose it is, if you like that kind of thing, and it’s pretty plain that you do.”

  She stopped for breath, and Bix studied her for a long moment. Then he turned his head and looked out over the lovely sweep of flower-sprinkled meadow, the willows bending above the river. Slowly, while she watched him with bated breath, he nodded.

  “It is beautiful,” he admitted reluctantly.

  “It’s the most beautiful place in the world!”

  He looked down at her, and now he let her release herself from his hands that had been holding her tightly.

  She flung up her head and said hotly, “Of course it’s practically the only place I’ve ever seen. And I’m sure Marise wouldn’t care for it. I wonder she’s forced herself to stay here this long.”

  He nodded at that, apparently completely undisturbed.

  “I do, too. But I’m very glad she has,” he said quietly.

  She caught her breath as though he had smacked her.

  “Well, of course you are. Think how bored you’d have been if she hadn’t stayed,” was the best she could manage by way of an answer.

  Once more he studied her, and then he grinned.

  “Because now I know her much better than I could have known her in years in the city,” he pointed out “You have to live under the same roof with somebody before you get to know them really well. Marise is a—well, a funny sort of girl.”

  “I’d hardly call her funny,” Judy said spitefully.

  “Oh, I didn’t mean funny, ha, ha,” he pointed out. “I meant funny, peculiar. As long as things are going the way she wants them to, and as long as she is amused and entertained and on the
go, she can be very sweet and charming and even alluring. But when she’s restless and bored and wants to get going somewhere else, she can be—well, a brat!”

  Judy stared at him, dumbfounded.

  “You mean you aren’t really in love with her?” she gasped, unable to keep back the words.

  He scowled at her in surprise.

  “Well, where did you ever get the crazy idea that I was?” he demanded sharply.

  Now it was her turn to study him curiously. After a moment she said, “You’ve certainly behaved as though you were.”

  “Then I’ll have to be more careful, won’t I?”

  Judy blinked and answered, “Unless you want to wake up some day and find yourself married to her.”

  “Oh, that’s something that will never happen. At least I don’t think so. Not as long as she has Alison and the others to smooth the path for her. The only thing Marise would want from a husband would be for him to run interference for her when she gets the urge to go somewhere at a moment’s notice. As long as Alison handles the tiresome details of living for Marise, she is going to remain unattached and untrammeled!”

  Judy had listened to this statement, which seemed completely incredible to her, with mounting amazement. And when he had finished, she drew a deep, hard breath and said half in dismay, half in amusement, “Well, if that’s the way you feel about her, then you certainly are not in love with her. You couldn’t be so casual about her if you were.”

  “I never said that I was, and I can’t think how you ever got such a crazy idea,” Bix said flatly.

  Judy’s taut face had softened.

  “Oh, well, I admitted I was just a simple, unsophisticated backwoods gal,” she mocked. “And when a girl hurls herself into your arms and you let her, and seem to enjoy it, and even kiss her—”

  Bix chuckled. “Oh, people nowadays don’t attach much importance to a kiss or even what’s politely called a ‘fond embrace.’”

  “Oh, don’t they?” Judy seemed quite unconvinced.

  He seemed to have lost interest in discussing Marise, and Judy stood quite still, just waiting.

  “Judy, what would you say if I told you I’ve been doing quite a bit of thinking lately?” he hazarded at last.

  “I wouldn’t say anything unless I had some idea what you were thinking about.”

  “Oh, about staying here at Oakhill and carrying on in the Bullard tradition.”

  Judy felt as though the solid earth beneath her feet had rocked slightly, and for a moment she could scarcely make herself believe he had really said that, and that he had meant it.

  Bix misunderstood her stunned silence and hurried on, “Oh, of course I don’t know the first thing about running a place like Oakhill. But Sam’s a very knowledgeable guy, and I imagine he’d help me learn, don’t you?”

  “He’d be tickled silly, if he felt you really meant to stay,” Judy told him.

  “Strangely enough, I don’t think I ever meant anything more,” Bix said slowly, deeply thoughtful. “I admit when I first got the word that Grandfather was so ill, the only thing I could think of was selling the place. And then after I got here and Sam began showing me around, and I realized that Oakhill isn’t just a piece of property but a sort of little world that is completely self-contained and inhabited by some darned nice people whose home it has been for generations, I began to feel differently. It’s—well, it’s a bit difficult to explain. It seemed that the people here deserved something better than being dumped out of their homes and the farms and fields they and their ancestors have tended.” He broke off, abashed, and managed a grin. “I told you I didn’t quite know how to explain the way I felt now that I’m here and that I’ve seen what a beautiful place this is. I feel—well, in a way almost responsible for keeping it going in its accustomed pattern.”

  As though he found his explanation slightly embarrassing because of the emotion he could not conceal, he managed a grin and said, “So all right; go ahead and laugh. Who’s being corny now?”

  There were tears in Judy’s eyes, and her pretty mouth was tremulous as she tried to smile at him.

  “It’s not corny a bit, Bix darling,” she said huskily. “It’s the way I’ve hoped you’d feel, and only way I could ever want you to feel. Oh, Bix dearest, I’m so glad, so very glad!”

  And then before he could speak, she hurried on a trifle breathlessly, “Oh, sure, I called you ‘darling’ and ‘dearest’ But you said yourself people didn’t consider things like that important any more.”

  Bix eyed her with that oddly curious scrutiny that was almost as though he saw her for the first time, and then he moved so swiftly she had no inkling of his intention until his arms had closed about her and drawn her very close, and he had kissed her firmly.

  “I also said that this sort of thing was not considered important.” His voice was faintly unsteady. “But you know something? I was wrong! It’s terribly important.”

  Judy was momentarily speechless beneath the impact of the kiss and could only look up at him, trembling slightly within the circle of his arms, her soft mouth still relishing the touch of his lips.

  “It is important, isn’t it, darling?” he asked after tensely waiting for her answer.

  “It is, if you want it to be.” Her voice was so low that it barely reached his ears, and his arms tightened about her jealously.

  “Judy, Judy, my darling,” he said huskily. “You are going to marry me, aren’t you?”

  Tears slipped from her eyes, and her soft mouth was tremulous as she met his eyes and said very low, “Of course, darling. What else did you expect? Why, I’ve been waiting years and years and years for you to ask me!”

  He beamed at her in abject relief and then frowned down at her.

  “I can’t for the life of me explain how I could ever have forgotten you,” he admitted frankly. “I must have been even more of a fool than I thought I was. But then, when I went away you were a long-legged kid with rusty hair and braces on her teeth.”

  “I was not!” she protested hotly. “I was a beautiful child! Everybody says so! That was Ellen Perkins who was long-legged and had braces on her teeth!”

  Bix laughed joyously at her, a twinkle dancing in his eyes.

  “Modest little thing, aren’t you?” he teased her.

  “I can’t afford to be modest when you’re getting me mixed up in your mind even now with somebody else,” she flashed at him. “You should see Ellen Perkins now. Only she’s not Ellen Perkins; she’s Ellen Davis. And she and her husband have two children and a farm that the Old Gentleman gave them when they were first married!”

  Bix grinned at her, and his arms tightened about her.

  “I’m not the least bit interested in Ellen Perkins or Ellen Davis or whoever she may be now,” he told her firmly. “I’m interested in only one girl, and that’s the lovely and alluring Judy Ramsey, whom I have the blessed privilege of holding in my arms and who has promised to marry me and help me learn to manage Oakhill—with Sam’s help, of course.”

  She drew a deep hard breath, pulled herself reluctantly from his arms and said, “Let’s go back to the Manor and tell Mother. She tried so hard to persuade me that you couldn’t be in love with me, because you’d forgotten me. And she tried to talk me out of being in love with you. But then I’m stubborn and I wouldn’t listen.”

  He helped her into the saddle, and she bent swiftly and kissed him, as he looked up at her with a world of tenderness in his eyes.

  “I’m so glad you were stubborn,” he told her with a humility that she found oddly touching, “and that you could forgive me for being such a dolt as to forget you, even temporarily.”

  As he swung into the saddle on his own horse, Judy suddenly laughed joyously and he looked at her in quick surprise.

  “Am I as funny as all that?” he asked resentfully.

  “I was just thinking that you followed me out here to warn me that I mustn’t take Roger seriously,” she teased him.

  “Well, you
see to it that you remember that, my girl!” he warned her. “You’re never to take any man seriously except me! Is that clear?”

  “Yes-suh, boss-man, yessuh!” she mimicked some of the field hands.

  Bix grinned at her lovingly as she set her heels lightly against Starlight’ flanks and went galloping off down the bridle path, Bix riding close behind her.

  As they came into the stable yard, Marise came down the drive, her face twisted in an unlovely frown directed at Bix as he swung out of the saddle and turned to lift Judy down.

  “Where the blazes have you been, Bix?” Marise demanded in a tone she so rarely dared use to Bix that he turned his head and scowled at her. Instantly Marise softened and said tenderly, “I was worried about you, Bix. I’ve looked everywhere for you. Alison said that Sam Gillespie took her and Judy into town for lunch yesterday, and it was fun. I thought perhaps you’d take me today.”

  Bix had lifted Judy from the saddle, a stable boy had led the two horses away, and Bix and Judy were facing Marise, who looked from one to the other, resentment lighting sparks in her eyes.

  “Well, Bix, shall we go in town for lunch? And where have you been all morning?” she snapped.

  Bix looked down at Judy and drew her closer to him and faced Marise with a happy smile.

  “Oh, I’ve been getting myself engaged to Judy, so you can congratulate me!” he said happily.

  Judy watched the shock, the anger, the disbelief in Marise’s eyes, and for an instant felt a swift stab of pity for the girl.

  “You are engaged to Judy?” Marise spat out the words furiously. “You are putting me on, Bix. You’d never marry a hired hand, the daughter of your housekeeper.”

  Judy saw the flicker of anger in Bix’s eyes, but it did not register in his voice as he answered coolly, “I admit it’s all but incredible that she would have a useless no-good like me. But she has promised.”

  “I’ll bet she will marry you! She’ll be tickled pink to marry the owner of Oakhill!” Marise had unleashed her temper now and made no attempt to soften her voice.

  “She’s had Oakhill all her life, so I don’t think the fact that it will someday be mine had anything to do with her promise, did it, darling?” Bix smiled lovingly down at Judy.