by Sara Seale
“I suppose I deserved that,” she said softly. “I treated you badly, I know, Dane. But I wasn’t to know things would turn out like this, was I?”
“Like what?”
“Well—the accident making no difference to your attraction—the way you’ve come through it all—independent and strong—scarcely different to any normal person.”
“Blindness is a misfortune, not an abnormality,” he said, and she put a quick, conciliatory hand on his arm.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” she pleaded. “Can I help it, darling, if I still find you attractive—if I kick myself for having let you go so stupidly?”
“If you feel like that, my dear, it would be better if you stopped away from Pennyleat,” he said with a certain harshness.
“Why? What harm can I do you now? You’re rich, happily married ...” She saw him wince, and smiled secretly to herself. “You are happily married, aren’t you, darling?”
“A more important consideration is whether Emily is,” he replied gravely, and at that moment Emily came back into the room.
She looked at Vanessa perched on the arm of Dane’s chair, making no effort to move, and turned away to pour herself another glass of sherry. Bella sniffed Vanessa’s legs, growling under her breath, and Dane said:
“Bella doesn’t approve. Better find yourself a more comfortable seat, Vanessa, if you’re going to stop.”
For an instant the girl looked angry.
“Is that your way of indicating that I’ve outstayed my welcome?” she asked as she got to her feet.
“Of course not,” Emily interposed quickly. “Dane was probably only thinking that it’s getting late. Mrs. Pride has an unshakable habit of bringing in a meal on the dot, no matter who’s here. But do have another cocktail.”
“No, thanks,” said Vanessa, “I’d forgotten the time.” She collected her furs and her smart new handbag and bade Dane a charming good-night. Emily accompanied her into the hall and thanked her again for the presents she had brought.
“Can I have my pearls back, please?” she asked.
“Oh, sorry! They seemed so much a part of me that I had forgotten them,” Vanessa laughed, and took off the necklace, relinquishing it regretfully.
“Did you have a good time in London?” Emily asked for politeness’ sake.
“Wonderful!” Vanessa replied, her eyes assessing Emily’s clothes and hair with impersonal interest. “After so many years abroad it was like coming home. Everyone asked for Dane, of course. Such a pity he’s elected to become a hermit when he now can afford the worth-while places. You shouldn’t wear those old slippers with that frock, darling—they ruin the effect and don’t go with those pearls at all.”
“They’re comfortable,” said Emily apologetically. “Besides, no one sees them but me.”
“Yes,” said Vanessa with one of her brilliant smiles. “A blind husband has his uses, hasn’t he? By the way, I met an old friend of yours in town.”
“I know. Miss Pink spent last week-end with us.”
“I don’t mean old Louisa, though she did give your little secret away. I was speaking of Tim Lonnegan.”
“Oh, yes?” said Emily politely. “How was he?”
“Very well, and most interested to learn of your new fortunes. He’s coming down to Torcroft for a visit very soon. Won’t that be nice?” said Vanessa and slipped out of the front door with a mocking wave of the hand.
Emily stood in the empty hall, uneasiness sweeping over her. Why should she care, she thought, if Tim should come back into her life? The affair had been harmless enough in all conscience, and her old affection for him, even the hurt and shame which had remained with her for a long time, had been wiped out by more recent events. But she remembered Louisa Pink’s hints and her impatient admonition for Emily to grow up and the uneasiness remained.
Shorty came into the hall to sound the gong for dinner. He was used to finding Emily in unexpected places, apparently lost in thought, and only, said:
“Want five minutes to run upstairs? Mrs. Pride’s still dishing up.”
“No, thank you, Shorty, I’m ready,” she said vaguely.
“That Miss Larne back again?” he asked.
“Yes, she came down from London today.”
“Ho!” observed Shorty enigmatically, and beat the gong with a deafening clamor.
Emily stayed awake for a long time that night wondering if Dane would call for her, but although she heard him moving about in his room and knew he could not sleep, he made no sign, nor for many nights to come.
He seemed restless, she thought, watching during the days for any indication that he might need her in any capacity other than that for which she had been originally engaged. He kept her hard at work typing in the mornings and, in the afternoons, he would take Bella and walk by himself on the moor.
“If Vanessa should blow in unexpectedly, make my excuses and entertain her yourself, will you?” he told her once.
“Don’t you want to see her?” Emily asked, surprised.
“Not whenever she chooses to appear. Will you do this for me, Emily?”
“Of course, but won’t she think it a little odd?”
“My dislike of strangers is well known. Vanessa, after all this time, must count herself as such.”
Emily looked at him with troubled eyes. Was his old passion for Vanessa still so strong that he must thrust her out of his life because he was afraid? she wondered sadly. She would not, she thought, be strong enough to stand in the way of Vanessa’s determination in such an event, and began to dread those fine afternoons of early spring when the sound of a car would send her hurrying to the windows.
But Vanessa did not come. It was as if she had already sensed his mood or, perhaps, was biding her time until that mood should change.
III
Emily knew old Mrs. Mortimer by sight, a large, ungainly woman with dyed hair and a raddled, painted face. Vanessa had never brought her to Pennyleat, but one day she stopped and spoke to Emily in the village.
“I’ve never called,” she said in a hard, rasping voice. “But I understand your husband doesn’t care for visitors. He and my niece, of course, are old friends, but that isn’t to say—Will you come back to the house and have some mid-morning coffee with me, my dear? I should like to know you.”
It was a surprising invitation and not one that Emily had any wish to accept. She knew Dane did not care for Vanessa’s aunt and she, herself, was not attracted by the woman. However, it was difficult to refuse without appearing ungracious, and presently she found herself sitting opposite Mrs. Mortimer in a gloomy drawing-room with a poor fire, eating stale biscuits which had become soft. The coffee, on the other hand, was excellent. Mrs. Mortimer had not lived abroad for so long without learning to scorn the English variety.
“You were married very suddenly, weren’t you?” she asked. “Neither Vanessa nor I knew, or of course—My niece, you probably know, was once engaged to your husband ... the poor girl was always her worst enemy, I always said—spoilt, impatient—never content to wait for anything. Do you care for the isolation of Pennyleat? Of course, after having to earn your living in such precarious ways, you wouldn’t mind ... Do you find blindness a trial to live with? I think, myself, it might be worse to be deaf.”
She rambled on with this curious monologue, never waiting for an answer to her numerous questions. Emily began to feel uncomfortable. Mrs. Mortimer’s pointed references to her niece and Dane were difficult to ignore and her curiosity was undisguised. Only when Emily finally made her escape did the old lady make an uncharacteristic observation.
“Come and see me again,” she said. “I like you, my dear. I wouldn’t want you to be hurt through any agency of mine ... Remember me to your husband. He doesn’t like me, but then I think he always blamed me for Vanessa’s upbringing.”
“Did you bring her up?” asked Emily, wondering if this might explain a great deal.
“Not really, but I was always there to c
ome back to. The young don’t want you when you’re old, my dear... Still, Vanessa seemed quite happy trailing after me round the casinos ... Pity she didn’t marry, what?”
Emily told Dane during luncheon of her meeting with Mrs. Mortimer and thought he did not look pleased.
“I should keep away from Torcroft, if I were you,” he said. “The old girl hasn’t called on you, which looks as if she realizes that I mightn’t want to fraternize.”
“But why wouldn’t you?” Emily asked. “I know she’s unattractive and rather odd, but, after all, you used to know her.”
“I may have known her but I didn’t approve, and she knew it,” he said.
“But why? I don’t think all that paint and dyed hair means much. I think she’s lonely.”
“You ask too many questions, Emily,” he said impatiently. “My disapproval didn’t apply to her morals, which, for all I know, were exemplary. She was a go-getter, a parasite, willing, I’ve always understood, to live on her niece’s spoils.”
It was Emily’s turn to raise her eyebrows, but she said nothing. Had Mrs. Mortimer manoeuvred to marry her niece off to the highest bidder and thus been the real cause for that broken engagement? She could not, herself, see Vanessa being persuaded to a course of action either by her Aunt Gertrude or anyone else.
“Did you like her?” asked Dane suddenly, with more surprise than annoyance.
“N-no,” admitted Emily. “At first I definitely disliked her—she asked so many odd questions. But at the end—well, as I said, I think she’s lonely.”
His smile was a little sardonic.
“Child Friday to the rescue?” he mocked. “Well, Emily, if you like to think you’re bringing a little light and sweetness into a barren life, I won’t stop you, but don’t get involved. The good lady may still have fish to fry.”
It was an unsatisfactory, rather inconclusive conversation and Emily wished she had not raised the subject. It was unlikely that Mrs. Mortimer would press for a further meeting, and Vanessa never suggested that either Dane or Emily should visit Torcroft.
A note, however, arrived a few days later asking Emily to tea. “My niece will be out,” it stated unnecessarily and rather pointedly. Emily made some excuse, wondering a little at the old lady’s sudden desire to establish contact, but she made no mention of the matter to Dane.
March was nearly over, going out like the proverbial lamb. Spring was everywhere on the moor, the tender green of new foliage sprinkling the folds and hollows which, through the winter, had been bleak and without color. Foals ran beside their dams amongst the herds of moorland ponies and everywhere the birds were nesting.
“How beautiful it is,” Emily said to Dane. “Spring and summer on the moor must surely make up for all winter’s desolation.”
“Have you found it desolate, Emily?” he asked.
“No, not in that sense, but perhaps one notices the seasons change here more than in the neat country round London.”
“There’s nothing neat about Dartmoor,” he said a little grimly. “It’s rather curious you should, like it. You’ve never in your life known anything but the suburbs and the dusty streets of London.”
“Is an appreciation of beauty merely a matter of environment, then?” she asked, feeling she was being laughed at, but he put up a hand and gently tapped her cheek.
“Of course not. I wasn’t doubting, my dear, only grateful,” he said. “The gods—and Louisa—chose well when they sent you.”
He seemed relaxed again. The fever of work which had possessed him just after Vanessa’s visit had abated and he would sit and listen to her reading or appear content to talk idly in the firelit darkness of their long evenings. But Vanessa would not stay away for ever. Nearly a fortnight had elapsed since her return from London and, as Emily had always known would happen, she walked in one afternoon without warning.
Emily was amusing herself at the piano, searching in her memory for fresh songs and rhymes with which to entertain Alice in the Easter holidays. She did not hear the car, and, as once before, Vanessa entered the drawing room unheralded.
“You strum quite nicely, Emily,” she said. “Where’s Dane?”
“Out with Bella.”
“Don’t you go with him?”’
“Yes, if he asks me, but he enjoys his walks alone. He gets more confidence.”
“With the aid of a dog? Well, I suppose he has to tell you some story.”
“What do you mean?”
Vanessa flung herself into a chair and smiled at Emily with utmost charm.
“Darling, be your age,” she said. “It’s plain your marriage is one of convenience, and one can quite understand what prompted Dane. It’s lonely to turn yourself into a recluse at thirty-six, and quite against nature. Still and all, you don’t want your secretary-cum-governess always tagging along, even if she does share your name.”
Emily had gone a little white.
“I don’t think I’ve met anybody, Vanessa, who can be insulting with such devastating grace,” she said.
"How clever of you—to recognize the two, I mean,” said Vanessa graciously. “But I wasn’t really being insulting, darling. After all, you wouldn’t pretend that this marriage is the result of a great passion, would you?”
“No,” said Emily bleakly.
“You were the rebound from me, and for you, I suppose, Dane was the rebound from that charming young Irishman who left you flat in your salad days.”
“Tim Lonnegan had nothing to do with me marrying Dane,” Emily said and knew as she, spoke that it was not quite true. The fact that she had felt at the time that she was unlikely to fall in love again had made, it possible for her to accept marriage from a perfect stranger.
“You’re a bad liar, Emily,” Vanessa mocked. “Oh, well, there’s always a way out of the wood, isn’t there?”
“What way?”
“Oh; I don’t know. These things work out. Now tell me, darling, in which direction would I find Dane?”
The little interchange had shaken Emily more than she knew. She wanted to hit out at Vanessa’s smiling calm, to wipe the sublime complacence from her lovely face.
“I don’t know,” she said. “And he wouldn’t thank you for looking for him. He’s been working perfectly hard lately and asked me to make his excuses to any—er—visitors.”
“Meaning me?” said Vanessa, narrowing her eyes.
“Well, yes, if you want me to be honest,” Emily said, and heard Dane come back from his walk and the clatter Bella’s harness made as he flung it on the chest in the hall.
“Emily!” he called, but before she could answer, Vanessa had run to the door.
“Emily’s in here with me,” she said. “Is it true, darling, that you told her to say you were not at home to me?”
He came slowly into the room. The blank, sightless gaze made it possible for his face to appear impersonal. Emily, who had come to learn each passing expression so well, had no idea of what he might be thinking.
“Good afternoon Vanessa,” he said courteously. “I don’t think I ever made myself as plain as that. It’s, after all, very kind of you to call on us.”
Emily could have hit him. It was, she knew, virtually impossible for him to be gratuitously rude to an unwanted guests, but he need not have put her in the wrong.
“You see, Emily, you were mistaken,” Vanessa said. “Perhaps it was you, really, who didn’t want me here.”
“Now, Vanessa, don’t try to pick a quarrel with Emily,” Dane warned, but his voice was indulgent, telling them both plainly that he was merely amused by such feminine skirmishing.
“Will you order tea, Emily? We can’t send our guest home without hospitality.”
“How old-world you sound suddenly, darling,” Vanessa laughed. “But I’m glad to hear you still consider me worthy of hospitality. Emily had the usual wifely story of the hard-worked husband who mustn’t be disturbed, but perhaps that wasn’t true, either.”
“Oh, yes,” he said
. “We’ve been working hard on the book. There’s plenty of extraneous matter, too, you know. Emily has to be responsible for all my letters and business affairs.”
“Really?” Vanessa’s fine eyebrows curved upwards with delicate amusement. “How awkward that could be, darling. When your wife is your secretary too, she has to share all your secrets.”
“No great hardship, I assure you,” he replied, his lips giving a little quirk of sardonic comprehension. “Emily, my dear, will you do something about tea?”
All through tea Emily sat listening to their talk. As usual, Vanessa made little attempts to include her in the conversation and for once she was grateful. Had the opportunity arisen, she knew she would have been rude to Vanessa, despite Dane’s presence. When the girl rose to take her leave, Emily, perforce, had to accompany her to the door and Vanessa stood for a moment, pulling on her gloves without hurry.
“You see, darling, it’s not the way,” she said softly. “You won’t keep Dane away from me by silly tricks, neither can you fight something of which you have no understanding. Good-night.”
Emily went back to the library.
"And what do you want me to tell Vanessa next time she calls?” she asked, and he frowned at the unaccustomed temper in her voice.
“Something more courteous than whatever you told her today, at any rate,” he replied.
“You told me to make your excuses. I did, to the best of my ability. She twisted my words to make me sound downright rude.”
“Well, perhaps you were, Emily. I’ve not known you in this sort of mood before.”
“You’ve not known me at all if you imagine I can take rudeness without giving any in return.”
He looked at her as he sometimes did, as if with concentration he must be able to read the expression on her face.
“Was Vanessa rude to you?” he asked, but she would not reply to this but enquired again if in future she was to forget that he had said Vanessa should be classed as a stranger.
“Did I say that?” he asked irritably. “Well, I daresay I was on edge at the time. Let her come if she wants to. What harm can she do?”