Country Cousin

by Jacqueline Gilbert

  ‘I’m sorry, isn’t that what you wanted? Have you suddenly changed your mind? The idea was a good one, but perhaps now that it’s beginning to bear fruit you’re getting cold feet.’ The questions were thrust at her with intense ridicule. ‘Too used to milksop boys, maybe I’ve frightened you? Yes, that’s it... I should have asked Margot how far our relationship had gone.’ He laughed derisively. ‘If you believe that we’re still at the holding hands stage, I shall have to disappoint you. Not with a man of my reputation, dear girl.’ He pulled her roughly to him. ‘No, definitely not,’ he said harshly, lips touching eyes, cheek, hollow of neck and finally, with bruising intensity, her mouth.

  When she could speak, Eleanor said painfully:

  ‘Edward, I know you’re angry...’

  ‘My God, I am angry! My only satisfaction is that you didn’t realise who you were taking on! If we’re lovers, my sweet little innocent, then I shall demand my dues!’ He studied her bright red cheeks with grim pleasure. ‘Margot Slade is the biggest gossip in town and no doubt couldn’t contain herself once the opportunity was so readily available. She was dying to congratulate me, but even Margot daren’t go that far without a formal announcement!’ This was said with such a knife edge that Eleanor flinched, and he abruptly let her go.

  It was all becoming too clear. Kate ... silly, romantic Kate! She was having total recall of Kate saying to her that afternoon—I’ve said you know the Mansels very well. What else she had said was only too apparent.

  For a split second she was consumed by a blinding anger equal to Edward’s. How dared he think that she was capable of such intrigue! Well, it didn’t matter what he thought, she told herself bitterly, and giving a brittle laugh, said lightly:

  ‘My goodness, I can’t see why you’re so angry, Edward, it was only done for a bit of fun! Surely you’re used to this sort of thing?’ She turned away from the light with a shrug.

  ‘I am, but somehow I didn’t expect it from you...’ His eyes narrowed. ‘So you admit it?’

  ‘It would be silly not to, wouldn’t it? You can’t blame me for trying with such an eligible bachelor on the premises. And I only dropped the teeniest of hints to Margot... she must have exaggerated dreadfully.’

  Disturbingly, he was right there, behind her. ‘No, I can’t blame you,’ came the soft drawl. ‘And don’t be disappointed. I don’t like disappointing a lady. I can’t promise marriage ... but perhaps you can help me change my mind,’ and he began to expertly unzip her dress.

  Eleanor froze, his fingertips scorching her bare back, and she flew round, eyes wide, a protest on her lips—silenced by the watchful, intense look on his face. A slow, painful flush crept over her face.

  ‘You’re hateful!’ she whispered vehemently, voice trembling.

  ‘And you’re a foolish, silly girl!’ Edward let out an explosive breath. ‘It’s not games we’re playing now!’ he lashed out. ‘My God! If I wasn’t so furious with you, I’d laugh!’

  ‘You’re furious? Well, let me tell you, Edward Mansel, you’re not the only one!’ and Eleanor began frantically to wrench up the zip.

  ‘Here, let me.’

  ‘Don’t you dare touch me!’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous!’ Edward’s voice was curt and he thrust her hands away, zipping her up coolly and efficiently. ‘You do ask for trouble, don’t you? Do you realise what you were letting yourself in for?’

  ‘Obviously not!’ she flashed round on him, ‘and I don’t think I was the only one playing games!’

  ‘It seemed the easiest way of getting at the truth.’ He lifted a brow. ‘If you had meant what you said then you would have allowed me to continue.’

  ‘I see,’ said Eleanor icily, shaken to the core by the conflicting emotions "whirling inside her, and finding refuge in outraged anger. ‘Perhaps you would be good enough to tell me what Margot Slade said to you tonight?’

  Edward broke away and went to the mantel, leaning an elbow and looking back at her thoughtfully.

  ‘No, I don’t think I shall.’ He saw her look of surprise and added evenly: ‘Margot isn’t particularly a nice character, you know. She’s the ultimate in predatory females and has never forgiven me for not falling for her fatal charms. This, I’m afraid, coloured our conversation slightly, and I won’t bore you with details. Suffice it to say that she made enough insinuations to leave me in no doubt as to what she meant.’

  ‘I see,’ said Eleanor doubtfully.

  ‘You don’t see at all,’ Edward replied roughly. ‘By getting at you she thought she was getting at me, you little innocent. And my hands were tied until I could speak to you.’

  ‘What a high opinion you do have of yourself, Edward,’ Eleanor choked out furiously. She lifted her chin and continued cuttingly: ‘Inconceivable though it may be, I have no wish to be coupled with your name.’ There was silence and Edward, eyes hooded, face enigmatic, looked at her consideringly, and she added in no uncertain tone: ‘Unlike the majority of females that come into contact with you, I do not care for arrogant, conceited egotists!’

  ‘So I see.’

  ‘I’m very glad that you do. How could you think that I...?’ and she pressed her lips together, remembering all that be had said.

  ‘I apologise for being so obtuse.’

  ‘I should think so!’ Again she waited, and then demanded: ‘Is that all you’re going to say?’

  He raised his brows and shrugged slightly. ‘What would you like?’

  She gazed back, nonplussed. ‘How can you be so blisteringly angry one minute, making horrible, sarcastic remarks and taking advantage of the situation by...’ Here she stopped short, realising just where this was leading her, and amended it hurriedly to: ‘How you can change and be so casual and calm about it, I just don’t know!’

  ‘My advanced years are an asset, no doubt. Your anger will pass when you consider that I had good reason.’

  ‘And I suppose I hadn’t? You thought I could trick you ... set up a situation so that you’d have to act the gentleman...’ Words failed her and after an exasperated breath she tried again. ‘You be blackmailed by good manners?’ she asked incredulously.

  ‘I can see how wrong I was,’ offered Edward, outrageously shamefaced. ‘You obviously know me far better than I’d at first realised.’

  ‘As if you would...’ She stopped suddenly, unsure, and looked at him suspiciously, his words sinking in. She bit her lip. ‘And now you’re making fun of me. You have a perverse sense of humour, Edward Mansel, and are completely without scruples ... and I’m still—very—angry!’

  He said soothingly: ‘Come, Eleanor, sit down and stop pacing like a caged animal.’ He touched her arm gently and she shot away from his contact, regretting the involuntary reaction the minute it was made. She retreated to the settee and Edward sat in the armchair opposite, remarking casually:

  ‘So it was all little sister’s doing?’

  Eleanor looked at him, indecision all over her face. There was no way out. What a mess it all was! If only she could tell Edward everything ... and with a blinding flash she knew that if she was in Kate’s shoes now, she would be able to tell Edward, knew it with a clarity that astounded her. But she couldn’t tell him. He was nothing to her, merely a stand-in host. Someone who had thought her capable of trying to ensnare him into marriage. She nodded reluctantly.

  ‘I’m afraid so,’ she said in a constricted voice. ‘She wouldn’t realise how it could escalate. I think Margot rubbed her up the wrong way by being condescending about our background and Katie began to boast that ... She probably sensed that Margot was interested in you.’ She lifted a hand helplessly. ‘I have no idea what she said.’

  ‘It need not have been much. Margot would have done the rest,’ Edward said dryly, ‘and lost no time in going into action.’

  ‘What did you say to her?’

  ‘Mmm...? Oh, I parried her inquisitive jabs with the usual enigmatic replies I save for these occasions!’

  ‘It’s happened t
o you before?’

  He smiled thinly. ‘Don’t accuse me of boasting, Eleanor.’

  ‘So you didn’t confirm or deny anything?’ she persisted.

  ‘No.’

  They sat quietly for a while and then Eleanor asked hesitantly: ‘What shall we do, Edward?’

  Receiving no reply, she looked at him fully. He was sitting in the shadows, the flickering light from the fire playing on his face which was in deep repose.

  Those eyebrows are unbelievable, she thought idly, and had a strong impulse, which she resisted, to smooth the fall of hair from his forehead. It didn’t seem right, somehow, for the immaculate and sartorial Edward Mansel to be untidy ... didn’t seem fair, for it made him more human. Over his collar lay a fringe of tiny, dark tendrils and the hand resting on the arm of the chair had fine, dark hairs smoothing back to a deceptively slender wrist. His legs were outstretched, his coat thrown open, the white ruffled shift was a startling contrast to the black cloth of the evening suit. Eleanor wondered for a wild moment if he had fallen asleep, so relaxed was his attitude, and then as her gaze wandered back to his face, she was aware that the thick, black lashes were no longer fanned across the high cheekbones, but were raised. Speculative blue eyes were watching her. She repeated her question hurriedly and Edward lazily sat up and ran a hand through his hair, rubbing the back of his head thoughtfully. He stretched his arms wide and rising indolently, stood broodingly over her, lips pursed.

  ‘What shall we do? Why, nothing. It will all die a death.’ He shrugged. ‘Your sister leaves for home tomorrow and we’ll give Margot a wide berth from now on. Forget it.’ He held out a hand. ‘It’s late... you’d better go to bed.’

  Eleanor hesitated and then gave him her hand, allowing him to draw her to her feet, removing it from his grasp as quickly as decently possible. She moved directly away, making for the door. Edward switched off the lamp and followed her into the hall.

  ‘Goodnight, Edward,’ she began awkwardly. ‘I’m sorry the evening was spoilt.’

  ‘Oh, it wasn’t all disastrous.’ An odd tone in his voice made her look at him sharply, but his face was bland as he felt in the pockets of his jacket for the Jensen keys. Finding them, he said abruptly: ‘You were looking like death when you arrived at the theatre tonight. Was meeting Slade so traumatic that it made you physically ill?’

  He had caught her unprepared, a wave of colour suffused her face.

  ‘I wouldn’t have thought him your type,’ he went on. ‘Do for your empty-headed sister, but not for you.’

  ‘You really are the most objectionable...’

  ‘Do you still love him?’

  She held his look, grinding her teeth, and then said furiously: ‘I’m flattered you take such an interest. No, I’m not ... in love with him.’

  ‘Keep telling yourself often enough and you might even come to believe it.’ His voice was cynical. ‘The longer I live, the more wary I become of this thing called love. It’s not to be trusted, I fear.’ He made to go, hesitated and walked back to her. Eleanor stood on the first step of the stair, almost on a level with him, holding her breath as his eyes flickered over her face.

  ‘I was angry with you tonight, Eleanor. I’m not always so brutal,’ and he leaned forward and gently kissed her lips. ‘I was angry with myself, which didn’t help. Goodnight,’ and turning, he walked briskly along the hallway, opened the front door and disappeared into the night.

  Eleanor remained staring blankly at the closed door, finger tips raised to her lips. It was all too much, she thought helplessly. How could she start out the evening believing herself in love with one man, and end up completely the opposite—and bedevilled with some very disturbing thoughts of another? She shook her head wearily. No, it was too much to comprehend at this moment. About to turn and make her way to bed, she froze as she heard the key in the lock.

  ‘Forgot something,’ Edward announced calmly, showing no surprise that she was as he had left her. He walked to the study, returning some seconds later with papers in his hand. He paused and looked over his shoulder. ‘By the way, Eleanor, I meant to ask you before. Whatever happened to Edward?’

  ‘Edward?’

  ‘Mmm ... you know, your pet toad.’

  Eleanor stared at him, hardly able to believe her ears. When she found her voice, she said with relish: ‘He came to a bad end. He was squashed to a pulp by the school bus.’

  His lips gave a sudden quirk. ‘Ah! I thought he was heading that way. Poor old Edward, Goodnight,’ and he closed the door quietly behind him. A few seconds later she heard the Jensen start up and move away.

  How could anyone begin to describe a man like that? Eleanor asked herself despairingly, as she made for her bed. Impossible, utterly infuriating, unpredictable man! She was too tired to think of a wider vocabulary. That would do very well for a start.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  ‘Be good, sweet maid, and let who will be clever’

  Charles Kingsley

  ‘Two egg and chips, one spaghetti bolognese, one beef curry, Ken, please.’

  Eleanor received confirmation of her order and looked at her watch. It was nearly two o’clock. Within half an hour they would be able to take a breather before getting ready for the afternoon tea brigade. Maisie, the other waitress on this shift, passed her, carrying a tray of steaming hot lunches.

  ‘Whew! We’re busy today, Nell, aren’t we? I say, look out for number seven.' He’s the bloke I was telling you about—the fault-finder. It’s a wonder he’s bothered to come back ... perhaps he fancies one of us!’ and raising her eyes to the ceiling expressively, Maisie grinned and wound her way expertly between the tables to the one occupied by a group of smiling Italians, lured in by the name over the door, and with whom she had already progressed to a teasing backchat.

  Eleanor smiled her thanks for the useful information. She had learnt a great deal from Maisie, who had taken it upon herself to mother the newcomer to Luigi’s.

  Eleanor’s job had come about within three days of talking to Kate, an accumulation of events making this possible. The first, and probably the most important, was a nine-year-old boy’s passion for roller skates. The boy was the grandson of Edward’s part-time assistant. The widow, visiting her daughter, stepped on a skate left in a dark passageway, took a short ride and broke her leg. Someone once said that calamities are of two kinds: misfortune to ourselves and good fortune to others. Eleanor was sorry for the widow, but it meant that Vanessa was now needed to take her place for much longer hours at the shop, and thus suitably out of the way, Eleanor’s time was her own.

  The next step, following on naturally, was Vanessa’s move from the country to the town house, and Eleanor jumped at the chance to accompany her, thinking that a London base would make it easier to find a job, and sightseeing a good reason for her absence from the house when she found one.

  Before looking for a job, however, she decided to have her grandmother’s ring valued and consequently set off to find a suitable place to have this done. She found a small, respectable-looking jewellers off Shaftesbury Avenue. To her disappointment she found it was not their custom to give an assessment instantly, and before she could think whether to go elsewhere, her name and particulars had been duly taken.

  She left the shop feeling slightly frustrated. It began to rain, a fine drizzle, and finding herself lost in a labyrinth of small, narrow streets, she spied a cafe. Deciding that a morning coffee would be a good idea, for she could study her street map in comfort, Eleanor opened the door and went in.

  That was how she found Luigi’s. Afterwards, she learnt that the proprietor hailed from no further than the Midlands, and far from having a romantic Italian name and birthplace, he was Ken Wilson from Birmingham and his accent proclaimed the fact.

  While partaking of the excellent coffee, Eleanor found that they needed a waitress. She applied there and then, the hours being from ten until three with two evenings, and she began the next day.

  It was hard work, but
she was doing something constructive towards Kate’s problem, and as she had no specific training, this job was as good as anything she could hope for with the limited hours at her disposal.

  Maisie, her co-partner, was a cheerful girl and very popular with customers. She had a boy of four and was bringing him up on her own, her husband having walked out on them both when the baby was a few weeks old. Her opinion of men in general was low and graphic.

  Two egg and chips, one spaghetti bolognese, one beef curry—coming up!’

  Eleanor was jolted out of her reverie by Ken shouting her order. She flexed her back gingerly and wriggled her toes. In the future, she would view waitresses in a completely different light! At this moment all she wanted to do was sit down and take off her shoes, but looking at the clock, that was just wishful thinkings ‘You on again tonight, Nell?’ Maisie asked, as they met at the kitchen doors, and Eleanor nodded. ‘I’m supposed to be,’ carried on Maisie worriedly, ‘but I’ve got baby-sitting problems.’ She pulled a face. ‘I don’t want to lose this job if I can help it, the hours suit me, but young Joe’s a problem.’ Eleanor could understand her new friend’s difficulties and admired her for adapting to being a one-parent family: ‘Try and change with one of the other girls and I’ll sit another night for you,’ she offered, and Maisie’s face brightened.

  ‘Will you? Oh, Nell, thanks. I’ll see if I can manage.’

  As the days passed and her luck held, Eleanor began to relax. Her life continued in some semblance of routine and if she felt physically weary most evenings, she collapsed into bed and consoled herself that each day knocked some more off the eighty pounds.

  She went out with Vanessa odd evenings and pretended she was having interesting and educational sorties during the day. She was, but not in the way Vanessa thought. It was not history she was seeing but life, and it was all very illuminating.