Country Cousin

by Jacqueline Gilbert

  She dropped a line to Maisie, telling her that she would explain all when she called to see her. When she finally did so, purposefully timing her arrival for near the end of the lunch period, Maisie was delighted.

  ‘Oh, Nell! It is good to see you. Come and sit down. Are you eating? What will you have?’

  ‘Hullo, Maisie,’ and laughing at the quick-fire questions, Eleanor replied: ‘Yes, I’ll have lunch, please,’ and followed her to a quiet corner table. ‘What have you to tempt me today?’

  Maisie pursed her lips. ‘The steak and kidney’s good,’ she offered, then added slyly: ‘or you might fancy the Spanish omelette!’

  Eleanor eyed her over the top of the menu. ‘Very funny! I’ll stick to the pie, thank you. Spanish omelette brings back too many memories.’

  ‘I bet!’ Maisie grinned. ‘Righto, madam—steak and kidney it is,’ and she whisked efficiently away. Later she brought across two coffees and joined Eleanor at the table.

  ‘It’s lovely to sit down. The trouble is, it’s hell getting back up!’ Maisie stirred her coffee and looked at her friend thoughtfully. ‘Of course, I’m just dying of curiosity, about Spanish omelette, I mean, but if you don’t want to tell me, I shall quite understand.’

  Eleanor pulled a face and gave a shrug. ‘There’s not much to tell. He was angry I’d got the job without telling him.’

  ‘When I saw him lead you off that night, I wondered whether to run for help,’ Maisie said with a grin. ‘He looked madly controlled on the outside, but a seething mass on the in!’ and she rolled her vowels with dramatic relish.

  Eleanor gave a burst of amusement. ‘That’s a fair description.’

  ‘To tell the truth, when Spanish omelette dragged you off, I thought that was the last we’d see of you.’

  ‘You were wrong then, weren’t you? And Maisie, you can’t keep calling him Spanish omelette. His name is Edward.’

  ‘Edward.’ Maisie lingered experimentally over the name. ‘Yes, that suits him. Sort of proud and distinguished.’ Eleanor groaned. ‘For someone you’ve only seen once, he seems to have made a deep impression on you!’

  ‘Once seen, never forgotten. Anyway, he must think a lot of you, Nell, to...’

  ‘You’re barking up the wrong tree, Maisie,’ interrupted Eleanor calmly, and proceeded to put her friend into the picture as briefly as possible. When she had finished, Maisie said thoughtfully:

  ‘It’s a funny set-up—a bit feudal, really.’ She eyed Eleanor narrowly. ‘Sure he’s not sweet on you?’

  ‘Eleanor said firmly: ‘Quite sure.’

  ‘Pity. I’ve always wanted to go to a society wedding.’

  ‘You’ll have a long wait if you’re relying on me,’ replied Eleanor dryly. ‘Edward’s favourite lady-love is a gorgeous blonde, but there are others, equally stunning, to ring the changes. How’s Joe?’ she added, hoping to change the subject, and Maisie took the hint.

  ‘He’s been chosen for one of the angels in the Nativity play at nursery school,’ she said with a grin. ‘That little horror an angel! I’ll have to go armed with a large hankie, I always make a fool of myself.’

  ‘Take two and I’ll come with you,’ suggested Eleanor. ‘Let me know the date. If you’re not doing anything on Saturday, can we take Joe to the Zoo?’ She finished her coffee and collected together her handbag and coat. ‘I don’t work Saturdays.’

  Maisie’s face brightened. ‘That’s a grand idea.’

  ‘Good, that’s a date.’ Eleanor rose, eyeing the clock. ‘I shall have to dash. Where shall we meet?’ and the two girls made the necessary arrangements and after a quick word with Ken, Eleanor left.

  During Edward’s absence Eve paid a few flying visits to the shop, but for the rest was deeply involved with Vanessa’s twenty-first birthday celebrations, and as the date neared, it seemed to be her sole topic of conversation. One evening, when Eleanor and Vanessa were alone at the Crescent, Eleanor remarked casually:

  ‘This birthday of yours sounds as if it’s going to be a grand affair.’

  ‘Yes, it does, doesn’t it?’ agreed Vanessa lazily. ‘Once Mother gets the bit between her teeth there’s no holding her. Actually, there’s something rather odd about Mother the last couple of days, have you noticed? A sort of suppressed excitement.’

  ‘Excited about your dance, surely?’

  ‘Maybe, but this is almost as if she has something up her sleeve and is going to surprise us all. Her expression is smug, to say the least.’ Vanessa was sprawled out along the settee, idly thumbing through a pile of magazines. Eleanor, sitting at the writing desk, was penning her weekly letter home.

  ‘Don’t you want a big affair?’ she asked.

  ‘It’s immaterial what I want, Mother would still carry on,’ Vanessa said carelessly. ‘I don’t mind, actually, it gives everyone the chance to catch up on all the latest gossip. And I might as well go out officially into the big bad world with a splash.’ She grinned. ‘No, I don’t mind, it’s the thought of all those brush and comb sets I’m bound to receive that puts me off!’

  ‘Oh dear!’ exclaimed Eleanor tragically, ‘that’s the first idea crossed off my list!’ and she neatly evaded a flying cushion from the direction of the settee.

  Vanessa continued gloomily: ‘I peeped at Mother’s guest list the other day, and honestly, some of the people coming I barely know!’

  ‘But your own particular friends are on the list, I hope?’ asked Eleanor mischievously.

  ‘Oh, yes, old thing, everyone I want to be there will be,’ replied Vanessa with a drawl, turning a page with a flourish.

  ‘Including Philip Nolan?’

  Vanessa grinned. ‘Including Phil.’

  ‘Anyone else I know?’

  ‘Hugh, of course, and you’ve met Felicity, haven’t you? The Maddoxes will all be there—business associates, you see. I’ll introduce you to some rather dishy cousins of mine, so you won’t lack partners. There’ll be Edward too, of course.’ Vanessa tossed the magazine aside and stretched lazily. ‘He should be back soon.’

  Eleanor stopped writing and considered this.

  Vanessa yawned. ‘He’s gone on the firm’s business, but I hope he brings home some good contacts for my shop.’ She sat up and clasped her arms round her knees. ‘I want to build up a group of contributors exhibiting solely at my place—leather, pottery, paintings, all that sort of thing, plus foreign craftwork.’ Her face was animated with enthusiasm.

  ‘It sounds exciting. I’m sure it’ll be successful, you’re such a determined person, Van.’

  ‘Determination doesn’t always bring about success,’ said Vanessa slowly, ‘but it’s a darned good help. And I never give up without a fight.’ She lay back, deep in thought, and whatever it was she was reflecting upon brought a brooding look upon her face and silence fell between them.

  Without warning Edward walked into the shop on the following Thursday, entering the back way from the flat. He was dressed casually and looked tired. Eleanor had just made a sale and was showing a customer out when she looked up and saw him.

  ‘Why, Edward!’ She hurried forward, a smile of welcome on her face. ‘Have you had a good trip?’

  ‘Thank you, yes,’ he replied, making his way into the tiny office which opened off the main room. He paused at the door, looking back over his shoulder. ‘By the way, Eleanor, Ron Mann was singing your praises when I telephoned him this morning. He says you’ve settled in very well.’

  Eleanor flushed with pleasure and followed him in, to stand hesitantly at the door.

  ‘Edward, I haven’t had the chance to talk to you before about my wages,’ she began in a rush.

  ‘Oh?’ Edward sat down at the desk, his back to her, and began to open some envelopes. ‘What about them?’ His tone didn’t inspire any more confidence than the little she could see of his face. She took a breath.

  ‘Well, I thought you were going to keep them to pay off the debt?’ She nibbled her thumb and waited. ‘That was what we arrange
d,’ she persisted after a moment. ‘And you haven’t.’

  He glanced up at her briefly, voice impersonal. ‘I decided you ought to receive something in your wage packet each week, Eleanor, if only for the look of the thing, so far as the family is concerned.’

  ‘Oh, I see.’ It was a valid point. ‘But surely, this is too much...’

  ‘Please allow me to decide that.’ The swivel chair swung round sharply and he gave her his full attention. ‘You aren’t receiving something for nothing, if that’s what’s offending you. I’ve allowed you a minimum sum, the difference between that and what you should be receiving will offset the debt.’

  ‘But it still seems to me...’

  ‘And as you have no idea of salaries in this part of the country, you must allow me to be the judge of what I consider to be your worth.’

  ‘But I’m living free at your parents’ house,’ Eleanor protested, colour high.

  ‘My dear girl,’ he drawled in amusement, ‘can you see my mother’s face if you offered her board?’ He swung back and picked up a pen. ‘Leave it alone, Eleanor,’ he continued, voice dismissive. ‘I’m sure, like any other woman, you can find something to spend your money on. I’m quite satisfied with the way things are.’ He began to write, pausing when she didn’t move. ‘Are you?’

  ‘Yes. Yes, indeed,’ began Eleanor awkwardly, ‘it’s just that...’

  ‘You want to pay the debt off quickly and return home?’

  ‘No, I’m very happy here and would probably have looked for a job anyway.’

  ‘Then stop being stiff-necked about it. I quite realise that you don’t wish to receive charity from me, but at least accept gracefully that this is a working arrangement, benefiting us both.’

  ‘You didn’t want me here,’ she murmured.

  ‘No. I don’t suppose you wanted to work for me either. We’re both making the best of it.’ He stopped writing. ‘Eleanor, where’s that mangy tortoise-shell cat come from?’

  ‘I... er ... I don’t think he belongs to anyone.’

  ‘I see. But now he does?’

  ‘He’s no trouble and an awfully good mouser,’ she said persuasively.

  ‘Hum ... what about Sykes?’

  ‘He tolerates him. If you ignore the cat then Sykes will.’ She couldn’t see his face, only his hand, the pen moving swiftly across the page, filling it with his large, bold writing.

  ‘Keep the animal away from the display shelves,’ he said at last.

  ‘Yes, Edward,’ she said quickly, and hastened away in case he changed his mind.

  Vanessa insisted on dragging her round the shops to find a dress for the birthday dance. Eleanor protested that she was sure her pleated one would do.

  ‘No, it won’t,’ replied Vanessa decisively. ‘Mother is paying particular attention to what we’re both wearing, and we mustn’t let the old dear down. Anyway, she’s seen you in that dress, and apart from anything else, I’m dying to get my hands on you and put you into something really stunning and then turn you over to my hairdresser.’

  ‘Help!’ yelped Eleanor, and Vanessa laughed, sobering suddenly.

  ‘I say, Nell, I know money is an awfully non-u thing to discuss, but if you need a sub, I’ll...’

  ‘Bless you, Van, I’m in funds at the moment, with working,’ said Eleanor quickly, more than grateful for Edward’s foresight. As they began their mammoth task, traipsing in and out of shop after shop, she said worriedly:

  ‘I can’t think what Edward must have thought when you phoned and calmly told him I needed the day off.’

  Vanessa shrugged, pulling a dress from the rack and thrusting it into Eleanor’s arms. ‘Try this one. Oh, Edward understood, and Ron was available. Anyway, he doesn’t own you—if you want the day off, you ask for it.’

  ‘Thus speaks the sister of my employer,’ murmured Eleanor dryly, from the folds of the dress. Vanessa turned a surprised face, eyebrows delicately arched.

  ‘Do you think of him as your employer?’

  ‘Of course I do, chump, because he is! I can’t take advantage...’

  ‘Nell, darling, you are quaint. You do happen to be helping us out.’

  ‘Maybe, but I’m getting paid for it, and not for gadding about looking for clothes! You have to have things on a businesslike basis. Promise you’ll not do it again without asking me first?’

  ‘Oh, all right,’ agreed Vanessa, laughing at Eleanor’s earnestness, adding teasingly: ‘You’re not scared of Edward, are you, Nell?’

  ‘Scared to death,’ replied Eleanor. ‘Now, what about this?’

  Vanessa watched her parade up and down, a frown on her face. ‘No,’ she said at last. ‘Take it off. Black doesn’t suit you. And don’t look like that—we’re finding you the right dress even if it takes all day!’

  ‘It probably will,’ sighed Eleanor, with deep foreboding.

  ‘You’ll not recognise yourself,’ her determined friend promised.

  Vanessa’s promise was recalled on the evening of her birthday, two days later. Eleanor stood poised before the long mirror in her bedroom, assessing the stranger looking back at her. Of course, it wasn’t quite a stranger, she could recognise herself—the hazel eyes, serious brow and sensitive mouth were all familiar features, but there were changes. The nut-brown hair was shaped into a soft flick-away style, framing her face in a most complimentary way, and she tilted her head questioningly. Yes, she liked the hair, she decided, but the dress—she wasn’t so sure about the dress.

  Eleanor ran her fingers over the silky material, feeling its cool smoothness on her skin. It was lovely, there was no doubt about that. She moved tentatively, the folds moulding flatteringly to her young slim body, clinging where it touched—rather disconcertingly so, the softly draped material complementing her femininity. Not, she thought wryly, a dress to go unnoticed. Red ... a colour she rarely wore. Admittedly not a bright shade of red, more a warm, deep ruby, but... red, nevertheless.

  No good being faint-hearted in a creation like this, Eleanor told herself sternly, and gave herself a liberal spray of her favourite perfume. When the knock came at the door she was just applying lipstick the exact shade of ruby. The figure reflected in the mirror was unexpected.

  ‘Hullo, Edward. I didn’t know you’d arrived. Is it time to go? I’m sorry, I am ready.’ She was absurdly flustered and turned, picking up her evening bag to search for a nonexistent article.

  ‘Good evening, Eleanor,’ said Edward calmly, ‘there’s no hurry. Van has sent me with this.’

  ‘Thank you.’ She expected him to leave the bracelet on the dressing-table, instead of which he held it out.

  ‘Shall I clip it on for you? The clasp is rather awkward, I believe.’

  Eleanor turned slowly, holding out her arm, the folds of the sleeve falling back to reveal smooth, pale skin. Edward clasped the wide silver bracelet round her wrist and snapped it shut. His hand, quite brown, contrasted the whiteness of her arm and his thumb lay lightly against the vein, showing delicately purple through the skin.

  Eleanor caught her breath, her eyes held by the sight of his hand, feeling the blood coursing its way beneath his fingers. For one brief moment she recalled how once before Edward had held her so, had imparted a kiss on that same pulse, racing just as fast and furious as it was now. It brought that evening painfully back, and she wondered if he remembered it too and her eyes lifted to his face, but there was a remoteness there that chilled her and put a stop to such foolishness. Pulling her arm away as carelessly as she was able, Eleanor gave her attention to the bracelet, saying: ‘Thank you, Edward. Van has impeccable taste, hasn’t she?’ She turned her back to him and studied herself thoughtfully in the mirror. ‘She knew exactly what was needed to finish me off.’ Her eyes went to Edward’s reflection, tall, dark and rather forbidding, and something prompted her to add provocatively: ‘Van promised to transform me for this evening—what do you think, Edward? Has she succeeded?’

  His eyes flicked over her. ‘No one who
knows you well will be in the least fooled, Eleanor,’ he remarked, walking to the door.

  ‘That will teach me to fish for compliments—and I don’t even know if I got one,’ she said dolefully, and Edward paused, his eyebrows giving a comical quirk.

  ‘My dear girl, you don’t need to fish—and it was definitely a compliment.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘We’ll be leaving in about ten minutes. Save a dance for me, won’t you? I have a few young cousins who have an eye for a pretty girl and I won’t get a look-in unless I book one now,’ and then he was gone. Eleanor mechanically collected together her things and just before leaving, surveyed the flushed cheeks and bright eyes of the girl in the mirror. Smiling idiotically at herself, she floated dreamily from the room.

  CHAPTER SIX

  ‘The heart has its reasons, which reason does not know.’

  Pascal

  The ballroom looked splendid, couples dancing beneath glittering chandeliers, a mass of weaving colour. Vanessa broke away from a group of guests and drew Eleanor to one side.

  ‘Nell, have you seen Hugh?’

  Eleanor shook her head. ‘Isn’t he here?’

  ‘No, not yet,’ Vanessa said in exasperation. ‘He’s probably forgotten the day!’

  Eleanor laughed. ‘Don’t be silly, he couldn’t possibly have, the way you’ve been reminding everyone for the past few weeks.’

  ‘You don’t know Hugh,’ exclaimed Vanessa darkly. ‘I’ve got to speak to him before it’s time for the toasts. Mother’s asked him to make a speech and I want to find out if he has any ghastly anecdotes up his sleeve! If he has, I’ll bribe him somehow to miss them out.’ She took Eleanor’s arm. ‘Come on, I’ll introduce you to one of my cousins, as promised.’