Rachel Lindsay - Mask of Gold

by Rachel Lindsay

  'I was an orphan, though,' Carolyn answered. 'So I know what it's like to be without parents.'

  'You don't know what it's like to know that one person is to blame for it.'

  'I'm glad I don't. A hatred like that can destroy you.' In an effort to change the subject she reverted to Piotr. 'You've got to think of your son. You mustn't let your bitterness seep into him.'

  'I try to be careful,' he answered, 'but it's no use.'

  'It might be easier if you married again… if you had another family.'

  'No one can replace Rosemary.' He saw the look of pity on Carolyn's face and his eyebrow quirked. 'Don't look so depressed. It's the Polish in me that likes to be melancholy!'

  'It must be catching,' she said, trying to smile. 'At the moment I feel ready to burst into tears.'

  'Forgive me.' He touched her hand. 'I won't talk about it any more. Now eat your meal and don't be sad.'

  When Carolyn returned to the orphanage that night she wondered whether it was wise to see Peter again: a diet of melancholy was hardly what she would have prescribed for an evening's entertainment. But when he next asked to see her she didn't have the heart to refuse, and though she met him without any anticipation, she was agreeably surprised to find he did not refer to the past whatsoever, but set out entirely to amuse her, displaying a charm as delightful as it was unexpected.

  From then on she saw him regularly and, accustomed to the more boisterous behaviour of Canadian men, she found his gentleness an added attraction.

  The months of spring merged into the summer, and one evening as she let herself into the orphanage, the door of the day nursery opened and Miss Willams came out

  'You're home early, Carolyn.'

  'Peter has a long drive back.'

  'Aren't you seeing rather a lot of him?'

  'I like him.'

  'I know you do,' Miss Willams replied, and stepped further into the hall. 'If you're not too tired, how about having some coffee with me?'

  Carolyn nodded, and together they walked up the stairs to the Warden's sitting-room.

  Sipping coffee and smoking, the minutes ticked by. It was a hot, sultry night and no air stirred the curtains that marked the wide open windows.

  'Well,' Carolyn said suddenly, 'tell me what's on your mind. I know the signs of an approaching lecture!'

  'You should do,' Miss Williams smiled, 'you used to be on the receiving end often enough!'

  'It's about Peter, isn't it?'

  'Yes. I don't know how you feel about him, but I think I know how he feels about you.'

  'So do I.'

  'Are you sure?'

  'Of course! I'm not repulsive to look at and he finds me an amusing companion. But best of all, I'm a sympathetic listener and that's all he needs.'

  'Is that what you need?'

  'For the moment, yes. I go out with him because he's kind and doesn't make passes at me!'

  "That's what I don't like about the whole thing,' Miss Williams said tardy. 'You're twenty-three and you're a beautiful girl. You should be married with children of your own, not wasting your time here.'

  'You've wasted your time,' Carolyn reminded her gently.

  'I'm different. I never had the opportunity of turning down a proposal!' Miss Williams' voice held no bitterness. 'But I'd like something better for you.'

  'I'm happy as I am.'

  'The happiness of ignorance!' the Warden said sharply. 'You should go out with other men and give yourself a chance to fall in love. At the moment you're running away from the future.'

  Lying in bed that night Carolyn conceded the validity of all Miss Williams had said. She was running away from life; and it was time she stopped and thought about her future. But thought of the future brought with it the thought of children, and instantly Piotr came into her mind. How much he had come to mean to her in the six months she had taken care of him.

  Was it because he was so like his father that she loved him, or was it her love for Piotr that made her like his father? It was an impossible question to answer, but she knew that one day an answer would have to be found.

  In the middle of the week Peter telephoned to suggest taking Piotr and a couple of other children to Niagara Falls. It would be a long drive but well worth while, and on the Saturday morning she helped the cook prepare sandwiches and pack a trifle into a cardboard carton.

  'You must be crazy, taking the children out on your day off,' Cook said tardy. 'Don't you ever long for a chance of getting away from them?'

  'No,' Carolyn grinned. 'I like being a martyr!' Putting the picnic hamper into the larder where it was cool, she went upstairs to supervise the serving of breakfast. The dining-room was abuzz with noise, the floor scattered with crumbs and an overturned mug of milk.

  Piotr and the three children who were going with them were already standing by the door waiting for her, anxious not to miss a moment of the day ahead.

  'There's at least an hour to wait before we'll be ready to go,' she explained. 'You've got plenty of time to go upstairs and give yourselves a wash.'

  'We'll get dirty again,' Piotr said logically.

  'I know. But I'd like you to start out clean.' Carolyn looked at them sternly and then grinned. 'Go upstairs and do as I say— and quick about it!'

  The children raced from the room and Carolyn returned to her own room to make herself ready.

  The downstairs clock was chiming ten as they all stood on the front steps, the picnic hamper at their feet. The sky was already an intense blue and a bright sun blazed down at them, distorting the air around them into a shimmering haze.

  'How soon will Papa be here?' Piotr asked.

  'Any time now.'

  A few minutes went by.

  'I'm hot,' Jonathan said. 'When are we going?'

  'As soon as Piotr's daddy gets here.'

  'What time is it?' Piotr asked.

  'Twenty past ten. Your daddy's late.'

  'I'll tell him off.'

  'You do that.'

  At a quarter to eleven Carolyn and the children were still waiting when a nurse popped out to look at her.

  'You've been jilted!' she grinned. 'You might as well face it.'

  'Shut up,' Carolyn said crossly. 'I'm boiling mad and boiling hot.'

  'I'm not surprised.'

  The nurse disappeared and Carolyn tapped her foot impatiently. Even if Peter had had a puncture he could surely have telephoned to let her know. 'I'll give him another ten minutes,' she thought, 'then I'll take the children out somewhere myself.'

  The front door opened and she half turned and saw Miss Williams, her face ashen.

  'Send the children into the nursery, Carolyn. I want to talk to you.'

  The tone of her voice made Carolyn obey instantly, and as she came out of the nursery she was not surprised to see the Warden still in the hall.

  'What's wrong, Miss Williams?'

  'Mr. Kolsky's had an accident.'

  'How bad?'

  There was a slight pause. 'Very bad.'

  The hall revolved alarmingly and Carolyn drew a deep breath. 'I must go to him. Where is he?'

  'In the Toronto General. I've already ordered a taxi for you.' Miss Williams touched her arm. 'Go down the drive to meet it, my dear. I don't think he—I don't think there's much time.'

  CHAPTER TWO

  The patients in the Casualty Ward were eating lunch as Carolyn followed a nurse down the aisle between the beds to the far end of the room. A small corner was screened off and instinctively she knew Peter lay behind it.

  Although the nurse had warned her that Peter was dying, she was not prepared for the waxen image that lay on the bed before her as she stepped past the screen.

  'Peter..Although she mouthed the word silently, he sensed her presence and opened his eyes.

  'Sorry—about the trip… accident.’

  'Don't worry about it,' she whispered. 'We'll go another time.'

  'No more time… finished… take care… Piotrus.'

  The nurse s
tepped forward. 'Try not to talk too much, Mr. Kolsky.'

  'Must talk,' he gasped. 'No time… must…'

  He drew a shuddering breath and the nurse glanced at Carolyn. 'I'll give him an injection,' she said quietly. 'If you'd like to wait outside..

  Carolyn stepped behind the screen again and almost knocked against a man standing beside it. She looked up into a lined yet youthful face and instantly guessed that it was Leonard Wrightman, the man with whom Peter worked.

  'I'm Carolyn Clarke,' she said, introducing herself.

  'I know. Peter told me so much about you I feel we've already met.'

  'Do you know how the accident happened?'

  He shook his head. 'He was working on his own in the laboratory. No one can figure out what went wrong. That's why I'm here—to see if he can tell me.'

  The nurse appeared and Carolyn looked at the man beside her.

  'I must go back to Peter. If you want to talk to him you'd better do it now. I don't think there's much time.'

  Together they approached the bed and Peter—his eyes fully open now—half smiled at them both. 'Always wanted you two to meet,' he whispered. 'Never thought… would be like this.'

  'When you're better, we'll have a real night out together,' Leonard Wrightman said.

  'No!' The word had a strength that made any further lies unnecessary. 'Finished… no use pretending.'

  Carolyn kneeled by the bed and Peter turned his head and looked at her. 'Help me, Caro. Piotr needs you… you're the only one left.'

  'I'll always take care of him. You know that.'

  'Yes.' The brown eyes closed momentarily and when they opened again they were brilliant with unshed tears. 'Piotr will get money… insurance… accident.'

  'He won't need money,' Carolyn said quickly. 'He'll be taken care of at Bellingwood.'

  'Must have someone of his own.' He muttered in Polish and then started speaking in English again. 'Piotr needs someone to call Mama… you, Carolyn… you.'

  Not sure what he was trying to say, yet certain she must give him comfort, she bent closer. 'I'll take care of Piotr all my life,' she said clearly. 'Do you hear me Peter? All my life.'

  'Marry me.' She stared at him blankly and he repeated the words. 'Marry me. Money from insurance… make Piotr a home. You will be his legal guardian… loves you.'

  Once again he lapsed into Polish and over the top of his head she looked at Leonard Wrightman. He stared back at her without expression and she knew that the answer Peter was waiting for could come only from herself. She glanced at the figure on the bed—even now it was difficult to think of him as Peter, for it was the body of a dying man—and knew that if marrying him was the only way to give him peace of mind, she had no choice but to do as he asked.

  'Very well,' she said softly, 'I'll marry you.'

  The afternoon sun was slanting through the narrow window behind her when she finally became Peter's wife, and only as his gold signet ring was placed on her finger did she feel she was awakening from a dream.

  'You've nothing to worry about any more,' she said to him softly. 'I'm your wife and Piotr is my son.'

  'It's what I wanted,' he said, and half sat up. 'Caro… little mother…'

  With a gasp he fell back and the nurse and doctor hurried forward. Slowly Carolyn stood up and watched the nurse draw the sheet over the bandaged face. For her, it was the end of one responsibility and the beginning of another.

  It was still daylight when she and Leonard Wrightman left the hospital, and he led her to a pale blue Chrysler parked by the roadside. 'I'll take you back home,' he said. 'You look all in.'

  'I feel it,' she replied, and said no more until the outline of the orphanage came into view. 'I suppose you think it was sentimental of me to marry Peter?'

  'You didn't have much choice.'

  'I hope Miss Williams thinks so.'

  'Who's she?'

  The Warden in charge of Bellingwood.'

  'Where you work?'

  'It's my home too. I was brought up there.'

  He drew the car to a stop in the drive. 'If there's anything I can ever do for you,' he said as he helped her out, 'just let me know.'

  She smiled her thanks and went up the steps to the house. The lower rooms were empty, but from upstairs came the noise of splashing water and shrieks of laughter. It was good to hear such normal, everyday sounds, and as she went along to Miss Williams' room she felt the tension relax within her.

  Miss Williams was seated at her desk, but at Carolyn's entrance she stood up and came round the side. 'I've just spoken to the hospital,' she said. 'They told me what happened.' She looked at the gold ring on Carolyn's hand. 'You always were a sentimentalist—even as a child.'

  'I didn't marry Peter out of sentiment,' Carolyn protested. 'I had no choice. Anyway, where's the harm?'

  'At the moment I can't see any. Piotr will have enough money from his father's insurance, and he'll also have you.'

  'Well then…'

  Miss Williams sighed. 'I wish it were well, but I've a peculiar feeling in my bones that it isn't.'

  During the following week the Directors of the orphanage agreed to let Piotr stay on, even though Carolyn was legally his guardian.

  'It wasn't a very difficult decision for them to reach,' Miss Williams said dryly, 'particularly as you offered to pay for the boy's keep.'

  'I don't see how I could do otherwise. Bellingwood isn't a charity institution.'

  Miss Williams conceded the remark bleakly. "You'd think it was, from the cheese-paring way they expect me to run it. If the money you get from Imperial Chemicals is as much as Peter hoped, you'd be crazy to stay on here. Send Piotr to boarding school and then take a long holiday and enjoy yourself.'

  'The whole purpose of my marrying Peter was to give Piotr a mother,' Carolyn replied. 'And what sort of mother would I be if I traipsed off and left him?'

  'You're not his mother,' Miss Williams reminded her. 'And I can't stand by while you sacrifice the rest of your life to a ridiculous ideal.'

  Carolyn laughed. 'If you meant half the things you said—- '

  'The trouble is I don't—and the bigger trouble is you know it! Even so Carolyn, once you get the money, you and Piotr should go off somewhere for a holiday. You've lost weight lately and a rest would do you good.'

  Carolyn remembered the words the next day when Eric J. Barton, Chairman of Imperial Chemicals, called unexpectedly to see her.

  'I had no idea you were a nurse, Mrs. Kolsky,' he said by way of greeting.

  'I met Peter here,' she explained. 'He put his son into Bellingwood when his wife—his first wife—died.' She led him across the hall to the nursery. 'Forgive me for bringing you in here, but at the moment it's the only place free of children.'

  'That's all right.' He pushed aside a group of toys and sat down. 'It's very painful for me to have to come and see you like this, Mrs. Kolsky. Your husband was a brilliant man. Erratic but brilliant. He would have gone much further if he had allowed himself to be controlled.'

  'I don't think there's any point discussing his behaviour now.'

  'I'm not talking without good reason.' The man stood up and took a stance in front of the fireplace: sure masculine sign of portentousness. 'Facts are facts, Mrs. Kolsky, and it was because your husband was uncontrollable that he died.'

  'I don't understand you.'

  'It's quite simple. The accident could have been avoided if Kolsky had used any sense.'

  'What do you mean?'

  'For the last three months we've been carrying out experiments in which Kolsky—your husband—was interested. We gave him the opportunity to work on the project, but because of some cranky pacifist ideas, he turned it down. Instead, he began experimenting on his own—even though we warned him of the danger.'

  Carolyn moistened lips that were suddenly dry. 'Could you come to the point?'

  Mr. Barton hesitated and then said in a rush: 'My Company is not legally responsible for your husband's death. When he was injure
d he was working in his free time and merely utilising our materials. We have a letter from him to that effect.'

  It took a moment for the words to register, and when they did, her change of colour was so startling that the man stepped forward. 'I'm sorry to have been so blunt about it, but there was no other way.' He patted her shoulder. 'Although we have no legal responsibility, my Board have agreed to give you a monetary gift as an expression of our deep regret for the whole matter.' From his pocket he withdrew an envelope. 'Under the circumstances, I think you'll find we've been more than generous.'

  Opening the envelope and looking at a cheque for three thousand dollars, Carolyn found it difficult to agree, and though she did not say so in words, her look was sufficiently expressive for Mr. Barton to redden.

  'I did the best I could,' he said briefly. 'But I'm not my own boss. I'm responsible to a Board.'

  'And you're responsible for Piotr,' Miss Williams said some half hour later when Carolyn placed the cheque in front of her and told her what had happened. 'Piotr's only six! This money won't keep him in clothes—let alone educate and feed him.'

  'I've no intention of using this money.' Carolyn pocketed the cheque. 'I'll put it in the bank until Piotr's old enough to decide what he wants to do with it.'

  'And who's going to pay for him to stay here? If Peter had died without marrying you, I could probably have wangled it. But now you're the boy's legal guardian—————— '

  ‘You can't blame Peter,' Carolyn said quickly. 'He thought he was leaving me a fortune.'

  'Well, he hasn't,' Miss Williams said grimly. 'All he's left you is a load of responsibility. You'll have to put Piotr into a state home.'

  'No!'

  "There're as well run as this.'

  'I still won't do it. He's going to stay here with me regardless of what it costs.'

  'What will happen if you should want to get married? No man will support a child that's not his—and not yours either.'

  'Then I've got a good excuse for remaining single!'

  Realising that argument was getting her nowhere, Miss Williams sighed and Carolyn was at the door before she called her back. 'You haven't told Piotr about his father as yet, have you?'