Kirby liked Dr. Barker and had more than once expressed astonishment that at nearly fifty he was still a bachelor. “Someone’s missed a darned good husband,” he told his wife, “But then, women invariably mistake the dross for the gold.”
“As I did, do you mean, dear? “Mrs. Mansfield asked without a trace of a smile, which brought forth the calm reply that of course she was the great exception which proved the rule… .
“How’s the patient? “the doctor asked. “Sorry I was out when you rang up.” And then as he looked at Monty, Gordon hurriedly introduced them.
“This is my friend Hallam—from Ceylon—Dr. Barker.”
“So you’ve come after all, have you?” Barker submitted innocently. “Thought you would, knowing the family as well as I do—— Let’s have a look at Paddy,” and together he and Kirby walked away.
Monty looked after them with a slight frown, but he made no comment until Gerard had again driven away, and he and Gordon returned to the pile of cases and luggage.
“What did the doctor chap mean—that I’ve come after all? “he asked.
Gordon shrugged his shoulders.
“Nothing, except he may have heard from Jess or someone that it wasn’t certain whether he would go straight to the Colonies or not—you said something about it in one of your letters,” he explained carefully.
Monty’s face cleared.
“Oh, was that it! Well, put your shoulder to the wheel and let’s dispose of the goods and chattels. No, not that one—I’ll open that when we’ve stowed the others away. It contains burnt offerings for the family.”
“More tea?”
“No, you’ll see when we jack the thing open. Come on! Heave ho, my lad. …”
They worked away like Trojans all the afternoon, until Mrs. Mansfield sent Jessica out to tell them she was sure they had done enough for one day, and that tea was ready.
“Ceylon tea, too!” Jessica said with a smile. “Why, you’ve put everything away and made the place quite tidy,” she added in surprise.
“And had about enough of it too,” Gordon announced grimly. “I’ll go and wash some of the muck off my hands.”
“What was the doctor’s verdict?” Monty enquired.
“He says it’s not such a bad sprain after all, though she mustn’t try to walk for a day or two. He was very amused at your bandage—said it was quite a skilful piece of work.”
“Seems a nice sort of chap.”
Jessica nodded. “He is, very nice—he’s a great friend of ours, as well as the family doctor.”
“Married man?”
“No.”
Monty grinned. “All the best men are bachelors,” he reminded her comically.
“And the best women spinsters,” Jessica hastened to add.
They both laughed, and after a moment Monty said with unusual gravity, “May I ask you something, and will you promise to answer quite—honestly?”
She looked at him in surprise.
“Why of course. What is it?”
“Were you really expecting me today—or did I barge in?”
Jessica flushed in profound distress. “Why of course,” she began to say hurriedly, but he cut her short.
“I said—would you answer quite—honestly!”
There was a painful silence before Monty spoke.
“So I barged in—is that it! “he submitted. “Well, I am profoundly sorry, and I’ll clear off as soon as possible. I suppose there’s been some—blunder somewhere. However——” But as he turned away with a philosophical shrug, Jessica caught his hand.
“Please listen to me and let me explain. When you know us all better—especially Father—you’ll understand. You see—Gordon only told us about you the night before last and mother not being too strong and—things so difficult—he said——” She broke off, recalling her father’s violent threat.
Monty smiled a little grimly.
“Said I could go to the devil, I suppose—that’s it?”
“He never means half he says. He was quite nice when you met him, wasn’t he? “she asked in distress, and then as he did not reply, “Oh, please stay—I—we —all like you so much— please stay!”
They looked at one another in steady silence, which Monty was the first to break. “Do you want me to stay? “he asked bluntly. “Honest injun now?”
“Yes—I shall be—very sorry if you go.”
He took her hand in a hard grip.
“Right! … your word is command. I’ll stay. Now—what about that cup of Ceylon tea?”
There was a strange feeling of mingled pleasure and shyness in Jessica’s heart as she and Monty walked slowly towards the house. Why had he asked so insistently, “Do you want me to stay? “as if her wishes could possibly make any difference to his decision! If he had said it to Paddy it would of course have been quite understandable—for all men adored Paddy.
“A penny for your thoughts,” Monty challenged her abruptly.
Jessica laughed a little self-consciously.
“I was only thinking—you won’t let the family know what I have just told you, will you? Mother would be so distressed; she made us all promise you should never know.”
“The secret shall be kept,” he assured her, “though I am glad you have allowed me to share it. By the way, who is that Gerard fellow?”
“Just a friend—one of Paddy’s admirers—but I don’t think she is particularly interested in him.”
“She’s very attractive.”
“Yes.”
“And, by the way—has she told you that another of her boy-friends turns out to be my half-brother— Peter Phillips?”
In her astonishment Jessica stood stock’ still, staring at him with wide open eyes. “Your—half-brother! What an amazing thing! … I can’t remember ever hearing him speak of you, though he used to come to us very often—before——” She stopped in faint embarrassment.
“Before what?” Monty enquired, and Jessica admitted evasively.
“I think there was—some misunderstanding— between him and my sister—I know he was very fond of her and at one time I thought she liked him too— but now it’s some months since we saw him. Do you know where he is? But of course you do.”
“Haven’t the remotest idea; haven’t heard a word from him since this alleged peace—must try to unearth him. Decent chap—had a good war record.”
“We all liked him very much.”
Monty looked at her with an approving smile.
“You know, you’re a wonderful family. Is there anyone you don’t like?”
“Several people I don’t like, I am afraid,” she admitted ruefully.
“Men, I suppose?”
“Oh no!—not all of them. What makes you say that?”
“Because—if you will forgive my plain speaking— I think it’s quite amazing that you should still be enjoying single blessedness.”
Jessica flushed in surprised embarrassment.
“What do you mean!” she protested.
“That I think, from the little I have seen of you, you would make an ideal wife for some—lucky man. You’re so sensible and—homely.”
“Homely! “Jessica laughed. “That’s a word my sister always describes as’damning praise’—she says it’s as bad as calling anyone’worthy’.”
“Much preferring ‘glamorous’, I suppose?”
“It’s certainly a better description of Paddy.”
“And so Mr. Right is still out of sight round the corner? “Monty said presently, with cheerful friendliness.
Jessica shook her head. “I’m sure I don’t know! I’m afraid I have never given a thought to a Mi. Right—or to a Mr. Wrong, either,” she admitted frankly. “I don’t understand men very well— except perhaps my father and brothers—I’m not like Paddy! She makes friends of them all at once, but I’ve so many other things to occupy my time—and of course Paddy will have, too—when she finds a job as she is supposed to, now she has finished her education.”
“Ho
w old is she?”
“Just eighteen.” She laughed when Monty said in surprise “Is that all? I should have thought she was at least twenty-one.”
“You’re a regular John Blunt, aren’t you? “she submitted in amusement. “Doesn’t such plain speaking ever get you into trouble?”
“Occasionally, but I like plain speaking. I hate having the truth wrapped up in cotton-wool and handed to me on a silver dish. I’d much rather have an honest brick hurled at my head, even if it left a life-long scar.”
“Then allow me to hurl one now,” Jessica requested with mock gravity. “You said just now that you thought I should make an ideal wife for some’lucky’ man—so if you think husbands are lucky men—why are you still a bachelor?”
“Because,” Monty answered without the least hesitation, “up to date—or— practically up to date— I have never met a member of your fair sex who has given me more than a fleeting interest—my fault, no doubt, but still—there it is.”
“But you must have known a great many girls.”
“Dozens of them,” he agreed cheerfully. “Good company, too, most of them, but when the time came for them to sail away, I could always wave goodbye without a single tear to blur my vision.”
“What do you mean—sail away?”
“So many ships called at Colombo on their way out East and homeward bound—before the war, of course—and in those days everyone seemed to foregather at the Gaulface Hotel—a friendly spot in those days.” There was a note of regretful reminiscence in his voice which made Jessica ask impulsively,
“Wouldn’t you like to go back there?”
“Not now—too old.”
“Too—old! “she ejaculated incredulously. “Gordon told us you are only—somewhere in the early thirties.”
Monty grinned. “Ha! worn well, you see, led such a decent life—but I’m nearly forty, if the tragic truth must be told.”
Jessica recalled her father’s curt remark about Monty being too young to’chuck his job’, and how he had reminded the family that although he himself was not far off his seventieth birthday he still caught the three minutes to nine train to town every morning. It seemed as if Monty could read her thoughts for he said, unhesitatingly,
“To tell you the truth, I was fed up with the job—the heat and the flies—everything! So when some completely forgotten relation of my father’s shuffled off this mortal coil and left me a couple of ten pound notes,” he chuckled, “I thought I’d make the best of things as far as it is possible in this topsy-turvy world and have a look round before I am too old and decrepit. Travel has always been my idea of perfect freedom.”
“It’s Paddy’s, too.”
“And she’s right! … What’s the use of a frog-in-the-pond existence when there’s no need to tolerate it?”
“It would be an odd sort of world if everyone thought that way,” Jessica reminded him. She spoke lightly, though she felt vaguely resentful. “I remember reading somewhere—it was written by a poet, I think—that’ Domestic happiness is the only bliss of paradise that hath survived the fall’—but perhaps you don’t agree as you are a bachelor,” she added with a faint smile, but there was no time for Monty to reply as just then a reproachful looking Dilly appeared at the open front door to announce,
“The tea’s getting stone cold, Miss Jessica.”
“And our argument was getting red hot,” Monty remarked in an undertone. “However, we are still friends, I trust, Miss Jessica?”
Jessica tried in vain not to smile, but without success.
“Has anyone ever quarrelled with you—seriously, I wonder? “she enquired, and was again conscious of that new, strange feeling of warm pleasure when Monty answered without hesitation,
“I sincerely trust that you never will!” …
They found Paddy stretched out on the drawingroom couch wrapped in a picturesque house-gown of many colours, her injured ankle resting luxuriously on one of the best cushions, and she smiled her sweetest as Monty moved quickly towards her to enquire how she was feeling.
“Not too bad! “she admitted. “Dr. Barker says I shall soon be all right again—not that I mind having to lie up for a week or two, because it will prevent me from joining the world’s workers and having to take some hateful job,” she added with a grimace.
“Rather be a drone than a bee—eh?” Gordon enquired with brotherly frankness. “Anyway, I’ll bet there’s no job you’ll ever keep for more than a week.”
“Really, Gordon! “his mother protested. “That’s not a very kind thing to say, when Paddy has been so unfortunate! You know how she dislikes being unable to get about—no matter what she may pretend to the contrary, and as you and your father are both in Town all day, there’ll be nobody to take her out in the car, unless—” she looked at Monty with a hopeful smile, “You drive, of course, don’t you?”
“I plead guilty,” he admitted. “But I sold my own antiquated ‘bus’ before I left Colombo.”
“But you can drive ours,” Paddy said eagerly. “Not that we’re allowed much petrol, though perhaps, as I can’t walk, they’ll be gracious enough to give us a little extra,” she hazarded hopefully. Paddy invariably had bright ideas when they were to her own advantage.
“Don’t you drive? “Monty asked Jessica, but it was Paddy who replied, “Jess hates anything like that! She much prefers washing up and cooking and mending—dreary jobs which I loathe! But I suppose it’s a good thing we all have different ideas of bliss, isn’t it?”
“In the words of the old song, ‘Someone has got to darn his socks’,” Monty reminded her.
“If he’s got any socks to darn,” Gordon said grimly.
Monty gave a sudden exclamation. “That reminds me—we’ve still got to unpack the burnt offerings.”
“The—what? “Mrs. Mansfield asked in amusement.
“Just a few bits and pieces I brought with me,” he explained. “So if we may be excused——”
And then as she replied, “Why of course, unless you will have another cup of this delicious tea—I don’t know when I have enjoyed anything so much! —What about you, Kirby? Do have some more——”
“I don’t mind if I do,” her husband admitted. It was the first time he had spoken, though he had been an attentive listener, but when Monty and Gordon had departed, he said with a touch of irritation, “What the devil does he mean by ‘burnt offerings’? Brought some hideous Eastern brass lamp or heathen idol with him, I suppose? As far as I am concerned he can keep them—I don’t want that kind of junk about the house.”
“Really, dear! “his wife protested. “Some Eastern brass is very attractive, though of course it will mean something more to clean,” she admitted with a sigh.
“Another job for our Jess! “Paddy said and presently when she and her sister were alone, she asked with faint suspicion, “What were you and Monty talking about out in the garden?”
Jessica looked a little startled.
“Talking about! … Nothing in particular—he was telling me about Ceylon—oh, and he mentioned that Peter Phillips is his half-brother—you must have been astonished when you heard.”
Paddy shrugged her shoulders with pretended indifference.
“Truth is stranger than fiction, so they say,” and then, after a brief silence, “I wonder what has become of him?”
“Mr. Hallam said he hadn’t the least idea.”
”’Mr. Hallam’! “Paddy mocked her. “I thought we had all agreed to call him Monty! Or does such familiarity shock your sensitive soul?”
“It’s not twenty-four hours yet since we first saw him,” Jessica reminded her with a faint smile, but Paddy calmly declared that already she felt as if she had known him all her life.
“And thank the powers that be he can drive a car— or I should have been landed here in durance vile for goodness knows how long!…By the way, what happened to Gerard?”
“I don’t know—I suppose he drove away again after he brought father home.”
“He might have looked in to ask how I was! Not that I care! …” Paddy declared, not quite truthfully, for though she was indifferent to Gerard, she resented this unusual neglect, seeing that after all, it was his fault she had hurt her ankle because when they both rushed for the same ball, he had collided with her and caused her to slip. How differently Peter Phillips would have behaved! she thought, with sad reminiscence; Peter whose handclasp had meant all the world to her even though she had let him go because he was a poor man and could not give her the good times which she believed meant complete happiness.
Did she still think so? She raised her eyes and looked at her sister who was clearing away the tea-tray. She knew so exactly the humdrum duties which made up Jessica’s life—getting up early in the morning, cooking the breakfast—(Dilly was such a bad cook, they never left it to her)—dusting and cleaning the house, doing the shopping, the mending, sometimes most of the washing too, when the laundry was unpunctual And that would have been my life, if I had married Peter, Paddy told herself? How she would have hated it—and how quickly in such circumstances love would have died.
Oh well! No use looking back and regretting anything! the best of life still lay before her, even though at the moment she felt far older and wiser than her eighteen years permitted.
The Man from Ceylon was a new interest, but it was a stroke of bad luck that she should be laid up just when life might have offered so much novelty and amusement—still, as he could drive the family car. …
Jessica suddenly broke in upon Paddy’s troubled thoughts.
“Here come the boys.” She laughed as she saw Gordon and Monty staggering towards the house carrying one of the smaller packingcases. “It will be fun to see what the Burnt Offerings really are, won’t it?”
Paddy raised herself from the pillows—the past fading completely away as she turned her eyes eagerly towards the window.
“Talk about Father Christmas! “Paddy gasped, as she and Jessica looked on in silent amazement while Monty produced parcel after parcel from the depths of the box, piling them on the table between the two girls.
“Help yourselves! “he commanded magnanimously. “I only hope they’re what you like. I got a lady friend to choose them for me, so I can’t be blamed if they’re not what the doctor ordered, not knowing anything about feminine requirements. Help yourselves,” he repeated quite unnecessarily, for Paddy had already seized upon the parcel nearest to her, and was eagerly tearing it open.
The Man from Ceylon Page 4