Paddy nodded mechanically.
“I should—be pleased to meet her,” she heard someone say, and then, realising it was her own voice, with a tremendous effort she managed to laugh—to laugh at herself, as the tragic realisation came home to her that she still loved this man—more deeply than in the old days—Peter! who had so completely forgotten her that he was to marry another girl!
Monty’s voice suddenly broke the stunned apathy of her thoughts—such a cheerful voice—as if its owner had never known the meaning of trouble or disillusionment—as he came back to the table, followed by a smiling waitress carrying the tardy bottle of wine, carefully wrapped in a white napkin.
“Sorry to have kept you waiting, sir,” she apologised.
“All forgotten and forgiven! “Monty assured her, and then as she filled their glasses he raised his and looked across at Paddy with a smile.
“To you, fair lady!”
Paddy raised her glass with an unsteady hand.
“And to you!” she answered, and she thought with unhappy defiance, “Yes!—to you!… and your sixty thousand pounds!”
After all, why worry? There was plenty of fun and excitement to be had with limitless money to spend, so what was the sense of breaking your heart over a man who, although he had said he would never love another girl, had proved so quickly that for him, at least, there was no such thing as constancy.
“To you, Monty! “she repeated gaily, and blew him a kiss from the tips of her fingers, glancing quickly at Peter to see if the gesture had awakened any memories, but he was smiling impartially and presently he asked in a friendly way.
“And how is Jessica?”
“Just the same,” Paddy told him. “Quite happy pottering about the house.”
“Still unattached? “Peter enquired.
Paddy opened her eyes wide.
“’Unattached’?” she ejaculated.
“Not engaged, I mean,” he explained.
” Engaged!…” Paddy laughed. “It would be one of the seven wonders of the world if she was!…As far as I know she has never had an admirer in her life.”
“What about Dr. Barker?”
“John Barker!” She stared at him in blank astonishment. “What do you mean?”
Peter shrugged his shoulders.
“Only that I always imagined—in the old days— that he—rather liked her.”
There was an eloquent silence before Paddy said, “Well, let’s hope you’re right, though it has certainly never occurred to me! “she chuckled. “Fancy Jess as a doctor’s wife!… It would be the thrill of a lifetime to see her married, and——”
Monty bluntly interrupted. “And what would you do without her at Kirlou, I should like to know? The place wouldn’t be the same if she wasn’t there.” He laughed apologetically as he met Paddy’s astonished gaze, and Peter said with pretended tragedy,
“And I can remember the time when—without Paddy in the house, to me life was a dreary desert.”
Paddy’s hand, resting on the table, was suddenly tightly clenched, though when she spoke it was with calm indifference.
“Which goes to prove, as I have always said, what rubbish it is to believe that hearts can break——”
Peter met her lovely eyes with a casual smile.
“I entirely agree. What says our Man from Ceylon?”
Monty shrugged his shoulders.
“It’s a subject of which I am in complete ignorance. Never having lost a moment’s restful sleep for the sake of any fair charmer.”
“Your turn will come,” Paddy assured him confidently. “And now I think we ought to be going —so if one of you will kindly assist a poor cripple to the car——”
Would Peter offer? She despised herself because a sudden passionate desire arose in her heart to feel again the touch of his hand and the clasp of his arm—but it was Monty who at once came forward while Peter stood calmly by lighting a cigarette. Was it, after all, such ‘rubbish to believe that hearts can break’, Paddy wondered, and surprisingly there were tears in her eyes as with Monty’s support she limped painfully away.
At supper that night, just as Paddy had feared, the chief topic of conversation was Peter Phillips, for Monty could talk of nothing else but the strange coincidence of their meeting.
“Has he altered at all?” Mrs. Mansfield asked interestedly. “I always liked Peter so much—I wish he could have found time to call and see us——” She looked at Paddy. “Did you think he had altered at all? “she enquired.
Paddy shrugged her shoulders.
“He looks—a bit older—but I suppose we all do.”
“Has he found a job yet? “her father asked, and then with his usual bluntness, “he ought to have done if he hasn’t—the world is crying out for workers.”
Monty chuckled.
“He’s found one of a sort,” he said. “He’s going to be married.”
” Married!” It was Mrs. Mansfield who echoed the word incredulously. “But I thought——“She checked herself hurriedly before asking with forced interest, “Who is the—lucky girl? Anyone we know?”
Her husband grunted. “Not so lucky if Peter’s still out of work, but nowadays young people seem to have lost their common sense and to imagine they can live on—love—or whatever they call it”
“Kirby dear,” his wife reproached him, “you seem to forget that it is what we did!”
Kirby looked slightly abashed though he answered obstinately, “Yes, but things were very different in those days. We didn’t expect to race about in motorcars and go to the pictures every other night.”
“There weren’t any pictures to go to,” Paddy reminded him.
“Perhaps the Bride-to-be has a bit of dough,” Gordon suggested. “What’s her name?”
“Gallon—Rose Gallon,” Monty told him. “Nice name, Rose!”
“Gallon!” Kirby Mansfield repeated the name interestedly. “Where do they come from? I know some people named Gallon—know the firm, anyway— in the drapery line.”
“Peter said they lived in the West of England, didn’t he, Paddy?”
“Then it must be the same family,” kirby declared. “Used to live in London, but cleared off during the war—bought a mansion in Somerset or somewhere——”
“Then apparently the Bride-to-be has got some dough,” Gordon remarked. “You always said that Peter would fall on his feet some day, didn’t you, Mater?”
“But I didn’t mean—in that way! “his mother protested. “And I am sure Peter would never marry a girl just because she was the daughter of rich people —if she is!”
“Why not?” Paddy enquired frivolously. “I think it’s a very sensible thing to do—’ Marry for love where money is ‘——”
But as she spoke she remembered Peter’s blunt accusation that to her money had always meant more than anything else! He was in the same boat now— if it was true that the girl he was to marry had some’ dough’, as Gordon called it.
The ambition to make—or to somehow obtain— money was the one desire which she and her brother had in complete accord—and both were born gamblers —in different ways—so far without any success on either side.
“You’re very quiet this evening, Jess,” Mrs. Mansfield said, looking at her elder daughter.
“Jess is always dumb when there’s a family discussion going on,” Paddy reminded her. “She never enters into the argument or attempts to take sides!…’ Live and let live’ is her motto,—isn’t it, dear sister?”
“Quite right, too,” her father retorted, quite losing sight of the fact that he always did exactly the opposite. “It’s a pity you’re not all so tolerant and charitable “— and then as a wide grin crossed his son’s face—“and what are you thinking, may I enquire? “he demanded.
Mrs. Mansfield hastily intervened.
“It takes all sorts to make a world—and it would be a very dull place if we all thought and acted alike, wouldn’t it?”
“If, for instance, we a
ll backed losers—like Gordon does,” Paddy said mischievously. “How much have you lost on the gee-gees this month, dear brother?”
“I like a gamble,” Monty said. “Much more fun to make a pound or two on an outsider than it is by the so-called sweat of one’s brow—eh, Gordon? Do you remember that bet on——”
Kirby bluntly interrupted. “Only fools gamble.” He looked at his son with accusing eyes, “Don’t tell me you’ve’ been betting and chucking your money away again!… A nice mess you got into a few months ago.”
Gordon shrugged his’shoulders with pretended indifference.
“Backing horses is no worse than gambling on the Stock Exchange,” he retorted defiantly, and then as Kirby flushed in dull anger at the blunt allusion to his owu particular weakness, Mrs. Mansfield rose determinedly from the table.
“If everyone has finished we will clear away,” she said firmly, for there was nothing she dreaded more than the fierce altercations which occasionally arose between Gordon and his father—although as a rule they ended quite amicably.
“I do hope Monty will not encourage Gordon in this foolish betting,” she said later, to Jessica. “It’s not as if he can afford to gamble—your father paid out quite a large sum of money for him in the spring, if you remember.”
Jessica smiled reminiscently.
“Yes, I remember—and—oddly enough, he lost on a horse called’Fool’s Cap’—or some name like that, wasn’t it? “she laughed. “I told him at the time that it ought to have been a warning, but he was so sure it would win.”
“I think it might be as well for you to give Monty a quiet word of warning,” Mrs. Mansfield said. “You can do it so much more tactfully than I could or Paddy—though he and she certainly seem to be the best of friends.”
“All the men adore Paddy,” Jessica agreed. All except one she reminded herself with a warm little feeling of happiness as she thought of John Barker, and remembered his quiet admission, “I am very fond of you, my dear! “and surprisingly she suddenly found herself wishing that she could return his affection, for what greater happiness could there be in life than the knowledge that there was someone to whom you meant all the world and who meant all the world to you?
“So when you get an opportunity, just say a word to Monty,” her mother repeated. “He is such a broad-minded, sensible man, I am sure he will understand.” She was silent for a moment before she said with a slightly troubled intonation, “So Peter is engaged to be married!… Well, I suppose one should feel glad for his sake—though I certainly never thought anyone would ever take Paddy’s place in his affections. He was so devoted to her. No doubt it’s just a case of second best——”
“And sometimes second best can be very good,” Jessica reminded her cheerfully, but she had felt very surprised herself when she heard the news, having always believed that Paddy was the one love of Peter’s life.
Perhaps this Rose Gallon was even more attractive than Paddy! If so, no doubt as usual Shakespeare was right when he wrote—
“So as one nail by strength drives out another,
So the remembrance of my former love
Is, by a newer object, quite forgotten!”
All the same, it seemed sad that love should so seldom last to time and eternity; at any rate in its original romantic form, though—take the case of her own parents for instance—Jessica knew they were still completely devoted to one another in spite of Kirby’s frequent outbursts of temper.
Jessica would have been genuinely amused had anyone suggested that she was in the least sentimental, but this evening it was amazing how her thoughts kept turning to John Barker and how utterly different she felt now she knew there was one man in the world who cared more for her than for any other woman. She was no longer the Cinderella of the family—only of course the family were in complete ignorance of the fact, and—Mrs. Mansfield broke in upon her thoughts.
“There’s Paddy calling—didn’t you hear her? “and with a sense of guilt Jessica hurried away.
She found Paddy alone in the drawingroom looking a little depressed.
“I thought Monty and Gordon were with you,” Jessica said in surprise.
“No—they’ve gone out.” Paddy raised her injured foot from its cushion. “If only this rotten accident hadn’t happened, I could have gone with them. How I hate being a cripple.”
Jessica laughed. “What nonsense you talk! In a day or two you’ll be perfectly fit again. Where have they gone?”
“I don’t know—but I expect to the Club to get a drink.” And then, “How much money do you think Monty came into from that—whatever relation it was? “she asked.
“I haven’t the slightest idea—quite a bit, I expect.”
Paddy raised herself on an elbow.
” Sixty thousand pounds” she said, and then as her sister made, no comment, “Say something!… aren’t you amazed?— sixty thousand pounds! Peter told me—and he said that was after death duties had been paid.”
“It seems a lot of money,” Jessica agreed. “Whatever will he do with it?”
“Do with it?” Paddy lay back again on the cushions. “I know what I’d do with it—spend it and have a marvellous time,” she sighed. “Some people have all the luck. And don’t say, as mother always does, that money cannot buy happiness, because that’s all rubbish. You can’t be happy without it, that’s quite certain— I can’t anyway.”
“We’ve never had any money, Paddy,” Jessica reminded her. “And you’ve always seemed happy enough.”
“Camouflage! “Paddy declared flippantly. “And thinking things over, I’m not sure I haven’t been a fool to refuse to marry Gerard.”
“But—you don’t love him! You’ve said dozens of times that he bores you——”
Paddy made a grimace. “Oh—love!… I don’t believe in it,” she said defiantly. “It’s no more real than—than any of the silly fairy-stories we used to read when we were kids. Do you believe in it? “she demanded.
Jessica hesitated.
“Yes—I think I do,” she admitted. “Not that I’ve ever had any experience—only what I’ve seen— with other people——”
Paddy laughed. “If ever you do fall in love— well, Heaven help you. You never do things by halves.” She yawned. “Well, help me to bed—it’s half-past nine and the boys won’t be back for ages yet. What a bore life can be, can’t it?”
“It doesn’t bore me.”
“Because you’ve no ambitions,” Paddy told her. “You’re quite content with doing the same things day after day, year after year——”
“Perhaps you’re right,” Jessica agreed cheerfully.
“Now, take my arm and I’ll help you upstairs—” she laughed. “No devoted Monty tonight.”
Paddy looked at her with sudden interest.
“Do you think he really— is devoted? “she asked.
It was a moment before Jessica replied—a little uncertainly. “You ought to know the answer to that question yourself.”
Paddy laughed. “It’s early days yet—but—well, time will tell,” and she changed the subject.
But Jessica remembered it, and more than once as she’ shut up shop for the night’, as Gordon called it, her sister’s words came back to her, “Do you think he really— is devoted?”
Monty had been with them so short a time—only ten days—and yet—somehow it seemed far longer— as if, as he sometimes said, he had always been one of the family.
Supposing he did fall in love with Paddy? and she! —but somehow Jessica could not picture Paddy in love with Monty! He was not her sort exactly—too —yes, too masculine and determined to have his own way. Not like Peter to whom her every wish had been law—
A funny world!… everything seemed sort of topsy-turvy—going round and round like the big Atlas Globe they had had at school—and which they had delighted to set whirling and spinning as fast as possible. Life seemed rather like that today!—the wrong people at enmity—the wrong people falling in
love—and as her father continually said, money and power both in the wrong hands.
Jessica crossed the hall, suddenly conscious of the profound silence which seemed to envelop the house.
Everyone had gone to bed except Monty and Gordon who had not yet returned—which of course meant that she must leave the front door ajar as Gordon invariably forgot to take a latchkey.
She glanced at the hall clock—nearly eleven!… Time she too went to bed, for she was always up very early in the morning, but she paused for a moment at the open front door, looking out into the warm darkness of the night, once again conscious of that unusual feeling of loneliness.
Loneliness!—a thing she had always instinctively dreaded.
“Silly! “she told herself firmly and had moved to close the front door when a familiar whistle broke the silence, followed by a step on the garden path and Monty’s cheery voice,
“Going to shut me out, were you?”
Shut him out!… Jessica’s fingers tightened their hold of the door-handle as subconsciously she seemed to hear a voice—her own voice, could it be?— whispering through the silence.
“You’ve only been here ten days—but—shut you out?… I can never do that!… You are here— in my life and in my heart—for ever and ever.”
“Going to shut me out, were you?” Monty repeated. “Or were you—on the contrary—waiting to let me in?”
Jessica laughed shakily.
“I was just wondering if—as usual—Gordon had forgotten his key!… Where is he by the way?”
There was the slightest hesitancy in Monty’s reply—
“He has gone home with that Winter fellow—we met him at the Club——”
“And—weren’t you invited?”
Monty shrugged his shoulders—” Wasn’t particularly interested—so thought I’d come home.”
Home!… Was that really how he felt about Kirlou after so short a time?
“Everyone gone to bed? “Monty enquired.
“Yes—I was just going myself… We must leave the door ajar for Gordon——”
“I’ll wait up for him; he said he wouldn’t be long.”
The Man from Ceylon Page 6