by Betty Neels
So Araminta took herself off after walking the dogs, carefully primed as to how she should go by Buller. It was pleasant walking through the quiet streets lined with dignified houses, and the shops, whenn she reached them, tucked away discreetly down a narrow lane, were delightful: the greengrocer, a delicatessen, a very up-market newsagent, a chic boutique and, right at the end, a tiny shop selling wools and embroidery silks.
She had a little money in her purse. She went in and poked around under the friendly eye of the elderly owner. She had intended to buy wool and needles; instead she purchased a fine canvas with a complicated pattern of flowers suitable for a chair-seat or a firescreen. She bought the silks to work it, reflecting that she need never sit idle again.
"You'll need a frame," said the elderly lady she found one and demonstrated how to stretch the canvas taut between the hoops.
Araminta bore her parcel away, bought the herbs, and then loitered outside the boutique. There wasn't much in its small window, but she coveted everything there. Tomorrow, she reminded herself, she was to go shopping; she had no idea what Jason would want her to buy, but certainly she would need more clothes if she were to go anywhere with him. The wedding outfit was all right but it wouldn't do for his wife; she had the good sense to know that.
She spent the afternoon getting started on the embroidery. She had never done tapestry before, but she was handy with her needle and not impatient. After tea she told Buller that she would take the dogs into the park, since otherwise they would have to wait until Jason came home, which might be late.
"The professor wouldn't wish you to go into the park alone in the evening." Buller was deferentially fatherly. "They will be quite happy in the garden, ma'am, and if the professor is late home, I will exercise them myself."
So she went upstairs and changed her blouse, her only possible concession to dressing for the evening, and when she came downstairs Buller told her that the professor had telephoned to say that he would be kept late at the hospital. "Eight o'clock at the earliest, ma'am, and what would you wish Mrs. Buller to do?"
"Would she mind keeping dinner back? I'm sure the professor will be hungry. And please have your own meal at the usual time-I don't know when that is, but it's only just gone six o'clock."
He replied suitably and went back to the kitchen, where he told his wife that the new missus was a very nice young lady. "Very thoughtful," he added. "She'll suit the professoia treat. Won't get in the way of his work…"
Mrs. Buller looked thoughtful and said nothing.
When the professor got home just after eight o'clock, Araminta greeted him without fuss. "Would you like ten minutes or so before dinner, or are you ravenous?"
"Ravenous, but I'd like ten minutes first."
"Well, sit down. I'll get you a whisky." Which she did without waiting for his answer.
When she took it to him he said, "I believe that I have been missing something before I took a wife."
She smiled and went to sit down again. He wouldn't want to talk, she could see that. He was tired; perhaps after he had had a meal he would tell her about his day.
However, although he talked of this and that while they ate, he didn't speak of his work, and afterwards he whistled to the dogs, told her he would take them for a quick run, and left the house. She went back to the drawing-room, having agreed pleasantly, and presently, when he came back, he sat in his chair with the dogs beside him and, after a few casual remarks, put on his glasses and buried his handsome nose in the day's newspapers.
Araminta stitched busily, her thoughts just as busy. Did she bore him? He had said that he enjoyed her company, that he liked her, but was that enough to satisfy him? Would he have been happier married to a girl who expected to be entertained, talked to, admired, someone to break down his self-contained way of life? Perhaps I have made a colossal mistake, she reflected, and, for all I know, he's discovered that too. She looked up and found his eyes on her.
"You must not think that because I sit here with my nose buried in the newspapers that I am not aware and content to have you sitting there like a friendly mouse. You are filling an empty space in my life, and I think that when we have had time to get to know each other, we shall have a successful marriage." He smiled. "You agree, I hope?"
"Yes, I do," she told him; anything else she might have said was cut short by the phone. It was a lengthy conversation, mostly yews and noes on his part, and then a stream of instructions of which she understood very little. He went back to his reading then, and she sat for another half-hour or so, and then wished him a quiet goodnight and took herself off to bed.
He got up when she did and opened the door for her, touching her shoulder briefly as she went past him. "Sleep well," he said very kindly.
He hadn't said any more about their morning shopping, she thought as she got ready for bed. Perhaps he had forgotten about it, and she hadn't liked to remind him. She counted the money in her purse-there was almost nothing in it-and she wondered what she should do. Her clothes were quite inadequate but he didn't seem to be aware of that, and to ask him for money was something she couldn't do. She lay wakeful for a time until she decided with her usual good sense that worrying wouldn't help in the least; she might as well go to sleep. Which she did.
At breakfast he asked her if she had any preference as to which shops they should go to.
"Oh, we're going…?"
He stared at her. "Of course-did I not say so?"'Yes, yes, you did, but I thought that you might be too busy." And, as he still looked at her with questioning eyebrows, "I don't know about shops. I mean, I've always gone to Marks & Spencer or C & A, and just once or twice when there's been a sale to Country Casuals."
He said smoothly, "Then I think it had better be Harrods. I imagine there will be plenty of choice there."
She said on an excited breath, "What do you want me to buy?"
He was carefully casual. "Oh, everything. Outdoor clothes, dresses-you will get drawn into the consultants' wives' coffee-mornings and tea-parties-something for the evenings. I'm not very socially minded but I do have several close friends…"
Araminta's eyes had grown round, her head already agreeably filled with the picture of new clothes. "Will you please tell me how much I may spend?"
"I can't do that, for I don't know what you intend to buy. You shall choose what you like, and if it costs too much I'll say so."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
On their way up to the first floor of Harrods Jason observed, "You'll need things for the country-we'll go to the cottage next weekend. Get a Burberry."
It was hard to know where to start, but once the saleswoman had grasped the fact that madam needed an entire wardrobe and that her husband was there, sitting on one of the fragile chairs, apparently agreeable to the entire shop-floor being purchased if his wife wished, there was neither let nor hindrance. Before an hour was out Araminta had acquired a tweed coat and skirt, two knitted suits, a short jacket, a number of pleated skirts with the necessary blouses and sweaters, a Burberry, and several pretty dresses. She had tried everything on and stood before Jason for his approval and, once or twice when the saleswoman wasn't there, had hissed at him in an urgent tone that he was spending an awful lot of money.
He had only smiled a little and told her to leave that to him. Bearing this remark in mind, she allowed the saleswoman to lead her to the footwear department, where she bought boots, several pairs of wildly expensive shoes, and stockings to match. Back again with the professor, she was reminded that she would need a hat for church, so she was whisked away to look at hats and, since she couldn't decide between a felt with a brim, which seemed to do miracles for her profile, and a jaunty little velvet affair, she had them both.
They were well into the second hour now, and she remembered that Jason had said that he had some patients in the afternoon. She sat down beside him, her cheeks pink, her eyes sparkling. "I've bought simply masses of clothes. I expect you want to go home-it's almost lu
nchtime and you have patients later."
He smiled a little. "I'm glad you have found what you liked. I think that tomorrow you must come and get the rest."
"Oh, undies? Well, yes, I would like some new things, but I could go to..."
He cut her short. "No, will you come here, Araminta? I have an account and you will get everything you want. You might see a couple of frocks to wear when we dine out…"
She nodded wordlessly. She hadn't dared to look at any of the price-tags, but he must have spent a great deal of money. The clothes were good, though; she consoled herself with the thought that they would last for a long time.
The saleswoman came with the bill and he paid with a credit card, asked for everything to be delivered to his home, and swept Araminta out of the shop and into a taxi. He was a man who did things without fuss, she reflected: a lifted finger, a nod, and the doorman had a taxi at the kerb within moments.
Back in the house, sitting down to lunch, she tried to thank him. "I hope you don't think that I married you for money," she said worriedly, "because I didn't."
"I know that, Araminta. You married me, did you not, for the same reasons as my own: friendship, pleasure in each other's company, a mutual liking? What is mine is now yours also, my dear."
He left the house presently, with the warning that he might not be back until six o'clock. She longed to ask him where he was going after he had seen his patients-the hospital, she supposed. She wished once again that she knew more of his life. Patience, she told herself, there was plenty of time.
The Harrods van arrived then and Buller bore the boxes up to her room and she set about unpacking them. She tried everything on again, fearful that it would look different away from the luxurious showrooms, but the clothes looked even better, she decided, and hung everything away in the closet. Tomorrow she would buy undies…
After her solitary tea, with the dogs for company, she went back to her room and showered and got into one of the pretty dresses nut-brown crepe-de-Chine with a wide Quaker collar and cuffs of cream silk-and it became her very well. Pleased with her appearance, she went down to the drawing-roomm and sat down to work at her tapestry, and while she sat there she tried to decide what to do about her father and Alice. Did they want nothing more to do with her? she wondered. Should she go and see them, or wait and see if they phoned or wrote to her? She would ask Jason's advice when he got home.
He came presently, and she went into the hall to meet him. He said, "Hello," briskly, and then added, "I've some work to do before dinner you won't mind?"
Her "Of course not' was uttered in her usual sensible way, but she wondered what he would have said if she had told him that she did mind. "You're a busy man's wife," she muttered, going to sit by the fire again. Perhaps it would be better if she didn't go to meet him in the evenings when he got home? That way, if he wanted to go at once to his study, he could do so without having to apologise. She picked up the tapestry and stitched busily, concentrating on the pattern, and presently Buller came to ask whether dinner was to be served at the usual time, or would the professor wish for a later hour?
"I'll go and see," said Araminta. She tapped on the study door and went in in answer to his quiet 'Come'. He was at his desk, his glasses on his nose, a book in his hand. Just as he had previously done, he looked at her as though he was surprised to see her there. Indeed, she had the impression that he wasn't really looking at her; his thoughts were miles away.
"Dinner," she said briskly. "Mrs. Buller would like to know when you would like it-it can easily be put back for a while."
He took off his glasses. "No need. I had rather forgotten the time." His finger was marking the page in his book, and he withdrew it reluctantly. He glanced at his watch. "I've five minutes? I'll be with you." He got up to open the door for her. "Make that ten-time for a quick drink."
He spent the rest of the evening with her, talking about the cottage, telling her where it was, and then suggesting that as soon as he could manage it they might go to Tisbury and see how Lydia was getting on. "And you must meet Marjorie," he told her. "I believe she intends to give a dinner party so that you can meet as many people as possible."
Araminta said placidly, "That will be nice," and inwardly quailed at the prospect. She would have liked to ask about visiting her father and Alice, but Jason had picked up the medical journal from the table beside him and was leafing through it. She tidied away her work, said cheerfully, "I'm quite tired after such an exciting day. Goodnight, Jason, and thank you for all my lovely clothes."
Surely that might remind him to look at her and see the new dress? It didn't. He got up and went to the door with her, wishing her goodnight, smiling as she passed him, and going back to his chair to immerse himself in a long article concerning jaundice in the new-born.
As for Araminta, she gained her room, hung the dress in the closet and got ready for bed, all the while weeping quietly. She wasn't sure why; she only knew that she felt sad about something and unhappy.
It was silly to cry for no reason, she told herself sharply. She had had a lovely morning and tomorrow she would go shopping again; she had more clothes now than she had had in her entire grown-up life, so what had she to cry about?
She went to the windows and pulled back the curtains and looked out on to the garden below. It was very quiet at the back of the house; it might almost be country. As she looked, the outside light by the French windows of the drawing-room was switched on and the dogs, followed by the professor, came into the garden. The dogs raced off into the dimness beyond the circle of light, but he stood in its brightness, his hands in his pockets, looking up at the sky. She stared down at him, knowing now why she was crying. She had fallen in love with him. Perhaps it had happened weeks ago, when they first met, and she hadn't known it, only that she liked to be with him. So love wasn't always like a bolt from the blue; it could come gradually as well, sneaking up on one without warning. Now this was a pretty kettle of fish, since he had shown no sign of even a mild romantic thought about her.
The obvious answer was to get him to fall in love with her. Araminta, a practical girl and used to making the best of things, took one last loving look at the professor and jumped into bed, fired with the laudable purpose of doing just that. On the face of things it seemed unlikely, but with patience, and the help of a good hairdresser and products from the cosmetic counter at Harrods, and never forgetting to present him with a cheerful friendly manner with no hint of romance, she could at least have a good try.
CHAPTER EIGHT
ARAMINTA went down to breakfast the next morning wearing one of the new skirts, a silk blouse and a cashmere cardigan. The blouse and skirt were sand-colour, the cardigan duckegg blue, and she had put on a pair of Italian shoes. Very suitable, she considered, turning this way and that before the enormous looking glass behind the clothes-closet door. Perhaps Jason would notice…
He did indeed look up as she went into the room. He took off his glasses too, put down the letter he was reading and stood up with a pleasant, "Good morning, Araminta," but as soon as she sat, he resumed his own seat, gave her an absent-minded smile and picked up his letter.
Buller, hovering, murmured, "Bacon and egg, ma'am, or perhaps a poached egg?"
She shook her head; she would have choked on either, but, since Buller was looking worried, she took a piece of toast and nibbled on it and poured herself a cup of coffee. Buller went away and she filled Jason's cup too and, since he had finished his letter, enquired if he would be home late or not.
"Round teatime, if I'm lucky. We'll take the dogs for a run. There's a letter for us both from Marjorie-she wants us to go over for dinner on Friday. There will be one or two friends there-a chance for you to meet them."
She agreed quietly and, seizing the opportunity, asked, "Jason, would you mind if I phoned Father? I'm not sure… That is, they may not want to have anything to do with me just at the moment, but perhaps once they're used to me being married to you…"
; "You'd like to go and see them? Or have them here, by all means."
She said awkwardly, "I don't want them to think that I'm-I'm flaunting being married to you, if you see what I mean."
He was putting his spectacles away in his pocket and didn't look at her. "Yes, I see what you mean, Araminta. Perhaps it would be best if you phoned-that would give you some idea of how they feel." He gathered up his papers and presently left the house.
She went to the kitchen for her morning' chat with Mrs. Buller and, that done, went into the park with the dogs. After lunch she put on her new suede jacket and took herself off to Harrods. She felt a little uncertain without Jason; supposing they queried her right to charge everything to his account?
She need not have worried. Wandering, around looking for underwear, she encountered yesterday's saleswoman, who, when Araminta confided her doubts, assured her that there was no problem and took it upon herself to take her to the lingerie department and hand her over to a friendly young woman who produced a tempting collection of silk and lace garments. Araminta, shocked at their price but carried away with their sheer prettiness, allowed herself to be coaxed into buying nighties to go with them and a pink quilted dressin-gown with matching slippers. She hadn't looked at their price-tags; Jason had told her not to hadn't he? She consoled herself with the thought that everything she had bought was so well-made and of such fine materials that she would be able to wear them for years. She went back the way she had come, and her friendly saleswoman stopped her to suggest that she might like to see a couple of dresses which had just come in that morning.
That reminded Araminta that they were to dine with Jason's sister. Perhaps a suitable dress? "Something right for a dinner party?" she asked, and was shown the very thing: pale grey chiffon over a pink slip, its full sleeves gathered into satin cuffs, the modest neckline bordered with the same satin. Standing before the mirror, Araminta saw that it suited her very well. "The thing is," she explained, "I'm not sure if it's long skirts…"