by Betty Neels
The band paused so they went back to their table where Gideon ordered another bottle of wine. ‘Miss Timmis had a talk with me last week—she has an older sister who is a semi-invalid and she very much wants to visit her. Could you cope with Eleanor for a few weeks on your own? She has no intention of leaving us, but she also suggested that Eleanor might like to go to school now that she has a more secure background, and that she might stay on as a general factotum, sewing and so on,’ he added vaguely.
‘Of course I can cope,’ said Deborah briskly. ‘Is there a good school nearby?’
‘Oh, yes. If you could drive her there and fetch her…I thought that perhaps after Christmas…’
‘Will she like that?’
‘I think so—of course we’ll talk to her about it. There will be people coming to stay during the next week or so—old friends, people I meet at work, now that I have a wife it will be easy to entertain them at home. I shall bring them back with me at the weekends.’
‘I see, will you be gone all the week?’
‘Not every week.’ He gave her a thoughtful look. ‘Debby, are you happy?’
She said instantly, ‘Oh yes, indeed I am. It’s all a bit strange, of course. I mean, all this…’ she waved a hand vaguely around her, ‘but I do my best, Gideon and I’ll get better.’
‘My dear, you’re everything I could wish for in a wife and Eleanor loves you.’
But you don’t, thought Deborah silently, and if I were clever I’d know how to make you love me, only I’m not clever and I’ll just have to hope that you will or that something happens to make you.
They travelled home the next day, a smooth journey that went without a hitch, to be met by the Buckles’ welcoming faces, great log fires in all the rooms and an elegant dinner. Eleanor, who had chattered away unceasingly all day, was almost asleep by the time they had finished and Deborah whisked her off to bed. ‘Miss Timmis will be here in the morning,’ she pointed out, ‘wanting to hear all about our holiday and you don’t want to fall asleep in the middle of telling her.’
Gideon got up and opened the door for them. ‘Come down again Deborah,’ he said, ‘we must have a talk.’
Now what, thought Deborah as she urged Eleanor into her bed and tucked her up, half throttled by the child’s arms.
When she joined Gideon in the drawing room, Buckle had brought in the coffee tray and put it on a small table by a chair drawn up to the fire opposite Gideon. It looked cosy in a grand way, and she thought sadly how delightful it would have been if Gideon had leapt to his feet and kissed her, just as a newly wedded husband would. He certainly got to his feet but he showed no signs of kissing her, merely invited her to sit down and pour the coffee.
‘I’ll have to go to town tomorrow,’ he observed as she handed him his cup, ‘and I probably shan’t be back for a couple of days—it’s hardly worth the journey home since I have to attend another conference on the second day. I thought we might have our first guests next weekend; they can drive down with me on Friday evening—I’ll let you know who and how many, and we might give a dinner party before Christmas, don’t you think? You’ll need some clothes—you might leave Eleanor with Miss Timmis and come up to town with me—let me see—’ he frowned a little. ‘If I drive down on the day after tomorrow you could go back with me in the morning, but you may have to take a train home—you’ll go to Salisbury and Buckle can pick you up there.’
She murmured her agreement; there wasn’t much point in doing anything else, he had obviously decided it all for himself. He went on: ‘That will give you a day in which to make sure that everything is all right for the weekend.’ He glanced at her: ‘Mrs Buckle will help you; she knows where everything is and Miss Timmis is a tower of strength.’ He smiled suddenly: ‘Although I imagine that you are quite capable of arranging a weekend for any number of people without turning a sandy hair.’
He hadn’t meant to be unkind she told herself, but she, who had been enjoying rising self assurance engendered by her new wardrobe, became instantly aware of that same sandy hair and ordinary face. She said soberly: ‘I expect I can manage. I’ll come up to town with you if you wish…what shall I need? That is—are your friends smart?’
‘The women? Well yes, not outrageously I suppose, but good, well cut clothes and pretty dresses in the evening—you know?’
She wasn’t sure that she did, but she nodded. It was very humiliating that he so obviously didn’t consider that the clothes she had were good enough. Why on earth had he married her? She knew the answer, of course, because he loved Eleanor and wanted the child to be happy; all the same, it was a pity that he couldn’t have settled upon a chic beauty who combined a high sense of fashion with affection for Eleanor. She sighed without knowing it, and he said sharply: ‘You’re tired, go to bed it’s been a long day.’ He got up and opened the door and as she went past him touched her lightly on the shoulder. She paused and smiled at him and wished him good-night, crossed the hall and went upstairs. He watched her go…she was a graceful girl. He waited until she was out of sight before going back to the drawing room, reminding himself that he would have to go to his study and go through his post, but he went on sitting there, staring into the fire, his thoughts unaccountably given over to Deborah; he wasn’t thinking of her suitability as a wife but of her wide green eyes and her sandy hair—beautiful hair actually—shining with cleanliness and good health; in her new green outfit she was quite something. He realised suddenly that given time to acquire poise and in the right clothes, she would be a knock-out. And of course, she was splendid for Eleanor; he had chosen wisely. He got up presently and went along to his study, to sit down at his desk. He found it quite an effort to start on his letters, but of course, once he did, he dismissed her from his mind.
The next morning, sitting opposite her at breakfast, he hardly looked at her and when he did, it was with the tolerant eye of a friend; certainly there was no vestige of glamour about her at eight o’clock in the morning. She was wearing a sweater and a skirt and her hair had been brushed smoothly back and pinned up quite ruthlessly. She looked fresh and wholesome and very young. He put down his post and asked mildly: ‘What are you two going to do today?’
‘Well, Miss Timmis comes back after lunch and Eleanor’s got such a lot to tell her so if you don’t mind, since it’s so early, I thought we might drive over to Dorchester…’
‘A good idea, take the Mini. Give my love to your mother. We must arrange a visit very soon.’ He smiled at her. ‘I must be off; I’ll be home tomorrow early evening. Don’t forget you are driving back with me.’
He got up and came round the table, stopping to kiss Eleanor on the way. At Deborah’s chair he stopped again. ‘Why do you screw your hair up like that?’
‘It’s quick.’
He leaned forward and pulled the pins out of her hair so that it fell loose round her shoulders. ‘That’s even quicker, and much prettier.’
He kissed her slightly open mouth and went away, leaving her a little pink and Eleanor giggling.
She wore the new green outfit and the coat Gideon had bought her, when they left presently in the Mini; her mother’s surprise at her new image gave her deflated ego quite a boost. ‘Darling!’ declared her parent, ‘you’re positively pretty—and your hair…does it take ages?’
Deborah nodded, ‘But once it’s up it stays that way.’ She plunged into an account of their trip to den Haag, handed over the presents she had brought with her and then sat quietly while Eleanor babbled excitedly.
Just before they left Mrs Farley asked: ‘You’re happy, darling?’
‘Yes, Mother,’ Deborah kissed her and added, ‘Very.’
Miss Timmis arrived after lunch and Deborah left Eleanor and her together while she went to the kitchen to talk to Mrs Buckle. She didn’t know how many guests Gideon would invite, but she could at least talk things over with the housekeeper. They spent an hour or more deciding on which rooms to get ready and possible menus, by then it was tea time
. She spent the evening with Miss Timmis, finding that lady’s gentle talk very soothing. All the same she was glad to go to bed; the house without Gideon seemed very large and empty, even the dogs were subdued.
Eleanor had lessons in the morning and Deborah spent it in inspecting the various bedrooms and then making a list, with Mrs Buckle’s help, of food they might need to get in. There was a well stocked, large larder and a freezer too; Buckle knew all about the wines and the greenhouses were nicely full of chrysanthemums and pot plants. There wasn’t much more that she could do, so she spent a pleasant afternoon in the library while Eleanor had her music lesson then the three of them had tea round the schoolroom fire with Deborah glancing every five minutes at the clock. Gideon would be coming soon, the dogs knew it too sitting in a heap on the hearth rug.
Five o’clock struck and after what seemed like a very long time indeed, six o’clock. It was half an hour after that when the phone rang and Deborah went to answer it on the schoolroom extension before Buckle could get to the phone in the study. Gideon’s voice, casual to the point of coolness, came very clearly over the line.
‘I’ll not be home until about eleven o’clock,’ he told her. ‘Old friends have asked me to dine—don’t wait up for me, I’ll see you at breakfast. Let me speak to Eleanor will you?’
Deborah said nothing at all, she put down the receiver and called to Eleanor, then went to sit down again by Miss Timmis and started to talk rather loudly so that she wouldn’t be able to hear what Eleanor was saying. The child came back presently, she looked resigned. ‘Daddy says he met Auntie Barbara while he was having lunch—he asked her to come for the weekend, but she isn’t sure so he is taking her out to dinner instead.’
‘Lady Barbara Inge,’ murmured Miss Timmis. ‘Married one of the professor’s friends—they are divorced now. A very beautiful young woman. She has been in America I believe.’ She glanced at Eleanor’s downcast face: ‘You’ll see your father in the morning, Eleanor.’
Deborah made an effort. ‘Yes, of course, love. I’m sorry you are disappointed, we all are. Shall we have a game of cards then you can have your supper and Miss Timmis and I will have dinner at the usual time. I’d better let Mrs Buckle know.’
Why, she pondered on the way to the kitchen, should Gideon tell her that he had been asked to dine with old friends and yet be doing nothing of the sort? He must be feeling guilty or surely he could have told her the truth—or perhaps he thought it was none of her business? It was a lowering thought.
They had their game of cards and while Eleanor ate her supper with Miss Timmis for company, she took the dogs for a walk. It was a cold, dark evening, exactly suited to her mood and she walked fast, trying to get away from her thoughts. But it didn’t help; she went down to the village and back again, took the dogs into the kitchen for their supper and went back to the schoolroom. Eleanor had just finished her supper and Deborah said cheerfully: ‘Since Miss Timmis will have you all day tomorrow, how about me seeing you to bed?’ She smiled at the little lady, ‘Do go down to the drawing room and give yourself a drink: I’ll be with you shortly.’
She pottered round the child’s room while Eleanor undressed and then went to run her bath. ‘It’s a pity that Daddy’s not here,’ said Eleanor, ‘I wanted to tell him about my history; Miss Timmis says I’m very good at it—I wanted to surprise him.’
‘Think what a nice surprise it will be in the morning,’ observed Deborah, ‘and I’ll tell you what, you shall stay up for supper tomorrow evening—I’ll ask Miss Timmis to get you all ready for bed and you can wear your new dressing gown!’
A happy thought which sent the little girl to bed content.
Miss Timmis went to bed happy too; dear little Mrs Beaufort had listened with sympathy when she had explained about visiting her sister, indeed, she offered help if it should be needed and expressed pleasure in knowing that Miss Timmis would return in the role of a family companion. Miss Timmis’s small frame swelled with pride at the nice things which had been said to her. The professor was a very lucky man to have such a sweet natured girl for a wife.
Deborah, neither happy nor in bed, sat by her bedroom window with the lights out staring out into the dark. She had never imagined that being married to Gideon was going to be easy, but she hadn’t expected him to be so indifferent; it would have been better if she irritated him or made him angry, as it was she did neither. She would have to do something startling; go blonde perhaps? buy some really way out clothes that even he couldn’t ignore? develop a semi-invalid condition which would allow her to lie around all day in frilly negligees—go home to mother?
She giggled and then choked on the tears crowding her throat. Sitting and moping wouldn’t do any good at all; she had married Gideon with her eyes open and she would make a success of their marriage although just at that moment she couldn’t think how. She sat by the window until she saw the car’s lights as it came from the village and then got into bed, still in the dark.
She was her calm, serene self in the morning, chattering gaily to Eleanor about her shopping, promising to bring her a present, letting her sit on the bed, which she enjoyed, while she did her hair and face. She had decided to wear the green again and the new coat and beret, they went down to breakfast in good time with Eleanor still talking nineteen to the dozen.
Gideon was already there reading his mail, his breakfast pushed to one side. He pushed his chair back as they went in, but Deborah said quickly: ‘No don’t get up, Gideon. I hope you don’t mind, I told Miss Timmis to come down later.’ She served Eleanor and herself and started to sit down, while the little girl went to kiss her father. He looked over his daughter’s fair head: ‘Why?’
‘Well, it’s early, isn’t it? and she will have Eleanor all day. She’ll be here by the time we go.’
He ruffled Eleanor’s hair. ‘What a good idea,’ he sounded absent minded, thinking of other things. Aunt Barbara perhaps, wondered Deborah and bit savagely into her toast.
She said with careful casualness. ‘I hope you had a pleasant evening with your friends,’ and hurried on before he could reply: ‘We played cards and Eleanor won—she’s good you know, Miss Timmis and I never have a chance.’
He wasn’t in the mood for small talk. ‘You’ll be all right if I drop you off at Harrods? Take a taxi to Waterloo when you’ve finished your shopping. I suggest that you phone Buckle from there and he’ll meet you. Don’t stint yourself, Deborah—your allowance is in the bank, and if you go over it ask for the bill to be sent to me.’ He mentioned a sum which sent her pale eyebrows up into her hair.
‘All that?’ she asked incredulously.
He said smoothly: ‘You can fit yourself out for the next month or so.’
She thanked him, she certainly would do that; she would let herself go, and outshine his women friends.
The drive to London was totally taken up with details as to the guests they might expect that weekend. ‘We don’t do much; walk the dogs, and perhaps ride if the weather’s good, sit around and chat. I’m sure you will be able to lay on a good dinner each evening; Mrs Buckle is a first rate cook and is always complaining that she has no chance to show her talents to the world. Miss Timmis will help you with the flowers and the linen and so on.’
He was driving fast, looking ahead, and Deborah, seething silently at his assumption that she was quite out of her depth, said nothing.
‘Well?’ His voice was impatient and faintly annoyed.
‘I’m sure that everything will be all right. You must tell me if I do anything wrong or fall down on my duties, but I don’t imagine that your friends will expect a polished hostess, considering the circumstances in which we married.’
He made an explosive sound which she took to be a swear word she wasn’t familiar with. ‘Do you imagine that I broadcast my—our—personal lives to every Tom, Dick and Harry I meet? I have no doubt at all that you will be an excellent hostess.’ He added to surprise her: ‘I’m sorry if I was overbearing.’
&
nbsp; ‘Not at all. If there’s anything special about your guests will you tell me? So that I know what to talk about.’
‘A pity we can’t meet for lunch—I have a previous engagement and I can’t get home this evening either. I shall bring two of our guests with me—he’s something in the EU, very quiet and easy to talk to, so is his wife. Then there will be another married couple; he works with me a good deal, rather learned and withdrawn, his wife is just the opposite—they’re a devoted pair. Then there is another guest—a last minute one—which makes us an odd number but that can’t be helped. An old friend just back from the States…’
‘Aunt Barbara,’ murmured Deborah.
He drove in silence for a few moments. ‘Eleanor told you?’
‘That’s right,’ her voice was matter-of-fact although her heart was pounding with a mixture of quite murderous feelings. ‘Did you think that she wouldn’t? And you could just as well have said so to me in the first place; why should I mind about your friends? After all I know almost nothing about you, do I?’ She took a breath, ‘And I’m not a bit interested.’
He didn’t reply, although when she peeped at him she could see his profile was taut and severe; she had annoyed him and she was glad. After that they didn’t speak again. He stopped outside Harrods and she thanked him for the lift, smiled emptily at his chin because she didn’t feel quite able to look him in the eye, and walked jauntily into the store.
The jauntiness dropped off her like a cloak once she was inside and she shook so much that she went first to have a cup of coffee. She hadn’t done well, in fact she had behaved badly. How easy it would be, she thought, if they could talk—really talk, about themselves. He had put her into a compartment; she was a small part of his life, a convenience not meant to mingle with his own way of living, but to live in his home, run it to his liking and love his daughter. In all fairness, she had known that when she had married him, and if she hadn’t loved him so much she might have thought the situation through and backed out.