Curious, her lack of regret. No sense of loss, either, but rather the simple realization that she was embarking on the greatest adventure of her life.
Looking up, she saw old Florence hurrying toward them across the deck, her stern black face peering neither to the right nor to the left. In her hand she clutched a sheaf of white envelopes.
As she drew near, Burke went forward to meet her and, before she could speak, he inquired thoughtfully if everyone was settled in.
She nodded in her typically efficient manner, as though to say. Of course, and why shouldn't they be? "I thought I'd better bring you these," she said. "I was in your stateroom unpacking your trunks and these were waiting for you."
Still standing by the railing, Mar}' saw Burke take them, a dozen envelopes, at least, all bearing the ominous look of invitations.
"Damn," she heard him mutter, after having opened one or two.
"What is it?" she inquired, drawing near, trying to see for herself.
He held one up with clear contempt. "An invitation to join the captain for dinner." He held up another. "An invitation for tea tomorrow with Lord and Lady Haldane; an invitation for sherry later that evening with Mr. and Mrs.—"
She watched with patient amusement as he thumbed angrily through the various social invitations, understanding both his mood and lack of patience.
Suddenly she took the invitations from him and handed them back to Florence. "Dispose of these," she said quietly. She ignored the old woman's shocked expression. "And leave the rest of the unpacking to me. I can handle it."
"But-"
"Thank you, Florence," she said, smiling.
Puzzled, the old woman retreated and left her with the weight of Burke's surprised expression. Gently she took his arm and without words guided him toward the main deck, where the foot traffic was dense. She stood a moment looking out over all the ladies and gentlemen, many of whom had penned those loathsome invitations. Then, with the innate cunning of an actress who carefully chooses her audience, she whispered to Burke, "In honor of the skill which I acquired during my days at Jeremy Sims' Song and Supper Club, I'm about to faint. All I ask is that you catch me."
Without further warning, and greatly amused by the confused look on Burke's face, she feigned a most effective swoon, and only at the last minute as the dock was rising up did she feel the reassuring support of his arms about her, heard as well the rustled concern as people rushed from all directions.
Safely "unconscious," she rested her head against his chest and tried to conceal a smile as she heard his sputtering explanation to the shocked voices around them. "It's—nothing serious," he faltered. "Just let us through, please."
Then she heard another voice, a ship's ofEcer, "I will fetch a physician, Mr. Stanhope. There's one on board. I'd be happy to."
"No, I don't—think that's—necessary," Burke said nervously. "Just give us passage and I'm certain that—"
Whatever he w^as certain of, he failed to say, and again Mary buried her face in his coat to hide a giggle, hoping he didn't whisk her away too soon, before all those people could clearly see the indisposed Mrs. Stanhope and thus eliminate them from their various guest lists.
All the way down the narrow corridor which led to their stateroom she was aware of a trailing parade of excited and concerned voices.
As she heard Burke's stammering attempts to get rid of them, her repressed hilarity grew to dangerous proportions and, none too soon, she felt herself being carried over a high threshold, felt his awkward movements as he tried to close the door behind them, aU the while cradling his "ill wife."
When she heard the sliding of the bolt she slipped from his arms, almost doubled over with laughter, as amused by his puzzled expression as anything.
At last the fog lifted from his face and was replaced by a look of loving amazement. "Wicked, that's what you are," he scolded gently.
"Did you really want to attend all those dreary functions?" she gasped, still laughing. "If so, I can effect a miraculous recovery."
"No!"
"Well, then—" She smiled and looked about at the lovely wood-paneled room, complete with enormous bed with red velvet curtains, a bouquet of spring flowers on the table and two small, curtained dressing rooms on either side.
She was aware of him waiting, watching, not knowing quite how to approach her after the last difficult days. Almost shyly, she approached him. With one hand she reached up and loosened his neck scarf. "It's all behind us now, Burke," she said quietly. "Everything," she added, confident that she'd said enough, that at last the time for words was over.
He stared down on her. As if by mutual consent they parted, each taking refuge in their private dressing room.
A few minutes later they returned to the bed without the bother of dressing gowns.
"Come," he invited, a compelling intensity in his face and manner as he drew her toward him and lay back with her on the bed.
Still plagued by the nightmares of the past and the question mark of the future, she hesitated. Her world had been annihilated so many times before. But as Burke approached her in love and need she felt a new strength, a new hope that, although in the future her world might be severely shaken, it would never again be destroyed.
With a certain pride, she looked back on her share of outlived sorrows. Then she drew her husband to her.
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Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Pages
Back Cover
The Women of Eden Page 68