‘You can’t stop her if Stephen decides he wants her back,’ Laurel pointed out with irrefutable truth. ‘This engagement will naturally not last very long, just time enough for the nine days’ wonder to die down. It was Stephen’s own suggestion that I should begin to show interest in someone else after a time, so that nobody will be particularly surprised when the engagement is broken. It flared up so suddenly they probably don’t expect it to last in any event.’
Anthea gave a little grunt that could have signified anything. She scowled at the blank wall for a moment, then directed her gloomy frown at Laurel.
‘I’m beginning to wish I’d picked on somebody who at least liked Stephen,’ she muttered disgustedly, making Laurel feel that she had been switched somehow to the position of defendant instead of Anthea. ‘They might have been agreeable to do something about the Roberta problem.’
What can be done about her?’ Laurel asked involuntarily, with an uneasy feeling the next moment that she may have somehow involved herself even deeper in the matter by her seemingly innocent question.
Anthea gave her a glance of scorn. ‘If you had half an ounce of feminine guile you wouldn’t need to ask that.’
‘Are you suggesting that I should compete with Roberta?’ She managed to keep her voice coolly amused, but only with an effort, because she suspected that it was just that course of action Anthea was advocating.
‘And why not?’
She smiled, as if the answer was quite obvious. ‘Because I wouldn’t stand a chance against her—even if I was willing to try,’ she added hastily, before Anthea could take her reply as any sort of submission to her absurd demand.
Anthea made an impatient movement. ‘I don’t see why you shouldn’t have a chance. At least you could try. You played your part effectively enough last night, so you can’t dislike him quite as much as you make out.’
‘I admit that I don’t dislike him as much as I once did,’ she said carefully, feeling that even that statement might be a dangerous confidence where Anthea was concerned.
The younger girl’s eyes narrowed suddenly in a way that reminded Laurel too sharply and uncomfortably of Stephen.
‘You’re in love with him,’ she said deliberately.
Laurel controlled the involuntary start that the words provoked, but some evidence of her dismay must have shown in her face, because Anthea smiled in a way that was almost cruel.
‘You’ll do it now,’ she said, and her voice was very soft and slow. ‘If you love him, you’ll fight for him.’
‘I don’t love him.’ Even to her own ears, though she thought that her voice sounded weak and ineffectual. Anthea did not even bother to argue with her over the transparent falsity of the statement.
‘If I loved a man, I would want to do everything I could for his happiness.’
‘Would you?’ Laurel retorted a little bitterly. ‘I think you Barringtons have a different idea of love from what I have.’
‘Probably,’ Anthea agreed, with a hard line to her normally soft lips that heightened her resemblance to Stephen in that moment. ‘But not in the way you imagine. I’ll grant you that, in your eyes, we probably seem to racket around a bit, but it’s harmless enough, and when I do fall in love I know that it will be the end of everything else. Stephen is the same. It’s a trait that runs in the family.’
‘Is it?’ Laurel tried to sound indifferent and knew she was not succeeding too well.
‘It is. If I was in your position I would fight tooth and nail for him. At least we know how to love,’ she said scornfully. ‘It’s probably come down from old Dom Miguel. But your love can’t be worth much if you just want to crawl into a hole and let Roberta get away with everything.’
Laurel winced, but she could not find any words to refute the statement that was only partly true. She was very much on the defensive now, when only a short time ago it had been Anthea in that position. There had been a complete reversal, which only a Barrington could have effected in such a manner.
Anthea abruptly changed her tactics. Her expression softened. She smiled wistfully.
‘Don’t you think he’s worth fighting for?’
Whether the tone was deliberately assumed or not, the choice of words broke down her resistance more than anything else could have done.
‘Yes ... yes, he is worth fighting for,’ she whispered. He was worth anything. She knew that only too well.
Anthea’s eyes narrowed. There was triumph in them now. ‘Then you’ll do it?’
Laurel looked at her bitterly. ‘You Barringtons have no scruples about manoeuvring people just as you want them, have you?’
‘You will do it?’ Anthea insisted.
Laurel nodded and went down into complete defeat. ‘Yes, I will do it—although I know that I haven’t a chance of success against Roberta.’
Anthea laughed gaily, fully restored in an instant to all her old charm and airy whimsicality.
‘Don’t be so downhearted.’ She flicked back a strand of blonde hair. ‘Stephen was right. You do need some lessons on how to handle men.’
‘Perhaps I do,’ Laurel agreed grimly, ‘but I’ll handle this in my own way.’
Just how was she going to handle the impossible and rather frightening matter of trying to make Stephen Barrington fall in love with her? She had not the faintest idea how to go about it and the greatest reluctance in the world to even begin.
When they went out into the garden Stephen and Ned seemed to be on their way back to meet them. Anthea immediately went across and thrust her arm through Ned’s with a gamin smile up at him.
‘How do, brother Ned,’ she said gaily. ‘What do you think of your new sister-to-be?’
‘Really want me to tell you?’ Ned countered, and Laurel saw a swift flash of pain cross her brother’s face before he recovered himself. Knowing his feelings were far from brotherly towards the lovely fair-headed girl at his side, Laurel only just stopped herself putting out a hand to her brother in a rush of sympathy, because she knew just what it was like now to be in love with somebody who would probably be quite willing to have a light and meaningless affair with you but did not care a jot seriously. In her own case she did not know whether Stephen would have been interested even in that. He had once said—on a very momentous and well-remembered occasion—that he liked his women sophisticated and experienced, and she was neither. Besides, Roberta Fransom had appeared on the scene now.
She felt him come up behind her and his arms slid around her waist, drawing her back against him. Just for one moment, she stiffened, then slowly relaxed, leaning her head back against his hard chest. Over her head Stephen looked across at his sister with a dryly quizzical glance. From her he shifted his gaze to Ned.
‘You’d better not tell her the truth, Ned. She’d never stand it this afternoon.’
Anthea pouted and darted a sorry little glance up at the tow-headed man at her side.
‘You’ll simply have to be nice to me, Ned darling. They’ve both been flaying me alive.’
Tor letting the cat out of the bag, you mean?’ Ned asked. ‘Serves you right,’ he added unsympathetically.
Anthea pouted, but she nevertheless looked a little piqued. Her glance became speculative and she gnawed at her lower lip in a manner that her own brother had come to realize meant she was embarking on something or considering some idea that she should never have entertained in the first place.
‘I don’t think the cat was very securely in the bag in any case,’ she retorted.
‘Well, you should know,’ Stephen countered softly, while Laurel simply stood in the circle of his arms, not saying a word, just savouring the bitter-sweet pleasure of being so near to him without having to pretend that she was completely indifferent. She silently blessed Ned for being a one-man audience. Had only Anthea been present there would have been no need for pretence and she would have had to free herself from Stephen, in case he guessed how every nerve was thrilling and singing at his touch. In that moment she felt
quite blissfully happy and refused to think about Roberta.
She saw Ned grin at her and knew exactly what he was thinking. He had apparently always liked Stephen Barrington and was thoroughly satisfied with his sister’s choice of a marriage partner. Well, he would soon learn differently, she thought with a shade of grimness. The Stephen Barringtons of this world did not pick on inexperienced little schoolteachers without an ounce of glamour or distinction.
The thought caused her a little twinge of pain she could not control and the bitter-sweet pleasure of Stephen’s arms around her became more pain than anything else, so that she could not bear him to touch her in that moment.
Carefully she relaxed the fingers of one hand until the handkerchief she had been clutching in it fluttered down to the ground. Using it as an excuse to free herself, she bent to pick it up and then moved a few feet away, to perch on a low, ornamental wall, swinging one foot with an appearance of casual composure, whatever Anthea might thing of her actions—or Stephen too for that matter.
She was trying to think of some safe, casual topic—as casual as she hoped her expression was—to swing the conversation around to, but Pepita appeared at the back door of the house and came towards them, making it unnecessary.
As she slid down off the wall and advanced to meet the Portuguese woman she had to pass Stephen. A certain sardonic amusement in his expression, that Ned could not see, told her that he realized she had found the moment awkward for some reason, even if he did not know what had caused it—at least she hoped with all her heart that he did not know. It did not need his softly uttered remark, so low that only she heard it:
‘Saved by the gong!’
She hoped she was keeping her expression appropriately undisturbed, and then Pepita was bobbing her funny little curtsey and announcing:
‘The Senhora Bertram-Smythe, she is here.’
‘Oh, lord!’ Anthea groaned.
‘We’ll be coming in now,’ Laurel said quickly, to cover up Anthea’s involuntary but rather unfortunate exclamation. She did not know yet how much Pepita was to be trusted not to gossip.
‘I tell her,’ Pepita nodded, and scuttled off ahead of them.
Ned grinned after her. ‘Mama B-S has probably come to black her nose about your engagement,’ he said with a glance at Stephen, who merely shrugged.
‘It’s probably all over the island by now.’
As they entered the house, Laurel felt him catch her hand and grip her fingers rather hard, both for appearance and also in warning.
‘Come on, play up, you little coward,’ he whispered, and because Laurel felt that was just about adding insult to injury she tipped up her head with a reckless laugh that dared him to call her a coward when the whole situation had been caused by a Barrington in the first place.
‘Darling Stephen, anything you say,’ she said gaily, loud enough for Mrs. Bertram-Smythe, just on the other side of the doorway they approached, to hear her.
‘Anything?’ Stephen countered, doubtless for the same reason.
When they entered the room together, Ned and Anthea following close behind them, they must have looked the typical happily engaged couple. Mrs. Bertram-Smythe rose to her feet and held out both her hands to them with an affected gesture, which gave Laurel the opportunity to free her hands from Stephen’s clasp.
‘So it is true after all!’ She directed a playfully coy glance at Stephen. ‘You dark horse, Stephen Barrington. Annexing Laurel for yourself the first moment she appeared on the island!’
‘Who wouldn’t?’ Stephen answered, with what his fiancée thought would have been quite touching gallantry if he had really meant it.
‘I was so surprised when I heard,’ Mrs. Bertram-Smythe gushed on, ‘But of course I knew it was true the moment I saw you. You both look so happy. I don’t know how you managed to hide it so completely before.’
‘Well, it was rather hard,’ Stephen agreed equably, while out of the corner of her eye Laurel saw that Anthea’s lovely face was positively wreathed in gleeful amusement, which she hastily erased as Barbie’s mother brought her attention to the second member of the unaccountable Barrington family.
‘And what do you think of it, Anthea dear?’
‘Oh, I’m positively delighted,’ Anthea told her, speaking what was probably nothing but the blatant, unadorned truth. ‘It’s what I wanted right from the beginning.’
‘Did you?’ Stephen murmured, and just for one moment his eyes flickered from his sister to the girl at his side, so that Laurel had a horrible suspicion he was remembering their conversation on the terrace at Castelanto, when he had tried to find out who was involved in Anthea’s matchmaking plans.
‘I suppose this means you will not be going on with our little plan after all?’ Mrs. Bertram-Smythe inquired. ‘About the dancing, I mean. I expect you’ll be far too busy now. If I know Stephen at all, I’m sure he won’t want to let you out of his sight for long, in case somebody else tries to ... er ... poach on his preserves,’ she finished roguishly, and Laurel perceived that her worth had gone up considerably in madam’s estimation by her astonishing capture of the greatest catch on the island, or the surrounding territory for some distance come to that.
Stephen grinned. ‘I’d challenge them to a duel if they tried.’ He directed an inquiring glance at his fiancée. ‘What dancing plan is this that you’ve been hatching behind my back?’ quite as if he had all the right in the world to know everything that she did.
‘Oh, hasn’t she told you?’ Mrs. Bertram-Smythe asked interestedly.
‘No, she hasn’t—but we’ve had quite a lot to talk about lately, haven’t we, darling?
Laurel deemed it wiser not to meet Stephen’s glance at that moment. ‘Quite a lot,’ she agreed hastily, but kept her eyes on Mrs. Bertram-Smythe. ‘Of course I shall still be going on with it,’ she added.
Mrs. Bertram-Smythe gave a nod of satisfaction, refused an invitation to join them for refreshments and began to pull on her gloves.
‘I should love to stay,’ she excused herself, ‘but it’s so unfortunate. I have a meeting this afternoon. I just dropped in on my way, so that I could tell the ladies whether you would be going on with our little plan.’
‘Just dropped by!’ Anthea grimaced, when Mrs. Bertram-Smythe had taken her departure and the only trace that remained of her visit was a cloud of dust from her car disappearing in the distance. ‘It’s quite a bit out of her way to come here before going to Milton, the old news bulletin!’ She grinned at Laurel. ‘If you ever want to spread anything around the island, just drop a hint to Mrs. B-S. If you hint that it’s top secret and for her ears alone she’ll do a quicker job still.’ She studied the other girl with bright, dancing eyes. ‘Anyway, what is all this about some sort of a dance?’
‘She stands on one foot, touches her toes backwards and points the other foot at the lampshade,’ Ned grinned.
‘Quite an effort.’ Stephen quirked one of those diabolical black eyebrows. ‘Are you going to give us an exhibition, darling?’ he inquired of his fiancée.
‘Ned is exaggerating,’ Laurel said calmly. ‘I used to belong to a physical culture organization that specialized in classical Greek dancing.’ Before he could make one of the remarks that so easily sent the colour flying to her cheeks, she launched quickly into the explanation she had given Mrs. Dalkeith and the secretary of Milton’s ladies’ club. ‘I want something to occupy my time,’ she added in explanation. ‘It seemed a good idea, to combine it with a kindergarten school.’
Anthea grimaced. ‘Must you have the school, too? I can’t imagine you bossing a lot of kids.’
‘Nor can I,’ Stephen murmured, with his grey glance flicking over her from head to foot, and, because she had an idea of what was coming, Laurel forestalled him.
‘Don’t you think that joke is getting a little stale?’ she asked. ‘Whatever you think about it, I was a schoolteacher and I doubtless shall be one again.’
‘Haven’t you forgotten something, my
child?’ Stephen drawled. ‘You’re going to be married. I shall demand too much of your time for you to start playing at schoolteachers again.’
Quite apart from the fact that she should not have slipped into the unguarded remark about going back to schoolteaching one day. Laurel was annoyed with him, because he knew quite well, as did Anthea and herself, that the engagement between them would never lead to marriage. She had known it was going to hurt, but never quite as much as this. She wanted to hit back at him, but it was impossible to do so too pointedly with Ned present, so instead she smiled.
‘Well, perhaps the kindergarten wouldn’t be such a good idea at the moment, but as I don’t intend to give up all my time to you, my dear husband-to-be, I shall go on with my Greek dancing if I can get enough people interested,’ which would show Stephen quite plainly that she was attempting to pay him back in his own coin, but her mock determined attitude would deceive Ned into thinking that she was just joking. He would take it as the remark of a happily engaged girl who really wanted nothing better than to be all the time with the man she loved, but Stephen would be astute enough to see through to the truth and Anthea, who as well as her brother knew the true state of affairs, would also realize that she did not intend to be pushed around too much by the Barringtons. She was quite independent and intended to stand on her own feet. Even though Anthea might know how she felt about her tall, dark-haired brother, Stephen himself did not realize that she would have given anything for the right to be always at his side.
‘That’s telling him!’ Anthea murmured, with her eyes dancing. She appeared not at all put out by the oblique warning that Laurel intended to retain her independence whatever the state of her feelings towards Stephen. She directed a sparkling glance at her brother. ‘You’d better beat her often when you’re married.’
‘There are other ways to tame her,’ Stephen retorted enigmatically, and Laurel blushed, remembering that first punishing kiss in the gardens at Castelanto. Anthea probably thought of the same method by her expression and Laurel rushed quickly into speech, before the irrepressible Miss Barrington could say something completely outrageous.
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