Child Friday (15 page)

“Another time I’ll be ready,” she began, and he replied with sudden gentleness:

“Another time we’ll approach things differently. Goodnight, Emily—or rather, good-morning.”

She went back to her room, dismayed that she had, perhaps, failed him, but with a spark of hope f
o
r the future coaxed to life in her breast.

The next day, Vanessa returned to Torcroft.

II

She walked in on them that evening, demanding cocktail. She brought with her charming oddments of feminine frivolity as presents for Emily and a bottle of old liqueur brandy for Dane.

“Very, very special,” she told him gaily. “You see, I’ve remembered your penchant for good brandy. I bet old Ben Carey had nothing like this in his cellar.”

Her eyes suddenly went to Emily’s pearls. “Heavens! Are those real? Emily, you lucky little beast! I’ve, never owned anything more valuable than cultured in my life. Let me see them.”

Emily undid the clasp and handed them over. Vanessa examined the necklace minutely, her fingers caressing
each pearl with avid yearning, then she clasped them quickly around her own throat and her proud, revealing expression said plainly that here was beauty appropriately matched.

“You’ve already started to spoil her, I see,” she said to Dane. “They’re too lovely—I’m filled with envy and malice.”

She was vibrant with life, sitting in the library, sipping her cocktail, Emily’s pearls displayed so magnificently on her creamy flesh. The tawny hair glowed like a flame, the flawless skin was a challenge to the hard glare of electricity.

Emily knew a brief spurt of anger. Had Dane’s mind been filled with Vanessa when he had turned to her so strangely in the darkness? Could one invest somebody one had never seen with the remembered beauty of another? She became so silent that Dane asked once if she was still there.

“Yes.” she said, without guarding her words. “But I can go. I’ll take Bella for her run, if you would like me to. It’s about her time.”

Dane raised his eyebrows but made no reply and Vanessa
ma
de
naughty little grimace of understanding. “We’ve been rude, darling,” she said,
“I’
ve been chattering too much. You and Emily must have acquired the matrimonial habit of silence when you’re alone, I
think
.”

“
Too much chatter can become tiring,” Dane said. It could have been taken as a snub, but Vanessa only blew him a kiss which he could not see.

“You’ve grown stodgy,” she told him with charming impudence. “There was a time when my chatter didn’t
tire you.”

“There is a time in all our lives when our better judg
m
ent is blunted,” Dane retorted, and this time she did
not look so pleased.

“That’s rather rude, darling,” she pouted. Specially when I’ve just brought you that beautiful brandy.”

“I’m sorry,” he said with a grin. “Mix yourself another cocktail if you’re ready. Are you here again indefinitely?”

Vanessa laughed.

"How well you know me, darling! Yes, after my London excesses, I have to rusticate with poor old Aunt Gertrude to recoup, as usual. How maddening it is to be broke! That expensive trifle of Emily’s would keep me in luxury for six months.”

“You haven’t changed, have you? Champagne tastes on a beer income.”

“Isn’t that most people’s trouble—unless, like you, they come into a fortune?”

“Hardly a fortune, my dear, and when I had a beer income,
I
, at least, could manage on it.”

If his observation had point for her she merely shrugged her shoulders and began mixing herself a cocktail.

“More sherry?” she asked Emily carelessly, as if, indeed, she was the hostess. “No? Well, perhaps you should take Bella out, darling. She’s looking rather menacingly at my ankles.”

“She wouldn’t touch you unless she thought you were going to attack Dane,” said Emily gravely, and Vanessa laughed.

“Really, Emily, as if I would,” she said contemptuously. “I don’t think she likes me, though.”

“She knows you don’t like her.”

“Well, I can’t help it. I’ve always been led to believe Alsatians are treacherous. Don’t look so indignant, darling. Take her out for her run.”

Emily called the bitch and went out of the room, feeling rather like a child dismissed from its elders’ more important affairs. When she had gone, Dane observed quietly:

“That was rather unkind.”

“Because I can’t pretend a liking for your watch-dog?”

“No, because you made it so obvious that you wanted to be alone with me.”

She
went and sat on the arm of his chair and he caught a waft of the perfume she always used, and the familiar scent of her hair.

“Well, darling,” she said with the impudent honesty he remembered, “I’m no good at pretending this either. I did want you to myself. Emily’s a sweet thing, but she can’t enter into our old jokes and reminiscences, and I think she’s a teeny bit disapproving.”

“You can hardly expect her to be very interested in things which happened more than five years ago,” he retorted dryly. “She was barely fifteen then.”

“What a terrifying thought! Five years doesn’t seem so long to me, does it to you?”

He moved a little impatiently in his chair, away from the intimate pressure of her shoulder.

“You and I led rather different lives during those five years,” he pointed out. “They were long to me, yes, and I’m a very different person.”

“Is that a warning?” she asked.

“Do you need a warning, Vanessa?” he countered, and felt her slight withdrawal.

“I suppose I deserved that,” she said softly. “I treated you badly, I know, Dane. But I wasn’t to know things would turn out like this, was I?”

“Like what?”

“
Wel
l
—the accident making no difference to your attraction—the way you’ve come through it all—independent and strong—scarcely different to any normal person.”

“Blindness is a misfortune, not an abnormality,” he said, and she put a quick, conciliatory hand on his arm.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” she pleaded. “Can I help it, darling, if I still find you attractive—if I kick myself for having let you go so stupidly?”

“If you feel like that, my dear, it would be better if you stopped away from Pennyleat,” he said with a certain harshness.

“Why? What harm can I do you now? You’re rich, happily married
...
” She saw him wince, and smiled secretly to herself. “You
are
happily married, aren’t you, darling?”

“A more important consideration is whether Emily is,” he replied gravely, and at that moment Emily came back into the room.

She looked at Vanessa perched on the arm of Dane’s chair, making no effort to move, and turned away to pour
herself another glass of sherry. Bella sniffed Vanessa’s legs, growling under her breath, and Dane said:

“Bella doesn’t approve. Better find yourself a more comfortable seat, Vanessa, if you’re going to stop.”

For an instant the girl looked angry.

“Is that your way of indicating that I’ve outstayed my welcome?” she asked as she got to her feet.

“Of course not,” Emily interposed quickly. “Dane was probably only thinking that it’s getting late. Mrs. Pride has an unshakable habit of bringing in a meal on the dot, no matter who’s here. But do have another cocktail.”

“No, thanks,” said Vanessa, “I’d forgotten the time.” She collected her furs and her smart new handbag and bade Dane a charming good-night. Emily accompanied her into the hall and thanked her again for the presents she had brought.

“Can I have my pearls back, please?” she asked.

“Oh, sorry! They seemed so much a part of me that I had forgotten them,” Vanessa laughed, and took off the necklace, relinquishing it regretfully.

“Did you have a good time in London?” Emily asked for politeness’ sake.

“Wonderful!” Vanessa replied, her eyes assessing Emily’s clothes and hair with impersonal interest. “After so many years abroad it was like coming home. Everyone asked for Dane, of course. Such a pity he’s elected to become a hermit when he now can afford the worth-while places. You shouldn’t wear those old slippers with that frock, darling—they ruin the effect and don’t go with those pearls at all.”

“They’re comfortable,” said Emily apologetically. “Besides, no one sees them but me.”

“Yes,” said Vanessa with one of her brilliant smiles. “A blind husband has his uses, hasn’t he? By the way, I met an old friend of yours in town.”

“I know. Miss Pink spent last week-end with us.”

“I don’t mean old Louisa, though she did give your little secret away. I was speaking of Tim Lonnegan.”

“Oh, yes?” said Emily politely. “How was he?”

“Very well, and most interested to lea
rn
of your new fortunes. He’s coming down to Torcroft for a visit very soon. Won’t that be nice?” said Vanessa and slipped out of the front door with a mocking wave of the hand.

Emily stood in the empty hall, uneasiness sweeping over her. Why should she care, she thought, if Tim should come back into her life? The affair had been harmless enough in all conscience, and her old affection for him, even the hurt and shame which had remained with her for a long time, had been wiped out by more recent events. But she remembered Louisa Pink’s hints and her impatient admonition for Emily to grow up and the uneasiness remained.

Shorty came into the hall to sound the gong for dinner. He was used to finding Emily in unexpected places, apparently lost in thought, and only, said:

“Want five minutes to run upstairs? Mrs. Pride’s still dishing up.”

“No, thank you, Shorty, I’m ready,” she said vaguely.

“That Miss
Larne
back again?” he asked.

“Yes, she came down from London today.”

“Ho!” observed Shorty enigmatically, and beat the gong with a deafening clamor.

Emily stayed awake for a long time that night wondering if Dane would call for her, but although she heard
him
moving about in his room and knew he could not sleep, he made no sign, nor for many nights to come.

He seemed restless, she thought, watching during the days for any indication that he might need her in any capacity other than that for which she had been originally engaged. He kept her hard at work typing in the mornings and, in the afternoons, he would take Bella and walk by himself on the moor.

“If Vanessa should blow in unexpectedly, make my excuses and entertain her yourself, will you?” he told her once.

“Don’t you want to see her?” Emily asked, surprised.

“Not whenever she chooses to appear. Will you do this for me, Emily?”

“Of course, but won’t she think it a little odd?”

“My dislike of strangers is well known. Vanessa, after all this time, must count herself as such.”

Emily looked at him with troubled eyes. Was his old passion for Vanessa still so strong that he must thrust her out of his life because he was afraid? she wondered sadly. She
w
ould not, she thought, be strong enough to stand in the way of Vanessa’s determination in such an event, and began to dread those fine afternoons of early spring when the sound of a car would send her hurrying to the windows.

But Vanessa did not com
e
. It was as if she had already sensed his mood or, perhaps, was biding her time until that mood should change.

I
I
I

Emily knew old Mrs. Mortimer by sight, a large, ungainly woman with dyed hair and a raddled, painted face. Vanessa had never brought her to Pennyleat, but one day she stopped and spoke to Emily in the village.

“I’ve never called,” she said in a hard, rasping voice. “But I understand your husband doesn’t care for visitors. He and my niece, of course, are old friends, but that isn’t
to say
—
Will you come back to the house and have
some mid-morning coffee with me, my dear? I should like to know you.”

It was a surprising invitation and not one that Emily had any wish to accept. She knew Dane did not care for Vanessa’s aunt and she, herself, was not attracted by the woman. However, it was difficult to refuse without appearing ungracious, and presently she found herself sitting opposite Mrs. Mortimer in a gloomy drawing-room with a poor fire, eating stale biscuits which had become soft. The coffee, on the other hand, was excellent. Mrs. Mortimer had not lived abroad for so long without learning to scorn the English variety.

“You were married very suddenly, weren’t you?” she
asked. “Neither Vanessa nor I knew, or of course
—
My
niece, you probably know,
w
as once engaged to your husband
...
the poor girl was always her worst enemy, I always said—spoilt, impat
i
ent—never content to wait for anything. Do you care for the isolation of Pennyleat? Of course, after having to earn your living in such
precarious ways, you wouldn’t mind
...
Do you find blindness a trial to live with? I think, myself, it might be worse to be deaf.”

She rambled on with this curious monologue, never waiting for an answer to her numerous questions. Emily began to feel uncomfortable. Mrs. Mortimer’s pointed references to her niece and Dane were difficult to ignore and her curiosity was undisguised. Only when Emily finally made her escape did the old lady make an uncharacteristic observation.

“Come and see me again,” she said. “I like you, my dear. I wouldn’t want you to be hurt through any agency of mine
...
Remember me to your husband. He doesn’t like me, but then I think he always blamed me for Vanessa’s upbringing.
”

“Did you bring her up?” asked Emily, wondering if this might explain a great deal.

“Not really, but I was always there to come back to. The young don’t want you when you’re old, my dear
...
Still, Vanessa seemed quite happy trailing after me round the casinos
...
Pity she didn’t marry, what?”

Emily told Dane during luncheon of her meeting with Mrs. Mortimer and thought he did not look pleased.

“I should keep away from Torcroft, if I were you,” he said. “The old girl hasn’t called on you, which looks as if she realizes that I mightn’t want to fraternize.”

“But why wouldn’t you?” Emily asked. “I know she’s unattractive and rather odd, but, after all, you used to know her.”

“I may have known her but I didn’t approve, and she knew it,” he said.

“But why? I don’t
think
all that paint and dyed hair means much. I think she’s lonely.”

“You ask too many questions, Emily,” he said impatiently. “My disapproval didn’t apply to her morals, which, for all I know, were exemplary. She was a go
-
getter, a parasite, willing, I’ve always understood, to live on her niece’s spoils.”

It was Emily’s turn to raise her eyebrows, but she said nothing. Had Mrs. Mortimer manoeuvred to marry her niece off to the highest bidder and thus been the real cause for that broken engagement? She could not, herself, see Vanessa being persuaded to a course of action either by her Aunt Gertrude or anyone else.

“Did you like her?” asked Dane suddenly, with more surprise than annoyance.