Egyptian Honeymoon (21 page)

Noelle awaited Steve's arrival on that fateful Saturday with considerable trepidation. The future was no longer her decision but his. If he wanted the child he would not let her go, at any rate until it was born, and she would not leave him then if it meant she must give it up. But he might not, because for all she knew he might have formed another connection with someone more suited to him, who he intended should supersede her, when the divorce had been made absolute. That seemed more than likely, and he would not want to wait the couple of years before he or she could claim desertion. That meant that she would have to proceed against him for infidelity, which she did not believe she could ever bring herself to do, though she might for the baby's sake, because then it would be wholly hers, to bring up as she chose, without the shadows of nannies and boarding schools hanging over it. The idea was not without its attraction, for though she would lose Steve, who did not want her, she would retain a part of him in his child, but as it was his child, he had a right to know of its inception, and that was what she must tell him when she saw him again.

She still felt painfully shy about doing so, especially as she did not know how he would react. They had drawn so far apart—not that they had ever been close, it seemed almost indecent to inform him of her condition. The awful thought occurred to her that he might possibly doubt that it was his—though she did not see how he could entertain such an idea, for he had discovered she was a virgin when he had taken her, and there had been no one else. .

Unfortunately he had such a low opinion of women, he might suspect that she had avenged herself for his neglect by playing Lady Chatterley with someone on the estate during his frequent absences, but if he were cad enough to do that, she would most certainly leave him, however much it hurt her, and bring up her child far from his pernicious influence.

Again she might be wronging him. He had told her more than once not to be too hasty in her judgments, appearances could be deceptive, and Mrs Bates' letter had been one instance of proving her conclusions to be entirely incorrect, but how could a girl be fair to a man who consistently refused to explain himself? If she loved she should trust, but that was the hell of it, she couldn't give him blind trust, when he did nothing to earn it. He had said that if he told her what he had done for the Bates, he feared she would have felt under an obligation to him which she must discharge in ways distasteful to her, an involved and not very convincing excuse. He had said upon another occasion that he did not want gratitude, then what
did
he want? For he had also jeered at falling in love, so it would not please him to learn that she had and was, and he would no doubt attribute some devious motive to her declaration of a change of heart. There seemed to be no way at all in which she could break through to him. Only someone like Marcia could do that, she thought bitterly. They understood each other, being two of a kind, but whatever she did or said Steve took the wrong way.

Marcia had been back in England for some time, and he expected to run across her, if he had not already done so. He might be with her now, for he was so secretive about where he was going and who with. Business involvement could cover a multitude of diversions, from the proverbial 'being kept late at the office', to cover amorous liaisons or illicit trips abroad, while the deceived wife remained in ignorance at home.

Yet whatever he did and was, her love for him continued to grow. He had got under her skin, invaded her imagination. For all his faults, Steve was indisputably a ruler of men, a born leader, having fought his way up to the top of the tree. Noelle was reminded of a statue of the great Rameses, with Nefertari, the beloved wife, beside him, but only coming up to his knee. That was how she felt with Steve.

But none of these unhappy reflections solved the problem of how to disclose her news to her husband. It seemed so bald to say: 'I'm going to have a baby.' And the night it had been conceived was something they both pretended hadn't happened, Steve because he was a little ashamed of his violence, and she because the memory smirched her fastidious sensitiveness. She had not been entirely unresponsive, but it had not been love between them.

Then she hit upon a bright idea that would tell him without any spoken word at all. She had herself driven into Maidenhead, for though she could drive—Hugh had taught her—she was never very confident on the traffic-laden roads, and Steve much preferred that she utilised the chauffeur.

I must get myself a little car and with practice I'll become more expert, she mused, as the limousine rolled smoothly towards its destination. I'll need some sort of transport, if… a big if.

Noelle purchased wool, needles and pattern books. She was not a good knitter, but that again was something she must practise. She could buy layettes by the dozen if she so wished, but with Steve's money, and she liked to feel she was doing something personal to welcome the newcomer.

When Steve came in on the Saturday afternoon, he found his wife seated upon the sofa, concentrating upon a half-finished infant's vest, with sheaves of pattern books strewn around her. Pickles rushed to give him an enthusiastic welcome, and after he had quieted the dog she looked up with a slightly self-conscious smile:

'Hi, Steve, everything going well?' And promptly dropped a stitch.

'Yes, thanks.' He seemed fascinated by her busy fingers. 'I didn't know you were keen on knitting.'

'It passes the time.'

In case he hadn't got the message, she ostentatiously picked up a pattern book with a picture of a grinning baby on the cover.

'Is that for… a friend?'

Noelle counted stitches, then said deliberately:

'No one I know is having a baby.'

He stared at her incredulously, and she blushed vividly, giving the game away.

'Noelle!'

He came towards her, snatching the knitting from her hands and casting it aside, where it was promptly retrieved by Pickles, who carried it off in triumph to his basket. Steve had seized both of Noelle's wrists.

'Look at me!'

Slowly Noelle raised her eyes to meet the penetrating grey ones, while the colour deepened to cover both face and neck.

'Yes,' she said simply.

'But… how?'

She could see he was thinking back, back to that night on the
Serapis
, and a little prick of resentment pierced her. Did men never think of consequences until they were thrust upon them? She said calmly:

'This is the punishment you inflicted upon me.'

'Oh, my love, don't say that!' Steve dropped on his knees beside her, his arms encircling her waist, and buried his face in her lap. Noelle stared down at the dark head upon her skirt, completely overcome. This display of feeling from one who never showed feeling except in moments of passion was entirely unexpected. Tentatively she stroked his hair, still so thick and dark; age cannot wither him… no, that was said of a woman, Cleopatra. The emotion surging through him communicated itself to her in the close holding of his arms. And she had believed he was cold! Half laughing, half crying, because she was deeply moved, she complained:

'You… and Pickles… have ruined my knitting.'

'Damn your knitting,' his voice was muffled. 'What a thing to be thinking of at a time like this!'

He looked up at her and his eyes were soft as morning mist, because they were wet.

'God is good. I didn't dare hope for this.'

More and more astonished, for she hadn't thought Steve believed in God, she murmured:

'I gather you're… pleased?'

'Aren't you? Or are you another Lady Falconbridge who considers procreation an unpleasant necessity?'

'Don't mention that unnatural female! It's what I've always wanted.'

His arms tightened about her waist.

'Even though I'll never, never let you go now. You're caught… trapped.' There was triumph in his voice. This was the old Steve, the one she knew.

'But I don't want to go. I thought
you
wanted to be rid of
me
.'

'Good God, whatever gave you that idea?'

'You haven't been exactly matey since we came back here.'

Keep it light, instinct warned her, aware they were hovering on the edge of an abyss. His passion for her was not dead after all, she could feel it in the close grip of his arms, see it in the smouldering fire which had come into his grey eyes. Deep within her, a flame leaped in response, but that wasn't the answer. They had to come to an understanding first.

Pickles, puzzled by their unusual behaviour, abandoned Noelle's knitting which he had been happily chewing, and came to push an enquiring nose between them. His action broke the mounting tension.

'Damned dog!' Steve exclaimed, and rose to his feet. He stood looking down at her. 'When did you know?'

'The night of the party. I felt poorly and Mrs Ingram told me to see a doctor. He confirmed it yesterday morning.'

'You might have told me.'

'Well, I wasn't sure and you'd other things on your mind. You were going to Holland.'

'You've got your priorities wrong, but yesterday morning, you could have phoned the office.'

'I didn't know if you'd be there… or if you'd be pleased.'

He thrust his hands into his trouser pockets and began to pace the room. His face had regained its normal closed expression, he was completely in control of himself again.

'You realise what this means, Noelle? As I said, I won't let you go now. You may hate and despise me, but as the mother of my child, you should be here with me.'

'Steve!' Noelle sprang to her feet. She went and stood in front of him to stop his restless pacing. 'I neither hate you nor despise you. You're obstinate, difficult and totally blind, but I love you, faults and all.'

He stopped and stared at her. 'What did you say?'

'I love you,' she repeated it steadily. 'I know you don't think much of love, but you'll have to accept it.' She smiled wistfully, her big eyes full of tenderness. 'You said once no one had loved you for yourself alone, but I do. I don't care a ha'penny about big houses, mink coats and diamonds, I'd be happy with you in a cottage. Happier, because then I could look after you, cook and wash and mend your socks. Much happier, because then I'd feel I was necessary to you.'

'But you are, only I was sure I revolted you, you thought I was a coarse brute. You said you didn't love me when I married you.'

'I didn't then…'

'And you could never forget Hugh Forbes.'

'No more I shall,' she said quietly. 'But that part of my life is over. I've grown so much since then, and what I feel for you is different, much stronger.'

He was unconvinced. 'You changed very suddenly.'

'I think it was Marcia who did it,' she said meditatively. 'Her pursuit of you showed me my true feelings, but you seemed to care more for her than me, and…' a glint of mischief came into her eyes, 'I didn't appreciate having to share my husband.'

'From the way you behaved on. our wedding night, I didn't think you wanted a husband at all.'

'I was afraid of you,' she admitted frankly, 'and as you afterwards discovered, I'd never slept with a man before. But that's past history.' Summoning all her courage, she looked straight into his eyes, very pale and serious. 'If we're going to go on living together, I can't stand any more of this semi-detached existence.'

'Good God, do you think it was by my wish? I hardly dared to sleep in the house, knowing you were there and I wanted you so. But I'd sworn to myself I'd never molest you again without an invitation after that night on the
Serapis
when my temper go the better of me.'

So that was why he had been so distant, so aloof— and she had thought he had lost interest in her.

Her mouth curved in an enchanting smile, as she told him:

'Well, I'm glad it did, since there's to be such a happy sequel.'

'Oh, my love!' Quite a different inflection this time. His arms enclosed her. 'So I'm forgiven?'

'For that, yes, a long time ago.'

'And you meant what you said, no more separate rooms?' Steve looked at her questioningly, still fearful of a rebuff.

'It was very lonely in that big bed,' she sighed, 'but I still can't believe that you really want me.'

'Want you!' he exclaimed, his arms tightening. 'I've felt like Tantalus, always the water was there before me, but I dared not drink. The only relief I could find was to go away, and then I was itching to return… to the blue room.'

Noelle's arms were about his neck, and she whispered in his ear:

'We'll move your things, no more blue room for you.'

'Thank God for that!'

He sank down on the sofa, drawing her across his knees. They clung together, and at last their lips met.

Noelle felt tides of rapture surge over her, all the sweeter for having been denied so long.

Presently Steve lifted his head and said unsteadily:

'I'm forgetting the baby. Perhaps I should continue in my old quarters until it's born.'

'And condemn me to eight months solitary?' Noelle protested. 'I need you, Steve, to sustain and support me.'

'Bless you, my darling, for those kind words. I'll do that and more.' Tenderly he smoothed the loosened hair back from her forehead. 'If we have a daughter I hope she has hair like yours.'

'More likely to be dark, like you. If she is, I'll call her Nefertari.'

'You will not! Think how she'd be ragged at school with a label like that. So our Egyptian holiday wasn't an entire loss.'

'Far from it, but Steve, there's something I've wondered about.'

'Yes?'

She felt his muscles tauten apprehensively, but she wanted to set her mind at rest about what had always irked her. It seemed she had been so wrong about many things, and it might be she was mistaken about that too.

'It won't make any difference now, but I'd like a truthful answer, and I may have misjudged you.'

'You probably have. What is this momentous question?'

'Did you go to Marcia on our wedding night when you said you would seek a more welcoming bed?'