Heart Specialist (25 page)

Valentine felt as if the emotion rising up in her slender throat would choke her, or come near to choking her.

“
I shall never fall in love again!
”
she announced, her heart hammering against her ribs, her eyes dark with tragedy.
“
I didn
’
t want to fall in love at all, only
...
only I couldn
’
t help it
...
”

She met the
marquise
’
s
eyes across the ivory chess pieces, and the older woman was clever enough to betray not the smallest amount of surprise. But she did ask mildly,
“
Do I know him,
cherie
?”
Valentine was appalled because she was certain she had given herself away, but the
marquise
appeared to be discarding one man after another in an attempt to arrive at a solution.

“
It wouldn
’
t be Philippe, because he, too, is too old, and you would be too sensible to take him seriously. But it could be that young man I invited to my dinner party, a law student who said he had met you before at the Dubonnets
’
house. Or that fair young man from England—why, of course, your own countryman—Peter something-or-other
...”

“
It
’
s not Peter, and I do wish,
madame
, that you wouldn
’
t
...
that you wouldn
’
t be so interested!
”
Valentine stammered in a kind of agony.
“
It
’
s awfully kind of you, of course, to
...
to be so concerned. But
...
it
’
s something I don
’
t like to think about anymore. I
’
m
...
I
’
m trying
...
trying desperately hard
...
to forget it. And, of course, the man!
”

“
Of course, dear child.
”
But the
marquise’s
eyes were brimming with sympathy, and she was comfortably aware that she had not the slightest need to probe anymore.
“
But how sad that you should be the victim of unrequited love. Now in France, that isn
’
t the sort of thing that happens often. We marry our girls off to someone we think suitable, and the whole affair is settled—and usually everything works out happily. But you English, who like to have the security
and
the love
and
everything! Ah, it is sad!
”
And she shook her silvery head.

The game was finished in a thoughtful silence on both sides, and then when they sat back to chat before bedtime, the
marquise
repeated her invitatio
n
to remain longer.

“
You will stay, my dear? For a week longer? Or for just a few days?
”

But Valentine shook her head. She didn
’
t know why she had to be so definite about it, considering she was dreading the return to Paris, but she had.

“
It is kind of you,
madame
,
terribly
kind, but I
’
d honestly rather go back after spending this one delicious weekend with you. Perhaps some other time
...” she ended
a little dubiously, because the
marquise
might not want her another time, and if she did what she had made up her mind to do, she wouldn
’
t be in France much longer.

“
Of course, my dear, of course,
”
the
marquise
said soothingly; and then a tray of hot chocolate was brought in by a silent-footed manservant, and shortly after that they both retired to bed.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Valentine was glad
when she returned to Paris that she had not been persuaded to stay longer than a weekend. Jane seemed so delighted to see her, and it was plain that she was simply bursting with some news that she wanted to impart at the earliest possible moment.

Valentine looked at her thoughtfully before the news was broken and decided that she knew what it was. There was only one thing, one event in a woman
’
s life that could give her the strange kind of glow Jane had. It was just as if a lamp had been kindled inside her, and its rays streamed out through every pore of her being. Jane was not like Valentine; she had been married, and happily married, for two years, and this thing that had happened to her now was no new experience. But it was, to judge by externals, a truly satisfying experience.

The only thing Valentine did not guess was all that had happened while she was away.

Philippe did not come around to the apartment that first evening she was back, and Jane broke the news to her while they were sipping their after-dinner coffee in Miss Constantia
’
s serene gray living room.

“
Darling,
”
Jane began nervously—because, although Valentine looked much better for her weekend visit, she still had that slightly
“
set apart
”
look, that withdrawn air of being no longer quite capable of savoring to the full the pleasures or otherwise of her present existence—or for that matter, the pleasures or otherwise of people around her, the look that she had had before she went away. And there was another reason why Jane felt nervous. She was particularly anxious not to hurt Valentine, either as the direct result of her announcement, or as the result of plans that were already laid.
“
Darling,
”
she repeated,
“
you know I wouldn
’
t think of leaving you alone here, don
’
t you? At least, not until you have come to some sort of decision about your own future life, by which
I
mean how long you will remain here at the apartment, and whether you will perhaps go home to England once the lease is up. Of course it
’
s up to you, darling, but I
’
ll stay as long as you want me. You know that, don
’
t you?
”

Valentine smiled a little.

“
You
’
ve repeated yourself several times giving me your assurances, so
I
should know it!
”
she said.

Jane nodded eagerly.

“
Well, I merely wanted you to know—to be sure!
”

“
I
’
m quite sure, Jane,
”
Valentine said quietly.
“
Now tell me what your news is.
”

And then it all came out, bubbling out of Jane like an eager stream. She and Philippe were going to be married, and very soon. Philippe had been shaping his future plans for weeks now, and all at once they had arrived at a stage that looked like fruition. He had been offered the managership of a fruit farm in Rhodesia and he was flying out in another couple of weeks. He and Jane would become husband and wife before he left. Everything was going to be a frantic rush, because they hoped to have a few days
’
honeymoon—a week if it was humanly possible—before they had to part, and then Jane would join her husband in Rhodesia as soon as Valentine could spare her.

Valentine looked at Jane with eyes that were suddenly
w
ide and almost unbelieving—not at the news she had received that Jane, who had started off by disapproving of Philippe so strongly that she had given his roses to the concierge, was going to marry him, or that Philippe, whose friends would have been prepared to swear he would remain a bachelor for the rest of his life, was going to marry her. This was something she had hoped for and not believed at all impossible, even in the beginning. But that Jane would be prepared to let him go away from her almost immediately after savoring the bliss of becoming his wife, just because she felt she owed a duty—of friendship, if nothing more—to her, Valentine
...
That was something she found it difficult to believe.

“
And you really mean that you would let him go? All the way to Zimbabwe Rhodesia, by himself, just because
o
f me? What sort of an inhuman person do you think
I
am?
”

“
I
don
’
t think you
’
re an inhuman person at all. poppet,
”
Jane assured her fondly, slipping down onto the white skin rug before the fireplace, close to Vale
nt
ine
’
s chair, and leaning near to her so that she had a good view of her eyes and the expressions that were likely to come and go in them.
“
But Philippe and I both agreed that you mustn
’
t be left alone at this particular juncture; and as it is through you that we met we feel we owe you a debt. Once you
’
ve made your plans—rather more concrete plans than those that exist at present—then I
’
ll consent to leave you, but not before.
”

Valentine gazed at her while something inside her began to expand, and then the expansion seemed to reach the bursting point.

“
As if I
’
d allow you to behave so foolishly!
”
she said and felt the tears start to stream down her face.
“
Oh, Jane, I
’
m so happy for you,
”
she sobbed helplessly.
“
I
’
m so terribly happy for you!
”

And kneeling on the rug in front of her and encircling the shaking shoulders with sympathetic arms, Jane sought to stem the flood of tears by bringing a touch of humor to the situation.

“
Well, don
’
t wash me away with your congratulations, or there won
’
t be any wedding after all. And there
’
s so much to
do
before
the wedding that
I
just don
’
t know how we
’
re going to get through it, unless I become the Comtesse de Villeneuve in one of your elegant castoffs!
”
Valentine took a determined grip of herself, and Jane looked at her with far more sympathy and understanding in her eyes than was perhaps good for anyone like Valentine who, with the sudden release of such news, seemed to have come to the end of her own tether, or her own period of bottling up her troubles.
“
Does it seem real to you?
”
Jane asked, more for herself to say than because she was in the least impressed with the idea herself.
“
Me
,
plain Jane Beverley, to be known in future, after a simple ceremony, as Madame la Comtesse de Villeneuve! Now if it were you who had caught Philippe
’
s eye
...
”

And then she decided that this was dangerous ground and added hurriedly, lightly,
“
But
I
don
’
t mind telling you he
’
s promised me faithfully that in future it will be in no sense of the word a roving eye. In fact, it
’
s never going to rove again. But as he
’
s a Frenchman it
’
s bound to do so occasionally—but only just occasionally!
”

“
I don
’
t think so,
”
Valentine said quietly. She felt much more calm and controlled now than she had done for weeks, having got rid of so many tears.
“
Philippe won
’
t let you down. And I know you won
’
t let him down, so you
’
re bound to be ideally happy.
”