High Master of Clere (22 page)

With surprise she heard a note of entreaty in his voice. Why? She echoed hesitantly.
‘
On your side? Help you? But haven
’
t I? I
’
ve wanted to
!
I—I don
’
t understand
?
’

His face shadowed.
‘
You don
’
t, do you? We aren
’
t talking about the same thing at all.
’

‘
Surely
?
’
She looked her bewilderment at
his withdrawal.
‘
I only meant I couldn
’
t see why
you should think you have to ask me in so many words
!’

‘
And
I
meant I could tell from your blank dismay that you had no idea of the size of what I was asking.
’

‘
Well, couldn
’
t you spell it out and give me an idea?
’

He shook his head.
‘
No. It will keep.
’
As he spoke he stood and, taking her Clere emblem from the table, handed it to her and folded her fingers over it.
‘
For now, I think you
’
d better take your silver groat and go to bed, and perhaps I
’
ll have brushed up on my spelling when I get back from Davos.
’

‘
You mean you
’
ll explain
...
ask me again? You can
’
t leave it just
dangling
!’

For a long moment his look held hers.
‘
I
’
ll ask you again. I can
’
t help myself. But I could wish I didn
’
t need to,
’
he said.

CHAPTER IX

The next morning Verity stayed late in her room, in order to avoid seeing Daniel again before he left for the airport. No one disturbed her, but she had been awake much earlier and had heard him drive away and her mother
’
s voice wishing him a gay
‘
Bon Voyage
’
.

On their way to their rooms overnight she had asked him if he expected to see much of the Dysarts and Ira. He had said he gathered it might depend on the weather conditions. But if communications remained open between Davos and Klosters, yes, he hoped to see quite a lot of them—which left her to the exquisite pain of picturing Ira with him against a backcloth of towering peaks and sun-drenched snow and their meeting at night in the glamorous hotels of the resorts.

Meanwhile she could make only perplexity and worry of his last night
’
s cryptic withdrawal of his appeal to her.
What
could he want of her that he wished he hadn
’
t to ask? And why, oh, why could men never understand that women would always rather face the truth of a dilemma rather than be abandoned to the alternate doubts and hopes of their imaginations
?

Just one solution seemed loosely to fit the facts. He was planning to marry and to bring his wife to Clere, and he had been asking Verity
’
s continuing loyalty in the different circumstances that would create. But as he couldn
’
t guess how they would hurt her, why hadn
’
t he been frank? As he didn
’
t know her own secret, surely he would expect they would embarrass
Mrs.
Lytton more than herself. No, the threads of even that reasoning fell apart under scrutiny; and only the memory of Daniel
’
s flat,
‘
We aren
’
t talking about the same thing at all
’
remained to haunt her.

When she went downstairs at last she found
Mrs.
Lytton had corralled Lance into helping with the after-party washing-up. Rosa had been given Boxing Day off, and
Mrs.
Lytton, trim and groomed as usual, was doing the washing herself while Lance caused plates and saucers to dice with death by trying to dry three pieces at a time.

At sight of Verity he threw the tea-towel at her.
‘
Here—this is dames
’
work, not mine. You finish. Someone has sighted a school of grey seals offshore three mornings running, so I
’
m off down there. See you,
’
he said, and went.

Mrs.
Lytton turned from the sink.
‘
Darling! You didn
’
t mind my not waking you when Daniel went off? But now you
’
ll want breakfast. What shall I get for you
?’

‘
Nothing to eat, thanks.
’
Verity looked into the coffee-pot.
‘
You
’
ve left some. I
’
ll heat it and have it when we
’
ve coped with this lot. Heavens, did we really use all these crocks last night? Doesn
’
t it make you wonder whether paper plates and throwaway beakers haven
’
t
got
something, after all
?’

‘
Oh no, darling! Why, it
’
s not civilized not to lay a meal table with as good linen and glass and china as one can afford. Besides, even washing-up has its reward when you
’
ve got it all piled up and shining and ready to use again.
’

‘
Mother, you
’
re the best looker-on-the-bright
-
side I ever met
!’
Verity teased her fondly.

‘
Well, that
’
s my horoscope—that I can always count my blessings,
’
Mrs.
Lytton agreed.
‘
But talking of coffee, Daniel tells me you made some, and the two of you had a little party of your own last night.
’

‘
It was tea, not that it matters. He was on his way back from the San. just as I came down to look for the Clere badge he gave me. He found it for me on the rubbish-heap outside, did he tell you
?’

‘
Yes. You were lucky. But I teased Daniel that if I heard of any more late-night kitchen rendezvous, I might suspect him of lying in wait to waylay you. He laughed and said not to worry; when you chose, you were too elusive for a successful ambush. I said,
“
Elusive? Verity? Oh, do you think so?
”
And he said
—’

Verity cut in,
‘
It was only the second time. The
first was weeks ago. The night Nash died
—’

‘
Yes, I know, dear.
’
Mrs.
Lytton paused.
‘
He says he told you the story of why he lost such complete touch with us for all those years and why he came back in the end. I asked him why he had decided to tell you. He said because you had taken him on his face value long enough and he wanted you to have some background to see him against. I told him I was so very glad you knew. But, Verity,
—
you don
’
t believe there was a word of truth in
...
that about Dick Wyatt and me, do you?
’

‘
Mother dear, of course not
!’

‘
And of course one can
’
t blame Daniel. He couldn
’
t have remembered any of us well enough to know for certain that it wasn
’
t true. Poor
Daniel
!
And what awful harm jealousy, run
riot, can do! But it
’
s all water under the bridge now, and I know he
’
s going to prove my first instinct was right—that if Robert had known him as a man, he would have chosen him for Clere before anyone
else. I only wish
—’

Mrs.
Lytton swished suds and rinsing water round her sink, dried her hands and changed the subject.

‘
There, that
’
s done. Now for your coffee, dear. By the way, the post isn
’
t in yet, is it?
’

‘
No post today. It
’
s Boxing Day
,’
Verity reminded her.

‘
Tch! I
’
d forgotten that. Oh well, there
’
s always tomorrow.
’

‘
As if we
’
re likely to get anything then but one or two overdue Christmas cards
!
Or were you expecting something special?
’

‘
No
—
Well, that is, yes, perhaps. I thought
there might be a letter or at least a postcard for me from Switzerland.
’

‘
From the Dysarts?
’
asked Verity, surprised.
‘
There couldn
’
t be time. They only went over on the twenty-third.
’

‘
No, from that
Mr.
Tabor. You know how he confided in me when we met in Norwich? Pumping me about Ira Cusack and—Daniel? I could only tell him the little I knew then, but well
—
I did telephone him before Christmas at Viking Vision to tell him, for what it was worth to him, that Ira was going out to Klosters for the holiday and when. You see, it seemed to me such a pity
—’

‘
But Daniel said last night that he expects to spend quite a lot of time at Klosters himself,
’
said Verity.

‘
So he told me too. But that
’
s rather the point, dear. That was why I said this word in season to
Guy Tabor
—
Only fair, I thought, to give him
his chance against Daniel and let the best man win.
If
the actual best man in my opinion must, which I couldn
’
t wish at all, goodness knows
!
Because, charming though a little pathetic as Guy Tabor is, he isn
’
t in the same street as Daniel for personality, is he?
’

Fleetingly Verity wondered how the great Svengali of Viking Vision would care to be described as
‘
a little pathetic Aloud she asked,
‘
And how
did Guy Tabor take your word in season? Was he grateful to you?
’

‘
Was
he
!
He said he was dropping everything
—
being who he is, I suppose he can—and flying straight out. He should have been there when Nicholas and Jane and Ira arrived. So that
’
s why I hoped I might hear what success he had had with Ira before Daniel got there too. But, oh dear
’
—
Mrs.
Lytton shook a rueful head—
‘
I can see by your look that you
thin
k me the most arrant meddler. But it
’
s simply that, even if Daniel—I mean, we
can
’
t
want him to marry Ira, can we?
Whoever
else he doesn
’
t?
’

At that Verity realized the dreaded nettle must be grasped, uprooted. Choosing her words, she said,

‘
Mother, have you ever, as far as you know, given Daniel to think or even suspect that you would be happy for him to marry me? Because that
’
s what your
“
Whoever
’
s
”
and
“
If only
’
s
”
mean, don
’
t they? Please, Mother, don
’
t hedge, will you? Because I
’
ve
got
to know
!’

‘
Well, darling
—
Oh dear, this is difficult
!’

The blue eyes clouded with distress.
‘
You know the last thing I
’
d want would be to embarrass you with him. But yes, I confess I have wished so very much it might work out that way that perhaps I have said or hinted too much sometimes. Not that I
’
ve ever bored Daniel about you, I
’
m sure, and I never have reminded him of that silly plot of Cleo
’
s and mine, after I had promised you I wouldn
’
t.
’

Verity said wearily,
‘
That was nothing. He knew about it, I found, and we laughed it off since. But the rest! I was afraid of it. I didn
’
t mean to tax you with it, but surely you must see that you couldn
’
t engineer Daniel into caring for me, any more, I
’
d say, than you can hope to steer Ira into
marrying Guy Tabor with this ruse of sending him out to Klosters?
’

Mrs.
Lytton stood her ground.
‘
I don
’
t know about that, dear. Lance would tell you that if you
’
re too close to your subject you don
’
t see it in proper focus, and when people have only worked together as those two did, one may be able to help by giving them a fresh background or even a rival or two. And that
’
s how I thought it might be with Daniel; that I mustn
’
t let him overlook you before it was too late. The wood and the trees, you
know
—
But you
’
re saying that
’
s only wishful
meddling, aren
’
t you, dear? That you wouldn
’
t want Daniel, even if he cared for you? I mean, you
’
re only embarrassed by all this? You
’
re not
—
sad
?’

‘
Sad
?’
But Verity
’
s whispered echo was no
question. It was a playing-for-time, a pitiful floodgate, not proof against her mother
’
s swift tide of sympathy.

Mrs.
Lytton opened her arms and Verity ran into them.
‘
My pet, you
are
unhappy? Don
’
t cry so! Or do—if it helps. Dear, I
’
ve been so blind! You
’
ve fallen in love with Daniel and I never guessed. Tell me
—’

Half an hour later she was making plans.
‘
Of course I knew Daniel wouldn
’
t need me here after he married. But whether he does or not, you won
’
t want to stay any longer than you must either, will you? If you give in your notice as soon as he gets back, you could leave at half-term. Meanwhile I must find somewhere else to live, and you
’
ll have time to look for another job for the summer term.
’

That went ahead of Verity
’
s thoughts. She wasn
’
t ready yet to see her misery in the bleak light of dates and of decisions which would have to come.
Besides, she had kept as her own secret Daniel
’
s plea for her help, and until he told her what he wanted of her, she couldn
’
t plan already to desert him out of hand.

She sighed.
‘
I
’
m sorry, Mother. I
’
m afraid it does look as if we may be back at Square One, but
—’

‘
You mean when we thought, four months ago, that we must leave Clere then? Not quite, darling. Now we know it
’
s going to be safe in Daniel
’
s hands; Lance has found his level again, and though you can
’
t believe it yet, you
’
ll realize one day that even unhappy love is never wasted. Meanwhile, there
’
s more to living even than love, you know. There
’
s still friendship and books and music and out-of
-
doors and work and being needed
—’

As the telephone rang
Mrs.
Lytton broke off and used its intrusion to make her point.
‘
You see, darling? That
’
ll be somebody wanting
...
asking
...
telling
...
needing one of us. So be my brave girl and go and answer it. For that
’
s life going on regardless. It has to—while we pick up
th
e pieces of our hearts.
’

‘
Oh, Mother, there
’
s simply no one like you
!’
In a surge of tenderness and gratitude, Verity kissed her quickly and went.

At the other end of the line was Bob Wales, spilling his news in an eager torrent of words.

‘
Verity, my poppet, I hoped I
’
d get you
—
Now, take a load of this, will you? Rosemary has accepted me and we
’
re going to be married in the spring
!’

‘
Good heavens, Bob! Congratulations! When did you get around to proposing?
’
asked Verity.

‘
On Christmas Eve. In a supermarket. You know, I
’
d always wondered what supermarkets were
for.
Now I know. You
’
d be surprised at the degree of privacy you can get on the non-business side of a
stack of detergents
—
Anyway, what do you think
she said? That she
’
d thought I never would come to the boil! Women! I ask you—you can
’
t win! But I want you to meet her, so if I switch my calls to your phone, may I bring her over to lunch today? It
’
s all right. She
’
s had measles.
’

‘
Measles? Oh, of course
—
Then do, Bob,
please.
’
As Verity replaced the receiver she was thinking that this was what her mother had meant by life having to go on.

Care about things like quarantine. People inviting themselves to meals. Longing to be left to nurse one
’
s heartache, but saying
‘
Yes,
do
’
because
friendship demanded it
—
She went back to the kitchen.
‘
That was Bob. He wants to bring his Rosemary Baird to lunch. Can we make the turkey carcase stretch that far?
’
she asked her mother, as if whether they could or not was their only care in the world.

Mrs.
Lytton
’
s smile was good to see.
‘
That
’
s my girl,
’
she said.
‘
Keep it up.
’

The flat after-days of Christmas took an upward curve to New Year, levelled again to anti-climax, became another week
...
two
...
three.

Between Christmas and New Year there had been cards of the
‘
Wish you were here
’
variety from both Klosters and Davos, though not the looked-for letter from Guy Tabor—an omission which taxed
Mrs.
Lytton
’
s optimism sorely. And when a later card from the Dysarts dropped the casual news that though they had seen something of him, he had now left Switzerland for Munich on Viking Vision business, she admitted the probable failure of his mission.

‘
Though it was worth a try, dear, wasn
’
t it?
’
she wanted Verity to agree.

The weather played tricks; snowed picturesquely, thawed hideously, offered Lance the promise of enough frost for skating, then snatched it back overnight, substituting first fog and then gales which tore inland from the sea, thundering at doors, nagging at window-frames and shrieking a twenty
-
four-hour defiance among Clere
’
s chimney-pots.

The patience of the nine detainees in the Sanatorium wore thin, and keeping them amused and occupied became a major problem before their prison sentence ran out. And even when Bob pronounced them free of quarantine, there were still twin brothers whose home was too distant to make the journey there and back worth while for the remaining few days of the vacation.

‘
We
’
ll make it up to the Lamb boys by taking them to the ice pantomime,
’
planned
Mrs.
Lytton.
‘
We
’
d all go, and if the Pedeckers and the Percevals would come too, we
’
d make a party of it—hire a mini-bus for a matinee performance and give the boys high tea in Norwich afterwards. Lance dear, trot over to South and East and count heads, and I
’
ll phone for seats and the bus when we know how many we shall be. Oh, and I expect Matron would go too.
’

But on the morning of the jaunt Matron, who had returned a day or two earlier, slipped a disc in reaching to a high shelf of the linen cupboard and found herself immobilized by pain.