My Sister Celia (23 page)

Not that she intended to go all the way up to the big house. She had no possible reason for appearing there at this time in the morning. But she could strike off to the right, so as to reach the main drive, and from there she could turn back on her tracks to the front gate and walk along to the village.

I
’
m not quite sure what I do after that, thought Freda amusedly. I can
’
t buy another loaf of bread. But I can always find something to do in the village.

As she walked rather slowly through the sunshine, however, her brief amusement faded and a nostalgic, almost melancholy, mood took hold of her. She thought how often she had climbed this slope to visit Miss Clumber, as a child—and how much had happened since then.

“But I
’
m a lucky girl,” she told herself without conviction. “I have a home of my own now—and a
sister—and almost a brother. If only
—”

She hardly knew what to add to that “If only
—”
She thought she would be almost satisfied if
only she could still be uncertain about Laurence
’
s real attitude. Even not to know is sometimes better than to have one
’
s worst fears confirmed.

Or perhaps, thought Freda, it
’
s best to know and face facts as they are. I
know
now that Larry was never really interested in me. And I
’
ve got to make my life on different lines because of it.

She passed through the belt of trees which bordered tie main drive. But, as she stepped out into the open once more, and before she could turn down towards the front gates, she saw that Laurence Clumber was coming down the drive from the house. He was only a matter of yards away. It was quite
impossible to avoid him. And, even as she hesitated, he waved to her, in obvious good humour, and called, “Hello! Have you just missed Brian? He went over to the cottage to see you.”

“Yes, I know. I
’
ve—seen him.”

“Have you really?” Laurence had come up with her by now, and stood looking down at her in some surprise. Perhaps at the brevity of the meeting between her and Brian. “Where are you off to now, then?”

“I
’
m going to the village—to shop.”

He didn
’
t ask her why she had chosen to come this most roundabout way to the village. He just fell into step beside her. And, as she struggled to find some harmless remark or two, he said,

“Has Celia told you our news?”

“Your—news?”

“Yes. We
’
re engaged. Didn
’
t you know?”

“I—I
—”
she stammered into silence. For
suddenly it was
born
in upon her that of course he had no idea of what had happened. He thought he was a happily engaged man. And, all the time, his Celia was probably busy getting herself engaged to someone else.

Someone had to tell him—now—before he could pass on his news to anyone else in the village. And there was only one person who could do it.

CHAPTER TWELVE

He
’
s
going to hate me for this, Freda thought unhappily. People always dislike the bringer of bad tidings. He
’
ll always associate me in the future with humiliation and unhappiness. And yet how can I let him go on thinking all is well? He might tell half a dozen people this morning—and then have to contradict his own happy statements to-morrow.

“What is it?” Laurence enquired, and he glanced at her in slightly puzzled amusement. “You don
’
t seem very favourably impressed by the news.”

“It isn
’
t that.” She swallowed nervously. Then resolutely she stopped and faced him. “Larry, I
’
m sorry, but—someone has to tell you. Celia would have done so herself if she had seen you first, of course. As it is”—she bit her lip, hesitated again, and then went on doggedly, “I can
’
t let you go spreading
the glad news
—”

“Why not?” he interrupted a little haughtily, and his eyebrows rose alarmingly.

“Because there
’
s no glad news to spread,” she blurted out desperately. “The—the engagement
’
s off.”

Even to her own ears the words sounded harsh and faintly aggressive. To him they must have sounded little less than impertinent.

“What on earth are you talking about?” he asked coldly. “It really isn
’
t for you to decide whether my engagement is on or off, surely?”

“Oh, no—of course not!” She sounded shocked. “Not on my own initiative, at least. But I happen to know what Celia has decided since last night and—”

“Do you mean that you tried to talk her out of the idea of marrying me?”

“Certainly not! It
’
s no business of mine whom she marries. Still less whom you marry. But—oh, there
’
s no nice way of saying this, Larry! Only—it isn
’
t you she wants. It
’
s Brian.”

“I know,” he began, “but
—”
Then he stopped
and looked a bit put out.

“You
know?
’
Freda opened her eyes wide.

“Well”—he shrugged—
“
let
’
s say I had accepted the fact that I was second-best, so far as Celia was concerned. I don
’
t think we need to go into the question of alternatives too closely. The fact was that
Brian had made his choice
—”

“Oh, but he hadn
’
t! I mean—he made the
wrong
choice.”

“Do you mind explaining that odd statement?
said Larry drily, as Freda seemed to find some difficulty in going on.

“Well, you see, although we got engaged last night, I found out almost immediately that we
’
d
made a mistake
—”

“Both of you?” enquired Larry, still
in
that dry tone.

“Both of us,” asserted Freda firmly. “We
’
d just been rather—carried away by a romantic summer evening and a—a bit of inspired flirting. It was nothing serious.”

“Then do you mean”—Larry cleared his throat—“that you and Brian are no longer engaged?”

She nodded.

“Yes, that
’
s what I mean. And, since someone is going to have to tell you sometime, I can only add that at this moment Brian is probably getting engaged to Celia instead.”

“I
see.
”

She wished her words didn
’
t hang quite so crudely on the light summer air, and after a moment she hurried into further, slightly embarrassed speech.

“You must please let Celia make her own explanations. This shouldn
’
t really have come from me. Only when you told me the news of your engagement, with such lighthearted abandon, I was afraid you might do the same with other people you met in the village. And then it would be dreadful having to take it all back again.”

“Yes,” he agreed. “It would.”

“I
’
m sorry about it all
—”
she began again.
But he cut her short rather curtly.

“
You
have nothing to be sorry about. In any case, you have your own troubles. I suppose you
’
re also feeling pretty flat at this moment.”

“Only in one sense. I
’
m enormously relieved in another,” Freda confessed ingenuously, at which he actually smiled.

“Are you? What are you relieved about?”

“It
’
s so nice not to be engaged after all,” Freda explained with a deep sigh. “Brian is most awfully nice and I like him immensely. But that isn
’
t the same thing as wanting to marry someone, is it?”

“No, Freda,” Laurence said slowly, “it isn
’
t.” Then taking her lightly and impulsively by the arm he added, “Do you have to go down to the village at this moment?”

“Oh, no. I was just making myself scarce while Celia and Brian got things straightened out between them.”

“Then come back to the house with me now. There are one or two things I would like to get straightened out too.”

She turned with him immediately, in instinctive response to the pressure on her arm, but as they walked towards the house together, she said doubtfully,

“Wouldn
’
t it be better for you to ask Celia about them?”

“They have nothing to do with Celia.”

“With whom, then?”

“With you and me.”

She was so surprised that for a moment she was silent. And he went on as though half to himself, “During the last few weeks I
’
ve been thinking myself rather a clever fellow, and now I
’
m not at all sure I haven
’
t just been an unmitigated ass.”

“Oh, no!” she reassured him kindly. “That
’
s always how one feels when things go wrong. But you couldn
’
t possibly foresee what would happen with Celia.”

“I
’
m not thinking of what happened with Celia. I
’
m thinking of what happened—what went wrong—between you and me.”

“Between—us?” she said faintly.

“Yes. But”—he frowned slightly and sighed impatiently—
“
perhaps it was inevitable. You disliked me almost from the first, Freda, didn
’
t you?”

“No.” She spoke in quite a small voice, but he seemed to have no difficulty in hearing her.

“No?” he repeated, with a touch of amusement. “You gave an awfully good imitation of doing so, then.”

“I
’
m sorry.” Without knowing it, she drew a little closer to him. “I was cross when you wanted to take my cottage away from me, and I could have hit you when you said disparaging things about it—”

“I think you
’
ve made a lovely thing of it now,” he interjected humbly.

“Do you?” She smiled slightly. “Well, that was with quite a lot of help from you. But you mustn
’
t think I disliked you, Larry. I was terribly relieved to see you that evening I first met Celia. You were the only familiar figure there. And then you rose to the occasion beautifully when I pretended you had arranged to take me home. And after that you— you were so kind and co-operative about the cottage after all. No, of
course
I don
’
t—I didn
’
t dislike you.”

“What did you feel about me, then?”

“What
—
?” The simplicity and the completeness of the question bereft her of any answer. She even stopped in her tracks, so that he had to stop too. But because he was evidently expecting an answer, she managed to force a little laugh finally and to say lightly,

“Why on earth do you want to know that?”

“Because it
’
s the most important question and answer in the world to me,” he said quietly. And Freda, who had made to go on, stopped again so abruptly that she almost dropped back against him.

“You don
’
t—mean that, do you?” She turned her head and looked up at him, with such patent and touching eagerness, that he bent his head quickly and kissed her.

“Of course I do, my darling. And don
’
t look like that, or I
’
ll just have to start kicking myself for all the fool things I
’
ve done and said during the past weeks. Does that little ghost of a smile mean that I may kiss you again?”

She nodded slowly, but she said in a whisper, “I don
’
t understand it. I love it—but I don
’
t understand.”

He laughed at that and gave her a long kiss which left her breathless.

“
Now
what don
’
t you understand?” he wanted to know.

She would have liked to say that understanding didn
’
t matter and that just to have him go on kissing her was all that she cared about. But the tiny breath of common sense which still blew through her bewildered mind prompted her to reply instead, with some spirit,

“What I can
’
t understand is why you got engaged to Celia last night, if you really wanted to kiss me like this.
”

“Why did you get engaged to Brian,” he accused her, in return, “if you really wanted me to kiss you like this?”

“Oh—that
’
s so complicated—and so difficult to explain.”

“My position
’
s a bit like that too,” he admitted.

“When did you stop being keen on Celia and— and think you liked me?” she wanted to know.

“I was never keen on Celia. I think she
’
s enchanting and I like her immensely, to quote your own words about Brian. But that isn
’
t the same thing as being keen on someone. I loved you from the first moment you looked over the fence and more or less sent me away with a flea in my ear.”

“Oh, Larry, you didn
’
t! You—you couldn
’
t.” She was divided between rapture and protest. “Why should you?”

“I don
’
t know.” He kissed the tip of her ear. “Maybe it was the shade of my great-aunt prompting me. Remember? She always thought you
’
d be the right wife for me.”

“Larry”—her voice shook a little—
“
please don
’
t joke about it.”

“I
’
m not joking, love. I was never more serious about anything in my life. I think my far-seeing great-aunt was absolutely inspired when she said you were the right wife for me. I
’
m just—even now—half scared to put it to the test.”

“Do you mean,” Freda said slowly, as though she hardly dared to believe the meaning of his words even now, “that you want to marry me?
”

“I mean that if you won
’
t marry me, I
’
ll just be a sour and star-crossed old bachelor for the rest of my days. And, as times goes on, everyone will say,
‘
Isn
’
t it a pity that horrid old man up at Crowmain Court never married? Just a wasted life
’
.”

“Oh, Larry!” she laughed protestingly. “Don
’
t be
silly.
As though anyone would say that about you! And as though—as though I
’
d let them, anyway.” She put up her hand a little timidly and touched his cheek. “I don
’
t understand in the least how all this has come about, and I
’
m terribly afraid I
’
ll wake up suddenly and find I
’
m in bed in my cottage and that I
’
ve dreamt it all. But, while I
’
m still dreaming, I
’
ll tell you that I love you—that I
’
ve loved you for ages—and that though I would willingly give my darling Celia almost anything in the world, I couldn
’
t
bear
the thought that it was you she wanted.”

“She didn
’
t, you know,” he said, and kissed her several times, just to reassure her that she was awake.

“No, no—of course, I know. But could you start explaining, please?”

“It
’
s all going to sound dreadfully silly and rather unworthy,” he confessed as, with his arm round her, they started to stroll towards the house once more.

“I don
’
t mind, so long as it ends with your loving me now,” she told him.

“It begins and ends with my loving you now and always,” he declared, and at that she pressed his arm more closely against her side. “It also begins with my thinking you disliked me—that I
’
d blotted my copybook so badly that I
’
d got to do something really ingenious to make you see me in a different light.”