Next Door to Romance (15 page)

The look in Evadne's eyes went so quickly that afterwards Lisa wasn't sure if it hadn't existed only in her imagination, particularly as there was no hint of any such feeling in her voice as she responded to Mark's introduction.

'You know, I've been longing to meet you,' she told Lisa earnestly in her rather deep, husky voice. 'But somehow or other, something has always prevented it.'

She ignored the fact that Mark, standing just behind Lisa, allowed his lips to twitch slightly. He knew perfectly well that the reason why the two girls hadn't met was that until now, Evadne had refused to accept the fact that he really cared for Lisa and had deliberately kept away from Bardley so that she wasn't compelled to acknowledge the impending engagement. But now, since the meeting was inevitable, she was making the best of it, or rather she was going out of her way to set Lisa at her ease. Or put her off her guard? Knowing Evadne as well as he did, he thought that was the more likely explanation.

'I do so want you to realize that mine is a very special welcome,' she went on with every sign of sincerity. 'Because Mark, you know, is the nearest I've ever had to a brother, and so the girl he is to marry simply must be my friend!'

Mark's eyes narrowed a little at this totally unexpected description of their relationship, and decided that, though she was starting a long way off from the point she intended to reach, Evadne was planning mischief.

He put a protecting arm round Lisa's shoulders, but he need not have worried. Her own good manners carried her through. She was a guest in this house and this girl was her host's daughter.

'How very charming of you to feel like that, Miss Cosgrave,' she said gravely. 'I do so appreciate your welcome!'

Momentarily Evadne's lips tightened, then she smiled at Mark.

'Dear me, if we're going to talk about charm, then I think perhaps someone else has more of it than I have,' she remarked quizzically. 'Don't you, Mark?'

Mark laughed easily.

'Now, what do you expect me to say to that?' he asked. 'It's one of those naughty questions because the answer can't possibly be both polite and truthful to the two persons under discussion! So I'm not going to try to answer it! And now, oughtn't we to go to the drawing room? Lisa's still got to meet the Singletons.'

Evadne shrugged her shoulders.

'Oh, very well!' she said resignedly. 'But I do wish, Mark, that you—'

The drawing room door opened and Simon Cosgrave came out into the hall. His expression wasn't nearly so benevolent as Lisa had remembered to be on the day of the Fete. Indeed, he was obviously annoyed.

'Ah, there you are!' he exclaimed, took a gold half-hunter from his fob and snapped the case impatiently. 'It's a good five minutes since the gong was sounded—'

'No, it isn't, Father,' Evadne contradicted flatly. 'Exactly three and a half. And in any case, Fisher sounded it early. You'll have to speak to him about that. It's rather annoying—and I really don't see why he can't keep better time!'

'Oh, well—' Simon put his watch away and seemed content to drop the subject since he was evidently not going to get the best of the argument. 'Well, anyhow, don't waste any more time! The Singletons are waiting to meet Lisa.'

He led the way back into the room and Evadne, Lisa and Mark did as they were told.

Three people looked up as they came in, the other two visitors with varying degrees of interest, Mrs Cosgrave with evident relief. She was never at her ease when entertaining business acquaintances of her husband's, and to be left alone with them, even for a few minutes, was even more trying, particularly as she didn't like the Singletons anyhow.

Nor did Lisa feel attracted to either of them.

Mrs Singleton was a tall, thin woman with obviously dyed hair. At one time she had certainly been good-looking, but now she was fighting a losing battle against the years and her expression was one of cynical weariness and boredom.

Her husband, not quite so tall as she was, and clearly several years the younger, was a very different type. Despite the conventional black and white of his evening clothes, he somehow conveyed the impression that he would look far more at home in a boldly checked suit. His features were not bad, but already signs of self-indulgence were apparent, and he was beginning to run to fat. By no reckoning could he be called an attractive man, but the reason why Lisa took an instant dislike to him was less his general appearance than the look in his rather small eyes as he looked her over, and the over-long grasp of his plump, damp hand.

'So this is the little girl we've heard so much about!' he commented jocularly. 'Well, my dear, as one of Mark's oldest and best friends, I think I deserve the privilege of kissing the bride, don't you?'

And before Lisa had time to realize what was in his mind, his big red face loomed over hers and he kissed her on the lips.

Lisa's reactions were instinctive and instantaneous. She dragged the hand he held from his grasp and drew her other hand across her lips.

'Lisa!' Mark said sharply.

Lisa stared at him in astonishment, for there was unmistakable reproof in his tone. Rather guiltily she felt that perhaps she had been rather tactless in making her feelings so obvious, but surely Mark must realize that the fault lay with Mr Singleton! And surely, too, he couldn't have liked a man of that sort behaving in such an unpleasantly familiar way to the girl he loved.

A brittle, tinkling laugh broke the awkward silence.

'I've told Jack over and over again that one of these days he'll get himself into trouble with his free and easy ways,' Mrs Singleton remarked drily. 'But no, he insists on believing that he's every girl's dream man, despite the evidence of his mirror! Wasn't that the second gong?'

Fortunately it was, and the little break in conversation seemed to ease the tension of the last few moments for everyone—except Lisa—for the conversation became general and animated. Only she was left out of it.

Seated at the round table between Mr Cosgrave and Mr Singleton, she was ignored by both men—possibly understandably by the latter, but surely her host ought to have understood and done his best to relieve her embarrassment.

She felt increasingly hurt and bewildered. Why should she be treated like a naughty little girl because a beastly man had taken a liberty? And why—even more important than that—should Mark expect her to tolerate behaviour of that sort?

She glanced across at him. He was sitting between Mrs Singleton and Evadne, and at that moment was giving all his attention to Evadne. They were talking and laughing in an animated way which made it very clear that they were enjoying one another's society.

Lisa swallowed a lump in her throat, and at that moment Evadne looked up and their eyes met. Lisa read the unmistakable message in Evadne's eyes. Not jealousy and malice now—amusement and triumph. It was as if Evadne was saying: 'You thought you'd got the better of me, but you haven't, you know! And sooner or later you'll have to admit it!'

Lisa's eyes dropped. At that moment she felt that it was true and was hopelessly convinced that there was nothing she could do about it—at least not without Mark's help, and that, it appeared, she wasn't going to have.

Tears stung her eyes and blurred her vision so that she could not see what she was eating. Then, out of the mist, a kindly voice spoke.

'Tell me, my dear, how do you manage to keep that beautiful fuchsia hedge alive during the winter? I am so fond of fuchsias, but mine have always died off with the first frosts.'

It was Mrs Cosgrave who had come to her rescue. Deliberately ignoring Jack Singleton who sat between them she addressed herself to Lisa, who gratefully accepted the life-line which had been thrown to her.

'I'm afraid I don't really know, Mrs Cosgrave,' She said apologetically. 'You see, it's Mother who has the green fingers in our family! But I'm sure she'd be delighted to tell you. Shall I ask you—or would you care to come and see her? At tea time, perhaps?'

'I'd be—' Mrs Cosgrave began eagerly, when her husband interrupted her:

'Violet!' he said sharply, and Lisa shrank as she heard exactly the same note in his voice that she had heard in Mark's just a little earlier. Reproof, warning—

But Mrs Cosgrave was made of sterner stuff than Lisa felt she had shown herself to be. Holding up her hand to check her husband, she smiled and nodded to Lisa.

'I'd like that very much,' she said warmly. 'Speak to your mother about it, dear, and we'll arrange a date that suits her. Now, Simon, what is it you want to say?'

'It'll keep,' he said grimly, and Lisa flinched. There was such an obvious threat in his voice that it was easy to interpret it. Kind Mrs Cosgrave, who had come to her rescue and done her best to make her feel at ease, was going to be taken to task for it later!

There was another of those awkward little silences that Lisa was to find were a characteristic of life at Bardley Manor. Then, unexpectedly, Mrs Singleton, possibly taking a leaf from her hostess's book, deliberately cut across it. She turned to Mr Cosgrave, addressing him point blank.

'Such an odd thing happened on our way here,' she remarked conversationally. 'Jack thought he saw Sir Gerald Tenbury in a car we passed a few miles from here.'

Mr Cosgrave stared at her, his knife and fork suspended in mid-air.

'Tenbury!' he exclaimed, and then, his keen eyes darting from Mark to Jack Singleton: 'Why the deuce didn't you tell me?' he demanded.

Singleton shrugged his shoulders.

'Saville didn't see him—and I wasn't too sure. After all, what would he be doing in a one-eyed little place like Addingly—particularly driving a shabby little car and stopping at such a second-rate house—'

'He stopped, did he?' Mr Cosgrave pounced keenly. 'Could you recognize the house again, do you think?'

'Oh, I suppose I could,' Singleton said rather sulkily. 'At least, I could if Saville drove me along the same road—he was driving pretty fast, but I do remember it was one of those ghastly Victorian houses—hideous coloured bricks and all frills and furbelows—you know, fancy stonework and stained glass windows. Sort of place that makes one wonder what sort of people could possibly tolerate living there.'

'The sort of people who, though they haven't much money, enjoy a feeling of spaciousness such as one gets in a house like that,' Lisa sparked up. And then, addressing Mr Cosgrave direct: 'I think, from what Mr Singleton has said, he was describing my home.'

For once in his cocksure life, Jack Singleton was at a loss. He goggled apprehensively at Lisa.

'I say, I'm awfully sorry,' he gurgled. 'I'd no idea—I mean, the last thing I intended—'

'That'll do,' Mr Cosgrave interrupted him ruthlessly, and turned to Lisa. '
Was
Sir Gerald at your house today?'

'He was,' Lisa admitted reluctantly. She hadn't been told of Sir Gerald's wish for his presence not to become general knowledge, but some instinct made her wish that she hadn't been quite so forthcoming with information. 'He came to play chess with my father.'

'You mean—they're friends?' Mr Cosgrave asked, and waited for Lisa's answer in a silence so intense that it was almost like another presence.

'Yes, very old friends,' Lisa confirmed shortly. 'He —Sir Gerald is my godfather.'

Another, longer silence followed. Rather audibly it seemed that Simon swallowed a lump in his throat. And everyone waited for what he would say with a degree of interest—even apprehension—that Lisa found puzzling.

'Well, well,' he said at last, amiably. 'It's a small world, isn't it! Fancy Sir Gerald being down here of all places!'

'Oh, do you know him?' Lisa asked, unable to hide her surprise at the thought of there being any possible link between two such totally different men.

'My dear, who doesn't know Sir Gerald Tenbury?' Mr Cosgrave equivocated genially. 'He's a famous man, you know. And a very important one in the world of finance.'

'Yes, I suppose so,' Lisa said vaguely. 'I don't know much about that, though. You see, Father isn't interested in finance—and anyhow, when Uncle Gerald comes to see us, he doesn't want to talk or think about his work. He just wants to relax.'

'And that's what he's doing now?' Simon asked sharply. 'How long's he going to stay with you?'

'Oh, he's not staying,' Lisa explained, hoping that her host would lose interest in the subject. 'He's just down for the day with us.'

Simon accepted her answer without comment, but with thick fingers drumming a silent tattoo on the polished table top, he caught Mark's eye and almost imperceptibly Mark nodded as if he had received a clear order from his employer.

Then, rather confusedly, as if no one wanted the silence to last another moment, conversation became general and animated. Only Evadne took no part in it as, with downcast eyes and a sulky expression on her face, she toyed with the food on her plate. After her earlier vivacity the change was so great as to make it clear that she was put out by what they had all just learnt, though why, for the life of her, Lisa couldn't understand.

Not that she had much opportunity for thinking about it, for the whole atmosphere had changed. Instead of being left out in the cold, she now had the peculiar and puzzling feeling that she had suddenly become important to everyone present. Conversation was directed definitely to her, her interests were consulted and plans made for her entertainment. But, most reassuring of all, Mark smiled at her.

Afterwards, out in the garden under a big silvery moon, she asked Mark to explain.

'I mean, it was just as if
I
suddenly became important because Uncle Gerald is our friend,' she said gravely. 'But that's absurd. Oh, I know, as Mr Cosgrave said, Uncle
is
famous and important, but he leaves all that behind when he's with us. He likes to wear shabby clothes and play chess with Father and do gardening with Mother—and when I was little, he used to make up nonsense verse for me. He's just the nicest, kindest,
simplest
sort of person, Mark, truly he is, in a way that Father says only truly great men can be. So—so you won't think you've got to talk about world finance and that sort of thing when you meet him, will you? Or—or let Mr Cosgrave bother him that way if—if they should happen to meet. Only perhaps they won't,' she ended hopefully.