Orphan Bride (13 page)

He grinned, waved his elegant hat at them both, then let himself out of the flat.

CHAPTER
E I G H T

As the door closed behind him, Jennet thought longingly of tea. She had had no lunch, and now Julian was goi
ng
whirl her off somewhere to choose a hat.

“Where am I going to sleep, Cousin Julian?” she asked.

“
You’re staying with Piggy,”
he replied. “You remember I talked to you about Piggy—Miss Piggott, my old governess? We’ll go and find that hat and then we’ll go along to Piggy’s flat.”

Julian drove to a hat shop in South Molton Street
.
Jennet just sat before a mirror, not daring to move, while the sales woman fitted many preposterous confections on
to her head and Julian stood in the background criticizing and discarding. Finally he was satisfied, and even Jennet had to admit that the absurd little hat which sat on the back of her head, framing her thin face with flattering demureness, was a distinct improvement on the one of Emily’s choosing.

“Leave it behind,” Julian said as she picked up the old hat to take away. “They can burn it or give it to the char or something.”

“That,” said Jennet reprovingly as they came out on to the pavement, “is the second good hat you’ve made me throw away.”

He looked at her standing on the pavement waiting for him to unlock the car, and was aware of the grave charm of her small face, the soft brown hair
curving out
under the new hat like a child’s just starting to curl. He grinned suddenly.

“Well, don’t you think the result justifies my wastefulness?” he said. “Or have you no vanity?”

“Matron used to say wastefulness was never justified,” she replied solemnly, then she gave her sudden grin. “But I think I must be vain, and I love the hat. Thank you, Cousin Julian.”

T
hey were inside the car now, and Julian glanced at her sideways.

“I think we’ll drop the cousin now,” he remarked.
“
You
’
re getting a little old to go on addressing me like an elderly relative.”

She gave him a startled look.

“You mean I’m just to call you Julian?”

“I mean you’re just to call me Julian.
”

She sighed.

“I’ll never remember,” she said.

He frowned, and pressed the self-starter, and the car slid away from the curb. Jennet leant back on the cushions and felt suddenly very tired.

“
Do you think we could get some tea anywhere?” she said at last, a little desperately.

He glanced down at her, thinking that she looked a little white, and said instantly:

“Of course. I’m afraid I always forget about tea when I’m in London. You got some lunch on the train, I hope.”

“No.”

“For heaven’s sake, why not? Women have the most crazy notions about meals and then wonder why they feel faint.”

“I don’t feel faint
,”
said Jennet with dignity. “I didn’t have lunch because the
d
ining car was full, and you haven’t given me a chance to have any tea with all this nonsense about hats.”

He laughed and all at once his mouth was tender. “Quite right, I haven’t,” he said. “And we’ll go straight away now and have the best tea this great city can provide.”

Over tea he suddenly became talkative, describing tomorrow’s ceremony, and from where they were to watch it, telling her stories about Piggy and his old nursery days, while she ate ravenously and drank cup after cup of tea.

“You were famished, weren’t you?” he said
a little ruefully. “I’m afraid I’ve been very remiss in my attentions.”

“You couldn’t have known about lunch,” she said politely, and he grunted.

“It would have been more to the point if Luke had taken and fed you instead of trailing you round to see the sights.”

“He didn’t know, either,” she said quickly. For some reason, Luke’s kindness seemed to annoy him. “Besides, I enjoyed it. It was interesting.”

He smiled.

“What a child you are
!
”

She blinked at him, then lowered her eyes.

“You don't have to be a child to enjoy things,” she said gently.

He moved
i
mpatiently, and beckoned for his bill. “You’re quite a philosopher, aren’t you
!”
he said, and his smile was a little wry.

She put on her gloves with care.

“Why does Mr. Fenton—Luke, I mean, call me
Galatea?”

H
e regarded her with sardonic humor.

“
You don’t know the story of Pygmalion and Galatea
?”

“No. Luke said I was to ask you to tell it to me
.”

Julian paid his bill and got to his feet
.

“Luke would,” he said a little grimly. “Some other time, Jennet. We must be getting along to Piggy s flat
.
I’m dining out tonight.”

Julian
’
s ex-governess lived
in
one of the old-fashioned converted houses in a quiet street near Gloucester
R
oad Station. Her rooms were crammed with photographs and mementoes of her various pupils, and she herself was a dried-up little woman of indeterminate age, still wearing the neat starched collar and cuffs considered suitable for a governess in her day. To Jennet she had a distinct flavor of orphanage correctness, but when she talked to Julian
, the eyes
behind the pince-nez often gleamed with a dry humor.

She was clearly very fond of him.

“Here’s my orphan, Piggy,
”
he said, when, surprisingly, he had kissed her. “I’ve no doubt you
’ll
keep her in order just as you used to keep me.”

Piggy said primly, “How do you do, Jennet?
I trust Julian has explained that I live very simply and you will not get here the same comforts you no doubt receive at
Pennycross.”

“
No
,
yes—I mean, it’s very kind of you to have me,
Miss
Piggy—Miss Piggot,” stammered Jennet, confused.

“I think,”
she said, “you had better call me Piggy, like Julian and all my other charges. Well, Julian, you are no nearer finding any work to do, I gather.
”

“That must wait for a little while, I
’
m afraid,
”
he replied, smiling down at her with affection, and Jennet thought with surprise that it was the first time she had felt Julian possessed
r
eal fondness for any one person.
They talked for a little. Piggy enquired meticulously for Emily and Homer, the state of Julian’s health, and the weather prospects for to-morrow’s ceremony, then Julian said he must be going.

“I’ll call for you at nine o’clock to-morrow morning,” he told Jennet. “It will be a tiring day, so go to bed early. You’ll see that she has a glass of hot milk before she goes to bed, won’t you, Piggy?”

Piggy stood listening with an enigmatical expression. “It’s odd to hear you giving schoolroom orders, Julian,” she said dryly. “I should have thought Jennet was quite old enough to look after her self. Good-night, my dear boy.”

He grinned, nodded casually to Jennet, and limped out of the room.

“And now,” said Piggy, “I will show you where you are to sleep, and you may wash your hands, and read a book if you wish before supper, which will be at seven o’clock. Come.”

Jennet was a little dismayed at the prospect of a solitary evening with this prim, quick-tongued little woman. But it proved to be quite easy. Piggy liked to talk about Julian. Sometimes she mentioned other pupils, but her conversation always returned, to Julian. He, of them all, had been her favorite, and Jennet learned to her surprise that he paid the rent of her little flat.

“I’m glad to
s
ee that he has an interest at last,” she told Jennet, when, the supper things cleared away and washed up, they sat together in the failing light of the June evening. “He may treat you like a child, my dear, but you are helping him to adjust himself all the same. Julian has very little knowledge of women. His mother, and then that girl—unfortunate experiences, both, and of course, as a child, he was spoilt.”

“Did
you
spoil him?” Jennet asked with surprise.

P
iggy looked up from the wool mat she was crocheting. “We all spoilt him a little, I think,
”
she said reflectively. “You see, his mother took scarcely any notice of him. And he adored her of course, as children so often will love the person who takes the least trouble over them.”

This was a new picture she was getting of Julian. Jennet found it difficult to imagine him as a small boy with the needs
a
nd disappointments of other children, but for Piggy it was plain, he had never grown up.

“He never speaks of the
time from fourteen onwards,” Jennet said slowly. “Did something happen then?”

Piggy glanced at her sharply.

“Has he never told you? Well, I don’t suppose it matters, now. His mother eloped with someone when Julian was fourteen. It was a very unpleasant case altogether and the divorce got rather a lot of publicity. Julian was just going to his public school and the whole affair affected him very deeply. He was devoted to his mother, as I told you.”

Jennet was silent, her eyes filled with pity, then she
said:

“It must be terrible to have your home broken up—worse than never having had any parents.”

“No,” said Piggy unexpectedly. “Nothing
is worse
than never having had any parents. Every child is entitled to love and affection some time during its early years
.
Julian had that.”

Jennet thought of the Thompsons, of that same love and affection which had embraced them all and, for a little while, herself.

“But what you’ve had,” she said gently, “you miss so
much more than what you’ve never had.”

Piggy looked at her with kindness.

“Perhaps,” she said. “Yes, Jennet, perhaps you are right. Now you must go to bed, dear child, and do not forget to switch off the electric light in your room before you get into bed.”

Jennet was ready well before time the next morning.
“Aren’t you coming?” she asked Piggy a little wistfully.

She felt at home with Julian’s governess.

“No, my dear, I shall hear it all on the wireless, and I dislike crowds. Ah, here is Julian on the minute. I will say he was always a punctual child.” Piggy opened the
door, wished Julian a good morning, and observed without comment that he was dragging his foot more than usual.
This would be a tiring day for him.

“Ready?” he asked Jennet abruptly. “Good girl—let’s go then.”

He swept her out of the flat before she could make adequate farewells, and had little to say during the slow drive to the nearest point where he could leave his car.

“We’ll have to walk now,” he said then. “Keep
close to me and hang on to your bag.”

The stands on Horse Guards Parade were already full of people. As they took their seats, an elderly man with a leonine head of white hair joined Julian and asked to be presented to Jennet. His name conveyed nothing to her, but he was attentive and easy to talk to, and took much trouble in pointing out anything of interest. Jennet thought the man stared at her rather rudely, and once he asked her to take off her hat and turn her face in profile to him, which she did with some surprise. Later he went back to his friends and then Luke joined her, his blue eyes twinkling.

“Is that the new hat?” he asked, his head
to one
side. “I must say I applaud Cousin Julian’s taste—very becoming. Old Jeremy seemed very taken with you, too didn’t he?”

“Who is he?” Jennet enquired. “He seems rather strange. He stared so, and once he made me take my hat off. I thought perhaps he didn’t like it.”

Luke laughed.

“Never heard of Jeremy Pritchard? He’s an extremely well-known portrait painter. That’s why he stared. I expect he wants to paint you.”

“Me?
You’re joking!”

His face crinkled up in its many wrinkles.

“You’re very unspoilt, aren’t you, Jennet? Very un
s
poilt, and very charming. What did you and Julian do last night?”

“Last night? Nothing. Cousin Julian went out to dinner and I went to bed. I’m staying with his old gover
n
ess.

“Staying with Piggy? That’s not very lively for you.”

“Oh, do you know her?”

Luke laughed.

“She used to rap me over the knuckles as well as Julian when we were children. But this is all wrong. Hey, Julian! Do I understand you have a young lady up for the weekend and leave her to do tatting with Piggy her very first evening? I thought you’d be taking her out to dine and show her the sights, or I’d have offered myself.”

Julian joined them in the window, frowning.

“I had another engagement,” he said brusquely. “Besides, Jennet was tired. She’d been travelling all day.”

“Well, I think that’s too bad, Cousin Julian. And is she going to be packed off to bed like a small child to-night, because if she is
—
”

“Of course not,” Julian broke in, looking annoyed. “We’re dining in the flat. Jeremy Pritchard’s coming, and you can join us if you like.”

“Alas!” mourned Luke with mock regret. “I have a date with a lovely to do the town, otherwise I should have been charmed. But dining at home—! I should have thought the child would like to have gone somewhere gay.”

“We’ll have had quite enough by then,
”
retorted Julian.

Luke shook his head, then turned his attention to the parade.

There was a new stir in the waiting throngs, mounted police clattered up and down, and in the distance came the faint roar of cheering, which swelled each moment.

Soon the brave procession came into sight, a brilliant splash of scarlet, impeccably drilled, and led by
a
slight figure on horseback. Jennet watched, wordless with excitement, as the pageant unfolded below her. At last it was , over, and she sat back with a contented sigh
.

“Terrific!” exclaimed Luke, his eyes bright with appreciation. “How we do put up a show when we give our minds to it. And now, I insist that you two join my party for lunch.”

Jennet enjoyed herself, despite the fact that so many fashionable strangers were present, and Julian might be keeping a watchful eye for gaffes. When their orders were being taken he did lean across the table and say: “You had better let me choose for you, Jennet,” but he was sitting too far away to do more than that, and Luke on her right saw to it that she was not left out of the conversation.

She was amused by Luke’s open flirtation, with the attractive girl to whom he was evidently acting escort for the day. Julian would never do that. His rather sombre good looks were at first glance an attraction, and he took trouble to exert himself as host, but there was a chill behind his pleasantries, and his dark eyes as he listened to some woman’s idle chatter often held the hint of impatience that Jennet knew so well.

“Who’s the child?”
she heard the girl on Luke’s right ask under cover of the conversation. “It’s the first time I’ve known Jealous Julian to take another female around since the burning days of Kitty. Is she really his cousin?”

“A ward of his aunt’s, I believe. Yes, a kind of a cousin,” Luke replied, and turned to wink at Jennet.

“
He’s very possessive, but then he always was.
I
don’t envy the girl,” replied his companion.

“Sour grapes, my sweet?” said Luke softly, and she gave an angry shrug.

“Don’t be
r
idiculous! You know I’ve never been interested in Julian Dane.”

The coffee and liqueurs were finished and someone asked:

“Well, what’s everyone going to do now?”

Julian pushed back his chair.

“Personally, I’m going to spend a quiet afternoon in my own flat,” he said, and caught Jennet’s eyes. “Jennet, I’ll take you back to Piggy’s and you can rest till dinnertime.”

There was a chorus of dissent.

“Have a heart, Julian,” protested Luke, ignoring Jennet’s embarrassed tugs at his sleeve. “Cleo and I are going to a film.
We’ll take Jennet along with us if you don’t want to barge around.”