Romance Classics (134 page)

When the last guest had gone, and Kristen and Marisa had said good night to George and Eileen, they went upstairs, arm in arm. To George, watching, they were like two small children. And he had dared to fall in love with a girl who was of an age with his own daughter!

Marisa said, as they reached Kristen’s room, “I’m going to miss you an awful lot, Kristy.”

Kristen smiled warmly at her.

“That’s sweet of you, Marisa. I’ll miss you, too. It’s been such grand fun.”

“I do hope you can come back for another visit. Lee, too. I’d love having him up here for a while,” Marisa went on gaily. “Poor lamb! He’s really a darling, isn’t he?”

Kristen laughed. “Remember, I’m only his dancing partner. He saves his charming personality for his friends! I’ll agree, if you like, that he’s a very fine dancer and that I’m tremendously lucky to be his partner.”

Marisa eyed her curiously.

“You’re not a bit in love with him, are you?” she asked frankly.

“Not a bit,” Kristen answered. “Are you?”

Marisa’s lovely eyes widened and she stared at Kristen in amazement.

“Well, goodness, no, Kristy—how could I be? I couldn’t afford to marry a man who wouldn’t look after the estate and all the people, so I’m certainly not going to fall in love with one. That would complicate things!”

There was a hint of a twinkle in Kristen’s eyes.

“It would, at that,” she mocked.

“How do you like Ronnie, Kristen?” Marisa asked, ignoring Kristen’s amused smile.

“Ronnie? Do I know him? Is he one of the exuberant young men who’ve been around?”

“Ronald Lansing, Uncle Peter’s grandson,” Marisa answered.
“That tall, good-looking red-head. I’m pretty sure I’m going to marry him.”

“You’re in love with him, Marisa?” Kristen asked gently.

Marisa looked up at her in surprise.

“Well, I’m very fond of him. I think I could very easily be in love with him, and it would be a very suitable marriage. I know his family and mine would be pleased. It would join two of the biggest plantations on the island.”

“But Marisa darling, surely a good marriage calls for more than that,” Kristen protested.

Marisa looked up at her, puzzled.

“What could be a more substantial basis for a good marriage, Kristy, than mutual interests? And Ronnie and I have a great many of those,” she said slowly, thoughtfully. “The Lansings and the Newmans have a great responsibility toward the people who work for us. Think how awful it would be if I married some man who didn’t respect the traditions and the responsibilities of the people who have lived and worked here as long as my ancestors. I’d never marry any man not born and bred to the island. And Ronnie feels the same way, so I know we’ll have a good marriage. And what woman could want more?”

She stood up, grimaced and asked, in an entirely different tone, “Do you feel all right, Kristy? I don’t. I’m wondering if that crab salad is going to give me an argument. I shouldn’t eat crabmeat, but I adore it. And I’m always taking a chance that
this
time it will be nice and fresh!”

“Oh, I’m sure it was,” Kristen answered.

“Oh, well—” Marisa grinned and turned toward the door. “We’ll get an early start in the morning. Dad has made me give him my word of honor we’ll take the long way round, instead of leap-frogging over the hills on the short cut. See you at breakfast.”

She went out, and the door closed behind her.

Kristen made ready for bed but it was a long time before she slept. That brief scene with George on the terrace puzzled her. But she reassured herself that he had been merely a gracious host, assuring her that her visit had been a pleasant one and that he hoped she would return.

She slept at last, and was awakened by Eileen, saying anxiously, “Kristy dear, I’m terribly sorry to get you up so early. But Marisa is ill. Nothing serious, I’m sure—merely a touch of food poisoning—but she won’t be able to drive you
to town. George will, but he’ll have to leave as early as possible so he can be back this evening.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry about Marisa. I’ll be right down,” Kristen assured her, and slid out of bed, dressing swiftly.

When she came down the stairs, George was waiting for her, and she said anxiously, “I’m awfully sorry to be such a nuisance, making you drive me to town.”

“Nonsense, it’s a pleasure.” George’s tone was politely cool. “I’m sorry we have to rush you. But you do have time for breakfast.”

Eileen was already at the table when they came into the dining room.

“Could I run up and say goodbye to Marisa before I leave?” Kristen asked when they had finished a brief but satisfying breakfast.

“She’s asleep, Kristy, and I know she will understand,” Eileen answered, as she walked with them out into the brilliant morning sunshine that was already lifting the morning mists from the valleys about them. “And she’ll be coming into town very soon. I do hope you can come back again, Kristy. It’s been fun having you here.”

Kristen thanked her, kissed her lightly, and went down to the car where George was waiting.

There was a strained silence between them as the car slipped down the drive and across to the narrow road that connected with the highway that led to Fort-de-France.

“You needn’t be afraid, Kristen,” George broke the silence as the car turned into the highway. “I’m not going to try to make love to you.”

Kristen stared at him in amazement.

“Well, I never for a moment thought you were,” she answered hotly.

“Not after frightening you so last night.”

“Frightening me?”

“When you thought I was about to ask you to marry me.”

“Oh—I mean—” she stammered in amazement, her eyes enormous in her flushed face. “If this is some sort of joke—it isn’t funny—”

“I agree with you,” George told her harshly. “Neither funny or in good taste, is it? It wasn’t a joke. Or, rather, I guess perhaps it
was
a joke—on me! Because I let Eileen convince me that there was the very faintest possible chance that you just might care for me.”

Kristen was so overcome that for a moment she could not speak; and George, his hands and his eyes occupied with negotiating the steep, winding road ahead of them, went on bleakly:

“You see, Eileen wants to return to England, but she will not leave me alone, since she knows that Marisa will marry in the spring. Eileen is therefore very busy trying to find a wife for me; and she knows I’ve been in love with you for quite a while.”

“Oh, that’s not true!”

“Isn’t it?”

“Of course not! How
could
it be?”

“Very easily! You’re very young and very lovely and all that any man could desire. But of course I should have had brains enough to realize that you couldn’t care for an old man.”

All her awe of him was wiped out in that instant.

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous!” she snapped hotly. “An old man? You’re one of the youngest men I’ve ever known in all the ways that are important. You’re handsome and distinguished and interesting and intelligent, and you have a marvelous personality.” She broke off, scarlet with the knowledge of how much she had revealed.

George drew the car to the grass verge of the road, stopped it and turned to her.

“You don’t find me a silly old fool to want to marry a girl barely my daughter’s age?” he asked in a tone that made it a plea.

“I’m all of twenty years older than Marisa in all the ways that count,” she pointed out dryly. “Girls like Marisa, protected from even the smallest unpleasantness, are children, in the world I grew up in.”

“Then there
is
some faint chance that if I’m very patient you might some day learn to care for me?”

“I’d never for a moment thought you could possibly—” she stammered.

A very faint twinkle touched his eyes.

“Where’s that famous woman’s intuition we mere males hear so much about and learn to view with such abject respect?” he wanted to know.

“Mine wasn’t working, I’m afraid. I like you very much—I hoped you like me. But love—I mean—well, honestly, I never gave that a thought,” she managed awkwardly.

“But you will, now that you know how I feel?” he pleaded.

“Well, yes, of course. But it seems fantastic that you could fall in love with me!” she said. “Are you sure?”

He brought the car back to the road and set it once more in motion.

“Oh, yes, I’m sure!” His tone made the words a very inadequate assertion. “If I had had the vaguest doubt, the slightest inclination to believe I couldn’t be in love with you, that
fer-de-lance
removed all doubt. The moment I felt you in my arms—I knew I loved you very much.”

They drove for some miles in silence, and then he broke the silence, a thoughtful frown drawing his brows together.

“I fully realize,” he told her quietly, “just how much you would be giving up if you married me—your career as a dancer, all that. And I somehow can’t feel what I could offer you in return would be enough to compensate. I don’t think you are a girl who considers money of any vast importance; yet I would like you to remember, while you’re thinking about what I’ve asked you, that I can give you most of the things women usually want: clothes, cars, jewels. We’d have to make our home here on the island. I’m not sure you’d like that.”

“I’m quite sure I’d love it,” she interrupted warmly.

“Well, Marisa and Ronnie Lansing seem destined to make a match of it,” he went on, and she sensed that he was speaking his thoughts aloud. “Ronnie’s quite a lad. He’ll be able, in a few years, to take over the management of both plantations, and then I shall be free to travel for at least a part of each year—if that would help you make up your mind?”

“You’re really very sweet!” said Kristen, and there was a mist in her eyes.

“Am I?” He seemed vaguely pleased by the words. “Eileen wants to go back to England, and there would only be one mistress at Beau Rivage. I devoutly hope that may one day be you.”

“It’s a frightening thought,” Kristen admitted. “I don’t know the first thing about managing a huge place like that!”

“Oh, Eileen could put you on to it in no time, and she has the staff so perfectly trained that you needn’t do much unless you really want to,” he assured her eagerly. “Kristen, my darling! Will you give the matter some thought?”

“Of course I will, George—a lot of thought!” she promised, and smiled tremulously at him.

“I’d take the very best care of you, Kristen, and do my utmost to make you happy,” he said.

“I know you would, George, and it’s a very lovely thought,” she told him. “To be cherished and protected as Marisa has been—”

She interrupted herself hastily to add, “My mother and father loved me very much, but they didn’t try to shield me. I suppose I was so stubborn and so determined that I was going to be a famous dancer that there wasn’t much they could do but just give me their blessing.”

“Tell me about them, and about you, when you were a little girl and just getting started in your career,” he urged, smiling at her. And she knew that he was giving her relief from the tension of the moment, giving her a chance to pull herself together after the shock of his proposal.

When they reached the hotel, he stood with her beside the car for a moment and held her hand tightly, looking down at her with a plea in his eyes that made her heart jump a little.

“I’m not going to hang around and annoy you, Kristy darling,” he told her gently. “I love you very much; I want very much to marry you. But I’m going to leave you alone to make up your mind. And when you have, no matter what your decision is, you’ll let me know, won’t you? With all my heart, I will hope for a ‘yes’; but if it’s ‘no’—well, I’ll wish you all the best of everything and stay out of your way. That’s a promise, Kristy.”

“I know,” said Kristen softly, “And thank you for everything.”

For a moment she thought he was going to kiss her, and then, as though aware of the audience on the hotel terraces and in the garden, he merely gave her a warm, caressing smile, lifted his hand in a little salute of leavetaking and got back into the car.

Sherry came out of the bathroom, neatly wrapped in an enormous bath towel. She greeted Kristen with exuberance
and asked, “Well, what’s it like, the way the other half lives?”

Kristen laughed.

“Wonderful! Very lavish, very lush, and a trifle boring,” she answered.

“Boring!” gasped Sherry, shocked. “My dear girl, you’re talking about the life I’d love. Did you have fun?”

“Oh, yes, lots of fun! Sherry, it’s a perfectly beautiful place, and the mills and the factory—”

“Phooey on that!” Sherry cut in briskly. “What’s it like at the house? I suppose you fall over the servants, and life is one sweet song?”

“Oh, it’s not quite like that! George works very hard and so does Eileen.”

“While the lovely Marisa sits on a cushion and sews a fine seam, no doubt,” commented Sherry.

“Not quite, but she does have a lot of fun and gaiety, and there are a great many attractive young people there for her to play with.”

“Well, there’s one here she can have to play with any time she wants him! Believe me, I don’t!”

Kristen asked swiftly, “Meaning Leon, of course?”

“Who else? Of all the first-class, copper-riveted brass-bound grouches, he takes first prize!”

“You’ve quarreled with him?”

“I’ve had that pleasure!”

“But, Sherry, you know he’s not himself.”

“Ordinarily, that would be an improvement! But he’s a couple of other guys, and that’s two too many for me!” Sherry snapped. “You’d think the world had doubled up its fist and clouted him one, just because he twisted his ankle! He seems to take it as a personal insult. The only time he comes out of his shell is when that weird bunch of folk-dancers are hollering and stomping.”

“Are they good?”

“Who knows? They’re
loud
. I always beat it back to the dressing room and stuff cotton in my ears while their act is on. But Lee sits with a pad and pencil and makes notes and watches and listens as if they were the world’s greatest Which, take it from me, they ain’t!”

“Where is he?” asked Kristen, and added, “And
how
is he?”