The Youngest Bridesmaid (19 page)

BOOK: The Youngest Bridesmaid
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II

But when morning came Piers said it was too rough to cross with any comfort. The wind had risen alarmingly during the night, but Lou knew instinctively that the weather was not, as yet, too
bad to deter him had he wished to make the trip. She had no means of guessing what had transpired after she had gone up to bed last night—for Melissa had deliberately outsat her hostess—a
nd
Piers, morose and silent for most of the evening, had made no move to second her suggestion that their guest might like to go to her room. Lou had left them by the dying fire and it had seemed a long time before she heard Piers moving about next door. She had known that her dream of the day

s ending was lost to her, but he did not even look in for the customary goodnight, and long after the line of lamplight under the dividing door had been doused to darkness she lay, tossing uneasily, listening to the wind and the sound of the breakers, praying that the storm would hold off long enough to allow the passage of a launch to the mainland in the morning.

Piers took himself off soon after breakfast and would be gone all day, Tibby said, dealing with the business of the island, checking stores, sharing his midday meal with the islanders to save time.


Best stay indoors, missis,

bis getting rough,

Tibby said, and
Lou asked quickly and without due thought:


But not too rough yet for the launch?

Tibby smiled.


Not if Mr. Piers had a mind to chance it. Been across to the mainland in worse weather than this, but like as not he

s no taste for the trip.


What do you mean?


What I say, missis. The young lady makes pleasant company, and, after all, she was his rightful bride, wasn

t she?

Lou made no reply, used by now to the old woman

s strange delight in causing embarrassment, but she wondered unhappily what, indeed, had made Piers change his mind overnight. Melissa, when at last she put in an appearance downstairs, gave no hint, neither could Lou ask her, but the older girl had about her the settled air of a guest on an indefinite visit, and for that day at least showed a visitor

s polite deference to the wishes of her hostess. They spent the hours of daylight chatting inconsequently over a roaring fire, and Lou, relaxing against her will, realized that this must be the first occasion when she and her cousin had shared such length of intimacy together. It was, she realized, however, no guide to her cousin

s makeup. Melissa
w
as merely being smart and amusing at her friends

expense; the slick little
clichés
, the brittle catch-words, were all part of a familiar gambit designed to impress, and Lou wondered why Melissa should have thought her worth the effort. Her cousin

s incessant chatter to the accompaniment of the transistor set she had brought with her began to have no meaning, and Lou, feeling drained, longed for Piers

return, knowing at the same time that once he was with them, Melissa

s interest would be immediately switched.

He came back to the house when darkness fell, and Lou sensed at once that his mood of yesterday had changed. He was once again the Piers Merrick she first remembered; the raffish, rather world-weary young plutocrat whose slightly waspish humor did not match the warmth of his voice, and who seemed to slip back so easily into the familiar superficial interchange with Melissa.


You

re very silent, Cinderella,

he said, his attention suddenly focussing on Lou, making her jump. He was, had she known it, very much aware of that stillness in her which had first attracted him; of the way the lamplight fell on her smooth hair and long neck, of the touching look of a dressed-up child one of those unsuitable trousseau frocks gave her, and his mouth tightened, remembering Melissa

s innuendos of the night before. He wanted no unwilling bride who was ready to confide her fears and doubts to the first inquisitive listener.


Well?

he said impatiently,

haven

t you anything to contribute to the conversation?


I haven

t had much chance of joining in,

she retorted mildly, then unwisely added:

If the weather doesn

t worsen you

ll be able to make the trip to the mainland with Melissa tomorrow, won

t you?

Piers made no comment, but his smile was not pleasant, and Melissa sent him a little sidelong glance of amusement.


My truthful Cousin Louise couldn

t be plainer, could she?

she said with a small pout.

Speed the parting g
u
est and all that. Still, Lou darling, I do sympath
i
se. I
have
gate-crashed the honeymoon, after a
ll
, and that should be a social blunder—or shouldn

t it?


It depends on the honeymoon, I imagine,

Piers said carelessly, and this time there was no doubting the edge to his voice and the smouldering spark of anger in his eyes.


Of course. I didn

t mean to be rude, Melissa,

Lou said quietly, but she bit her lip as she saw her cousin

s expression of smugness and the little look of complicity she threw to Piers. Whatever devious methods had been employed last night, Melissa had done her work well or, more likely, Piers, faced unexpectedly with the fruits of his own folly, had realized too late where his affections lay.


I wouldn

t blame you, darling, if you
were
rude, but the situation has its piquancy, hasn

t it?

Melissa said, and Lou knew that she was enjoying herself. She was not sure that in a cynical, inverted sort of fashion Piers, top, might not be capable of deriving amusement, if not pleasure, from this embarrassing
affair, and she sprang to her feet, suddenly unable to bear this ill-assorted triangle any longer.


I

m going to wash my hair,

she said, because it was the first excuse that came into her head, and having made the statement, felt bound to comply with it.

She washed her hair by candlelight because Tibby had omitted to put a lamp in the bathroom, and as she soaped and rinsed, her tears mingled with the water and she found herself sobbing without control because this way only was there relief from the trap in which she found herself. How dared Melissa pry and hint and patronise? How dared Piers side, at any rate by implication, against his wife? But, of course, she was not his wife, she thought wearily. Tibby knew, and Melissa knew, and whatever construction they chose to put on the situation, the shame was hers, not Piers.

She sat on the floor drying her hair by the fire in her room, drawing comfort from the small familiar chore. There was still an hour or more before dinner would be ready, time to gather fresh courage while the two downstairs exchanged their unknown confidences, even indulged, perhaps, in mutual regrets. She remembered, then, Piers saying on their wedding night:

I never regret things. If they don

t work out I just forget them or throw them away
...”

Had he decided so soon to cast her off, to make handsome reparation for his mistake, no doubt, but to adjust the foibles of the rich with no great inconvenience to himself?

Lost in her own unhappy speculations, she did not hear him come upstairs, but suddenly she was aware of him standing in the doorway between their two rooms. He was looking down at her with faint surprise as if he had not expected to find her there.


So you really did mean to wash your hair?

he said.


But I said so.


I imagined it was a feminine excuse to get out of the room. You shouldn

t let Melissa get away with things so easily, you know.


And what,

asked Lou with a spurt of anger,

do you suppose, she

s trying to get away with? You could have taken her to the mainland this morning if you

d had a mind to.


So I could,

he said, advancing into the room to stand over her.

I understood, however, that it was you who had begged her to remain—to ease an awkward situation, one must suppose.


Melissa said that?


Oh, I don

t blame you, Lou. You could hardly be expected yet to learn to dissemble for the sake of your pride, but it

s a pity you gave yourself away so completely.


How do you mean?


You know very well. I would have thought you

d have had more sense than to blurt out the dreary details of the failure of our honeymoon, and to Melissa of all people.

She was suddenly afraid of him. He spoke with the measured distaste he might have used to an impertinent stranger, intending perhaps to hurt her with his casual contempt, but behind his words anger smouldered, too, the slow, unpredictable anger of a man whose pride was bitterly wounded.


I

ve discussed nothing of our personal relations with Melissa,

she replied, indignation lending her courage.

She

s simply drawn her own conclusions from what she

s observed—and, I suppose, what she must instinctively know.


And what

s that?

She turned her face away, bending her head to the warmth of the fire, shaking the remaining drops of water from her hair.


That she should have been in my place. That we both made a great mistake, that—


So you think we made a mistake?

His voice sounded remote and impersonal above her head. If he had touched her, she thought, if for one moment the old warmth and kindliness had come back, she could have co
nf
essed that for her there could be no regrets save one of ignorance, but she would not go on o
ff
ering him that which he no longer wanted.


Well, don

t you think so?

she replied at last, surprised to find her voice quite cool and steady.

You implied a moment ago that I hadn

t enough pride, Piers, but I think it

s your own pride that

s been hurt. You don

t like Melissa to know how easily she could get you back, do you?


What the hell are you two cooking up between you?

he demanded furiously.

I listened to her last night out of consideration for you, since you had made me out an ogre, and I hoped to find out why, but if you don

t want her here then I

ll send her packing tomorrow, but for God

s sake make up your mind.

He squatted suddenly on his heels beside her and turned her round from the fire to face him, and as he became aware of her defenceless expression, his hard features began to soften. There was a nursery air about her, he thought, as she sat curled up on the floor in a dressing gown, the soft fringe damp and childish on her forehead, and the unmistakable traces of recent tears on her flushed cheeks.


You

ve been crying,

he accused.
“For
heaven

s sake, what am I doing to you, my poor Cinderella?

She leant towards him, the tears ready to overflow again at the kindness back in his voice. Could she make him understand, even now, when she understood so little herself?


Everything

s spoilt—

she said.

I thought—I

d hoped—


What did you hope for? The happy-ever-after ending to the fairy tale?


That

s what you promised, didn

t you?


Did I? Rash in the circumstances, perhaps, but one can always carry on with the make
-
believe.


Was it only that for you? Is it Melissa who

s real, after all?


Melissa is no more real than I am, perhaps,

he replied enigmatically.

That

s why I—well, at the time we seemed complementary. Can

t you understand?


In a way. But things are different now, Piers, surely? Won

t you send her back tomorrow?

She thought he hesitated too long before giving his reply, and when he did speak he sounded ambiguous and not too encouraging.


You realize, I suppose, the stories she

ll spread around? After your girlish confidences, you no less than I will be a laughing stock.


Isn

t that why you married me in the first place—to avoid being made a laughing stock?

she asked gently. She was too tired to deny again that she had confided in her cousin, and judging by his small twisted smile he would not have believed her if she had. Melissa would scarcely have had to embroider very much to convince him of his own shortcomings as a lover.


I am, it would seem, a rather irresponsible person when it comes to something as serious as marriage,

he said, getting to his feet.

If it

s what you really want, however, we

ll send Melissa home tomorrow. Far from turning her out, I

ve no doubt Blanche sent her here in the first place, so you don

t need to have a conscience.


Cousin Blanche? But why should she—


Oh, be your age, Lou!

He was tired and disturbed and her ingenuousness suddenly irritated him.

If the marriage had gone through as planned your insatiable cousin as mother-in-law to a rich
man would have had an endless pull on my purse-strings, but as a mere cousin by marriage many times removed, she scarcely qualifies for further charity, does she? Hadn

t you better be getting dressed? Dinner will be ready in half an hour, and I imagine you

ll want to match our guest

s warpaint with some of your own. I

ll go down and break it to the lady that she

d better start packing.

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